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. It was his creed to take what he could
get away with, provided that in the taking he broke no moral, legal
or ethical code; and if any thought of the apparent incongruity of a
sailor's aspiring to the hand of a millionaire shipowner's daughter had
occurred to him--which, by the way, it had not--he would doubtless have
analyzed it thusly:

"There she is. Isn't she a queen? I want her and there isn't a single
reason on earth why I shouldn't have her, unless it be that she doesn't
want me. However, I'll learn all about that when I get good and ready,
and if I'm acceptable Cappy Ricks and one of his employees are going
to have a warm debate--subject, matrimony. What do I care for him? He's
only her father, and I'll bet he wasn't half so well fixed as I am when
he got married. I'll just play the game like a white man, and if Cappy
doesn't like it he'll have to get over it."

"Miss Florence," Matt began, "this is Matt."

"Matt who?" she queried with provoking assumption of innocence.

"Door Mat," he replied. "Your daddy has just walked all over me at any
rate."

"Oh, good morning, captain. Why, what has happened? Your voice sounds
like the growl of a big bear."

"I suppose so. I'm hopping mad. The very first day I was ashore I turned
a nice little trick for your father. I wasn't on the pay roll at the
time, so we went into the deal together and chartered the Lion and the
Unicorn to freight ore for the Mannheim people from Alaska to Seattle.
I furnished the valuable information and the bright idea, and he
capitalized both. The result of the deal was that he has his own
steamer, the Lion, off his hands for four years, chartered at a fancy
figure. Also he chartered the Unicorn from her owner at a cheap rate and
rechartered at an advance of seventy-five dollars a day, and we split
that profit between us. That gives me an income of thirty-seven and a
half a day for the next four years, provided the Unicorn doesn't get
wrecked. Naturally I wanted to stay ashore, when there's money to be
made as easy as that--and he won't let me."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, captain."