“Do you--er--suspect--er--something, Mr. Ricks?”
“Suspect? Not a bit of it. I know! Neither Florry nor Matt would dream of permitting the other to come home alone if there wasn't a third party to be considered. Paste that in your hat, Skinner. It isn't done.”
Cappy was right, for the same steamer that bore his daughter home carried also a brief letter from his son-in-law conveying the tidings of great joy. The old man was so happy he went into Mr. Skinner's office and struck his general manager a terrible blow between the shoulders, after which he declared it was a shame that his years and reputation for respectability denied him the privilege of chartering a seagoing hack and painting the town red!
The _Retriever_ crept slowly up the China Sea on the first of the southwest monsoon. At that period of the year, however, the monsoon is weak and unsteady; and after clearing the northern end of Luzon the _Retriever_ kicked round in a belt of light and baffling airs for a week. Then the monsoon freshened somewhat and the _Retriever_ once more rolled lazily away on her course, with young Matt Peasley humming chanteys on her quarter-deck and pondering the mystery that confronts all mankind in their first adventure in fatherhood. Would it be a boy or a girl? He was expressing to himself for perhaps the thousandth time the hope that it would be a boy, when from the poop he saw something he did not relish.
It was the ship's cat coming across the deckload toward him, in his yellow eyes a singularly pleased expression and in his mouth a singularly large rat.
Matt Peasley stepped below, found an old glove and drew it over his right hand, after which he returned to the quarter-deck.
“Come, Tommy!” he called; and pussy came, to be seized by the tail and, still holding fast to his prey, cast overboard.
“It's bad luck to do that to a black cat, sir,” the mate informed him.
“And it's worse luck still for any mate aboard my ship who neglects to put the rat-guards on the lines when the vessel is lying at the dock,” he growled. “You lubberly idiot!”
“But I did put the rat-guards on the lines,” the mate protested.
“Yes, I know you did; but I had to remind you of it,” Matt replied. “You didn't get them on in time--and now the Lord only knows how many rats we have aboard. Ordinarily I don't mind rats, but an Oriental rat is something to be afraid of.”