The White Voyage
“Meeting Captain Olsen as he came down from the bridge, Jones said: ‘Do we stay here long?’ ‘We sail at midnight. But you cannot go ashore yet. We must wait for the Customs Officer to come.’ ‘We may not go ashore.’ Olsen nodded indifferently. ‘Inform the steward if you are staying on board, so that he can make arrangements for dinner tonight.’ He gave Jones a quick mechanical smile and went on. On the deck, by the forward hatch, Josef Simanyi was setting up a fishing rod. Olsen came up behind an...d tapped him on the shoulder.
‘What are you doing, do you think?’ Josef glanced over his shoulder. ‘Fishing.’ ‘Forbidden,’ Olsen said. ‘Three thousand francs’ fine for any who fish within the harbour.’ ‘Truly?’ ‘Truly. Give me the rod. If anyone sees you, it is my rod and you are holding it for me.’ ‘Then you pay the fine.’ Olsen smiled. ‘No one can fine a captain who casts a line from his own ship. What bait do you have? Liver?MoreLess
‘What are you doing, do you think?’ Josef glanced over his shoulder. ‘Fishing.’ ‘Forbidden,’ Olsen said. ‘Three thousand francs’ fine for any who fish within the harbour.’ ‘Truly?’ ‘Truly. Give me the rod. If anyone sees you, it is my rod and you are holding it for me.’ ‘Then you pay the fine.’ Olsen smiled. ‘No one can fine a captain who casts a line from his own ship. What bait do you have? Liver?MoreLess
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