Skinner glanced at Cappy Ricks with the closest approach to
downright affection he considered quite dignified to permit during
business hours.
"I notice you were going to quit a minute ago to become president
emeritus--and now you're including yourself in the new program of
activity," he reminded Cappy Ricks. "I seem to remember that for the
past few years you've been talking of the happy day when you could
retire and learn to play golf."
"Golf!" Cappy glanced at Mr. Skinner witheringly. "Skinner," he
continued, "don't be an ass! Golf is an old man's game--and I belong
with the young fellows. Why, don't you remember the day, three years
ago, when we discovered we had a sailor named Matt Peasley before the
mast in the old Retriever? Why, ever since I've been having so much
fun--"
"And that reminds me," Matt interrupted: "We must send a new skipper
to Aberdeen to relieve Mike Murphy in the Retriever. He has his
ticket for steam and I've hired him at two hundred and fifty a month
to skipper the Narcissus. Mike is one of the best men under the Blue
Star; he has come up from before the mast."
"The only kind I ever gave a whoop for," Cappy declared. "In effect,
he once told me to go chase myself."
"But," Skinner persisted, "how about playing golf?"
Cappy Ricks raised his eyes reverently upward.
Pages:
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389