"Most things do while their bein' done, if you really care about doin' 'em well. Heave ahead! You said 'twas a sea yarn, and I'm a sort of specialist when it comes to salt water. Maybe I might prescribe just the right tonic, though 'tain't very likely."Pearson began to outline the plot of his novel, speaking slowly at first, but becoming more interested as he continued. Captain Elisha listened meditatively, puffing solemnly at his cigar, and interrupting but seldom.
"I think that's a pretty good idea," he observed, at length. "Yes, sir, that sounds promisin', to me. This cap'n of yours now, he's a good feller. Don't get him too good, though; that wouldn't be natural. And don't get him too bad, neither. I know it's the fashion, judgin' by the sea yarns I've read lately, to have a Yankee skipper sort of a cross between a prize fighter and a murderer. Fust day out of port he begins by pickin' out the most sickly fo'mast hand aboard, mashes him up, and then takes the next invalid. I got a book about that kind of a skipper out of our library down home a spell ago, and the librarian said 'twas awful popular. A strong story, she said, and true to life. Well, 'twas strong--you could pretty nigh smell it--but as for bein' true to life, I had my doubts. I've been to sea, command of a vessel, for a good many years, and sometimes I'd go weeks, whole weeks, without jumpin' up and down on a single sailor. Fact! Got my exercise other ways, I presume 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 Ican."
Pearson was delighted.
"You WILL?" he cried. "Splendid! It's mighty good of you. May Ispring 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 none of my business, but--were you planning to tackle Wall Street?"
Captain Elisha glanced, under his brows, at his new friend, and his eyes twinkled.
"Didn't know but I might," he replied, solemnly. "Ain't got any--er--tips, any sure things you want to put me on to, have you?""I have not. My experience of Wall Street 'sure things' leads me to believe that they're sure--but only for the other fellow.""Hum! I know a chap down home that made money in stocks. He made it so easy that, as the boys say, 'twas almost a shame to take the money. And 'twas the makin' of him, too."Pearson was embarrassed and troubled. If this big-hearted, simple-minded countryman had come to New York to buck the stock market, it was time to sound a warning. But had he, on such short acquaintance, the right to warn? The captain was shrewd in his own way. Might not the warning seem presumptuous?
"So--this--this friend of yours was a successful speculator, was he?" he asked. "He was lucky.""Think so? Well, maybe. His name was Elkanah Chase, and his dad was old man 'Rastus Chase, who made consider'ble in cranberries and one thing or 'nother. The old man brought Elkanah up to be what he called a gentleman. Ho! ho! Hi hum! I ain't sure what 'Rastus's idea of a gentleman was, but if he cal'lated to have his son a tramp in go-to-meetin' clothes, he got his wish. When the old man died, he willed the boy fifteen thousand dollars. Well, fifteen thousand dollars is a fortune to some folks--if they ain't economizin' in New York--but to Elkanah 'twas just about enough to make him realize his poverty. So, to make it bigger, he got one of them 'tips' from a college friend down here in Wall Street, and put the heft of ten thousand into it. AND, I swan, if it didn't double his money!"Captain Elisha's visitor shook his head. He did not even smile.
"He was extremely fortunate," he said. "I give you my word, Captain Warren, that the majority of first speculators don't turn out that way. I hope he was wise enough to keep his profits."The captain rubbed his chin.
