CHAPTER V.“SEEING THE ELEPHANT.”
“‘You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,’” sang Nettie, as she leaned over the balcony railing, gazing out upon the lovely lake and island before them; for Mr. Hyde had explained that, as his time was exceedingly limited, he could allow them only three days to explore Havenhaag, and at the end of that time they must leave for New York.
“So we will begin with the Royal Museum to-morrow morning,” he added; “and all who are up in good season can take a trip with me, in one of those shallops, around the lake.”
After the children had retired, Mr. and Mrs. Hyde held a consultation about Eric. They expected the arrival of Dr. Ward and their nephew daily, and were in hopes of seeing them before the steamer should sail. But there was just a chance that the doctor might be delayed at Paris; and if it should so happen, what would Eric do?
His parents were unwilling to disappoint him by taking him to New York without making the desired tour of Germany; and they disliked the idea of leaving him, a young boy of thirteen, alone in a strange place.
But his father at length decided to let him remain at the Vyverberg House, in case the doctor should be detained until after they had sailed.
Eric was a thoughtful, reliable boy, and old enough, his father said, to learn to depend upon himself.
Mrs. Hyde felt some misgivings as to this course at first; but her confidence in Eric was so great, that she soon consented to it, andhaving once decided in favor of the plan, she would let no thought of it trouble her.
You may be sure that the three children did not need an “early call” in the morning, for they were up and dressed with the daylight, having a romp on their balcony with Froll, who frightened several of the occupants of adjacent rooms by trying to get in at their windows.
Nettie told Eric how Froll had got her into disgrace, the day before, by the same trick.
“I think,” said Eric, “that she must once have belonged to an organ-grinder, and have been taught to climb up for money.”
“Very likely,” said Allan. “But you had better break her of the trick. People, as a general thing, are not fond of the sudden appearance of a black monkey at their chamber windows.”
“Here’s papa!” cried Nettie. “Now for our sail!”
“Isn’t Mrs. Hyde coming?” Allan asked.
“Here she is! Good morning, mamma,and—O, Eric, mind Froll!” cried Nettie; but too late, for Froll had darted from him, and gone in at an open window above.
There was a breathless silence.
Mr. and Mrs. Hyde were very much annoyed, and the children were alarmed for the safety of their pet.
While they were momentarily expecting a scream of terror from the occupant of the room, Froll reappeared at the window, and, with a grin and chatter of defiance, tumbled out, and clambered down towards the children, with a pair of gold-rimmed eye-glasses in her hand. A night-capped head, thrust out after her, was withdrawn again hastily, as its owner’s eyes encountered those of Mrs. Hyde.
Saucy Froll perched herself upon the top of the parlor blind, stuck the glasses upon her nose, and peered down at the children, who greeted this manœuvre with an irresistible burst of laughter, in which their father and mother joined.
The owner of the glasses again thrust hishead out at the window, minus the nightcap this time, and seeing the monkey, laughed as heartily as the others.
Leaning forward, he could reach the chain, which he caught; and then Froll was made to surrender her plunder; after which she was committed to her cage in disgrace.
The sail on the lake was delightful. The water was as smooth as glass, the air fresh and cool, and the little island in the lake’s centre was crowded with song birds, whose sweet, merry notes rang musically over the water, and were echoed back from the shore.
After breakfast they prepared to visit the places of interest in “Gravenhaag.”
Mr. Hyde led the way to the National Museum, occupying the Prince Maurice palace—an elegant building of the seventeenth century. Numerous guides offered their services, and when one had been engaged, our party followed him up a broad, solid stairway to the famous picture gallery. Most of the paintings were old pieces of the German masters,and did not interest the children so much as their parents, for they were too young to appreciate them. But in one of the rooms almost entirely covering one end, was a grand picture, so vivid and natural that Nettie was quite startled by it at first. It was a picture of a young bull spotted white and brown, a cow lazily resting on the grass before it, a few sheep in different attitudes, and an aged cowherd leaning upon a fence. The background of the picture was a distant landscape, and all the objects were life-size.
