.. and of the mates' and
sailmaker's ... so it was safe to tell him.
"You'd better be careful," the cook admonished me.
"But what could Captain Schantze want with so many bottles of syrup and
soda water aboard?"
"The English custom's officer who comes aboard here is an old friend of
Schantze's, and a teetotaler ... so the captain always treats him to
soda water."
"But Karl and I have drunk it all up already," I confessed slowly.
"You'll both catch a good hiding then when he calls for it and finds
there is none."
The next day the customs man came aboard.
"Have a drink, Mr. Wollaston?" Schantze asked him.
"Yes, but nothing strong," for probably the tenth occasion came the
answer.
Then offhandedly, the captain--as if he had not, perhaps, said the same
thing for ten previous voyages: "I have some fine French soda water and
syrup in my private locker, perhaps you'd like some of that, Mr.
Wollaston?"
Mr. Wollaston, whose face and nose was so ruddy and pimply anyone would
take him for a toper, answers: "Yes, a little of that Won't do any harm,
Captain!"
"Karl!--Johann!" We had been listening, frightened, to the colloquy. We
came out, trembling.
"Look under the cushions in my cabin ... bring out some of the syrup and
soda water you find there."
"Very well, sir!"
We both hurried in ... stood facing each other, too scared to laugh at
the situation.
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