W'ich is it to be?"
"No need to ask Mr. Hozier any such question," said the suave Dom
Corria. "You can trust him implicitly. He is with us now--to the
death. Captain San Benavides, a word with you."
"South a bit," repeated the skipper. "Call me at two bells in the
second dog."
He was turning to leave the bridge with the Brazilians when a cheery
voice came from a gangway beneath.
"Yah, yah, mine frent--that's the proper lubricant. I wouldn't give
you tuppence a dozen for your bloomin' lager. Well, just a freshener.
Thanks. Ik danky shun!"
"You spik Tcherman vare goot," was the reply.
"Talk a little of all sorts. Used to sing a Jarman song once. What
was that you was a-hummin' in your cabin? Nice chune. I've a musical
ear meself."
Someone sang a verse in a subdued baritone, tremulous with sentiment.
The melody was haunting, the words almost pathetic under the conditions
of life on board the disheveled _Unser Fritz_. They told of Vienna,
the city beloved of its sons.
Es gibt nur eine Kaiser Stadt,
Es gibt nur eine Wien.
"Shake, me boy!" cried the enraptured Watts to the ship's captain. "I
do'n' know wot it's all about, but it's reel fine. Something to do
with a gal, I expect. Well, 'ere's one of the same kidney:
I know a maiden fair to see,
Take care!
She can both false and friendly be,
Beware, beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee!"
Mr.
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