“But you can't drink the whole of it, and I'm sure I sha'n't start in to be a drunkard at my age. I'll take the least little bit of a drop, just to see what it tastes like. I've read about champagne, just as I've read about lords and ladies, all my life, but I never expected to see either of 'em. Well there!” after a very small sip from the glass, “there's another pet idea gone to smash. A lord looks like Ase Tidditt, and champagne tastes like vinegar and soda. Tut! tut! tut! if I had to drink that sour stuff all my life I'd probably look like Asaph, too. No wonder that Erkskine man is such a shriveled-up thing.” I glanced toward the captain's table. Mr. Heathcroft raised his glass. I bowed and raised mine. The group at that table, the captain included, were looking in my direction. I judged that my smoke-room acquaintance had told them of my wonderful “tip.” I imagined I could see the sarcastic smile upon the captain's face. I did not care for that kind of celebrity. But the affair had one quite unexpected result. The next forenoon as Hephzibah and I were reclining in our deck-chairs the captain himself, florid-faced, gray-bearded, gold-laced and grand, halted before us. “I believe your name is Knowles, sir,” he said, raising his cap. “It is,” I replied. I wondered what in the world was coming next. Was he going to take me to task for talking with his second officer? “Your home is in Bayport, Massachusetts, I see by the passenger list,” he went on. “Is that Bayport on Cape Cod, may I ask?” “Yes,” I replied, more puzzled than ever. “I once knew a Knowles from your town, sir. He was a seafaring man like myself. His name was Philander Knowles, and when I knew him he was commander of the bark 'Ranger.'” “He was my father,” I said. Captain Stone extended his hand. “Mr. Knowles,” he declared, “this is a great pleasure, sir. I knew your father years ago when I was a young man, mate of one of our ships engaged in the Italian fruit trade. He was very kind to me at that time. I have never forgotten it. May I sit down?” The chair next to ours happened to be unoccupied at the moment and he took it. I introduced Hephzibah and we chatted for some time. The captain appeared delighted to meet the son of his old acquaintance. Father and he had met in Messina--Father's ship was in the fruit trade also at that time--and something or other he had done to help young Stone had made a great impression on the latter. I don't know what the something was, whether it was monetary help or assistance in getting out of a serious scrape; Stone did not tell me and I didn't ask. But, at any rate, the pair had become very friendly there and at subsequent meetings in the Mediterranean ports. The captain asked all sorts of questions about Father, his life, his family and his death aboard the sinking “Monarch of the Seas.” Hephzibah furnished most of the particulars. She remembered them well. Captain Stone nodded solemnly.