under a Cap'n Pearson from there once--James Pearson, his name was."

"He was my great uncle. I was named for him. My name is James Pearson,
also."

"WHAT?" Captain Elisha was hugely delighted. "Mr. Pearson, shake hands.
I want to tell you that your Uncle Jim was a seaman of the kind you
dream about, but seldom meet. I was his second mate three v'yages. My
name's Elisha Warren."

Mr. Pearson shook hands and laughed, good-humoredly.

"Glad to meet you, Captain Warren," he said. "And I'm glad you knew
Uncle Jim. As a youngster, 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