“The business? Haw! I forgot what it was, ye know. But it was a blasted peculiar thing. Haw!”
Clif laughed.
“I am deuced obliged to you for your trouble, don’t ye know,” resumed his companion, extracting an elaborate case from his coat. “Here’s me pasteboard. I—aw—would be delighted to see you again.”
“Thanks. I haven’t a card with me, but my name is Faraday, Clifford Faraday, and I am a naval cadet of the new fourth class on board this practice ship, the Monongahela. We left Annapolis, Maryland, where our naval academy is situated, several weeks ago, and have been here in Lisbon three days.”
Clif read the card. The words, finely engraved, were:
“J. Chesire-Cheshire Cate,
“London, England.”
It was shortly before noon. The presence of the old American frigate, which, despite her age, was trim and neat aloft and alow, had attracted a number of visitors from the city.
The officers of the ship and the naval cadets forming the crew, always gallant and hospitable, had welcomed them heartily, and were showing the vessel.
To Clif’s lot had fallen this exaggerated specimen of the genus Briton, and the cadet’s delight was great.
He proceeded to spin yarns that even the proverbial marine would not listen to, but J. Chesire-Cheshire Cate simply looked vacant and said “Haw!”