"Is there no chance for poor Pieter?" asked the Count, looking in the
direction Captain Jan Dunck, his boat, and his unfortunate victim had
gone.
"None, unless the skipper relents and drags him on board; and then I
don't think it likely that they will be on the best of terms," answered
the Baron.
"Do Dutch skippers generally treat their crews in the way Captain Jan
Dunck has treated poor Pieter?" asked the Count of the ancient
fisherman.
"It depends very much on the amount of schiedam they have taken aboard,"
answered the ancient fisherman. "We of Marken do not behave in that
fashion."
"I am very glad to hear it," said the Count, "as there seems a
probability, till the storm is over, of our having to spend some time
with you; if you were to do anything of the sort, we should undoubtedly
report your conduct to the Burgomaster of Amsterdam, as we intend to
report the conduct of Captain Jan Dunck, when we get there. And now,
Baron, since it seems to be all up with the one-eyed mariner, and as at
present we can do nothing to punish the perpetrator of the cruel deed,
what shall we do with ourselves?"
"I propose that we request this ancient fisherman to conduct us to some
hostelry, where we can obtain those creature comforts which we so much
need, and wait in quiet and security till the storm is over. Worthy
friend," he continued, turning to the ancient fisherman, "I beg that you
will have the goodness to conduct us to some inn, where we may obtain a
dinner and rest after our adventures on the stormy ocean."
"An inn," ejaculated the ancient fisherman. "We have no inns in Marken,
as few travellers are in the habit of visiting us. If, however, you
will accept such hospitality as I can offer, you shall be welcome to
it."
"With all our hearts," answered the Count and the Baron in chorus, and
they followed the ancient fisherman, who led the way into the interior
of the island. After passing through several narrow and dirty lanes
they emerged into a more open space, where they found themselves
surrounded by neat cottages, among which a number of people were moving
about.
The men were all dressed as sailors--a brown knitted waistcoat and wide
knickerbockers tied at the knees, thick black or blue woollen stockings,
and wooden sabots or shoes, These sabots, the Count and the Baron
observed, were taken off when the men entered a hut, so that it could be
known how many people were inside by the number of sabots at the door.
The women wore brown or chintz waistcoats, and short dark petticoats;
many of them had their hair hanging down on either side of the face in
long thick curls; their head-dresses were high white caps rounded at the
summit and lined with some coloured material.
"Here is my house," said the ancient fisherman, opening the door of one
of the neatest cottages in the place, "and there is my vrouw."
As he spoke an old lady got up and welcomed the travellers. She wore
the dress which has been described, especially clean and picturesque,
and in addition several gold ornaments. The cottage contained many
marks of thrift; two carved oaken wardrobes stood one on either side,
there was a clock of elaborate workmanship, and china plates of a
curious pattern. A cheerful fire burned on the hearth, and the ancient
fisherman's wife soon busied herself with her highly-polished pots and
pans in preparing a meal, the very odour of which made the Baron's mouth
water. Freshly-caught fish and a stew with potatoes and vegetables were
quickly ready, and the Baron did ample justice to each dish placed on
the table. The ancient fisherman informed them that the population of
the island was about nine hundred; the men are all fishers, and pass the
greater portion of their days on the water. On Sunday night, or rather
as soon as Monday is commenced, the whole population go down to the
port; the men embark in their boats, put to sea, and pass the week in
fishing. The women return to their daily avocations till another
Saturday afternoon comes round, when the men return home for their day
of rest.
"Month after month, and year after year, we live the same style of life;
the world wags on around us, but we hear little or nothing of its
doings. We are contented and happy in our way, and wouldn't change our
island of Marken for any part of the Netherlands, or the whole of Europe
to boot," said the ancient fisherman.
"I am much inclined to stop among you," observed the Count. "Only I
should not like to have to go out fishing every day, especially in cold
and wintry weather; but to sit here, for instance, with one's feet
before the fire, is very pleasant."
The ancient fisherman laughed. "You must remember, Mynheer, that in
order to obtain these comforts, my father and I have toiled on year
after year, each adding a little; this cottage and what it contains,
represents the labour, I may say, of centuries. Few things worth having
are to be obtained without working. I can enjoy my ease and these
comforts with a clear conscience, for I have laboured on for fifty years
or more, adding to the store my father left me, and he laboured for more
than fifty years, and my grandfather before him."
"What examples you and your family are of patience and perseverance,"
observed the Count.
"No, Mynheer, nothing wonderful," answered the ancient fisherman, in a
modest tone. "All the inhabitants of our part of the town have done
much the same, and we bring up our children in the hope that they will
follow our example. This, Mynheer, is the secret of our contentment and
prosperity."
