"By Joe, Smutje, I have an invitation to dinner, but I'd rather have dinner with you. Come along." I took him in the taxi to Hotel Atlantic, the finest in Hamburg. Bellboys came to open the door and usher us in. Cookie looked around. "This too, Phelax?" "Yes, Smutje." "How have you changed, Phelax!" I ordered champagne and cigarettes brought to a private room. There Smutje and I sat talking over old times. The waiter brought the wine. Cookie looked at the waiter's evening clothes in awe and then looked at me. "How have you changed, Phelax!" He essayed to grow friendly with the waiter, and ventured a familiar, joking remark. But the pompous waiter disdained to talk to such a fellow, ignored him, and turned to me. "Do you wish anything else, Count?" "Hey, Phelax, did you hear what he called you? Count! Are you a count?" "Yes, Smutje." "How have you changed, Phelax!" He thought for a while, and then gave me his two hands. "You swiped my fourteen pancakes, Phelax. I haven't forgotten it. I shall be proud all my life that a count swiped my pancakes." The _Cæsarea_ took on a cargo for New York. It consisted chiefly of chalk packed in barrels. Abaft we had a load of arsenic, three hundred tons packed in small barrels, which, because of its great weight, took up little room. It was a badly stowed, ill-balanced load. Of our new crew, some were sent from Hamburg and some were signed in England. These latter were stokers and trimmers who had never been on a sailing ship before. They could neither steer nor set sails. They received higher wages than we, and yet we had to do all the work. As a consequence, we treated them pretty roughly. Even our Hamburg cabin boys, whose duty it was to clean the sailors' quarters, were loath to do this for the green hands who knew less than they. The captain had hopes of a fast run to New York, which certainly seemed an easy jump after our trip through the latitudes of the hurricanes. But we had storm after storm from the first day out, and could make scarcely any headway at all. With our worthless crew, it was particularly miserable and trying. Christmas came, and with it the first fine weather and a fair wind. After a long time, we could set the topgallant sails again. It was fine to see the deck dry once more. The captain said: "This is a sign from God. Let us celebrate Christmas properly." So thankful was he that the old skinflint gave orders for Christmas cheer regardless of expense. In sailor fashion, we made a Christmas tree out of a broomstick and decorated it with coloured paper. The captain sent down a ham and a bowl of punch. When the candles were lit, a committee called on him to wish him a Merry Christmas and invite him to look at the tree. He accepted, and came down jovial and merry. Our new Smutje brought the flowing bowl, and we stood in line, each glass in hand, ready to toast the captain. Then a white squall struck us.