"A fair wind, Mynheers! a fair wind!" shouted Captain Jan Dunck down the
cabin skylight. "Rouse up, rouse up; come on deck and see how the
_Golden Hog_ is walking along."
"Walking along, what does he mean? do ships walk?" asked the Count, as,
having turned out of his bunk and rubbed his eyes and yawned and
stretched himself, he was beginning to dress.
"I suppose it is a nautical expression describing the rapid way a ship
moves through the water," observed the Baron. "But we will inquire of
the worthy skipper when we get on deck."
"Yes, and I will enter the expression in my note-book," observed the
Count.
The travellers were soon on deck. The galiot was gliding rapidly though
smoothly through the somewhat yellow waters of the Scheldt. Land could
be seen on both sides, but at a considerable distance, for it was here
very broad, with villages, towers, curiously-formed landmarks, and here
and there a few trees scattered about, just rising above the surface.
"We shall soon come off Vlissingen on our right, which the English call
Flushing. It is the last place where, should you be tired of voyaging,
I can land you," said the skipper. "You must make up your mind
therefore at once, as I shall not touch at another till we come off
Brill, at the mouth of the Maas."
"No, no; the Count and I are determined to continue our voyage,"
answered the Baron; who, having discovered that Captain Jan Dunck had a
store of good things on board, had no intention of leaving the vessel,
and therefore did his best to dissuade his friend from setting foot on
shore even when the galiot dropped her anchor off one of the quays of
Flushing. Not far off was a landing-place, and people were hurrying up
and down, and some even came off and endeavoured to persuade the
travellers to come on shore and take up their abode at one of the
hotels, where they were assured every comfort and luxury could be
obtained at the most moderate prices. The Baron, however, declined for
himself and his friend, being somewhat suspicious that, should they
leave the galiot, Captain Jan Dunck might become oblivious of their
existence and sail without them. In a short time the skipper himself
returned, bringing off a quarter of mutton, a round of beef, several
baskets of vegetables, half-a-dozen round, cannon-ball-like cheeses of
ruddy complexion, bread, and other articles capable of supplying the
wants of the inner man. The Baron's eyes glistened, and the Count gazed
with satisfaction at the supply of food handed up on deck.
"Why, Captain, you seemed anxious just now to induce us to quit your
vessel, and now you bring this magnificent supply of good things," said
the Baron, patting his back.
"I was anxious to be rid of you," answered the skipper, frankly.
"Judging by the appetite you exhibited at breakfast this morning, you
would have very soon eaten up all the provisions intended for the
voyage; and one of two things I had to do--either to get rid of you and
your companion, or to obtain sufficient food for your nourishment. I
tried the first without success--go you would not, and I have now
therefore been compelled to adopt the other alternative; hence this
stock of provisions. Ja, ja, you understand. But here comes the
breeze, we must not lose it. Up anchor, Pieter!"
Pieter, the mate, and small ship's boy, went to the windlass, while the
skipper stood at the helm. The galiot was soon got under weigh, and off
she glided, not very fast at first, with her head towards the North Sea.
In a short time Flushing, with the masts and yards of its shipping, was
lost to sight, and the galiot began ploughing the waters of the North
Sea. Fortunately, the wind being off the land, it was tolerably smooth,
and she glided on without inconveniencing her passengers.
"What is out there?" asked the Count, pointing across the apparently
boundless waters towards the west.
"Thereabouts lies that little island I spoke of inhabited by the English
people," answered the skipper. "I hope they may keep to their island,
and not come bothering us as they used to do in days of yore. All we
want now is to be let alone, and to be allowed to carry on our
commercial affairs like peaceable and well-disposed people--to build our
dykes and to cultivate the soil. Think what we have done! We have won
half of our country from the sea, and have converted the other half,
once no better than a marsh, into dry land. Look at our magnificent
towns, our canals, our green fields, our gardens and orchards, and just
think what our industry has accomplished. A Dutchman has a right to be
proud of his country, and so we are, and intend to defend it, as we
always have done, to the last drop of our blood."
