don't care," Matt replied. "I get seventy-five cents an hour for my
overtime, and I'm big enough to stand a lot of that. But, believe me,
I'll jump lively. The old man's out of sorts on account of the delay due
to that head wind."

At three o'clock the captain walked aft, where Matt Peasley was
superintending the stowing in the after hold.

"Is dot all you've got to do," he sneered--"settin' roundt mit your
hands in your poggeds?"

Matt glared at him. True, his hands were in his pockets at that moment,
but he was not setting round. He was watching a slingload of shingles
hovering high over the hatch, and the instant it was lowered he intended
to leap upon it, unship the cargo hook, hang the spare cargo net on
it and whistle to the winchman to hoist away for another slingload. He
controlled his temper and said:

"I'm doing the best I can, sir. That winchman doesn't have to wait on
us a second, sir. We handle them as fast as they swing them in from the
mill dock."

"Yump in an' do somedings yourself," Kjellin growled. "Don't stand
roundt like a young leddy."

"D'ye mean you want I should mule shingles round in this hold like a
longshoreman?"

"Sure! Ve got to get to sea Sunday morning, und every liddle bit helps."

"Well, then you'll get along without my little bit. If you don't know
your business, sir, I know mine. Somebody's got to tend that sling,
and everybody's business is nobody's business. If I'm not on the job a
bundle of shingles may come flying down from above and kill a man, or
that heavy cargo block may crack a stevedore on the head. Who's going to
look after the broken bundles and see that they're repacked if I don't?
I can't do that and mule shingles round in this hold, sir; and what's
more I'm not going to do it."

"Den, by yimminy, you get off der ship!" the captain roared. "I don't
vant no loafers aboard my boat, und if you tank--"

"Stow the gab, you big Finn! I'm through. Pay me off and help yourself
to another second mate." And Matt put on his coat and whistled to the
winchman to steady his slingload while he climbed out of the hold.
Kjellin followed and Matt preceded him to his stateroom, where the
captain paid him the few dollars he had coming to him.

"Sign clear," he ordered, and Matt took an indelible pencil and stooped
over the skipper's desk to sign the pay roll. As he straightened up
the captain's powerful left forearm came round Matt's left shoulder and
under his chin, tilting hi