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I don't agree with you at all on this twenty-four-year-old excuse. My son-in-law, Matt Peasley you remember the Peasleys of Thomaston; Matt's a nephew of Ethan, who was lost off the main yard of the Martha Peasley was holding a master's ticket for sail, any ocean and any tonnage, before he was twenty-one.
Helen says we're shif'less an' good for nothin' but frivolin'; but Mother tells us how to crack the walnuts so's not to let 'em fly all over the room, an' so's not to be all jammed to pieces like the walnuts was down at the party at the Peasleys' last winter.
His scheme to get Matt Peasley to sea for one voyage, accompanied by Florry, worked as smoothly as a piston; and on the fifteenth of January the Peasleys went aboard the Retriever at Bellingham and towed out, bound for Manila with a cargo of fir lumber.
It won't hurt the land any, but you'd be spoilt if you had to wait twenty years." The Peasleys arrived and the men and women spent a delightful hour traveling without weariness over the long trail to beloved scenes and the days of their youth. Every day's end thousands were going east on that trail, each to find his pot of gold at the foot of the rainbow of memory.
Confound these fellows that are always unloading a cargo of woe on their owners! It strikes me that they're trying to square themselves for incompetence." "I agree with you, Skinner. But then, all the Thomaston Peasleys were quick-tempered and wouldn't be imposed on; and I hate to think I've picked the only one of the tribe who will dog it and never let a peep out of him." "Oh!" said Mr. Skinner.
'Credit by skipper's rake-off on stores, and so on, $57.03. Skinner, that proves the man Peasley is too decent and honest to accept a commission from the thieves who supply his vessel, because he knows that if they give him a commission they'll only tack it on to the bill, where he can't see it. Well! All the Thomaston Peasleys were honest, Skinner. No thanks to him.
I'll have no marine impostors aboard my ship. Where do they ship little boys before the mast, Mr. Peasley?" "On the Grand Banks, sir." "I beg your pardon," said the skipper; "but really I thought you were a Native Son. My father was drowned there thirty years ago." "The Peasleys have all died on the Banks sir," Matt replied, much mollified.
Helen says we're shif'less an' good for nothin' but frivollin'; but Mother tells us how to crack the walnuts so's not to let 'em fly all over the room, an' so's not to be all jammed to pieces like the walnuts was down at the party at the Peasleys' last winter.
The most casual student of natural history knows that the instant a duckling chips its shell it toddles straightway to the nearest water. The instant a male Peasley could cut his mother's apron strings, he, also, made for the nearest water, for the Peasleys had always been sailors, a statement which a perusal of the tombstones in Thomaston cemetery will amply justify.
I'm going to proceed to break his young heart; and if he yells murder I'll fire him! On the contrary, if he's one of Ethan's tribe well, the Peasleys always did their duty; I'll say that for them. I hope he stands the acid." Whereupon Cappy Ricks squared round to his desk and wrote: San Francisco, July 5, 19 . Captain Matthew Peasley, Master Barkentine Retriever, Hoquiam, Washington.
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