The skipper, who grew enthusiastic, was standing at the helm, and he
puffed away at his pipe till from the clouds of smoke that ascended the
galiot might have been taken at a distance for a steamer.
"Holland is but a small country, though," observed the Count.
"Yes, granted; but it has a large soul. Every inch of its soil is
cultivated, or made to produce something. Think of the countless herds
of cattle it feeds, and the mountains of cheeses shipped every year to
all parts of the world, its ingenious toys, its gorgeous tulips, and the
oceans of schiedam it supplies to thirsty souls, not to speak of its
many other manufactures, which you will have the opportunity of
inspecting during your travels. Other people inhabit fertile countries
which they found ready prepared for them, we Hollanders have formed
ours; we have won it after a fierce battle of long years from the greedy
ocean, which is always endeavouring to regain the ground it has lost,
but we keep the ocean in check with our wonderful dykes, and make it
subservient to our requirements. You showed your wisdom, Mynheers, in
determining to visit it before proceeding to other parts of the world.
In my opinion, you'll not wish to go further; it contains amply
sufficient to satisfy the desire of your hearts. Ja, ja."
Captain Jan Dunck emitted a vast column of smoke, and was silent for
some minutes. He then had to take a pull at the main-sheet, for the
wind was heading the galiot; he took another and another, and his
countenance wore a less satisfactory aspect than it had done lately.
The galiot began to pitch, for the seas were getting up, while she
heeled over as much as galiots ever do, they being sturdy craft, loving
upright ways and sailing best before the wind. If the skipper looked
dissatisfied, his passengers were evidently much more so; their visages
grew longer and longer, their eyes assumed a fleshy hue, their lips
curled, and it needed no experienced physiognomist to pronounce them
unhappy; conversation ceased, they spoke only in ejaculations such as
"Oh! oh! oh! Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear!"
At last the Baron managed to say, "Ca-a-a-p-tain, i-i-i-i-sn't there a
harbour into which we can put till this storm is over?"
"Storm, do you call it," laughed the skipper. "It is only a head wind,
and we shall have to stand out to the eastward into the North Sea for a
few leagues or so, till we can fetch the Texel."
"Oh dear! oh dear! into the North Sea, did you say?" cried the Count.
"How dreadful!"
"Horrible!" exclaimed the Baron.
"Detestable!" cried the Count.
"Well, Mynheers, to please you, remember, seeing that the galiot is
likely to make as much leeway as she does headway, we will put into
Brill, a town just now on our starboard hand, a short distance up the
Maas. Hands about ship!"
The mate, the one-eyed mariner, and the small ship's boy started up at
their Captain's call. The helm was put down, the jib-sheet let fly, and
the galiot, after exhibiting some doubt as to whether she would do as
was wished, came slowly round, her head pointing to the eastward.
"Why, what has become of the wind?" asked the Count, his visage
brightening.
"The sea is much more quiet than it was, because we have just got under
the land. See that bank away to windward, that keeps it off us. We
shall soon be running up the Maas."
In a few minutes the water became perfectly smooth, the Count and Baron
recovered their spirits, and in a short time they arrived off a seaport
town on the right bank of the Maas.
"There's nothing very grand to boast of," observed the Count, as he
surveyed it through his binoculars.
"It has a history, notwithstanding," observed the skipper. "It was here
the first successful blow was struck for liberty, by those daring
fellows `The Beggars of the Sea,' under their gallant leader De la
Marck. It is a town of pilots and fishermen, and as brave sailors as
ever explored the ocean. Here, also, were born our gallant admirals Van
Tromp and De Witt, and its harbour is as fine a one as any along the
coast. Say what you like, Mynheers, Brill has as good a right to be
proud of itself as many a place with greater pretensions. Do you feel
disposed to go on shore and survey its advantages?"
