"Ja? Dot iss gude to hear, young man. I haf liked you—how does one say it?—immensely. Der oder man wass no gude. He is gude rittance. You intend to stay wit' us. Ja?"
"I hope so," said Peter heartily and with vast relief.
"You like dis ship, eh?"
"Very much, indeed."
"And I vant you to stay, young man. I vant you to stay joost as long as you feel like staying. But I vant to ask you one t'ing, joost one t'ing."
"I'll do anything you say, sir."
The fat, jovial skipper of the Persian Gulf eyed Peter with beady, cunning eyes, and Peter was suddenly conscious of a sinking sensation.
"Joost one t'ing. Better, first I should say, ven you t'row overboard der coolies you dislike, it vould be best not to keep—vat are dey called—der soufenirs. Sooch t'ings as peestols."
"But, mynheer——"
The fat hand waved him to silence.