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Updated: June 8, 2025
He had learned enough to realize that Cappy's bank roll was threatened by this man from Seattle; that with his defenses leveled, as it were, the old gentleman would prove an easy victim unless warned of the impending attack. Therefore, since Matt had not sought Mr.
That will give him time to wireless ahead and have one waiting for him when the vessel touches in to discharge passengers from the south. Tell him to inform Peasley he isn't fired, but just transferred. Attend to it, Skinner." While Mr. Skinner departed to carry out Cappy's order, the old gentleman called up Harbor 15, Masters' and Pilots' Association, and asked for the secretary.
All Cappy could do was to search vainly for an "out," and in the interim, whenever he met Matt Peasley at his home, he carefully avoided all reference to Matt's future in the Blue Star employ for which, by the way, Matt was eternally grateful. He did not care to talk business with Cappy for a month as yet. He was too happy with Cappy's daughter. Another month passed.
Since he had never known any of the restrictions of polite conventions behind which society entrenches itself in the world occupied by such pampered pets of fortune as Miss Florence Ricks, Matt Peasley failed to see a single sound reason why he should not indulge a very natural desire for Cappy's ewe lamb for a singularly direct and forceful individual was Matthew.
However, Cappy's interest in the Blue Star Navigation Company did not wane with the cessation of his activities as chief kicker. Ordinarily, Mr.
A prolonged ringing at Cappy's stateroom door brought the old gentleman to the entrance in his nightshirt. "Very sorry to have to disturb you, Mr. Ricks," said Bill Peck, "but the fact is there were so many Cohens and Cohns and Cohans, and it was such a job to dig up two thousand dollars, that I failed to connect with you at seven forty-five last night, as per orders.
The eleventh time, however, grown desperate from much brooding over his unhappy lot, Cappy pressed the button. "Send Mr. Skinner in," he commanded bravely to the boy who answered his summons. Mr. Skinner entered and stood awaiting Cappy's pleasure. On the instant the old fellow was overcome by panic. Frantically he sought an "out."
Skinner bossed the navigation company as he bossed the lumber business, for Cappy's private office was merely headquarters for receiving mail, reading the newspapers, receiving visitors, smoking an after-luncheon cigar, and having a little nap from three o'clock until four, at which hour Cappy laid aside the cares of business and put in two hours at bridge in his club.
"And now," said Cappy, as he handed the groom his winnings, "you get out of here with your bride, Joey, and I'll telephone Florry and we'll organize a wedding supper. And to-morrow morning, Joey, I'd like to see you at ten o'clock, if you can manage to be here." Joey promised, and hastened away with his bride. True to his word he presented himself in Cappy's lair promptly at ten next morning.
Presently he said: "Well, father-in-law " From somewhere in Matt Peasley's whiskers Cappy's voice came plaintively: "Not father-in-law, sonny. New title this morning six o'clock nine pounds grandfather! Eh? Yes; grandfather! Grandpa Ricks!" "Boy or girl?" Matt Peasley roared, and shook the newly-elected grandfather. "Boy! Florry fine never lost hope!" A port health officer came over the rail.
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