Cappy Ricks Retires | Page 9

spectacles for fully thirty seconds.
Then:
"Skinner, what the devil's wrong with you of late? It's getting so I can't
trust you to do anything any more. Tut, tut! Not a peep out of you, sir.
Now then, answer me: Why didn't you tell me, Skinner, that the
Narcissus was to call in at Pernambuco for orders?"
"I read you the telegram, sir," Mr. Skinner replied coldly, and pointed
to the notation: "O.K.--Ricks," the badge of his infernal efficiency. "I
read that telegram to you, sir," he repeated, "and asked you if I should
close. You said to close. I closed. That's all I know about it. You and
Matt are in charge of the shipping and I decline to be dragged into any
disputes originating in your department. All I have to say is that if you
two can't run the shipping end and run it right, just turn it over to me
and I'll run it--right!"
Completely vindicated, Mr. Skinner struck a distinctly defiant attitude
and awaited the next move on the part of Cappy. The latter, thoroughly
crushed--for he knew the devilish Skinner never made any
mistakes--looked up at his son-in-law.
"Well," he demanded, "what's your grouch against Pernambuco?"
"Forgive me for bawling you out that way," Matt replied, "but I guess
you'd bawl, too, if somebody who should have known better had placed
a fine ship in jeopardy for you. It just breaks me all up to think you
may have lost my steamer _Narcissus_--the first steamer I ever owned
too--and to be lost on her second voyage under the Blue Star flag--"
"Our Narcissus, if you please," Cappy shrilled. "You gibbering

jackdaw! Out with it! Where do you get that stuff--lose your steamer on
her second voyage! Why, she's snug in Norfolk this minute."
"If she only is," Matt almost wailed, "she'll never be permitted to clear
with that German crew aboard. Pernambuco for orders! Suffering sailor!
And you, of all men, to put over a charter like that! Pernambuco!
Pernambuco! Pernambuco--for--orders! Do you get it?"
"No, I don't. It's over my head and into the bleachers."
"I must say, my dear Matt," Mr. Skinner struck in blandly, "that I also
fail to apprehend."
"Didn't you two ever go to school?" Matt raved. "Didn't you ever study
geography? Why under the canopy should we waste our time and burn
up our good coal steaming to Pernambuco, Brazil, South America, for
orders? Let me put it to you two in words of one syllable: The
Narcissus is chartered to carry a cargo of coal from Norfolk, Virginia,
to Batavia or Manila. At the time of charter--and sailing--the charterers
are undecided which port she is to discharge at, so they ask us to step
over to Pernambuco and find out. Now, whether the vessel discharges
at Batavia or Manila, her course in the Atlantic Ocean while en route to
either port is identical! She passes round the Cape of Good Hope,
which is at the extreme south end of Africa. If her course, on the
contrary, was round Cape Horn or through the Straits of Magellan there
might be some sense in sending her over to the east coast of South
America for orders. But whether she is ordered to Manila or Batavia,
the fact remains that she must put in to Durban, South Africa, for fuel
to continue her voyage; so why in the name of the Flying Dutchman
couldn't the charterers cable the orders to Mike Murphy at Durban? The
Narcissus is worth a thousand dollars a day, so you waste a few
thousand dollars worth of her time, at the very least, sending her to
Pernambuco when a ten-dollar cablegram to Durban would have done
the business! I suppose all you two brilliant shipping men could see
was a ten-dollar-a-ton freight rate. Eh? You--landlubbers! A-a-g-r-r-h! I
was never so angry since the day I was born."
While Matt ranted on, Mr. Skinner's classic features had been slowly
taking on the general color tones of a ripe old Edam cheese, while at
the conclusion of Matt's oration Cappy Ricks' eyes were sticking out
like twin semaphores. He clasped his hands.
"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" he murmured in an awed voice.

"There's a nigger in the woodpile."
"I very greatly fear," Mr. Skinner chattered, "that you are mistaken, Mr.
Ricks. Something tells me it's a German!"
"Well, well, well!" Matt Peasley sneered. "Skinner, take the head of the
class. Really, I believe I begin to pick up signs of human intelligence in
this sea of maritime ignorance."
"Oh, Matt, quit your jawing and break the news to me quickly," Cappy
pleaded.
"Haven't you been reading the papers, sir? Australian and Japanese
warships have been hunting for the German Pacific fleet for the past
few weeks, and the