"Thank you," said the Baron, "taking all things into consideration, we
will remain where we are; dinner will soon be ready, I think; our
appetites are wonderfully sharpened by the sea air, and, remembering the
store of provender you brought on board, it would be a bad compliment to
you not to stay and help you consume it."
"Ja, ja," said the skipper, "do as you please, I am happy to have your
company."
The Baron, at all events, did ample justice to the skipper's dinner, and
all three spent the remainder of the day on deck, puffing away with
their long pipes in their mouths, till it was difficult to say whether
they or the galley fire forward sent forth the thickest wreaths.
Notwithstanding this, the Baron declared that he was perfectly ready for
supper at the usual hour, after which the two passengers turned into
their berths and went to sleep. They were awakened by finding the
vessel once more pitching and tumbling about, and, thinking that
something was about to happen, they crawled up on deck.
"What's the matter, Captain," exclaimed the Count, in an agitated voice;
"is there any danger?"
"No, but there's no small amount of fear among some of us," answered the
skipper in a gruff voice. "We have got a fair wind, and are once more
at sea."
"What is that bright spot up there," asked the Count, pointing to a
light which streamed forth on the right hand.
"That, why that's the Maas Lighthouse," answered the skipper. "It marks
the entrance to the river, and we shall soon round it, and be in the
open sea. You'll then have the satisfaction of once more bounding over
the heaving wave."
"From previous experience I must own that I would rather escape that
satisfaction," observed the Count, making a long face. "Couldn't we
manage to make our way through some of the numerous canals which I have
heard intersect Holland in all directions?"
"We should have been a week or two, or even a month about it, if we had
made the attempt," answered the skipper. "We cannot tack in the canals
as we can in the open sea. Now we can stretch away from the land as far
as we like and then go about again, till we can head up again for the
Helder."
"Oh dear, oh dear, I suppose we must submit to our fate," groaned the
Count. "Baron, you have much to answer for, dragging me away from my
castle and home comforts and the watchful care of that estimable person
Johanna Klack."
"Why, you were in a great hurry to escape from her not long ago,"
answered the Baron, "and now you find fault with me because the sea
happens to be a little rough."
"When I wanted to escape from Johanna Klack we were in smooth water, and
I would rather endure the clatter of her tongue than the roaring waves
and the howling of the winds."
"It is too late to complain now, Count; regrets are vain things at the
best," said the Baron. "Let us be content with the present; see, we're
getting close to the lighthouse."
"So we are, I can distinguish it clearly," said the Count. "And,
hilloa, look up there at those gnats or moths, or what are they,
fluttering about the light?"
"Ha, ha, ha! moths or gnats," laughed the skipper; "why those are birds,
sea-birds and land birds of all descriptions, who come there for the
charitable purpose of being turned into pies and puddings and stews by
the light-keepers. All the keepers have to do is to go out and catch
them by their legs as they alight on the rails and wring their necks.
Our friends up there need have no fear of starving; when the wind blows
from the land they get land birds, and when from the ocean sea-birds,
and as they are nowise particular--not objecting to the fishy flavour of
the wild fowl--their pots and kettles are sure to be well supplied."
"Under those circumstances I should not object to be a light-keeper,"
observed the Baron. "The household expenses must be small, as they have
no butcher's bills to pay or taxes either."
"It is a somewhat solitary life," said the skipper. "Each man to his
taste, I prefer sailing over the free ocean, with my stout galiot under
my feet and plenty of sea room."
"Couldn't we stop and get some of the birds?" asked the Baron, who from
habit was constantly thinking of the best way to supply his larder.
"They would be a welcome addition to our sea-stock of provisions."
"The lighthouse-men would consider that we were poaching on their
preserves," said the skipper; "besides which, if we were to go nearer
than we now are, we should run the galiot ashore. See, we are already
leaving the lighthouse astern, and are now clear of the river."
"So I perceive," groaned the Count, as the vessel had heeled over and
began to pitch and tumble.
"Never fear, Count," said the skipper, in an encouraging tone; "we shall
soon be going free, and the galiot will then only roll pleasantly from
side to side, and assist to rock you to sleep when you turn in your
bunk."