“That picture is Paul Potter’s Bull—a highly prized work of art,” said Mr. Hyde. “When the French invaded Holland, Napoleon ordered it to Paris, to be hung in the Louvre.”
“I suppose it didn’t go, as it’s here now,” remarked Allan.
“Yes, it was carried there, and excited much admiration. But when Holland was free of the French, and Germany victorious, the painting was reclaimed.”
The children could have staid, gazing with delight upon it, for a much longer time than was allowed them. The guide soon led the way to the Royal Museum of Curiosities, and they reluctantly followed. The collection of curiosities was in the lower part of the building, and here they saw all kinds of Chinese and Japanese articles, which, the guide informed them, was the largest and best collection of the kind in the world.
There was enough here to interest our young folks, and old folks, too.
All kinds of merchandise and manufactures, and most interesting and complicated toys, model cities, barges gayly-colored and filled with tiny men at work on tinier oars, pagodas, shops, temples, huts, houses, vehicles, and men, women, and children in every variety of costume, engaged in every conceivable employment.
So fascinating was this Museum that the entire morning was most agreeably spent init; and there was but just time, before leaving it, to look into the historical department, where were many objects of interest, and among other things the armor and weapons of De Ruyter, the famous admiral. At any other time these would have possessed great interest for the boys; but now they rather slighted them for the unique toys of China and Japan.
After their dinner and a half hour’s rest, the children paid a visit to the king’s palace; for Gravenhaag, you must know, is the favorite residence of the king and court.
Nettie and the boys walked very carefully, and held themselves very properly, such a thing as a visit to the king’s palace not being a daily event with them. Although she would not have missed going for anything, Nettie was a little alarmed at their situation, as they drew near to the palace, a large Grecian building, with two wings, forming three sides of a square. She had an idea that whenever kings were displeasedwith people, they ordered their heads to be cut off; and she wondered if hewouldbe pleased to have their party looking at his possessions. Her fears were groundless, however.
As they reached the square, they saw, near the entrance to the palace, a fine-looking man, well dressed and gentlemanly, who smiled kindly at the children, and, seeing their eager scrutiny of the palace, politely invited them to enter it.
The boys were delighted, but Nettie declared that she was afraid of the king.
“O, the king will not trouble you, my little maid,” said the stranger, in excellent English: “walk in, walk in!”
He held out his hand to Nettie, and was such a kind, pleasant-looking man, that Nettie’s fears vanished. She gave him her hand, and the two boys followed her into the palace. Yes, actuallyintoit, when, a few minutes before, she had hardly dared venture a terrified glance at the outside, andwas momentarily expecting the stern command,—
“Off with their heads!”
Their new friend led them to a lovely garden, gave them flowers and fruit, and chatted gayly with them all the time. Then he took them to several apartments of the palace, and finally into the drawing-room.
The children noticed that every one made a respectful bow to their kind escort, and concluded that he must be some great nobleman; but judge of their surprise, when they found themselves being presented by him to a beautiful, pale lady, quietly dressed in black.
“Alicia, my dear,” said their nobleman, still speaking in English, “I have brought these young American travellers to see you. My little friends,” to the children, “yonder lady is theQueen of Holland.”
Wasn’tthatenough to confuse the best bred child in the world?
Poor Eric had a faint idea that he mustkiss the queen’s toe, as a mark of courtesy, and stepped forward, with a dizzy singing in his ears, to do so. But he was saved from such a ridiculous situation by the gentle queen, who smiled and extended her hand; then Eric thankfully remembered that it was the queen’s hand and the pope’s toe. So he bent gracefully forward and kissed Queen Alicia’s white fingers.
Allan, of course, did the same. And Nettie had no time to consider what she must do, for the queen had kissed her quite warmly at first, and their strange guide had drawn her to his knee.
“Why did you fear the king, little maid?” he asked, so kindly that Nettie confessed her idea of majestic temperaments. How he laughed! and how the queen laughed, too!
“Now, I suppose you will want to go to mamma,” he said, soon afterwards; and giving them each a gold coin, added, “Keep these to remember me by, and you can tellyour friends that theKing of Hollandgave them to you.”
