Voyages and Travels of Count Funnibos and Baron Stilkin Part 7

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 sh.o.r.e," 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 pa.s.sage on board some vessel, or obtained the a.s.sistance 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.e," 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 n.o.ble 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 a.s.sisted him to get into the boat.

"How did you escape?" asked the Baron eagerly.

"By a wonderful circ.u.mstance," 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 pa.s.sing 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, n.o.ble 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 a.s.sistance in return for the service you would do me by enabling me to reach the sh.o.r.e. 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 l.u.s.tily 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 c.o.c.ked 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 sh.o.r.e," 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.e. 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 pa.s.sage?" said the Count.

"As to that, we might do worse," answered the Baron. "We shall thus at all events accomplish our pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.sengers.

"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."