Blue Star Navigation Company,
258 California St.,
San Francisco.

Arrived this morning, seventy-nine days from bar to bar, all
hands well, including your special messenger. Offered him job
as second mate, just to show I had no hard feelings, but he
would not work, so I brought him home under hatches. Permitted
him present his formal credentials this morning and turned over
command of ship to him. Declined responsibility and left,
saying you had promised him command four-masted schooner.
Seemed trifle hurt, although it is seventy-nine days since I
thrashed him. Consequently I am still in command and awaiting
your instructions.

Peasley.

For a long time Cappy Ricks kept looking sternly at Mr. Skinner over
the tops of his spectacles. There was blood on the moon again, and
the silence was terrible. He kept rocking gently backward and forward
in his swivel chair, for all the world as though preparing for a
panther-like spring at Mr. Skinner's throat. Suddenly he exploded.

"I won't have another thing to do with the man Peasley!" he shrilled.
"The fellow is a thorn in my side and I want peace! Understand,
Skinner? I--want--peace! What in blue blazes do I pay you ten
thousand a year for if it isn't to give me peace? Answer me that,
Skinner."

"Well you said you wanted to attend to the shipping--"