Then came the fateful task of securing a publisher. And the first to whom it was submitted--one of the two firms which had already expressed a desire to read the manuscript--accepted it, at what, for a first novel, were very fair terms. During the summer there was proof to be read and illustrations to be criticized. Captain Elisha did not wholly approve of the artist's productions.
"Jerushy!" he exclaimed, "look at that mainmast! Look at the rake of it! More like a yacht than a deep-water bark, she is enough sight. And the fust mate's got a uniform cap on, like a purser on a steamboat. Make that artist feller take that cap off him, Jim.
He's got to. I wish he could have seen some of my mates. They wa'n't Cunarder dudes, but they could make a crew hop 'round like a sand-flea in a clam bake."Or, when the picture happened to be a shore view:
"What kind of a house is that? Did you ever see a house like that Down-East? I'll leave it to anybody if it don't look like a sugar man's plantation I used to know down Mobile way. All that feller standin' by the door needs is to have his face blacked; then he'd start singin' 'S'wanee River.' This ain't 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.'
Bah!"
The advance copy, the first one, was ready early in September, and the author, of course, brought it immediately to his friends. They found the dedication especially interesting: "To C. W. and E. W., consulting specialists at the literary clinics, with grateful acknowledgments." Probably Captain Elisha was never prouder of anything, even his first command, than of that dedication.
And the story, when at last it appeared for sale, was almost from the beginning a success. The reviewers praised it, the reading public--that final court of appeal which makes or unmakes novels--took kindly to it, and discussed and recommended it; and, most important of all, perhaps, it sold and continued to sell. There was something in it, its humanity, its simplicity, its clearly marked characters, which made a hit. Pearson no longer needed to seek publishers; they sought him. His short stories were bid for by the magazines, and his prices climbed and climbed. He found himself suddenly planted in the middle of the highway to prosperity, with a clear road ahead of him, provided he continued to do his best.
In September Stephen gave up his work at the broker's office, spent the weeks with his friends in Maine, and then returned to Yale. He gave up the position on the Street with reluctance. He was sure he liked it now, he declared. It was what he was fitted for, and he meant, more than ever, to take it up permanently as soon as he was free. And his employer told Captain Elisha that the youngster was bright, clever, and apt. "A little conceited, needs taking down occasionally, but that is the only trouble. He has been spoiled, Ishould imagine," he said.
"Yup," replied the captain, with emphasis; "your imagination's a good one. It don't need cultivatin' any."The novel being out of the way, and its successor not yet far enough advanced in plot or general plan for much discussion, the "literary clinics" were no longer as frequent. But Pearson's visits to the Warren house were not discontinued. All summer long he had been coming out, once, and usually twice, a week. Captain Elisha had told him not to stand on formality, to come any time, and he did. On most of these occasions he found the captain at home; but, if only Caroline was there, he seemed quite contented.
She did not remark on the frequency of his visits. In fact, she mentioned him less and less in conversation with her uncle. But, as the autumn came and moved towards its prime she seemed, to the captain's noticing eye, a trifle more grave, a little more desirous of being by herself. Sometimes he found her sitting by the open fire--pleasant in the cool October evenings--and gazing very soberly at the blaze. She had been in good spirits, more merry and light-hearted than he had ever seen her, during the latter part of the summer; now her old sadness seemed to be returning. It would have troubled him, this change in her mood, if he had not believed he knew the cause.
He was planning a glorious Thanksgiving. At least, it would be glorious to him, for he intended spending the day, and several days, at his own home in South Denboro. Abbie Baker had made him promise to do it, and he had agreed. He would not leave Caroline, of course; she was going with him. Steve would be there, though he would not come until Thanksgiving Day itself. Sylvester, also, would be of the party; he seemed delighted at the opportunity.
"I'm curious to see the place where they raise fellows like you,"the lawyer said. "It must be worth looking at.""Graves don't think so," chuckled the captain. "I invited him, and he said, 'No, thank you' so quick that the words was all telescoped together. And he shivered, too, when he said it; just as if he felt that sou'west gale whistlin' between his bones even now. Itold him I'd pretty nigh guarantee that no more trees would fall on him, but it didn't have any effect."Pearson was asked and had accepted. His going was so far a settled thing that he had commissioned Captain Elisha to purchase a stateroom for him on the Fall River boat; for of course the captain would not consider their traveling the entire distance by train.
At an interview in the young man's room in the boarding house, only three days before the date set for the start, he had been almost as enthusiastic as the Cape Codder himself. The pair had planned several side excursions, time and weather permitting, among them a trip across the Sound to Setuckit Point, with the possibility of some late sea-fowl shooting and a long tramp to one of the life-saving stations, where Pearson hoped to pick up material for his new book. He was all anticipation and enthusiasm when the captain left him, and said he would run out to the house the following day, to make final arrangements.
