"Come on deck, Mynheers! come on deck!" cried the skipper, calling down
the skylight. "The sun will soon rise, you can enjoy a sight of the
land."
The Count and the Baron were soon dressed, and made their appearance on
deck.
"There's the land, Mynheers, and you will soon see the sun rising from
behind it," said the skipper, pointing with no little pride in his
countenance to a long unbroken line of shore rising not many feet above
the level of the ocean, with here and there a windmill towering above
it; its arms just beginning to revolve as the morning breezes filled its
sails. "There is Holland; look and admire."
While he was speaking, the sun, throwing a ruddy light on the dancing
waves, rose behind the long line of coast and its countless windmills.
The wind was fair, and the vessel was still steering northward.
"How soon are we likely to get into the Zuyder Zee?" asked the Count.
"That depends on the continuance of the breeze," answered the skipper.
"If it blows fair for a few hours more, we shall be up to the Helder
before noon; but if it shifts ahead, or a calm comes on, I shall have
the pleasure of your company for some time longer."
"With due respect to you, Captain Jan Dunck, I sincerely hope that the
breeze will continue fair," said the Count, making a polite bow, as he
had no wish to offend the skipper, but felt constrained to speak the
truth. "It is not of you or your galiot that I'm tired, but of this
fidgetty sea which rolls and tumbles her about so thoughtlessly, to say
the best of it."
"But are you aware, Count," said the skipper, "that the Zuyder Zee can
roll and tumble in no gentle fashion? For your sakes it is to be hoped
that we shall not have a storm till you land safely in Amsterdam."
"Then I sincerely pray that the winds may be in a gentle mood," said the
Count.
"And in the meantime, Captain Jan Dunck, I propose that we go down to
breakfast," said the Baron, who had showed signs of impatience for some
time past.
The Count and the Baron and the skipper sat down to breakfast. The two
latter did ample justice to the good things placed before them; but the
Count, after several heroic attempts to swallow a big sausage, had to
confess that his appetite had vanished, and that he thought that the
fresh air on deck would restore it. He there found the one-eyed mariner
steering.
"Oh tell me, brave sailor, when are we likely to get to the Helder?" he
asked in a tone which showed that he was but ill at ease.
"If you open your eyes wide enough, you will see it right ahead,"
answered the one-eyed mariner. "That point of land out there, that's
the Helder; we shall sail close to it, if the wind holds fair, and the
tide does not sweep us out again. There's water enough there to float a
seventy-four. On the other side is the island of Texel, and a very fine
island it is for sheep; many thousands live on it; and if you wish to
taste something excellent, I would advise you to obtain one of the green
cheeses which are made from the milk of the sheep living on the island."
"I will tell the Baron, who thinks more of eating than I do," answered
the Count. "But is that actually the Helder I see before me?"
"I told you it was," answered the one-eyed mariner, in a gruff tone, as
if he did not like to have his word doubted.
This was indeed joyful news to the Count, who already began to feel his
appetite returning; and he could not resist the temptation of shouting
through the skylight to the Baron, inviting him to come up and see the
place.
"Sit quiet till you have finished your breakfast, there will be time
enough then, and to spare," observed the skipper, who knew very well
that the tide was running out, and that the galiot could not stem it for
some time to come.
In half-an-hour after this the galiot began to move ahead, and arrived
off a huge sea wall, two hundred feet from the foundation to the summit,
and built of Norwegian granite, a work constructed to protect the land
from the encroachments of the ocean. Beyond it could be seen the tops
of the houses and the steeples of a large town. Sailing on, the galiot
came off the town of Nieuwe Diep, and the tall masts and yards of a
number of large ships could be distinguished in the Royal Dockyard
inside the bank.
"We Dutchmen are proud of this place," observed the skipper. "Two
hundred years ago a fierce naval battle was fought off here between the
English and French, and our brave Admirals De Ruyter and Van Tromp, who
gained the victory."
After the galiot had passed Nieuwe Diep the wind shifted to the
northward, and she ran on rapidly in smooth water till she came off
Enkhuisen. Bounding that point she reached Hoorn, off which she brought
up.
"The place is worth seeing," observed the skipper; "and you may spend an
hour or two on shore while I transact some business. You will remember
that it was once the capital of North Holland, but it is now what some
people call a dead city, and you will acknowledge that it is very far
from being a lively one; however, it has something to boast of. It was
here that Captain Schouten was born--he who sailed with Le Maire and
discovered the southern end of America, to which he, in consequence,
gave the name of his birthplace. You have heard of Cape Horn, I
suppose."
