detected a kindlier gleam in the old man's eye as that person
listened to these words.

"The' ain't a stick in her," said the ancient fisherman. "She's
got no wheel and she's got no nothin'. She used to be used as a
kind of a barroom and dancin' platform till the fellow that used
her for such went out o' business."

He paused, and then added:

"What might your name be?"

"Cleggett."

He appeared to reflect on the name. But he said:

"If you was to ask me, I'd say her timbers is sound."

"Tell me," said Cleggett, "was she a deep-water ship? Could a
ship like her sail around the world, for instance? I can tell
that you know all about ships."

Something like a grin of gratified vanity began to show on the
brown one's features. He leaned back against the rail and looked
at Cleggett with the dawn of approval in his eyes.

"My name's Abernethy," he suddenly volunteered. "Isaiah
Abernethy. The fellow that owns her is Goldberg. Abraham
Goldberg. Real estate man."