REINGELDER AND THE GERMAN FLAG
Hans Breitmann paddled across the deck in his pink pyjamas, a cup of tea in one hand and a cheroot in the other, when the steamer was sweltering down the coast on her way to Singapur. He drank beer all day and all night, and played a game called 'Scairt' with three compatriots.
'I haf washed,' said he in a voice of thunder, 'but, dere is no use washing on these hell-seas. Look at me—I am still all wet und schweatin'. It is der tea dot makes me so. Boy, bring me Bilsener on ice.'
'You will die if you drink beer before breakfast,' said one man. 'Beer is the worst thing in the world for———'
'Ya, I know—der liver. I haf no liver, und I shall not die. At least I will not die obon dese benny sdeamers dot haf no beer fit to trink. If I should haf died, I will haf don so a hoondert dimes before now—in Shermany, in New York, in Japon, in Assam, und all over der inside barts of South Amerique. Also in Shamaica should I haf died or in Siam, but I am here; und der are my orchits dot I have drafelled all the vorld round to find.'
He pointed towards the wheel, where, in two rough wooden boxes, lay a mass of shrivelled vegetation, supposed by all the ship to represent Assam orchids of fabulous value.
