CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
THE YANKEE SKIPPER.
"And how on earth did you escape ?" asked Fritz, when he and Eric had somewhat recovered from their first surprise and emotion at meeting again in so unexpected a manner.
"Well, it's a long story to tell, brother," replied Eric, as soon as he could speak calmly, putting his arm through that of Fritz and drawing him towards a sort of long sofa, like a divan, which stretched across one side of the wide apartment where they had so strangely encountered-- the other and opposite side of the room being occupied by the usual long hotel "bar," common in most American towns, in front of which various little detached groups of people were standing up, drinking and chatting together.

"Suppose we come to an anchor here awhile, and I'll reel you off a yarn about all that has happened to me since I left Lubeck." "All right, we may as well sit down, at all events," said Fritz.

"They won't charge us for that, eh ?" "Oh no, I guess not," answered Eric, with that old light-hearted laugh of his, which his brother had never thought he should ever hear again.
"This is a free country, they say, you know!" "Now tell me all about yourself," said Fritz, when they had ensconced themselves comfortably in the furthest corner of the divan, or settee, which they had pretty much to themselves.

"I'm dying to know how you were saved!" "Right you are, my hearty," replied Eric, in sailor fashion.

"Here goes for the log of my cruise in the poor old _Gustav Barentz_!" "Fire away!" said Fritz; and then, the lad thereupon began his story.
The ship, Eric declared, was found to be terribly leaky almost as soon as they had started on the voyage, and this necessitated their having to put into Plymouth for repairs, which detained them a considerable time.
Indeed, it was as much as they could do to patch her up at all; for, her timbers were so rotten and the vessel had been strained so much from overloading that she was really unfit to be sent to sea.