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Voyages and Travels of Count Funnibos and Baron Stilkin, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 2 |
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_ CHAPTER TWO. "Well, Mynheers, the sooner we get on board the galiot the better," said Captain Jan Dunck, addressing the Count and Baron. "She's a fine craft--a finer never floated on the Zuyder Zee; she carries a wonderful amount of cargo; her accommodation for passengers is excellent; her cabin is quite a palace, a fit habitation for a king. She's well found with a magnificent crew of sturdy fellows, and as to her captain, I flatter myself--though it is I who say it--that you will not find his equal afloat; yes, Mynheers, I say so without vanity. I've sailed, man and boy, for forty years or more on the stormy ocean, and never yet found my equal. I will convey you and your luggage and all other belongings to Amsterdam with speed and safety, always providing the winds are favourable, and we do not happen to stick on a mud-bank to be left high and dry till the next spring-tide, or that a storm does not arise and send us to the bottom, the fate which has overtaken many a stout craft, but which by my skill and knowledge I hope to avoid. However, I now invite you to come on board the _Golden Hog_, that we may be ready to weigh anchor directly the tide turns, and proceed on our voyage. There lies the craft on board which you are to have the happiness of sailing;" and Captain Jan Dunck, as he spoke, pointed to a galiot of no over large proportions which lay a short distance from the wharf, with her sails loosed ready for sea. "Well, we are fortunate in finding so experienced a navigator," observed the Count to the Baron, as they followed Captain Jan Dunck towards the steps at the bottom of which lay his boat. "He'll carry us as safely round the world as would have done the brave Captains Schouten and Le Maire, or Christofero Columbo himself." "If we take him at his own estimation he is undoubtedly a first-rate navigator; but you must remember, my dear Count, that it is not always safe to judge of men by the report they give of themselves; we shall know more about them at the termination of our voyage than we do at present," observed the Baron. "However, there is the boat, and he is making signs to us to follow him." The Count and Baron accordingly descended the steps into the galiot's boat, in the stern of which sat the Captain, his weight lifting the bows up considerably out of the water. A sailor in a woollen shirt who had lost one eye, and squinted with the other, and a nose, the ruddy tip of which seemed anxious to be well acquainted with his chin, sat in the bows with a pair of sculls in his hand ready to shove off at his captain's command. "Give way," said the skipper, and the one-eyed seaman began to paddle slowly and deliberately, for the boat was heavily weighted with the skipper and the Count and Baron in the stern, and as there was no necessity for haste, greater speed would have been superfluous. "Is this the way boats always move over the water?" asked the Count, as he observed the curious manner in which the bow cocked up. "Not unless they have great men in the stern, as my boat has at present," answered the skipper. "Ah, yes, I understand," said the Count, looking very wise. The boat was soon alongside the galiot, on board which the skipper stepped. As soon as he was out of her the bow of the boat came down with a flop in the water. He then stood ready to receive the Count and Baron. As he helped them up on deck, he congratulated them on having thus successfully performed the first part of their voyage. "And now, Mynheers," he continued, "I must beg you to admire the masts and rigging, the yellow tint of the sails, the bright polish you can see around you." "You must have expended a large amount of paint and varnish in thus adorning your vessel," observed the Count. "I have done my best to make her worthy of her Captain," answered the skipper, in a complacent tone, "and worthy, I may add, of conveying such distinguished passengers as yourselves." The Count bowed, and the Baron bowed, as they prepared to follow the skipper down through a small square hole in the deck with a hatch over it. "Why, this is not as grand as I had expected," observed the Count. "Not quite a palace, as you described it, Captain." "But it is as comfortable as a palace, and I find it far more so in a heavy sea," observed the skipper. "For you must understand that if the vessel gives a sudden lurch, it is a great blessing not to be sent fifty feet away to leeward, which you would be if you were in the room of a palace. See what comfort we have got here--everything within reach. A man has only to rise from his chair and tumble into bed, or tumble out of bed, and sit down in his chair to breakfast. Then, when he dresses he has only to stretch out his hand to take hold of the things hanging up against the bulkhead." While the skipper was pointing out to his passengers the super-excellence of the accommodation his vessel afforded, a female voice was heard exclaiming, in shrill tones-- "I must see him, I must see my master, the Count! He has bolted, decamped, run off without so much as saying why he was going, or where he was going, or leaving me those full and ample directions which I