The children were perfectly amazed, and could not speak their thanks properly; but of this the king took no notice. He led them to the entrance on the street, and then kindly said, “Good by.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hyde, who had become quite anxious over their long delay, were much relieved to see the children come safely home just before tea-time. They were quite as much astonished, by the account of the visit, as our young folks had supposed they would be.
Tea, on the balcony, and some quiet music in the evening, finished up the day; and when the tired children sought their pillows, they quickly fell asleep.
CHAPTER VI.A DUTCH CITY.
It would take too long to mention all the sights seen and famous places visited by the travellers in Gravenhaag.
They were admitted to the palace of the Prince of Orange, and saw his famous collection of paintings and chalk drawings. They went over theBinnenhof, which is a collection of ancient stone buildings, containing a handsome Gothic hall, and the prison in which Grotius and Barneveldt were confined, the churches, synagogues, and the royal library, and walked on theVoorhout, a beautiful promenade, with a fine, wide road lined with shade trees and furnished with benches, to theBosch, a finely woodedpark belonging to the King of Holland. In its centre, reached by winding walks among the trees and beautiful lakes, stands theHuys in den Bosch—house in the wood—the king’s summer palace.
After visiting all these places, and the printing establishments and iron foundery, Mr. Hyde, finding he had another day before the steamer sailed, took them all to Rotterdam. They went by railway to the city, and drove around it in an open carriage, like a barouche, which was waiting at the depot. Mr. Hyde, who had been there before, was quite familiar with the place. He ordered the coachman to drive through the High Street; and soon the children found themselves on a street considerably higher than the others, lined with shops, and looking very pleasant and busy. Mr. Hyde told them it was built upon the dam which prevented the Maas River from overflowing.
“And this is the only street in Rotterdam,” said he, “which has not a canal in its centre.”
The Queen of Holland.—Page 61.
The Queen of Holland.—Page 61.
When they had gone the length of High Street, they came to street after street, each having a canal in the middle, lined with trees on both sides, and exhibiting a medley of high gable fronts of houses, trees, and masts of shipping.
“Dear me!” cried Nettie; “I wouldn’t live in such a place for the world. It’s pretty to look at; but think of having those ships going by right under the drawing-room windows. They make me giddy.”
“How many canals!” cried Allan. “They go lengthwise and crosswise through every street but the High.”
“And these clumsy bridges,” said Nettie again, pointing to the drawbridges of white painted wood which they saw at every little distance; they were made of large, heavy beams overhead, and lifted by chains for the vessels to pass through.
Under the trees, beside the canals, wereyellow brick “sidewalks,” as Nettie called them; but they were really quays, for the landing of goods.
Between the trees and the houses, on a coarse, rough pavement, among carts, drays, and carriages, walked the foot passengers quite frequently. For though there were sidewalks close to the houses, little outbuildings and flights of steps to doorways were continually in the way, and it was “impossible for one to walk straight along, or at all fast, on any of them,” as the children said.
“Mamma,” said Nettie, “I should think they would break their necks every minute. Just look at those canals, right in the street, and nothing to keep people from falling into them. What do they do in dark nights?”
“How do they light the streets, papa?” asked Eric.
“By oil lamps, hung on ropes from the houses to the trees,” said Mr. Hyde. “They have gas on the High Street.”
Allan’s attention had been attracted bysome curious little structures outside the lower windows of several of the houses.
“What are they?” he asked.
“Looking-glasses,” said Mr. Hyde.
“Looking-glasses, papa!Outsidetheir windows?” exclaimed Nettie.
“Yes, dear; they are hung so as to reflect the passing objects to the people inside.”
“Then they can see whatever is going on in the streets below, without coming to the windows,” said Eric.
“What a funny custom!” exclaimed Nettie, again.
The only building they visited was the Church of St. Lawrence, where they saw the famous great organ, a splendid structure, larger than the great organs of Haarlem and Boston. It is one hundred and fifty feet high, mounted upon a colonnade fifty feet high, and has five thousand five hundred pipes.
