per Worse utter the word
Romarino was one of the most ludicrous things imaginable.

When the feeble, querulous mother died, Romarino was fifteen years of
age. He was then sent to Copenhagen to live in a family which
received him at the request of Consul Garman. It was out of the
question that he should remain in the great lonely house, his father
being away so much at sea.

At the present time he was about twenty, and just before Jacob Worse
had sailed on his long voyage to Rio, Romarino had paid a visit to
his home.

He was a pale little creature, with light hair. He wore an olive
green coat, yellow waistcoat, and light grey trousers, strapped over
his boots. His extravagantly tall fluffy hat was so perched on the
top of his head that it was a wonder it did not fall off more
frequently.

In this costume he created a great sensation in the little fishing
town, strutting about flourishing a thin cane, and surveying
everybody and everything with disdain.

Moreover, he could not speak Norwegian properly.

His father's feelings were divided between admiration and
embarrassment; but the admiration received a serious blow when Thomas
Randulf swore that Romarino used pomatum on his pocket-handkerchief.

However, Worse still thought a good deal of his son, although he
could have wished that there was more of his own sailor spirit in
him.

He often thought that if he could have resigned the _Hope_ to a son,
such a one as Lauritz Seehus that son ought to have been.

Romarino Worse was, however, what he seemed to be, an idler who spent
his father's money; while in his heart he despised the simple
captain, as he had long since been taught to do by his mother.

When Skipper Worse had settled himself down to his life in the town,
he often wondered what was the matter at Sandsgaard. It was not at
all as it used to be; what in the world ailed the place?

Madame Garman's death had, of course, made a great difference, but
would hardly suffice to explain the dullness and constraint which
prevailed there.

At last he began to feel uneasy. It was not only that Harbour-master
Snell had, on the occasion of the first evening, hinted at the
pecuniary difficulties of C. F. Garman, but the same story reached
him from all sides. At first he ridiculed it; but little by little it
began to make some impression on him.

Several times when he had gone in his boat to Sandsgaard, he had
determined to speak to the Consul.

Heavens! if