"Oh, yes; as to that, the Baron knows all about it," said the Count.
"We will follow your advice, Captain, and will be down on the quay again
within the time you mention."
"Well, this is a dead city," said the Baron, as he and the Count walked
through its ancient streets. "Everything about it seems to indicate
that if it ever were alive it must have been a long time ago. What
curious old houses, how quaint in form; many of them also are decorated
with sculpture of all sorts, and, on my word, excessively well executed
too."
"I should be very unwilling to pass many days here," remarked the Count,
as passing along street after street they scarcely met a creature,
quadruped or biped. The houses seemed untenanted--not a voice, not a
sound was heard; yet they were all clean, in good preservation, and well
painted, mostly of a yellow colour with red roofs, many of them with
gable ends, one story being smaller than the other, so that towards the
summit they presented an outline of steps. There were also numerous
gateways, some handsomely carved, but they led nowhere, and indeed no
one was seen to go in or out at them.
"I cannot stand this," said the Count. "Let us go back to the port."
Here a certain amount of trade was going on. Hoorn is engaged largely
in the curing of herrings; some vessels also were building, and it was
evident from the number of cheeses stacked up ready for exportation that
it must carry on a considerable commerce in that article. Floors above
floors were piled with round red cannon-balls, emitting an odour
powerful if not pleasant.
"After all, Hoorn is not so dead as I supposed," observed the Baron.
Finding the skipper they embarked.
"You intend, I hope, to land us at Amsterdam to-night," said the Count
to the skipper.
"Don't think there's the slightest chance of it," was the answer. "The
wind has fallen, it will be stark calm in a few minutes; for what I can
see it will be a calm all the night through and to-morrow also."
"Then I propose that we go to dinner," said the Baron. "I hope that it
will be ready soon."
"Dinner is it you want?" exclaimed the skipper. "What, did you not dine
at Hoorn?"
"Certainly not," said the Baron. "We were employed in seeing the town.
We fully expected that you would have had dinner ready on our return on
board. What has become of all the provisions you shipped, may I ask?"
"I landed them at Hoorn, where I took my own dinner," answered the
skipper. "You must manage to rough it on bread and cheese. There's not
much bread, but you may eat as much cheese as you like."
"This is abominable treatment, Captain Jan Dunck," exclaimed the Baron.
"I insist that you obtain provisions at the first place you can reach,
or else that you land us where we can obtain them. I am sure the Count
agrees with me."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the skipper. "Who do you think is master of this
ship? Did you ever hear the old song?
"Mynheer Jan Dunck,
Though he never got drunk,
Sipped brandy and water gaily;
He quenched his thirst
With a quart of the first,
And a pint of the latter daily.
"That's just what I have been doing, although I'm as sober as a judge.
I am ready for anything. You want to be landed, do you? Suppose I put
you on shore on the island of Marken? It is not far off, and my boat
will carry you there. What then will you say for yourselves? It is
your own doing, remember."
"This treatment is abominable," exclaimed the Baron. "I appeal to your
crew for their assistance, and ask them if they will stand by and see
your passengers insulted in this fashion."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the skipper. "Hoist the boat out. We will soon
see if my crew dare to disobey me. Pieter, there, be smart about it."
The one-eyed mariner started up and eyed the Count and the Baron with
his single blinker, making a grimace as much as to say he could not help
it. He and the mate and the small ship's boy soon got the boat into the
water.
"Step in," cried the skipper. "You said you wanted to be put on shore,
and I am going to put you on shore. Pieter, you're to row. If you want
your dinners you'll embark, if not you'll go without them."
"And are you going too, Captain Jan Dunck?" asked the Baron.
"Certainly, it is my intention," answered the skipper, and the Count and
the Baron, with their valises, got into the boat.
"Look after the vessel," shouted the skipper to the mate and small
ship's boy, as he stepped into the boat and seated himself in the stern
sheets, with the Count on one side and the Baron on the other and Pieter
pulling. As there was not a breath of wind the water was perfectly
smooth. The Baron's hunger increased, the Count also had regained his
appetite, and they were eager to reach the shore in the hopes of getting
a dinner. The skipper said nothing, but looked very glum. At last the
island appeared ahead, with a few huts on it and a tiny church in the
midst, but it was green and pleasant to look at.
"That does not look like a place where we can get dinner," observed the
Baron, eyeing it doubtfully.
