By the way, have you done
anything with that notion of mine yet?"

"No. I was waiting to hear more of it from you. Tell me how in the world
you re so certain about the fittings of the ship. You know nothing of
ships."

"I don't know. It's as real as anything to me until I try to write it
down. I was thinking about it only last night in bed, after you had
loaned me 'Treasure Island'; and I made up a a whole lot of new things
to go into the story."

"What sort of things?"

"About the food the men ate; rotten figs and black beans and wine in a
skin bag, passed from bench to bench."

"Was the ship built so long ago as _that_?"

"As what? I don't know whether it was long ago or not. It's only a
notion, but sometimes it seems just as real as if it was true. Do I
bother you with talking about it?"

"Not in the least. Did you make up anything else?"

"Yes, but it's nonsense." Charlie flushed a little.

"Never mind; let's hear about it."

"Well, I was thinking over the story, and after awhile I got out of bed
and wrote down on a piece of paper the sort of stuff the men might be
supposed to scratch on their oars with the edges of their handcuffs. It
seemed to make the thing more lifelike. It is so real to me, y'know."

"Have you the paper on you?"

"Ye--es, but what's the use of showing it? It's only a lot of scratches.
All the same, we might have 'em reproduced in the book on the front
page."

"I'll attend to those details. Show me what your men wrote."

He pulled out of his pocket a sheet of note-paper, with a single line of
scratches upon it, and I put this carefully away.

"What is it supposed to mean in English?" I said.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps it means 'I'm beastly tired.' It's great
nonsence," he repeated, "but all those men in the ship seem as real
people to me. Do do something to the notion soon; I should like to see
it written and printed."

"But all you've told me would make a long book."

"Make it then. You've only to sit down and write it out."

"Give me a little time. Have you any more notions?"

"Not just now. I'm reading all the books I've bought. They're splendid."

When he had left I looked at the sheet of note-paper with the
inscription upon it. Then I took my head tenderly between both hands,
to make certain that it was not coming off or turning round. Then...
but there seemed to be no interval between quitting my rooms and finding
myself arguing with a policeman outside a door m