"Then, when I marry and have children, I must bring them up to follow my
example, and the same result will, I hope, follow," said the Count.
"That depends upon the example you set them," answered the ancient
fisherman.
"Ah, yes; I must see about it, then," said the Count. "I don't know
that as yet I have ever done anything very industrious. Perhaps, like
me, they will become great travellers."
"Perhaps, my dear Count, the less you say about it the better, at
present," observed the Baron. "We have not proceeded very far on our
voyage round the world. In the meantime, I will thank our hostess for
another cup of her excellent tea."
As there seemed no probability of the storm abating, the Count and the
Baron accepted the invitation given them by the ancient fisherman and
his dame, to spend the night in their cottage. They had no beds to
offer, but they had comfortable arm-chairs, pipes, tobacco, and a
blazing fire.
"We might be worse off," observed the Baron, as he extended his legs and
folded his arms to sleep.
It being impossible to reach the mainland without a boat, the Baron
suggested, that after their experience, it would be safer to have one of
their own than to entrust themselves again to strangers, and the Count
agreeing, they settled to buy one. The next morning, therefore, after
breakfast, having wished their ancient host and hostess farewell, and
the Count having slipped a coin into the hand of the latter as a
remembrance, they purchased a boat, which the ancient fisherman
recommended, and helped them to launch: they then together set forth to
prosecute their travels.
Neither of them were very expert navigators, though the ancient
fisherman gave them a shove off to assist them in their progress, which
was remarkably slow. Sometimes they rowed one way, and sometimes
another, and the boat consequently went round and round.
"You pull too hard," cried the Count.
"You don't pull hard enough," answered the Baron. "That is the reason
we don't go as straight as we should."
"Then perhaps if you take the two oars we shall go straighter," said the
Count.
To this the Baron objected, as he had no desire to undertake all the
labour of the voyage. Somehow or other they managed, notwithstanding,
to get to a distance from Marken: perhaps the tide was carrying them
along in the direction of the Helder; that this was the case, however,
did not occur to them. They saw the land clearly enough stretching out
to the westward: there lay Monnickendam, there Edam, and, further to the
south, Uitdam. "Experience makes perfect:" after some time they did
manage to row in a fashion.
"I think we must be approaching the shore," observed the Count. "It
looks nearer than it did."
"So it ought, since we have been rowing with might and main for the last
two hours," said the Baron, wiping the perspiration from his brow. "I
wish that we had waited at Marken till we should have found a passage on
board some vessel, or obtained the assistance of one of the islanders;
this is heavy work, especially as we have come away without provisions."
"So we have," cried the Count. "Oh dear! oh dear! If we ever reach the
shore, I shall be very much inclined to register a vow never again to
tempt the stormy ocean."
"Regrets are useless at present; let us get to the shore," said the
Baron.
But they rowed and rowed away in vain. Evening was approaching, and,
though they had enjoyed a good breakfast, they were desperately hungry,
and there appeared every probability that they would have to spend the
night on the water. Fortunately it was calm, or they would have been in
a still worse condition. Looking up, they at length saw an island, or a
point of land with a tower on it.
"That must be one of the places on the coast," observed the Count; "let
us try to reach it."
"But if we sit with our backs to the bows, as we have been hitherto
doing, we shall not see it," observed the Baron. "Let us stand up and
row forward; then, perhaps, we shall go straighter than we have been
doing."
The Count agreed, and they rowed thus for some time.
Suddenly they were startled by a voice which in mournful accents said:
"Oh, take me on board; take me on board!"
So great was the Baron's alarm that he nearly sank down to the bottom of
the boat, when on looking over his shoulder, what should he see but the
countenance of the one-eyed mariner, who was endeavouring to haul
himself on board.
"Are you yourself, or are you a ghost?" asked the Baron, in trembling
accents.
"Can it be? Can it be our former shipmate?" cried the Count.
"I am indeed, most noble gentlemen, that unfortunate and ill-used
individual," answered the one-eyed mariner; for it was he himself,
though his countenance was as pale as if he had really been a ghost, and
his visage was elongated, the result of the sufferings he had gone
through. Satisfied that he was a mortal being like themselves, the
Count and the Baron at length assisted him to get into the boat.
"How did you escape?" asked the Baron eagerly.