In the market-place they saw a statue of the great scholar Erasmus, and “the housewhere he was born,” which is now, alas! a gin-shop. From theBoomptjes, a fine quay, planted with rows of beautiful trees, and surrounded by elegant, dark brick mansions, our party chartered a little sail boat, and went out upon the Maas.
The beautiful, quiet Maas, with Rotterdam’s green, woody banks in view; the blue, blue sky, seen clearly in the limpid waters; the steamers coming and going, and birds flying around, adding their sweet notes to nature’s harmony—this beautiful picture was one remembered by the children all their lives. To-morrow’s parting hung its shadow over them, and softened their hearts to the true beauty everywhere expressed.
The sun had set when they reached the Vyverberg for the last time.
“Mamma,” said Eric, regretfully, “I almost wish I was going home with you all.”
“Uncle Charlie may come to-night,” said his mother, cheerfully. “At any rate, hewill soon come. You would then wish you had staid.”
“Yes, I know,” said Eric. “But it is very hard to let you all go home without me, for all that.”
Very careful directions were given to Eric, and he was placed under the care of the landlord until he should hear from his uncle.
The evening was very short to Eric, who lingered by his mother, and could not bear to leave her side, knowing he should see her no more for a long, long year.
Long after Nettie and Allan had left them, he staid with his parents, listening to their last kind advice, and sending little loving messages to his cousins and schoolmates.
In the morning he saw them off with a heavy heart. His father’s last kind words, Allan’s affectionate greeting, Nettie’s tears, and his promise to his mother that he would remember his prayers and daily chapter in the Bible, and would try to make his travelsa useful, profitable study, and to keep himself truthful, honest, and kind, were mixed up with a hearty, homesick longing to go after them. His eyes filled with tears as the stretch of water between him and his dear ones rapidly widened; he turned from the wharf with a sorrowful face, slowly and sadly retracing his steps to the hotel.
“How dismal it will be! how lonely and dismal without them!” He thought and murmured sorrowfully,—
“Alone, alone, all, all alone!”
CHAPTER VII.UNDER THE SEA.
Eric had been but a few minutes in the parlor at the hotel, and was trying to amuse himself with little Froll, when there came a tap upon the door, and the servant entered with a card.
Eric read the name,
EMIL LACELLE,
and written underneath,
No. 365 Vyverberg House.
“Who in the world,” thought Eric, “is Emil Lacelle? and what did he send this to me for?”
The waiter explained that the gentleman was waiting, in his room, up stairs; and Eric,with Froll on his shoulder, started for No. 365.
The door stood open, disclosing a pleasant room, with various kinds of odd-looking armor lying around: seated by a table was a gentleman dressed in black, whom Eric recognized at once as the one whose glasses Froll had stolen.
This gentleman was looking for Eric, and said at once, when he entered the room,—
“I am pleased to see you, monsieur,” and politely requested him to be seated.
“Do you speak French?” he asked.
“Not very well, sir,” answered Eric.
“German?” inquired the stranger.
“Yes, sir,” said Eric.
“And English?”
“Yes, sir; I am an American.”
“I am a Frenchman,” said Mr. Lacelle. “I want you, if you please, to do me a little service.”
“I will do anything that I can for you,” said Eric. “I am very much obliged to youalready for being so good-natured about your glasses.”
“Do not mention it!” Mr. Lacelle exclaimed, with the natural politeness of a Frenchman. “I have taken quite a fancy to your playful little beast.” And he coaxed the monkey to him, and gently stroked her soft hair.
“What is it that I can do for you, sir?” asked Eric. He was beginning to like Mr. Lacelle very much.
“I have a letter to write to America, and am not enough of an English scholar to undertake it. Now, therefore, if I tell to you that which I want written, would you be so very kind, if you please, as to write for me, it?”
“Yes, indeed; with much pleasure,” said Eric; thinking the while, “No wonder he does not like to undertake a letter in English, when he speaks the language so clumsily.”
