There was only one customer.

He was a gray-haired, ruddy-visaged old salt in white duck--at this time of year!--and a blue sack-coat dotted with shining brass buttons, the whole five-foot-four topped by a gold-braided officer's cap.

He was drinking what is jocularly called a "schooner" of beer, and finishing this he lurched from the room with a rolling, hiccoughing gait, due entirely to a wooden peg which extended from his right knee down to a highly polished brass ferrule.
Fitzgerald awakened the landlord and gave him the admiral's note.
"You will be sure and give this to the gentleman in the morning ?" "Certainly, sir.

Mr.Karl Breitmann," reading the superscription aloud.

"Yes, sir; first thing in the morning.".