In senile fashion, to show off, he recited the names
of the Roman emperors, in chronological sequence. And, drawing a curtain
aside from a shelf he himself had built over his bunk, he showed me
Momsen's complete history of Rome, in a row of formidable volumes.
* * * * *
"There's the captain now!"
A great hulk of a man was lounging over the rail of the poop-deck,
looking down over the dock.
I started aft.
"Hist!" the cook motioned me back mysteriously. "Be sure you say 'Sir'
to him frequently."
* * * * *
"Beg pardon, sir. But are you Captain Schantze, sir?" (the cook had told
me the captain's name).
"Yes. What do you want?"
"I've heard you needed a cabin boy."
"Are you of German descent?"
"No, sir."
"What nationality are you, then?"
"American, sir."
"That means nothing, what were your people?"
"Straight English on my mother's side ... Pennsylvania Dutch on my
father's."
"What a mixture!"
He began walking up and down in seaman fashion. After spending several
minutes in silence I ventured to speak to him again.
"Do you think you could use me, sir?"
He swung on me abruptly.
"In what capacity?"
"As anything ... I'm willing to go as able seaman before the mast, if
necessary."
He stopped and looked me over and laughed explosively.
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