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Well, it stands to reason she was dirty after that last cargo of creosoted piling; and it stands to reason, also, that the man Peasley slicked her up with white paint until she looked like an Easter bride. A Scandinavian doesn't give a hoot if his vessel is tight, well found and ready for sea; but a Yankee takes a tremendous pride in his ship and likes to keep her looking like a yacht.
"It's right where we found little Clinton's hat," cried Mrs. Fabens, pale with terror. "O, dear, what can it be? He couldn't have been murdered, my dear Clinton couldn't have been murdered, and that appeared to reveal his fate!" "I'll warrant that's it!" answered Teezle. "Square Peasley seen a light, and heerd a gugglin' groan where the pedlar had his throat cut in Cloverdale, you know."
They had a jolly supper together, after which they all went to the little town-hall to see a play. Blanche sat beside Rivers, and as she laughed at Si Peasley and his misadventures in the city she was girlishly happy. It was not very much of an entertainment, but in contrast with life in a sod shanty it was all very exciting for her.
"The Retriever is quite a responsibility to entrust to a man we have never seen or heard of before, but the man Swenson can scarcely be as vicious and insubordinate as this fellow Peasley, and under the circumstances we'll have to run the risk." And having wotted the which, Mr. Skinner cabled Christian Swenson to take charge of the Retriever, at master's wages, until the arrival of his successor.
But having an income and being able to spend it, my boy, are two different things; so in order to set your mind at ease, let me tell you something: I'm not going to give you a cent out of that charter deal " Matt Peasley sprang up, his big body aquiver with rage. "You'd double-cross me!" he roared. "Mr. Ricks, if you weren't " He paused. "Shut up!" snapped Cappy, undaunted.
I come from Thomaston, Maine, and I knew your people. Would never have sent the Swede had I known which tribe of Peasley you belonged to though, if he had licked you, no more than you deserved. I want no more of your impudence, Matt. Alden P. Ricks. For a week business droned along in Cappy Ricks' office as usual, interrupted at last by the receipt of a telegram from Matt Peasley to Cappy.
PACIFIC SHIPPING COMPANY, Matthew Peasley, President. Having dispatched this message, Matt Peasley closed down his desk, strolled round to the Blue Star Navigation Company's offices, and picked up his newly acquired father-in-law.
"They tell me she's as fast as a yacht in a breeze of wind." "The longer I'm acquainted with you, father-in-law," Matt Peasley declared, "the less I know you. You can have your Tyee, but for every day she is held awaiting your pleasure your personal account will be charged with something in three figures.
"Captain Peasley if you please, Mr. Consul." Matt looked up and grinned. "I think," he continued, as he inserted the corkscrew, "I shall ship that boy as second mate if he's willing to work. If he's sullen, of course he'll have to remain in his room and I shall not permit him to present his credentials now." "Captain Peasley," the consul warned seriously. "I'm afraid you're in very, very Dutch."
There won't be the slightest trouble." Matt Peasley wrung his hand gratefully. "I quit the Sea Fox last night," he announced gladly. "Going into business this morning, I suppose?" "Yes, sir." "What line?" "Ship, freight and marine insurance broker." "Well, that's a line that will keep you hustling for your wheatcakes until you get well acquainted.
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