ew, "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."

"I wouldn't be surprised. However, it will be about three months before
I commence to suffer, and in the meantime I'm going to be supremely
happy skippering the barkentine Retriever back to Grays Harbor, if they
hang me for it when I get there. Say when!"

"When!"

"Here's success to crime, Mr. Consul."

"Good luck to you, you youthful prodigy; good luck and bon voyage,
Mr.--I mean Captain Peasley."

"Thank you, Mr. Consul. I hate to hurry you away; fact is, I'd like to
have you stay aboard and have dinner with us, but if this breeze holds
good I can save my owners an outward towage bill, and I'll have to
hustle. So I'll bid you good-bye, Mr. Consul. Glad to have had you for
the little exhibition. Here is my name and address--and please don't
forget that affidavit."

When the American consul left the ship Matt Peasley was on the poop
bawling orders; up on the topgallant forecastle the capable Mr. Murphy
and his bully boys were walking around the windlass to the bellowing
chorus of Roll A Man Down! while the boatswain, promoted by Matt Peasley
to second mate, was laying aloft forward shaking out the topsails and
hoisting her head-sails. When the consul looked again, the American
barkentine Retriever had turned her tail on Cape Town and was scampering
down Table Bay with a bone in her teeth; heeling gently to the
freshening breeze, she was rolling home in command of the boy who had
joined her five months before as an able seaman.

Matt Peasley rounded the Cape of Good Hope nicely, but he had added
materially to his stock of seamanship before he won through the
tide-rips off Point Aghulas and squared away across the Indian Ocean.
Coming up along the coast of Australia he had the sou'east trades and
he crowded her until Mr. Murphy forgot the traditions of the sea, forgot
that Matt Peasley was the skipper and hence not to be questioned, and
remembered that the madman was only a boy.

"Captain Matt," he pleaded, "take some clothes off the old girl, for the
love of life! She's making steamer time now, and if the breeze freshens
you'll lift the sticks out of her."

"Lift nothing, Mike. I know her. Cap'n Noah told me all about her. You
can dr