Well, the old saw about beggars and choosers holds good, but--where the
very deuce _is_ Doppersdorp?"

"Hallo, Musgrave! Had ten thousand a year left you?" cried a jolly,
hail-the-maintop sort of voice behind him.

Its owner was a powerfully built man of middle age, whose handsome face,
bronzed and bearded, was lit up by a pair of keen brown eyes with a
merry twinkle in them which was more than half satirical. He was clad
in a dark blue, gold-laced, quasi-naval uniform.

"You know something about this country, eh, skipper?" said the other,
turning away from the taffrail, over which he had been leaning.

"I ought to by now, considering the number of years I've had to do with
it," was the confident reply.

"So? Well, I'll bet you a bottle of Heidsieck you don't answer the
first question I put to you concerning it. But whether I win or lose
it'll be our parting drink together."

"Our parting drink? Man alive, what sort of humbug are you talking?
Aren't we going on as far as Natal together, and haven't we only just
begun our unlading? That means two days more here, if not three. Then
we are sure to be kept a couple of days at East London. So this day
week we can talk about our parting drink, not to-day."

"Never mind that for a moment. Is that bet on?"

"All right--yes. Now then, what's the question?"

"Where is Doppersdorp?"

"Eh?"

"To be more explicit--what section of this flourishing colony is
distinguished by the proud possession of the town or village of
Doppersdorp?"

"I'll be hanged if I know."

"I thought not. Skipper, you've lost; so order up the Monopole, while I
dive down and roll up my traps, for to that unpromising township, of so
far nebulous locality, I am officially directed to proceed without loss
of time."

"The dickens you are! That's a nuisance, Musgrave; especially as all
the other fellows are leaving us here. I thought you were going on to
Natal with us."

"So did I. But nothing is certain in this world, let alone the plans of
such a knock-about as yours truly. Well, we've done more than our share
of lie-splitting during the last three weeks, Cheyne, and it'll be for
your moral good now to absorb some of the improving conversation of that
elderly party who is dying to come down to your end of the table; also
of Larkins, who can succeed to my chair."

"Oh, Larkins!" grunted the other contemptuously. "Every voyage the
saloon has its percentage of fools, but Larkins