had a right to expect." "Hark!" exclaimed the Count, turning pale. "That must be Johanna Klack; if she once sees me, she'll take me back, to a certainty. Oh dear me, what shall I do?" "I know what I will do," cried the Baron, beginning to ascend the companion-ladder. "Captain Jan Dunck, keep the Count down here below; don't let him show himself on any account. I will settle the matter. This female, this termagant, will carry off one of your passengers, and, as an honest man, you are bound to protect him." "Ja, ja," said the Captain; "slip into one of those bunks and you will be perfectly safe, and if she manages to get down below, my name isn't Jan Dunck." Saying this, the skipper followed the Baron up on deck, and, clapping on the hatch, securely bolted it. The Baron had grasped a boathook, the skipper seized a broomstick, and in a loud voice shouted to his crew, "Boarders! repel boarders!" In a boat alongside stood a female, her countenance flushed and irate, showing by her actions her intention of climbing up the vessel's side. The crew obeyed their commander's call, and from the fore hatchway appeared the small ship's boy, holding a kettle of boiling water in his hand, while the rest had armed themselves with various weapons. "Who are you, and what do you want?" asked Captain Jan Dunck, in a loud voice. "I am that most ill-used person, Johanna Klack, the housekeeper, once honoured, respected, and trusted, of the noble Count Funnibos, who has been inveigled away with treachery and guile by that false friend of his, the Baron Stilkin. I've proof positive of the fact, for as I hurried along searching for the truants I met a brave mariner, who told me that he had not only spoken with them, but had seen them go on board this very vessel, and that, if I did not make haste, I should be too late to catch them. There's the Baron; I know him well, and I am very sure that my master is not far off. I must have him, I will have him back!" and, making a spring, she endeavoured to mount the side of the vessel. "Will you?" exclaimed the skipper, bestowing a rap on her knuckles which made the poor woman let go her hold of the rigging. "Give it her," cried the Baron, lunging at her with his boathook, at which the small ship's boy rushed forward with the steaming kettle in his hand. The unfortunate Johanna Klack, alarmed at what might be the consequences, sprang back to the other side of the boat, and, losing her balance, overboard she went, amid the jeers of the hard-hearted skipper and crew of the galiot _Golden Hog_. The hapless Vrouw, as she descended into the far from limpid water, screamed loudly for help, the waterman who had brought her off being too much astonished at first to render it. "Shove off," cried the skipper, "and hook the woman out of the water, but do not bring her alongside this vessel again, if you value your skull." The man obeyed, and, stretching out his boathook, got hold of the Vrouw's garments and hauled her on board. The moment she had recovered her breath she insisted on being taken back to the galiot; but the old boatman was suddenly seized with a fit of deafness, and wisely pulled away in an opposite direction. "Take me back! take me back!" cried Johanna Klack. "I am rowing as hard as I can," answered the boatman. "Take me back to the vessel, on board which my honoured master is a prisoner," shouted Johanna Klack. "We shall soon be at the shore; you can then run home and change your wet garments," answered the old boatman. "I tell you I want to go back to that vessel," cried the housekeeper, getting more and more angry and excited. "Ja, ja, Vrouw; ja, ja, I will land you presently." All this time the boatman was observing the threatening gestures of Captain Jan Dunck and Baron Stilkin. At last he disappeared with his fare behind a crowd of vessels. "Now, Captain," said the Baron, "the sooner we put to sea the better, for I know Johanna Klack well enough to be certain that, if she does not come herself, she will send a _posse comitatus_, or a party of constables, or some other myrmidons of the law to arrest us under some false accusation or other, and we shall be carried on shore ignominiously as prisoners, and your voyage will be delayed." "Ja, ja, I understand all about that," answered Captain Jan Dunck. "You boy, with the kettle of boiling water, go and carry it below, and help to get the galiot under weigh. Mate, turn the hands up and make sail." The crew consisted of the mate, the one-eyed mariner, and the small ship's boy. The mate and the one-eyed mariner were on deck; they had only to turn up the small ship's boy, who quickly made his appearance on being summoned, and they set to work to turn round the windlass, which soon won the anchor from its oozy bed. The sails were set, and as a light breeze had just then sprung up, the galiot began to move slowly down the canal towards the open ocean, which was yet, however, a good way off. As the breeze freshened the galiot moved faster and faster, and soon the town, with its church steeples and old towers and its crowd of shipping, was left behind. "I think we might venture to let the Count up on deck," observed the Baron. "He must be pretty well stifled by this time down in the hot cabin." "Ja, ja," answered Captain Dunck; "let him up. No fear of the Vrouw Klack coming after him now; if she does, we shall see