“SIR,—The bearer, a countryman of mine, is desirous
of obtaining employment in the Dock Yard under your
superintendence. He is not altogether unacquainted with this
description of labor, but wishes to perfect himself in it. I
feel assured that nowhere can he do so to greater advantage
than under your instruction.”
The compliment implied in the concluding sentence served to moderate the
vexation occasioned by his recent misapprehension; and he turned with a
milder mien to his visitor.
He was a little surprised to find, that, quite unconscious of the great
distance between the superintendent of the Dock Yard and a common
workman, he had, without ceremony, seated himself. “Humph!” thought he;
“I suppose that’s the way they do in Russia.”
“So you are from Russia, my good man?” said he, in a half-patronizing
tone.
The visitor inclined his head in the affirmative.
“It’s a barbarous place, I’ve heard: the people are not half civilized;
you did wisely in coming here. You must see a great difference between it
and Holland?”
“Yes,” said the Russian, “we have much to learn. Other nations are
greatly in advance of us in many respects; but that will pass away, and
Russia will take her place at the head of them all.”
The superintendent shrugged his shoulders. He evidently did not believe
it.
“So you wish employment?” he continued, after a pause. “What is your
name?”
“Peter Timmerman,” was the reply.
“Very well; you may set to work to-morrow. Your wages will be a florin a
day. You may report yourself at six o’clock.”
Thus terminated the interview. The Russian made a bow of acknowledgment,
and left the office, leaving the superintendent more puzzled than
enlightened at the insight into Russian character with which he had been
favored.
The next morning, at the appointed time, Peter Timmerman presented
himself at the Dock Yard. He set to work with an intelligence and
earnestness which evinced that he was far from being a novice, and by
no means inclined to be a drone. A week had not passed before he was
acknowledged to be the ablest workman in the yard.
His fellow-workmen looked upon him with a little natural curiosity, and
would have been very glad of his confidence. It was soon found, however,
that, although asking many questions in regard to the details of his
occupation, he preserved a uniform silence respecting his own family
and past life, carefully evading any inquiries which the curiosity of
his companions prompted. On one occasion, when some one of them pushed
it to an indiscreet extent, the eyes of the Russian blazed with anger,
and he lifted the tool he had in his hand in a threatening manner; but
apparently reflection came to his aid, and, lowering it, he proceeded
with his work. This little incident convinced his comrades, that,
whatever mystery there might be connected with his past history, it would
be both useless and dangerous in them to endeavor to extort it from him.
Henceforth, then, he was not troubled with inquiries, but was treated
with an involuntary and perhaps unconscious deference by those with whom
he was brought in daily contact.
If occasionally it might be thought that he was greater than he seemed,
there was nothing to confirm this idea in his mode of life.
The florin which he daily earned was the utmost limit of his expenses.
No workman lived more frugally. He had secured board and lodgings at the
house of a poor widow woman, the mother of one of his companions in the
yard, where he paid a small price, and lived accordingly. The whole
family consisted of the mother and son. This son, who was a lively and
well-looking young man of one and twenty, was, next to Peter, the most
skilful workman in the yard. He worked intelligently, and did not suffer
his eyes to remain idle. It was his ambition to rise from the position of
a mere workman, and become a master-builder.
Perhaps one thing which contributed to heighten his ambition was the fact
that the superintendent of the Dock Yard possessed, among the items of
his wealth, a fair, cherry-cheeked damsel, whose beauty had set half the
hearts of the young men in Amsterdam on fire. Trust me, friendly reader!
young men are pretty much alike all the world over; and the current
of youthful feeling is just as likely to effervesce in the Hollander,
phlegmatic as he is generally supposed, as in the residents of more
southern climes.
But, after all, was it not foolish in the young ship-carpenter to aspire
to an object so generally admired and sought after as the Fraulein
superintendent? for such she was designated, out of respect for her
father’s office. Perhaps it was; and yet Heinrich Dort did not think so.
After all, he was the best judge in what concerned himself.
He had observed the young Fraulein’s eyes wandering toward the side of
the church on which he sat, and he could not mistake the object that
attracted them. Whenever the maiden saw that he was returning her gaze,
she always cast down her eyes; and then, of course, she looked ten-fold
as beautiful in the eyes of Heinrich Dort.
After all, the eye is more eloquent than the tongue. Heinrich thought he
could not mistake it in this instance. It was certainly rather singular
that the two should meet in the walk one pleasant Sabbath afternoon; and
no less so, perhaps, that, precisely at the moment, the Fraulein should
drop a brooch which she held in her hand. Of course, she searched for it
diligently in every place but the right one; and, of course, Heinrich was
required, by the claims of politeness, to volunteer his assistance. The
lost ornament was soon found; but Heinrich, probably fearing it might be
lost again, did not leave the Fraulein, but accompanied her, by a very
round-about way, to her home. Perhaps it might have been absence of mind
that made them miss the direct way,—at least, so we will conjecture,
since we can do nothing more.
At all events, such was the commencement of Heinrich’s acquaintance with
the Fraulein. They used to meet every Sabbath afternoon; and Heinrich,
acknowledging his presumption all the time, ventured to confess that his
whole hope of happiness rested upon her answer to a little question which
he had to propose.
