I had purposely hung my underwear up to dry so it would be in their way and so that, in stooping to get under it, they would see the name "Knudsen" embroidered on it. As the chief search officer crossed the cabin he suddenly saw my charming wife Josephine, with her blonde wig, her swollen jaw, and the rug hiding her big feet.
"Oh, excuse me."
"That is my wife, Mister Officer. She has been having a bad go with the toothache."
He was chivalrous, just as most Englishmen are. He might have been talking to a court lady, instead of that rascal Schmidt.
"Sorry, madam, to intrude like this, but we must do our duty."
"All right!" said my lovely but somewhat distorted better half in a high falsetto voice out of one corner of her mouth.
"By Joe, Captain, you haven't much cabin left, have you? You have been through some rough weather!"
"I wouldn't mind the rest, Mister Officer, but look at my papers. They are soaked, too."
"I can understand that, after the weather you've had."
"Yes, Mister Officer, it's all right for you to see them in this condition, because you saw the storm yourself, but later, if I meet some of your comrades who didn't hit the blow that we had, they may not take my word for it. That's what's worrying me."