“I don’t believe you will. When the ship came over before, every fellow had to give up his money, and the purser doled it out to the fellows in shillings or sixpences when they went ashore.”
“I’m sure it was very kind of him to take so much trouble.”
“You don’t think so.”
“Of course I do. Only think of poor Laybold, with a letter of credit for a hundred pounds on his hands! I’m thankful I haven’t the responsibility of spending so much money on my conscience. I should apply for admission to the first lunatic asylum, if I had to spend so much.”
“Nonsense! I made up my mind not to give up my money,” said the coxswain. “That rule made plenty of rows on the other cruise, and I expect the fellows on this cruise will be called upon to give up their stamps very soon.”
“I was going to say we could get even with the principal by spending it all before we go on board again; but we are in Sweden, and it is quite impossible. They won’t let you pay more than seventy-five cents or a dollar for a day’s board in this country.”
“You went to a sailor’s boarding-house, Scott. When you are at a first-class hotel, you will find that they bleed you enough.”
“I hope they do better than the landlord where we staid last night; if they don’t I shall make money in Sweden. Why, they wouldn’t even pick our pockets when we were boozy on ‘finkel.’ I’m sure they are a great deal more accommodating at sailors’ boarding-houses in Boston and New York.”
“Come, be serious, Scott. Shall you give up your money when you return to the ship?”
“Cheerfully, for there is no chance to get rid of it in this country.”