likely.

"I tell you," he went on, "the main trouble with that tale of yours, as
I see it, is that you're talkin' about things you ain't ever seen. Now
there's plenty you have seen, I wouldn't wonder. Let's see, you was born
in Belfast, you said. Live there long, did you?"

"Yes, until I went away to school."

"Your father, he went to sea, did he?"

"Yes. But his ship was lost, with all hands, when I was a baby."

"But your Uncle Jim wa'n't lost. You remember him well; you said so.
Tell me something you remember."

Before the young man was aware of it, he was telling of his Uncle
Jim, of the latter's return from voyages, of his own home life, of his
mother, and of the village where he spent his boyhood. Then, led on by
the captain's questioning, he continued with his years at college, his
experiences as reporter and city editor. Without being conscious that
he was doing so, he gave his host a pretty full sketch of himself, his
story, and his ambitions.

"Mr. Pearson," said Captain Elisha, earnestly, "don't you worry about
that yarn of yours. If you'll take the advice of an old feller who knows
absolutely nothin' about such things, keep on rememberin' about your
Uncle Jim. He was a man, every inch of him, and a seaman, too. Put lots
of him into this hero of yours, and you won't go fur wrong. And when it
comes to handlin' a ship, why--well, if you _want_ to come to me, I'll
try and help you out best I can."

Pearson was delighted.

"You _will_?" he cried. "Splendid! It's mighty good of you. May I spring
some of my stuff on you as I write it?"

"Sartin you may. Any time, I'll be tickled to death. I'll be tickled to
have you call, too; that is, if callin' on an old salt like me won't be
too tirin'."

The answer was emphatic and reassuring.

"Thank you," said Captain Elisha. "I'm much obliged. Come often, do.
I--well, the fact is, I'm likely to get sort of lonesome myself, I'm
afraid. Yes, I shouldn't wonder if I did."

He sighed, tossed away the stump of his cigar, and added,

"Now, I want to ask you somethin'. You newspaper fellers are supposed to
know about all there is to know of everything under the sun. Do you know
much about the Stock Exchange?"

Pearson smiled.

"All I can afford to know," he said.

"Humph! That's a pretty good answer. Knowledge is power, they say,
but--but I cal'late knowledge of the Stock Exchange is poverty, with a
good many folks."

"I think you're right, Captain. It's non