Mail-order catalogues are thoroughly thumbed.
"What! a gramophone like that for forty marks? I must have it, and all the latest songs."
They plan trips into the interior of the Fatherland.
"We will go to Munich in Bavaria. They say you can see the Alps from there."
The homegoings are anticipated with elaborate talk.
"Won't the old woman be glad to see me, particularly when I unwrap that silk dress I bought for her in Singapore."
The most disagreeable thing that can happen aboard a sailing vessel is to be becalmed on the homeward voyage, and the nearer the home port the more irritating it is. The captain begins to look for a Jonah. The first unfortunate for him to vent his rage upon is the helmsman. Nothing he does is right. The skipper is certain that as long as that hoodoo is at the wheel there will never be any wind. He is driving it away. Taking the helm himself, however, seems to do no good. He calls the youngest cabin boy and orders him to scratch the mainmast, which is supposed to bring wind. When this does not help, he gives the boy a broom and chases him to the top of the mainmast, to sweep the sky. Then he takes either an old pair of pants or an old boot and throws it overboard. Wind must certainly come now. He stamps down to his cabin and sits and smokes for a while awaiting the wind. When he returns to the deck, the calm is still unbroken. He starts in with the helmsman again, angered by the leering grin on the face of the Jonah.
"Here, Jan, you are such a fine fellow. You take the helm, by Joe, and see if you cannot get some wind up. You are good luck. You are an old friend of St. Peter."
Presently, indeed, far away on the horizon you can see a slight curling of the water. A slight breeze is coming.
"Jan, what did I tell you? You shall have half a pound of tobacco."