"And he does not intend to give you any dinner either," whispered the
one-eyed mariner, whose good-will the Count and Baron had evidently won.
"Take my advice, tell him to go up and obtain provisions, and say that
you will eat them on board."
"What's that your talking about?" exclaimed the skipper. "Silence
there, forward!"
The one-eyed mariner rowed slower and slower, and managed to carry on
the conversation alternately with the Count and the Baron. Suddenly the
skipper, who had been partly dozing, though he had managed to steer the
boat, aroused himself. "Pull faster, Pieter," he shouted out: "I have
heard what you have been talking about, and will pay you off."
"I was merely giving the gentlemen good advice, Captain," answered
Pieter. "And there's one thing I have to say to you; if you can get
provisions at Marken, you had better do so in a hurry, for there's a
storm brewing, and it will be upon us before long. The mate and the boy
won't be able to manage the galiot alone, and she to a certainty will be
wrecked."
"A storm brewing, is there?" cried the Captain. "Well, then, the sooner
we land at Marken the better. Pull away, Pieter, pull away."
Pieter did pull, and in a short time the beach was reached. An old
fisherman, with a pipe in his mouth and a red cap on his head, came down
to see what the strangers wanted, as the Count and Baron stepped on
shore.
"Friend," exclaimed the Baron, "can you tell us where a good dinner is
to be obtained in a hurry, for we are famishing."
"A good dinner can undoubtedly be obtained in Marken," answered the
ancient fisherman with the red nightcap on his head; "but we are not
accustomed to do things in a hurry in our island. Poultry have to be
caught and their necks wrung, and the sheep have to be slaughtered and
skinned and cut up, potatoes have to be dug, and the other vegetables
gathered, the bread has to be made; but we have cheese, and you can eat
as much of that as you like."
"Plenty of cheese on board, we do not come on shore to obtain it!"
exclaimed the Baron. "Captain Jan Dunck, you have grossly deceived us;
you brought us onshore with the expectation of speedily obtaining a good
dinner."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the skipper. "I said nothing of the sort; I
undertook to land you, if you no longer wished to remain on board."
"But you led us to suppose that you intended to go yourself and obtain a
fresh supply of provisions at Marken," said the Baron with emphasis;
"and that is what we expected you to do."
"Then, Baron Stilkin, you are very much mistaken," answered the skipper.
"You left my vessel of your own free will, and you have landed on this
island of your own free will. I have fulfilled my engagement; if you
want a dinner you must go and find it as best you can. I heard what
Pieter was saying to you, and I intend to pay him off. Take up your
portmanteaus, unless the old fisherman will carry them for you, and go
your way; the storm, as Pieter observed, will be down upon us before
long, and I must put off and return to the galiot."
"I again say that you are treating us shamefully!" exclaimed the Baron.
"Pieter, my brave friend, will you stand by us?"
"Ja, ja, that I will," answered Pieter, who had stepped out of the boat.
"If the Captain likes to go off, he may go by himself."
The discussion had been going on for some time when Pieter said this.
Not only had the wind risen, but the rain had begun to fall, and the
Count and Baron were preparing to put up their umbrellas.
"It is very fortunate we brought them," observed the Count. "Baron,
your advice was sound when you suggested that we should do so."
Meantime the skipper had been getting his boat ready; he had stepped the
mast, and hoisted the sail.
"Pieter!" he exclaimed, "I want to say something to you."
"What is it, Captain?" asked the one-eyed mariner, cautiously drawing
near.
"Why, this!" cried the skipper. "That you are a treacherous old rascal,
and that I intend to pay you off."
As he spoke he hove a noose at the end of a rope over Pieter's body, and
before the one-eyed mariner was aware of what was going to happen, he
was dragged off his feet into the water, while the skipper, hauling aft
the main-sheet, sailed away, dragging poor Pieter through the foaming
waters astern. In his struggles Pieter had moved the rope up to his
neck, and was now in danger of being throttled.
"Stop, stop!" shouted the Count and the Baron in chorus. "Let that man
go! What are you about to do with him? You'll throttle him, or drag
off his head, or drown him--you'll be guilty of murder. We'll report
your conduct to the Burgomaster of Amsterdam, and all the other
authorities of Holland. Release him, let him go!"
Captain Jan Dunck, who never looked back towards his victim,
disregarding their threats and their cries sailed on, till he and his
boat and the hapless Pieter disappeared amid the thick sheets of rain
and the driving spray which surrounded them.