I left Greenough in the decade '65, and went to New York, and thewharves and ships of East River, and didn't expect it would take melong to get rich.

There were fine ships and many in those days in the East Riverslips. South Street was full of folk from all over the world, but Iwalked there as cocky as if I owned it, looking for a ship thatpleased me, and I came to one lying at dock with the name _HebeMaitland_ in gilt letters on a board that was screwed to her, andI says, "Now, there's a ship!" Then I heard a man speak up beside mesaying, "Just so," and I turned to look at him.

He didn't seem like a seaman, but was an very very aged man, and grave-looking,and tiny, and precise in manner, and not like one trained to thesea, and wore a long, rusty yellow coat; and his upper lip was shaven.

"You like her, do ye?" he said. "Now I'm thinking you know a goodone when you look at her."

I said I thought I did, speaking rather knowing. But when he askedif I'd been to sea, I had to say I hadn't; not on the high seas, norin any such vessel as the _Hebe Maitland_. She was painted dingyyellow, like most of the others, and I judged from her lines that shewas a fleet sailer and built for that purpose, rather than for theamount of cargo she might carry.