Chapter XXV - Page 2

Retriever eight hundred miles off the coast of Formosa. The vessel was under jib, lower topsail, foretopmast staysail, mainsail and spanker. She was flying two flags--an inverted ensign and the yellow quarantine flag. The Ecudorian steamed close alongside of her, to windward. Captain Peasley was at the wheel--"

"Thank God!" Mr. Skinner almost sobbed. "What was wrong with her, Jerry? Hurry up, man! Hurry up! Tell me!"

"He was alone on the ship, Mr. Skinner. Bubonic plague! Killed the entire crew! Matt was the only man immune, and he's sailing the Retriever home alone!"

Mr. Skinner groaned.

"Good gracious Providence! Why didn't the Ecudorian take him off?"

"Credit them with offering it," Jerry replied. "He wouldn't come. He declined to jeopardize the people aboard the steamer and he wouldn't abandon the Retriever with her full cargo; so what could they do? They had to sail away without him."

Gently Mr. Skinner broke the news to Cappy Ricks; for, of course, the United Press dispatches had carried it to the later afternoon editions and it would be useless for Mr. Skinner to attempt to lie kindly. Cappy, with bowed head, heard him through; when finally he looked up at Skinner his eyes were dead.

"Quite what I expected of him, Skinner," he said dully. "And I'd rather have him die than dog it! This report from the Ecudorian helps some, Skinner. It will do to keep hope alive in my Florry--and every two weeks until the boy is born we'll--we'll--Oh, Skinner--"

"Yes, sir; I'll attend to it. Leave everything to me, Mr. Ricks. I'll have wireless reports and telegrams and cablegrams from every port on earth telling of ships having spoken the Retriever, with the skipper well and hearty, and sending messages of good cheer to his wife."

"You--you won't be--er--stingy, Skinner? You'll send out the Tillicum to find him and tow him in, won't you? And you'll have real telegrams--spend money, Skinner! I'll have to bring those messages home to Florry--"

"Everything, Mr. Ricks. And I'll start right in by slipping fifty dollars to each of the waterfront reporters on all the papers. They're good boys, Mr. Ricks. I'll tell them why I have to have the service. Mrs. Peasley must have our fake reports confirmed in the papers--"

"For work like that the marine reporters should have more money," Cappy suggested wearily. His old hand reached out gropingly, closed over Mr. Skinner's and held it a moment childishly. "You're a very great comfort to me, Skinner--very great indeed! And you'll come home with me to-night, won't you, Skinner? I'm a little afraid--I want you near me, Skinner--in case I can't get away with it to Florry."

His dry, dead eyes studied the pattern in the office carpet.

"Two mates, a cook