Cappy Ricks came out of a gentle doze to find his big son-in-law
waving the telegram under his nose.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Matt Peasley bawled, for all the world as if
Cappy was a very stupid mate and all the canvas had just been blown
out of the bolt-ropes.

"Why didn't you ask me, you big stiff?" shrilled Cappy. He didn't know
what was coming, but instinct told him it was awful, so he resolved
instantly to meet it with a brave front. "Don't you yell at me, young
feller. Now then, what do you want to find out?"

"Why didn't you tell me the _Narcissus_ was to drop in at Pernambuco
for orders?" roared Matt wrathfully.

Cappy pursed his lips and calmly rang for Mr. Skinner. He eyed the
general manager over the rims of his spectacles for fully thirty
seconds. Then:

"Skinner, what the devil's wrong with you of late? It's getting so I
can't trust you to do anything any more. Tut, tut! Not a peep out of
you, sir. Now then, answer me: Why didn't you tell me, Skinner, that
the _Narcissus_ was to call in at Pernambuco for orders?"

"I read you the telegram, sir," Mr. Skinner replied coldly, and
pointed to the notation: "O.K.--Ricks," the badge of his infernal
efficiency. "I read that telegram to you, sir," he repeated, "and
asked you if I should close. You said to close. I closed. That's all I
know about it. You and Matt are in charge of the shipping and I
decline to be dragged into any disputes originating in your