"By a wonderful circumstance," answered the one-eyed mariner. "I
managed to get my hands free, and slipped my neck out of the noose, just
as I was on the point of being strangled. I held on to the boat,
however, and allowed myself to be dragged along at the stern. I knew
that if I had attempted to get in Captain Jan Dunck would very soon have
quieted me by a blow on my crown. At length I saw that we were passing
yonder island, and, silently letting go the rope, I swam towards it;
while he, unconscious of my escape, sailed on. I there landed, but it
is a barren spot, where neither food nor fresh water is to be obtained.
I thought that I should have perished; for after the strain on my throat
I felt dreadfully thirsty, and capable of drinking up the Zuyder Zee
itself, if it had been fresh water mixed with a due allowance of
schiedam. At length I observed your boat, noble gentlemen, drifting by;
I cannot compliment you by saying you were rowing, for you were going
round and round in all directions. I guessed that you were
land-lubbers--excuse my frankness--and that I might render you
assistance in return for the service you would do me by enabling me to
reach the shore. Not till you spoke, however, did I recognise you as my
late shipmates, and now Mynheers, the best thing you can do is to let me
take the oars and row steadily to the land; for, though hungry and
thirsty, I have still some strength left in my battered frame."
"By all means, worthy mariner, take the oars," said the Baron, handing
his to the sailor, while the Count followed his example. "We are
ourselves nearly starving, and will promise you the best supper to be
obtained wherever we may land, should we be fortunate enough to reach
some hospitable part of the globe."
The one-eyed mariner took the oars, and bending lustily to them, made
the boat move along very much faster than she had done since the Count
and the Baron had commenced their voyage.
"I was inclined, when we were rowing, to suppose that she was among the
slowest that ever floated, or that there was something the matter with
the oars," observed the Count.
"People are very apt to find fault with the tools they employ, instead
of laying the blame on themselves," remarked the Baron, sententiously.
The one-eyed mariner cocked his one eye, as much as to say, "You are
right, gentlemen;" but without speaking he rowed and rowed, now bending
forward, now leaning back with all his might, every now and then looking
over his shoulder to see that they were going in the right direction.
It was getting darker and darker, and no friendly lights beamed forth
from cottages or houses to indicate that they were approaching the
inhabited part of the country.
"Shall we soon reach the shore," asked the Baron, with a groan; "I am
getting desperately hungry."
"We shall not get there the sooner by talking about it," answered the
one-eyed mariner, who was beginning to lose his temper as he became more
and more fatigued. "If you, Mynheers, had learned to row, you might
have relieved me for a short time, till I had recovered my strength; but
as we should never get there if I gave you up the oars, I must keep at
it; only do not be continually asking me when we shall get there. I
tell you we shall get there, wherever that may be, some time or other,
if I keep rowing long enough."
After this remark, the Count and the Baron thought it prudent to say
nothing more to the one-eyed mariner. He rowed and he rowed. The land
became more distinct, but no lights indicated the cheerful habitations
of men. The Baron groaned, for he saw no prospect of obtaining a
supper, yet it was better to be on dry land than in a small boat on the
Zuyder Zee, with an individual of so uncertain a temper as the one-eyed
mariner. At length they found themselves with banks on either side.
"I thought so," said the one-eyed mariner, "we have reached the
neighbourhood of Yollendam; this must be the Yoll--a better landfall
than I expected. I do not know that provisions are to be obtained at
the village, which is a mile or so off; but we will see." And he rowed
up the river, which had a more attractive appearance than might have
been expected, for there was a small island covered with trees, and a
mound several feet high on the opposite side, on which the eye could
rest with pleasure. Before they had gone far the moon burst forth from
behind some clouds, and shed along the waters of the stream its silvery
light, which showed them a small vessel drawn up on the shore, and two
or three people near her.
"Perhaps these persons have provisions on board," exclaimed the Baron.
"I could sup off a dry crust of bread and a piece of Dutch cheese with
greatest willingness in the world. We will ask those strangers if they
will kindly relieve our necessities. Brave sailor, good Pieter, old and
worthy shipmate, have the goodness to pull in for the shore, and we will
throw ourselves on the charity of those strangers."
The one-eyed mariner gave a grunt, as if he valued but little the
compliments paid him; but he obeyed, notwithstanding, and the boat soon
reached the shore. The Baron and the Count then scrambled out, and made
their way to where the crew of the vessel were seated.
"Worthy mariners," began the Baron, in his usual style; "we are
shipwrecked individuals, or rather, I should say, we have just come a
long and perilous voyage in yonder small boat, without food or liquid
with which to renew our strength, and we are well-nigh starving. We ask
you forthwith to supply our necessities."
"What's the stout gentleman talking about?" asked one of the sailors of
his companion. "I cannot make out what he says."
