The pair were so pleased with each other's company that the commercial, whose name was Klingenstein--"Goloshes and rubber goods," decided not to land at Arendal as he had intended, but to go on to Stavanger instead. Peter Oiland recommended this course, as offering, perhaps--who could say--an opportunity for getting into touch with the South Sea Islands, and selling goloshes to the heathen.
"As a matter of fact," Peter added, "I know a man in Stavanger who lived some years on one of the South Sea Islands, personal friend of Queen Nabagadale; useful man to know." There was then every reason to believe that Klingenstein might open up a new market in elastic stockings and such like.
The moon went down about midnight, and Peter Oiland thought he might as well do likewise. Thoroughly pleased with himself and all the world, he went below and found his way to his cabin. The upper berth was occupied by a man in a big woollen nightcap. "Evening!" said Peter in the friendliest tone, as he sat down to take off his boot.
"Sir," said the gentleman in the nightcap, "permit me to observe that you might have a little consideration for people who wish to rest."
"Delighted, I'm sure," said Peter. "But what's the matter? Can't you get to sleep? Awful nuisance, insomnia, I know."
"Well, when people are so tactless as to sit up on deck just over one's head, stamping and shouting out ribald songs...."
But before his indignant fellow-passenger could finish his sentence, Peter Oiland was in his berth and snoring--snoring so emphatically, indeed, that he of the nightcap, after having listened to this new melody for three solid hours, got up in despair and went off to lie down on a sofa in the saloon.
Peter Oiland slept like a mummy till ten o'clock next morning, not even waking when the steamer touched at her two ports of call.
Coming on deck, he could not fail to perceive that the other delegates were somewhat cold and reserved in their manner towards him, while as for Sukkestad, he had retired to an obscure corner of the second-class quarters.
"Poor fellow, he's not used to travelling," thought Peter Oiland. "I must go and cheer him up a bit." And he went across to Sukkestad and asked if he didn't feel like something to eat.