Mr. Lacelle, still holding Froll, broughtforward a traveller’s writing-desk, filled with perfumed French paper, and then placing it before Eric, and saying politely, “At your convenience,monsieur,” he reseated himself.
Eric arranged the paper, took up a pen, and after writing the date, sat waiting for his instructions.
“For example, what do you say to two gentlemen?” asked Mr. Lacelle.
Eric was completely puzzled, and could only say, “Sir?”
“Pardon me!” exclaimed the Frenchman, “tooneyou would say ‘sir;’ but to two, would you say ‘sirs’?”
“Yes,” answered Eric, but, recollecting some letters he had copied for his father, added, “O, no: it’sMessrs.”
“Exactly!” said Mr. Lacelle. “I thank you. That is fine.”
He appeared quite relieved, and began dictating.
“The Vyverberg, at the Hague,Holland, October 21, 186-.“Messrs. Brown and Lang:“I have given to myself the pleasure of examining the sunken yacht in the Zuyder Zee; and my opinion it is, that that vessel is injured not in the least, and that I can right her for the sum of two hundred dollars.“Most respectfully to you, Messrs.,Emil Lacelle,Submarine Diver.“To Messrs. Brown and Lang,New York City.”
“The Vyverberg, at the Hague,Holland, October 21, 186-.
“The Vyverberg, at the Hague,
Holland, October 21, 186-.
“Messrs. Brown and Lang:
“I have given to myself the pleasure of examining the sunken yacht in the Zuyder Zee; and my opinion it is, that that vessel is injured not in the least, and that I can right her for the sum of two hundred dollars.
“Most respectfully to you, Messrs.,Emil Lacelle,Submarine Diver.
“Most respectfully to you, Messrs.,
Emil Lacelle,
Submarine Diver.
“To Messrs. Brown and Lang,New York City.”
“To Messrs. Brown and Lang,
New York City.”
“Is it quite correct English?” he asked, anxiously.
Eric rewrote it, transposing some of the words. Mr. Lacelle was very grateful for the boy’s assistance. He was by no means ignorant, but his knowledge of English was rather limited, and he was too sensitive to be willing to send off a peculiar letter.
Mr. Lacelle’s history would be very interesting, had we time to give it minutely; butthere is only space to say that he was the younger son of a noble French family, whose circumstances during his youth were so unfortunate that he was thrown upon his own resources at a tender age, and had, by great energy and perseverance, become a wealthy and famous man.
Eric knew that “sub” meant under, and “marine” the sea, but he did not understand exactly what it all meant; so he asked Mr. Lacelle, whose explanation and subsequent conversation, we will render in readable English.
“A submarine diver is one who goes beneath the water of the sea: professionally he examines and clears harbors, removing obstructions, such as rocks, &c.; draws up sunken vessels, examines wrecks, and brings up from the depths of the ocean money, jewels, and articles of value.”
“But tell me,” cried Eric, eagerly, “how does he breathe? what protects him in the water? how—”
“I will tell you all about it,” said Mr. Lacelle. “There are several divers here in the house. We are going to the Zuyder Zee, near Amsterdam, to-morrow, and you shall go too, if you wish.”
“O, thank you, sir,” said Eric. “I would like to.”
“Meanwhile I will tell you,” proceeded the diver. “We wear an armor such as this,” he explained, pointing out the several pieces to Eric, as he noticed them. “In the first place an India-rubber suit like this. You will observe that it is made entirely water-proof, by being cemented down in the seams, wherever it is sewed.”
Eric looked with interest upon the clumsy-looking dress, which was made entirely whole, except the opening at the sleeves and neck, and was cut away above the shoulders, like a girl’s low-necked dress, to admit the body of the wearer; the legs were footed off like stockings, and the wrists of the sleeves were terminated by tight, elastic rubber bands; asimilar band surrounded the neck, which was also finished with a flap of white rubber facing.
“You see,” continued Mr. Lacelle, “we put ourselves into this suit, drawing it on from the top. It is perfectly water-tight. Upon our feet we wear shoes such as these,” pointing to a pair of heavy leather shoes, with broad, high straps and buckles, and lead soles half an inch thick. “They weigh twenty-five pounds.”