"I'd rather not be rocked to sleep in that fashion," said the Count.
"Ever since I was a baby I have been able to sleep perfectly well in my
bed or arm-chair after dinner without being rocked. Couldn't you manage
to keep the galiot quiet, just to please me?"
"I could not keep her quiet to please the King of the Netherlands, or
the Burgomaster of Amsterdam or Rotterdam; no, not if you paid ten times
the sum you have for your passage-money," answered the skipper, in a
gruff tone.
"Then I suppose that I must submit to my hard fate," groaned the Count.
"Though I do wish--I cannot help wishing--that I had not come to sea;
and I here register the firm resolution I now form, that of my own free
will I will never--when once I set foot on shore--venture again on the
stormy ocean."
"Then I must observe, my dear Count, that we shall never manage to get
round the world, as you led me to suppose, when we started on our
travels, it was your desire to do," observed the Baron.
"Yes, but I did not take into consideration that we should have to
encounter so rough, ill-mannered, and boisterous a sea, and such howling
winds," answered the Count. "I had bargained to find the water as
smooth as the Scheldt, and I still should have no hesitation about going
round the world, providing you can guarantee that the ocean will keep
perfectly quiet till we come back again."
"As to that, I will guarantee that as far as my influence extends it
shall remain as calm as a mill-pond," said the Baron, in a confident
tone. "Will that satisfy you, Count? If so, notwithstanding your
unjust complaints, we will continue our travels."
"Perfectly, perfectly," said the Count. "I always take your word for
what it is worth."
"Ho! ho!" laughed the skipper, who overheard the conversation. "Look
out there, Pieter. Are you keeping your weather eye open?" he shouted
to the one-eyed mariner who was forward.
"Ja, ja, Captain; there's a fleet of fishing boats ahead, we must keep
to the eastward of them. Port the helm a little."
Presently the Count and the Baron heard the tinkling of bells, and as
they looked over the side of the vessel the Count exclaimed, "What are
those Will-o'-the-Wisps dancing away there?"
"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed the skipper. "Those are the lights from fishing
boats. We shall see them more clearly presently."
As the galiot sailed on, the Count and Baron observed that the lights
proceeded from lanterns hung up in the rigging, and that some vessels
had huge beams with black nets attached to them which they had just
hoisted up out of the water, and that the crews were turning out the
fish caught in the pockets of the nets. Others, under easy sail, were
gliding on slowly with stout ropes towing astern.
"They are trawlers catching turbot, brill, plaice, and other flat fish,"
observed the skipper. "Our country has numberless advantages; we make
as much use of the sea as many other nations do of the land, though, as
I before said, we are carrying on a constant warfare with it, trying to
turn it away from its ancient boundaries, and doing our best to keep it
from encroaching on the soil we have once gained. Holland would never
have become what she is, unless Dutchmen had been imbued with a large
quantity of those valuable qualities, patience and perseverance."
"Ah, you Dutchmen are indeed a wonderful people," exclaimed the Count.
"I am very glad that we thought of visiting your country before
proceeding to other parts of the world. At the same time, if we had
gone by land we should certainly have seen more of it than we are likely
to do now."
"Wait till daylight," said the skipper, "and then you shall see what you
shall see. I would advise you to go below and obtain some sleep, as at
present, I will allow, the landscape is somewhat limited."
"You are right; the chief objects we can distinguish are the tip of your
nose and Pieter's one eye, which I see blinking away when the light of
the binnacle lamp falls on it," observed the Baron. "We will follow
your advice," and he descended the companion-ladder.
The Count also commenced his descent into the cabin, but just before his
head disappeared, he said: "You will oblige me greatly, Captain, by
keeping the vessel as steady as you can; I find it very inconvenient to
be tumbled and tossed about in the way we have been since we left the
Maas."
"Ja, ja," answered the skipper, with a broad grin on his countenance,
which, being dark, the Count did not observe.