her at a distance, and make preparations for her reception." "But if she comes with a _posse comitatus_" asked the Baron; "what shall we do then?" "Send the _posse comitatus_ about their business," answered Captain Dunck, flourishing a handspike. "I am skipper of this vessel, and no one shall step on board without my leave, or if they do I will trundle them overboard without their leave. Oh, oh, oh; let them just come and try it." On receiving this assurance from Captain Jan Dunck, the Baron, withdrawing the hatch, called to the Count to come on deck, and enjoy the fresh air and the beauty of the scenery. As no answer was returned, the Baron, beginning to feel alarmed, fearing that his friend had been truly suffocated, descended into the cabin. A loud snore assured him that the Count was fast asleep, forgetful of his castle, forgetful of the Vrouw Klack, forgetful where he was, and of all other sublunary matters. "Count Funnibos, come and see the beautiful scenery," shouted the Baron. Whereon, the Count starting up, hit his head such a blow against the woodwork close above, that he fell back almost stunned. He, however, soon recovered, and in a low voice asked the Baron what had happened. "The last thing that has happened is that you gave your head a tremendous thwack," said the Baron; "but my object is to invite you on deck to enjoy the beautiful scenery we are passing through, before we put out into the open ocean, when we shall see no more green fields." Thus summoned, the Count, getting out of the bunk, accompanied the Baron on deck. Then taking out his note-book he wrote: "Green fields, green trees, windmills pretty numerous, cows white and black still more so, sky and sea as usual, with here and there a vessel or other craft on the calm surface of the latter." "I see nothing more to describe," he said, as he closed the book and returned it to his pocket. Still the galiot glided on. "It strikes me that there is some monotony in this kind of scenery," observed the Count to the Baron; "but it's pleasing, charming, and soothing to one's troubled soul." At last the wind dropped, and the galiot lay becalmed. "What are we going to do now?" asked the Count, finding that the vessel no longer moved through the water. "Drop our anchor and wait till the ebb makes again, unless we wish to be driven up by the flood all the way we have come," observed the skipper. "What, and run the risk of meeting Johanna Klack!" exclaimed the Count, in a voice of alarm. "By all means do come to an anchor, my dear Captain." "That's what I intend to do," he answered; and he ordered the anchor to be let go. Other vessels were in the same condition as themselves, so they had no reason to complain. The scenery was not particularly enlivening, though there were a few trees on the shore; but they were generally stunted in their growth, and bent by the winds. Here and there a small boat appeared, the occupants being engaged either in fishing, or in rowing across the river. One or two people were enjoying the luxury of bathing, and a man came down to fill a jar with salt water, probably to bathe the limbs of one of his children. "How long are we likely to remain here, Captain Jan Dunck?" inquired the Count. "As I said before, and say it again, till the tide turns or the breeze springs up," answered the skipper. "What a hurry you appear to be in. The mariners in these seas have to learn patience--a valuable quality under all circumstances. If we grumbled every time we had a calm, or a foul wind, or stuck on a mud-bank, we should never cease grumbling." "Suppose, Captain, as we have nothing else to do, you or one of your crew would be good enough to spin us a yarn," said the Count. "One-eyed Pieter will spin you a yarn which will last into the middle of next week," said the skipper. "Then I think that he had better not begin," observed the Count; "for I hope before that time we shall be indulging in fresh milk and eggs on shore." "You do, do you, noble sir?" said the one-eyed mariner, winking at the mate, or rather intending to do so, for he winked in an opposite direction, as was his custom, though he was unconscious of it. "We're not out of the Scheldt yet, and if we don't get a fair wind, it will be a pretty long time before we reach the Texel and get into the Zuyder Zee." "Ja, ja; one-eyed Pieter speaks but the truth. You must be prepared, when navigating the changeful ocean, to meet with foul winds as well as fair ones," said the Captain. "Remember that I undertook only to convey you to your destination wind and weather permitting. No skipper ever takes passengers on any other terms." "I am prepared for whatever Fate wills," said the Count, folding his hands. "And so am I," said the Baron. "And now I propose, as it is getting late, and I feel sleepiness stealing over my eyelids, that we turn into our bunks and resign ourselves to the keeping of the drowsy god." "I don't know what you mean by talking of the drowsy god," said the skipper. "As far as I can make out, you intend to take a snooze; that's the best thing you can do." The Count and the Baron accordingly turned into their berths (not knocking their heads more than half-a-dozen times as they did so), and were very soon snoring away in concert. So ended the first day of their voyages and travels. _ |
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