The sailor who had sprung to the end of the jibboom, supposing the Count
to be the captain, did as he was bid, and with a few strokes of an axe
quickly severed the rigging, and the shrouds fell down on deck, while
the sloop, gliding on, was quickly free of the ship.
"Why didn't you keep a better look-out?" shouted the captain of the
ship. "It was your own fault in getting in our way."
"Ja, ja," answered the man at the helm, who like the skipper had been
indulging in potations of schiedam. The skipper himself now came on
deck, to which the Baron had just before made his way, and began
storming and raging. The crew of the big ship only laughed at him and
sailed proudly on, while the sloop lay helpless on the water.
"The sooner we repair the rigging the better," observed the Count, who
never put himself out, whatever happened. The only man who was capable
of doing this was the one who had been forward; he at once lowered down
the mainsail and saved the mast from being carried away, which it might
have been had a slight puff of wind come on.
"Put the vessel to rights, you lubbers," cried the skipper. "I am going
below to finish my bottle of schiedam."
"Ja, ja," answered the sober man of the crew. "Mynheers, will you help
me, and we shall be able to do it," he said, addressing the Count and
the Baron.
They consented to do their best to pull and haul as much as was
required.
"That's all I want," he said, fixing a rope to the severed rigging and
going aloft with it. Having passed it through a block he told them to
haul away. When the upper end had reached the masthead he lashed it
there as securely as he could.
"That will do, provided we do not get a strong breeze. Now, Mynheers,
help me to set the mainsail."
The Count and the Baron hauled away right lustily, and the sail was soon
set.
"Now," said the sober sailor to the man who had been at the helm, "go
forward and sleep; it is the only thing you're fit for at present."
The seaman obeyed, and disappeared down the fore hatchway. The sloop
sailed on and on. The Count looked into the cabin and saw that the
skipper was fast asleep; the Baron went forward and found half his crew
employed in the same way.
"Never mind," said the sober sailor; "the wind is fair, and provided no
other big ship runs us down we shall get safely to Amsterdam soon after
nightfall."
This was cheering news to the travellers, and they promised a handsome
reward to the sober sailor if he would take them in safely.
"Glad to do that for my own sake," he answered. "It won't be my fault
if we do not."
Still, as the wind was light the sloop sailed slowly; yet it was very
evident, from the number of vessels they encountered, that they were
approaching the great emporium of commerce; but the evening was drawing
on, and darkness would increase the dangers of the voyage. At length
they could only see lights glittering here and there, ahead and on every
side, and tall masts rising out of the water. Now and then shouts
warned them to get out of the way of some vessel, and the sober sailor
shouted in return.
"Now, Mynheers, whichever of you can steer the best take the helm, and
we will bring the sloop to an anchor. We must wait till daylight to get
through the outer drawbridge."
"I never steered in my life," answered the Count.
"Nor I either," said the Baron.
"Then do one of you take the tiller and do as I tell you," said the
sober sailor.
"Baron, I leave that honour to you," said the Count; "I do not feel
quite up to it."
The Baron, who would have been ready to steer a seventy-four if he had
been asked, at once took the tiller in hand, and, as the sailor sang
out, "Pull the tiller towards you," or "Put it away from you," he did as
he was bid. They glided on in the darkness, the lights round them
twinkling like fireflies. At last the sailor hauled down the jib and
foresail. "Now put it from you," he sang out, "as far as you can."
Then there came a splash, and the cable ran out, and the sober sailor
requested the Count and the Baron to help him lower the mainsail.
"Now I have you all snug," he said, "I can put you on shore, or you can
remain on board till morning if you wish it."
"I think we had better remain on board," said the Baron; "I do not fancy
going into a strange town at midnight without knowing an inch of my way,
or what hotel to go to."
"I agree with you," observed the Count, "though I cannot say that I
anticipate much pleasure in passing the night in a close cabin with a
tipsy skipper snoring as loud as a grampus."
"Not pleasant, certainly," remarked the Baron; "and I am ready to
sacrifice myself for your benefit, if our friend here will take me on
shore and wait for me while I search for an hotel; whether I find one or
not, I will come back to you."
The Count gladly agreed to this proposal; and the sober sailor,
launching the boat, at once put off with the Baron, intending, as he
said, to land him at a quay at no great distance. The Count walked the
deck impatiently waiting his return; and, as he heard the skipper and
the man forward snoring, he began to regret that he had not himself also
gone. The sober sailor and the Baron were a long time absent.
"What can have become of them?" exclaimed the Count, over and over
again. He had sat down to rest in the after part of the vessel, when he
saw some one moving forward; and, going in that direction, he discovered
the sailor who had been asleep.
"What are you about there?" he asked.
"Giving more scope to the cable," was the answer. "The tide has risen,
and the sloop wants it."
"All right, I suppose," thought the Count, and he went aft, while the
sailor descended, and was soon again fast asleep. The Count heard a
noise such as rope makes when running over wood. Presently he observed
that the objects, dimly seen through the gloom of night, were moving.
"What can have happened?" he thought. Faster and faster they moved.
The vessel appeared to be in a rapid current.
"Oh, dear! oh, dear! what is happening?" he cried out; and he shouted to
the skipper and the man forward, but neither answered him. Presently
the vessel struck against the side of a house which rose out of the
water, then against a pier, then she bounded off, then once more she
came with tremendous force against another house, which appeared to be a
store, carrying away her bowsprit. "She will go to the bottom, and I
shall be drowned," thought the Count; and he scrambled up the rigging
just as the head of the mast poked its way in at a large opening in the
wall. Climbing the shrouds of a vessel was a feat the Count had never
before accomplished, and was very contrary to his habits; but he exerted
himself to the utmost. The unpleasant recollection came upon him, as he
was doing so, that these were the shrouds which had been severed when
the ship ran into the sloop, and he feared, naturally, that they would
give way at the very moment that he was upon them. This made him climb
the faster. Now, as the vessel heeled over, his feet touched the wall
of the building, and he feared that he might be jammed against it. The
darkness prevented him from seeing clearly what was befalling the hull,
but his impression was that it was going down into the deep canal, and
that the skipper and the remaining portion of his crew would be drowned;
but he had no desire to share their fate, and was utterly unable to help
them. He shouted, however, loud enough to arouse them out of any
ordinary slumber; but the schiedam they had drunk had so completely
lulled their senses that they heard not his shouts, or the bumping of
the vessel against the wall. He therefore continued his ascent till he
reached the top of the mast, when, getting hold of a beam which
projected from the opening in the building, he hauled himself up. Just
as he did so the mast cracked; the vessel with a jerk heeled over to the
opposite side; he was left clinging to the beam while she was borne away
by the tide into the darkness. Again he shouted to try and arouse the
skipper, but no human voice replied to his cries.