CHAPTER XVIII. THE WAR IS RENEWED
The belief that they had come off victorious in their skirmish with Cappy Ricks cheered Matt Peasley and his mate for the first two weeks out from Puget Sound; after which the creosote commenced to season their food, and then the victory began to take on the general appearance of a vacuum. However, thanks to a clean keel and fair winds, they made a smashing passage and their sufferings were not unduly prolonged.
Immediately on his arrival at Antofagasta the young skipper reported by cable to his owners, thereby eliciting the following reply from Cappy Ricks:
“You stole ship. If you value your ticket bring her back with
cargo agent provides.”
Naturally this somewhat cryptic cablegram roused Matt Peasley's curiosity. He could not rest until he had interviewed the agent—and after that sop to his inquisitiveness he returned to the Retriever a broken man. The loyal and disgusted Murphy read the trouble in the master's face.
“What new deviltry's afoot now, Matt?” he demanded, in his eagerness and sympathy forgetting the respect due his superior.
“Green hides, Mike!” the skipper answered, in his distress failing to notice the mate's faux pas and making one himself. “Green hides, old pal; and they stink something horrible. Back to Seattle with the dirty mess, and then another cargo of creosoted—”
“King's X!” yelled Mr. Murphy. “I crossed my fingers the minute your face appeared over the rail. I quit—and I quit as soon as this piling is out. I tell you I won't keep company with green hides. No, sir; I won't. I tell you I will—not—do it! Why, we might as well have a dead hog in the hold! Captain Matt, I hate to throw you down in a foreign port; but this—is absolutely—the finish!”
“Do you value your ticket, Mike?” the captain queried ominously.