Ole Amundsen walked aft, and was kindly greeted by the officers on the quarter-deck, who commented freely upon his improved personal appearance, though they did it in more refined terms than their shipmates on the forecastle had done. Some of them tried to draw from him the explanation of his situation in the leaky boat, but without any better success than had attended the efforts of others. He yielded an extravagant deference to the gold lace on the uniforms of the officers, treating them with the utmost respect.
“Well, Ole, you look better than when I saw you last,” said Mr. Lowington.
“Yes, sir; and I feel better,” replied Ole, bowing low to the “big gentleman.”
“And you speak English very well, indeed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Can you speak Norwegian as well?”
“Yes, sir; better, I hope.”
“Monsieur Badois, will you ask him a question or two in Norwegian,” added the principal, turning to the professor of modern languages, who prided himself on being able to speak fourteen different tongues; “I begin to doubt whether he is a Norwegian.”
“I will, sir,” replied monsieur, who was always glad of an opportunity to exhibit his linguistic powers. “Hvor staae det til?” (How do you do?)
“Jeg takker, meget vel.” (Very well, I thank you), replied Ole.