“Everything! Good Lord, man, if you'd only think of something! Send in a stenographer.”
Mr. Skinner rang for the girl and retired in high dudgeon, while Cappy Ricks smote his corrugated brow and brought forth the following:
Captain Matthew Peasley,
Master Barkentine Retriever,
Hall's Dry Dock, Eagle Harbor, Wash.
“Yes; that was a grave oversight sending you to Antofagasta
without docking you first. Express my appreciation of Murphy's
forethought in killing some of the worms. Am not kind of owner
that lets a ship go to glory to make dividends. Keep your
vessel in top-notch shape at all times, though I realize this
instruction unnecessary to you. Give the old girl all that is
coming to her, including two coats X. & Y. copper paint.
Replace all planking that looks suspicious.
Alden P. Ricks.
“I guess that's friendly enough,” he soliloquized. “I think he'll understand. I don't have to crawl in the dirt to let him know I'm sorry.”
Cappy had recovered his composure by the following morning and was addressing Mr. Skinner as “Skinner, my dear boy,” when another telegram from Matt Peasley created a very distinct variation in his mental compass. It ran as follows:
Alden P. Ricks,
258 California St.
San Francisco.
X. & Y. copper paint no good. That brand used last time; hence
worms got to her quickly. Giving her two coats O. & Z. Costs
more, but does the business. Renewed about a dozen planks.
Repair bill about offsets profit on that infernal nitrate.
Your apology accepted, but do not say that again!
Peasley.
“'Your apology is accepted!'” Cappy's voice rose, shrill with anger. “Why, the infernal—er—er—porpoise! Me apologize to a man I employ! By jingo, I'd fire him first! Yes, sir—fire him like that!” The old man snapped his fingers.
“Really, Skinner, I don't know what I'm going to do about the man Peasley. I want to befriend him, because he's one of my own people, so to speak; but I greatly fear, Skinner, I shall have to rough him. Here he is, disputing with me—with me, Skinner—the relative merits of copper paint. And not only disputing, sir, but disobeying my specific instructions. Also, he permits himself the luxury of criticism. Well! I'll not fire him this time; but, by the gods, I'll give him a blowing-up he'll remember. Skinner, send in a stenographer.”
“Take letter,” the old man ordered presently, and proceeded to dictate:
Captain Matthew Peasley,
Master Barkentine Retriever,
Care Rainier M. & L. Co.,
Tacoma, Washington.
Sir:—Your night letter of the fifth is before me and treasured
for its unparalleled effrontery.
Please be advised that in future, when an extraordinary outlay
of cash for your vessel's accounts is contemplated, this office
should first be consulted. When, in your judgment, your vessel
requires docking, repairs, new spars, canvas, and so on, you
will apprise us before proceeding to run up a bill of expense
on your owners. Your business is to navigate your vessel.
Spending money judiciously is a fine art which no sailor, to my
knowledge, has ever acquired.
Though admitting that the vessel needed docking, I maintain you
should have wired us of that fact, whereupon we would have
ordered you to the dry dock patronized by this company. It is
customary for owners to express a preference for dry docks and
copper paint; and in presuming to go counter to my specific
instructions in the matter of paint you are prejudicing your
future prospects with this company.
Another exhibition of your arrogance, impudence, general bad
manners and lack of knowledge of the ethics of your profession
will result in prompt dismissal from the service of the Blue
Star Navigation Company.
Yours, and so on,
Alden P. Ricks, President