Upon his return from Seattle, Matt called at the telegraph office in
Hoquiam and received his loading instructions from the owners. His
heart beat high with youthful importance and the joy of victory as he
almost ran to the water front and engaged a big gasoline launch to
take him aboard the Retriever and then kick her into the mill dock at
Cosmopolis. His ship was not where he had left her, however, and
after an hour's search he discovered her several miles up the Chehalis
river. Murphy was on deck, gazing wistfully at the house and wishing
he had some white paint, when Matt Peasley came aboard. Even before
the latter leaped to the deck Mr. Murphy knew the glad tidings--knew
them, in fact, the very instant the boy's shining countenance appeared
above the rail. The skipper was grinning fatuously and Mr. Murphy
grinned back at him.

"Well, sir," he greeted young Matt, "I see you're the permanent
skipper. I congratulate you."

"Thank you, Mike. And I hope you will have no objection to continuing
in your berth as first mate. I realize I'm pretty young for an old
sailor like you to be taking orders from--"

"Bless your soul, sir," Mr. Murphy protested; "of course I'll stick
with you! Didn't you whale the big Swede Cappy Ricks sent to Cape
Town to kick you out of your just due?" He reaffirmed his loyalty
with a contemptuous grunt.

"What are you doing way up the river?" the captain demanded.

"Oh, that's a little liberty I took," the mate declared. "You're new
to this coast; and, of course, when they ordered us to Grays Harbor I