, he was my idol. He could spin yarns that were
worth listening to."

"I bet you! He'd seen things wuth yarnin' about. So you ain't a sailor,
hey? Livin' in New York?"

The young man nodded. "Yes," he said. Then, with a dry smile, "If you
call occupying a hall bedroom and eating at a third-rate boarding-house
table living. However, it's my own fault. I've been a newspaper man
since I left college. But I threw up my job six months ago. Since then
I've been free-lancing."

"Have, hey?" The captain was too polite to ask further questions, but he
had not the slightest idea what "free-lancing" might be. Pearson divined
his perplexity and explained.

"I've had a feeling," he said, "that I might write magazine articles and
stories--yes, possibly a novel or two. It's a serious disease, but
the only way to find out whether it's chronic or not is to experiment.
That's what I'm doing now. The thing I'm at work on may turn out to be
a sea story. So I spend some time around the wharves and aboard the few
sailing ships in port, picking up material."

Captain Elisha patted him on the back.

"Now don't you get discouraged," he said. "I used to have an idea that
novel writin' and picture paintin' was poverty jobs for men with healthy
appetites, but I've changed my mind. I don't know's you'll believe it,
but I've just found out, for a fact, that some painters get twenty-two
thousand dollars for one picture. For _one_, mind you. And a little mite
of a thing, too, that couldn't have cost scarcely anything to paint.
Maybe novels sell for just as much. _I_ don't know."

His companion laughed heartily. "I'm afraid not, Captain," he said.
"Few, at any rate. I should be satisfied with considerably less, to
begin with. Are you living here in town?"

"Well--we-ll, I don't know. I ain't exactly livin', and I ain't exactly
boardin', but--Say! ain't that the doctor callin' you?"

It was the steward, and there was an anxious ring in his voice. Pearson
excused himself and hurried out of the cabin. Captain Elisha lingered
for a final look about. Then he followed leisurely, becoming aware, as
he reached the open air, of loud voices in angry dialogue.

Entrances to the _Empress of the Ocean's_ cabins were on the main deck,
and also on the raised half-deck at the stern, near the wheel, the
binnacle and the officers' corned-beef tubs, swinging in their frames.
From this upper deck two flights of steps led down to the main deck
below. At the top