class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="66"/>there?" he surprised me by putting forth a question in just that way. I paused before replying.

"Yes—usually."

"A seaman can become captain, and then his road gets very narrow and steep toward further advancement?" he persisted.

"Yes," I replied, wondering what was on his mind.

"It strikes me a man of your ability is wasting his time at sea—I don't see any future—what about wireless men?"

"They get ninety dollars a month," I replied, amused and still wondering.

"What about telegraphing?" he then asked.

"Some of our best men started as operators, Edison, for instance. I am inclined to think it's the methodical drill they get that helps."

"Ben, are you going to sign up for the other side?" he asked, as though expecting a negative answer.

"Well, I think the subs are getting quite plentiful—more than they tell us about. Don't you?" At last I knew what he had been driving at.

"That settles it," said he. "I won't, either. We've got a stake now and can afford to look around a little."

"Our stake won't last long unless we get busy," I warned.

"Oh, I'm willing to work, and I don't expect to go up on an escalator or an express elevator—but I do want to know that the stairs lead somewhere worthwhile. Do you get me, Ben?" he laughed. "I'll tell Pop we're not anxious to play hide-and-seek with the subs."

I did not reply, but wondered what effect "a stake" would have on an idle man like him in New Orleans.