You can put that in your pipe
and smoke it."
And he glanced at Cartoner's cigarette with the satisfaction of a
conversationalist who has pulled off a good simile.
"'Safternoon," he continued, "I went to see some people about a little
job for the _Minnie_. She'll be out of dock in a fortnight. You will not
forget to come down and see her?"
"I should like to see her," said Cartoner. "Go on with your story."
"Well, this afternoon I went to see some parties that had a charter to
offer me. Foreigners--every man Jack of them. Spoke in German, out of
politeness to me. The Lord knows what they would have spoken if I hadn't
been there. It was bad enough as it was. But it wasn't the lingo that
got me; it was the voice. 'Where have I heard that voice?' thinks I.
And then I remembered. It was at the Seemannshaus, at Hamburg, one dark
night. 'You're a pretty government official,' I says to myself, sitting
quiet all the time, like a cat in the engine-room. I wouldn't have taken
the job at any rate, owing to that voice, which I have never forgotten,
and yet never thought to hear again. But while the parley voo was still
going on, up jumps a man--the only man I knew there--name beginning with
a K--don't quite remember it.
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