"So far as I can understand, he and his friend are hungry, and want some
grub," observed the latter. "Food is it you want?" he continued,
turning to the Count and the Baron. "Our vessel there, which we hope to
get off at high tide, is laden with cheese, and you shall have one
apiece if you like at cost price, with as much biscuit as you can eat
and some schnapps into the bargain."
"By all means, let us go on board at once," cried the Baron. "I am
grateful to you."
"But we must not forget poor Pieter," cried the Count. "Here Pieter,
Pieter, we have got some food for you."
Pieter had hauled up the boat, and, moving as fast as he could stagger,
he accompanied the Count and the Baron and the crew of the sloop on
board. The sailors were as good as their word, and produced a couple of
round ruddy cheeses and a basketful of biscuits.
"Let us attack one first," said the Baron, nearly breaking his knife in
the attempt to make an incision in the rind; he succeeded in getting off
some slices, and all three fell to. Pieter, who was the most hungry of
the party, swallowed one huge lump after another, then held out his cup
for a supply of schiedam.
"Never mind the water," he observed. "This dry biscuit and cheese
requires something potent to get it down."
The Count, who had never tasted schiedam before, though he took his
diluted with water, made wry faces at what he considered its nauseous
taste, but he said nothing for fear of offending the captain and crew of
the sloop. At length he declared that he could eat no more.
"I think I can go on a little longer," said the Baron, who had attacked
the second cheese.
"And I do not expect to leave off till midnight," said the one-eyed
mariner, helping himself to an additional slice. At last their meal
came to a conclusion.
"Where are you bound for?" asked the Count of the skipper of the sloop.
"For Amsterdam," answered the skipper.
"Then, Baron, don't you think that it would be as well if we were to
proceed on board this vessel, supposing the captain is willing to give
us a passage?" said the Count.
"As to that, we might do worse," answered the Baron. "We shall thus at
all events accomplish our passage to Amsterdam by water as we intended,
and the Zuyder Zee is not likely to prove as boisterous as the Northern
Ocean."
The skipper of the sloop having no objection to take the Count and the
Baron, the arrangement was at once concluded.
"By-the-by, my friend," said the Baron, "I hope you will manage to
obtain some more nutritious and palatable provender than these red
cheeses and hard biscuit for the voyage: they are all very well once in
a way for supper, but I should not like to have nothing else to live
on."
The skipper promised to send to Yollendam, or if not to Edam, to obtain
provisions for his passengers.
"And pray, Mynheers, what are you going to do with your boat," asked the
one-eyed mariner.
"I forgot all about her," exclaimed the Count. "We will present her to
you, my worthy friend," he said. "You shall become her skipper, and, if
you please, you are welcome to sail round the world in her, provided we
are not compelled to accompany you."
The one-eyed mariner gratefully accepted the gift. "I am a made man,"
he said, "and need no longer be at the beck and call of Captain Jan
Dunck, supposing he and the _Golden Hog_ are still afloat. I will
obtain fishing lines, and go out and fish and sell my fish, and build a
cottage, and marry a wife, and live happy and independent to the end of
my days."
A bright idea seemed to strike the Count. "Friend, if you happen not to
have found a wife in these parts, pray come over to Belgium, and I will
there introduce you to a charming person, Johanna Klack by name, and you
can take her away with you and settle at Marken or Urk, or any other
island in or about the Zuyder Zee."
"Excellent! the brightest idea, my dear Count, to which you ever gave
birth," exclaimed the Baron. "By all means, worthy Pieter, come. Don't
trouble yourself to look out for a wife here; they're all very good in
their way, but Johanna Klack is super-excellent, and she probably has
saved up a whole stockingful of guilders. I feel very much inclined to
go back with you at once to assist you in your wooing."
"Mynheer," said the one-eyed mariner, putting his finger to his nose,
"`good wine needs no bush.' I have an idea or two. If this dame is so
very charming, somebody with more personal attractions than I possess
will have won her before I have the happiness of making her
acquaintance; and you forget that, though I have got the boat, I have to
obtain the fishing lines to catch the fish, to sell the fish, to go on
doing that for some years, and then to build the house, and when the
house is built it will be time enough for me to come in search of Vrouw
Johanna Klack."
"Well, well, we'll talk about that to-morrow morning," said the Baron,
who did not feel very sanguine as to the speedy disposal of Johanna
Klack's fair hand.
Pieter, wishing them good night, went to sleep on board his boat, while
they turned into two bunks in the small cabin of the sloop and slept
soundly.