“That’s all, Norway.”
“I’m sure it was half past five in Gottenburg,” pleaded Ole, whom the coxswain had privately requested to make this blunder.
“What sort of chowder do you call this, son of Odin?” demanded Scott.
“He has made a blunder; that’s all,” laughed Burchmore, who, though not in the confidence of the coxswain, at once suspected the trick, and, to tell the truth, was not sorry for the mistake.
The mishap was discussed for an hour, and poor Ole was severely blamed, especially by Sanford, for his carelessness; but he bore the censure with becoming meekness.
“What’s to be done?” inquired Scott, at last.
“Here’s another train at 8.56,” replied Ole, pointing to the time-table. “We can return to Gottenburg in that.”
“Right, Norway,” added Scott.
They found a small hotel in the place, where they obtained a supper, and at the time indicated returned to Gottenburg, where they arrived at about one in the morning. It was too late to go on board of the ship, and they went directly to the little hotel in the lane, where Scott and Laybold had passed the preceding night. It was closed, but they easily roused the landlord.
“So you have again come,” said the good-natured host.