What that question was, I may as well leave to be surmised. The answer
was conditionally favorable. The maiden intimated that no opposition
need be anticipated from her, provided he should obtain her father’s
consent. Heinrich felt very happy until he began to consider that this
qualification might prove a very formidable one; and he feared that the
superintendent might think the young workman altogether an inadequate
match for his daughter, whose dowry would be twenty thousand florins at
the very least. But there is an old saying,—“Faint heart never won fair
lady.” Whether Heinrich had ever heard of this, or whether, indeed, it
had ever been translated into Dutch at all, I am quite unable to say;
but, at all events, he was resolved that such a prize should not pass
from his hands without a struggle.
* * * * *
Although the young workman was far from being constitutionally timid,
preserving an undaunted front in the face of danger, it must be
confessed that his heart beat audibly and his hand trembled perceptibly
as he knocked at the door of the superintendent’s office; not that there
was any thing particularly suited to inspire fear in the rotund figure of
that personage.
The latter perceived that the young man was disturbed. He was rather
flattered to find it so, as he attributed it solely to the effect of his
presence, which he privately considered not a little imposing. It was,
therefore, with an approach to affability that he motioned him to be
seated, and inquired,—
“Well, my good fellow, how goes business? Have you come for any
instructions?”
“No, your excellency,” replied Heinrich. “Business goes well enough; but
it is on another subject that I wish to trouble you.”
“Well, out with it, man. No parleying,—that’s my way.”
“You have a daughter.”
“Donder and blitzen! So I always have supposed. And is it to impart this
precious piece of information that you have come here?”
“No, your excellency,” hesitated Heinrich; “but the fact is, that—that—in
short, an attachment has sprung up between your daughter and myself; and
I am here to crave your permission to marry her.”
“Well, that is coming to the point with a vengeance!” exclaimed the
testy little superintendent. “And may I beg to know whether my daughter
sanctioned this visit on your part?”
“She did.”
“Then she has less wit than I thought for. She—the daughter of the
superintendent of the royal Dock Yard of Amsterdam—to stoop to be the
wife of a common workman! The girl must be out of her senses. But if she
chooses it to be so, I shall not. Young man, you have been presumptuous.
For once, I will pass over it; but beware of offending a second time.”
The little great man made an imperious gesture of withdrawal, which
Heinrich could not do otherwise than obey. He returned home in great
depression, as might be anticipated of one whose dearest hopes had been
crushed out. Sitting at the door, he perceived his mother’s lodger and
his own fellow-workman, Peter Timmerman.
The latter, contrary to his custom, opened a conversation with Heinrich,
whose manner he could not avoid noticing.
“What has befallen you, comrade,” he said, “that you should look so
woe-begone?”
“And if I tell you,” returned Heinrich, whose disappointment had made him
somewhat testy,—“if I should tell you, how could you help me?”
“Perhaps not at all,—perhaps very much. At all events, it will relieve
your mind to unburden it of sorrow, if any weighs upon it.”
“You may be right,” said Heinrich, after a pause. “At all events, it
will do no harm. You must know, then, that I have been foolish enough
to fall in love with the superintendent’s daughter, who favors my suit.
But because I am not wealthy, and am _only a workman_” (the young man
emphasized the last words in a bitter tone), “her father rejects my suit.”
“But how if you occupied as high a position as himself?”
“Oh! then there would be nothing to fear.”
“Listen, then, in your turn. I may help you to what you seek. Did you
ever hear of Russia?”
“I have,” said Heinrich. “It is a great country, but a barbarous one.”
“That is true; at least, it is not so far advanced as its neighbors. But,
if I live to accomplish all my plans, it shall yet equal any of them.”
“_You!_ Who, then, are you?” exclaimed the young man, in astonishment at
such language from such a source.
“_I am Peter, the reigning czar_,” said the Russian, composedly. “I could
trust no one but myself to carry out a plan I had formed for supplying
the chief defect of Russia,—an efficient navy. Accordingly, I have
entered myself here as a common workman. I have gained what I sought; I
have made myself familiar with the construction of vessels; and I shall,
after a brief visit to England, return to my kingdom, and take measures
to build a fleet. I have thought of you as one competent to superintend
their building. You shall have a handsome salary, and I will confer upon
you an order of nobility.”
“Then I can marry the Fraulein superintendent after all!” And Heinrich
leaped to his feet in exultation. “But how shall I thank your ex⸺ I mean
your majesty, for such a load of favors?”
“By fidelity to my interests,” said Peter. “But I am tired, and must go
in. Whatever arrangements you make must be completed within three days.
Good night.”
The next morning, Heinrich paid another visit to the superintendent. When
he left, at the end of half an hour, the superintendent accompanied him
to the door in the excess of his affability. No more opposition was made
to his suit. Heinrich Dort, the workman, was quite a different person
from Heinrich Dort, general superintendent of the Russian navy.
The events which followed are known to history. Peter, with the
assistance of his superintendent, laid the foundation of a flourishing
marine; and the latter, through all the mutations of the Russian
dynasty, succeeded in retaining the confidence of the government until
Death gathered him to his fathers at a ripe old age.