At last he fell on Salve's neck in his impetuous way, and broke out-- "But at any rate we must have one parting glass together this evening.

I don't know how I shall ever do without you--it is so long now since we two have chummed together." Against his better reason Salve allowed himself to feel a little softened at the thought; and the remembrance of all the attachment this scoundrel had shown for him aroused something that almost resembled emotion.
"It is no use, my friend," he replied; "what is done can't be undone.
But I'll give you this evening, at all events.

You'll find me waiting for you in the Aurora." As usual at this season of the year, there were a great many vessels in the harbour, and the Aurora tavern was full that evening of seafaring folk laughing and talking and singing, and renewing, or laying the foundations of, acquaintanceships over brandy or gin; while in the little room over the bar, dance music was going on uninterruptedly, and the boards were creaking under alternate Dutch schottische and English hornpipe.
To properly appreciate a genuine sailors' reel or hornpipe, one should see it danced by men who for a whole year at a time have been battling with the waves and storms in every corner of the world, and who during all that time have hardly set eyes upon a female form.

They come on shore bursting with a full masculine longing for the society of the other sex, with a year's stored-up feeling to let out; and there is a positive intoxication to them in the mere dance--in the mere holding at Nieuwediep Anniken or Bibecke, or at Portsmouth Mary Ann, by the waist; and Mary Ann and Bibecke perfectly understand this, and for the moment feel themselves persons of no small importance.

There is no element of coarseness in the feeling.