They wrangled on for a few moments, until they were both thoroughly awake.
Upon this they lit their pipes, and put on their coats—at Randulf's they always sat in their shirt sleeves, which was a treat to Worse. At home it was never allowed.
Afterwards the two old skippers sauntered about the wharves, peeped into the warehouses and the rope-walk, discussed the vessels in the harbour, and, with highly disparaging comments, examined a ship which was building by the wharf.
At every point they fell in with acquaintances, with whom they gossiped. Randulf was in excellent spirits, and Worse also roused himself, although he was not as he had been in old days.
Such a tour as this through the town was something new and unusual to him, for of late he had never been much beyond his own warehouse.
There was something strange about him, which he himself was unable to comprehend; but from the moment when he gave up the Hope to others, he had nearly lost all interest in his old calling.
Indeed, it was almost painful to him now to see a vessel in the fjord under full sail; formerly such a sight was the finest he knew.
To-day, however, Randulf had quite thawed him; he became lively, and even swore twice without being aware of it. This greatly comforted his friend.
Like Consul Garman, Randulf grieved that Jacob Worse had, as he termed it, stranded himself.
He teased him no longer; it would be of no use. At the club, over a tumbler of warm toddy, Randulf would confide to his friends how sad it was to see so splendid a seaman as Jacob Worse spoilt by a pack of women.