hasn't gone and killed the best skipper I ever had! Poor Kendall!
Why, Noah and I were good friends, Skinner. Every time the Retriever
touched in at her home port I always had Noah Kendall up to the house
for dinner, and we went to the theatre together afterward. Thank God!
It isn't a week since his life insurance premium fell due and I had
the cashier pay it."

Cappy sat gazing dejectedly at the carpet.

"Poor old Cap'n Noah!" he soliloquized aloud. "Twenty-five years you
sailed under the Blue Star, and in all that time there was never once
when I had to jack up and tell you to 'tend to business. And, Noah,
you could make a suit of sails last longer than any man I ever knew;
but you did have a hell of a temper." And having delivered this
touching eulogy on the late Captain Kendall, Cappy roused himself and
faced Skinner.

"I should say I have a job on my hands," he announced, "with the
finest sailing ship in the fleet down in South Africa without a
skipper! Skinner, I'll tell you what you do, my boy: You dictate the
nicest letter you know how to dictate to Noah's widow, up in Port
Townsend. Tell her how much we thought of Noah and extend our
sympathy, and a check for his next three months' salary. Put her on
my private pension list, Skinner, and send her Cap'n Noah's salary
every quarter-day as long as she lives. Tell her we'll attend to the
collection of the life insurance and will bring Noah's body home to
Port Townsend at our own expense. It's the least we can do, Skinner.
He was the only skipper I ever had who did not, at one time or
another, manage to embroil me in a lawsuit. Who are our consignees at
Cape Town?"