Cap'n Warren's Wards by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
page 92 of 432 (21%)
page 92 of 432 (21%)
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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 |
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