He paused and remained silent. His friend was silent, also, not knowing
exactly what remark to make.

"How's the novel comin' on?" asked the captain, a minute later.

"Oh, slowly. I'm not at all sure it will ever be finished. I get
discouraged sometimes."

"No use in doin' that. What sort of a yarn is it goin' to be? Give me a
gen'ral idea of the course you're tryin' to steer. That is, if it ain't
a secret."

"It isn't. But there's mighty little worth telling. When I began I
thought I had a good scheme, but it seems pretty weak and dish-watery
now."

"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