“Why!” exclaimed Eric; “I should call that something of a load.”
“The weight is imperceptible in the water,” the diver explained, and, showing Eric a couple of box-shaped canvas bags, added, “We wear these also, filled with weights, just above the waist, one before and one behind.”
“But you haven’t told me yet how you breathe in the water,” said Eric.
“I am coming to that shortly. Upon our heads we wear a helmet, made of copper,completely covering head, face, and neck, and firmly inserted between the rubber facing and the tight band about the neck of the dress, just above the shoulders. To the back of the helmet is fastened a rubber hose, attached, above the water, to the pump, which keeps the diver supplied with air; and there is a glass window in the front. A half-inch rope, called the life-line, is securely adjusted to the diver, and by it he is lowered into or drawn from the water; and by it, also, he signals to those above for more air, for withdrawal, or anything he may require.”
“This helmet is heavy enough,” said Eric, lifting and examining the curious structure. “There is a valve inside: what is that for?”
“To let the air, which the diver breathes from his lungs, into the water,” Mr. Lacelle replied. “This machine in the case,” pointing to a high black-walnut case, “is a three-cylinder air-pump; two men in the vessel, oron the shore, keep the pumps constantly in motion by means of the crank attached to the wheel.”
“Why do they have more than one pump?” Eric inquired.
“One pump,” answered Mr. Lacelle, “would not supply enough air; it would work like a water-pump, sending down the air by jerks, and the receiver would be exhausted between the supplies of air. Two pumps would send down the air puff-puff, like the pumps of a steam engine; but three pumps, constantly in motion, send down, through the hose, a steady and continuous stream of air, enabling the diver to breathe freely and fully.”
“And can you go down into any depth of water?” Eric asked, with intense interest.
“Not lower than one hundred feet, usually, the pressure of the water is so great. I have been down one hundred and fifty-six feet below the surface; but that was something very remarkable.”
“And did you never have any hair-breadth escapes, or thrilling adventures?” inquired Eric.
“No,” answered the diver, with a slight laugh and shrug of the shoulders, “I never did, and never knew any one who did, although I have read of many such incidents, altogether too marvellous for belief. You see,” he continued, “we know that the least carelessness would probably cost us our lives, and we are minutely accurate about all our equipments. And,” lowering his voice and speaking reverentially, “I always commit myself to the guidance and tender care of the good Shepherd.
“‘They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters,
“‘These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.
“‘They cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distress.’”
Eric listened, and his respect and esteem for the diver grew tenfold more.
Mr. Lacelle continued:—
“It is a strange business. The danger fascinates some, but the peril is never lost sight of. I put on the helmet, for the first time, more than ten years ago; and yet I never resume it without a feeling that it may be the last time I shall ever go down. Of course one has more confidence after a while; but there is something in being shut up in an armor weighed down with a hundred pounds, and knowing that a little leak in your life-pipe is your death, that no diver can get rid of. And I do not know that I should care to banish the feeling, for the sight of the clear blue sky, the genial sun, and the face of a fellow-man after long hours among the fishes, makes you feel like one who has suddenly been drawn away from the grasp of death.”
“Were you ever in great danger?” asked Eric.
“I think the most dangerous place I ever got into was going down to examine thepropeller Comet, sunk off Toledo. In working about her bottom, I got my air-pipe coiled over a large sliver from the stoven hole, and could not reach it with my hands. Every time I sprang up to remove the hose, my tender would give me the ‘slack’ of the line, thus letting me fall back again. He did not understand his duties, and did not know what my signals on the life-line meant. It was two hours and a half before I was relieved, and there was not a moment that I was not looking to see the hose cut by the ragged wood. It’s a strange feeling you have down there. You go walking over a vessel, clambering up her sides, peering here and there, and the feeling that you are alone makes you nervous and uneasy.
“Sometimes a vessel sinks down so fairly, that she stands up on the bottom as trim and neat as if she rode upon the surface. Then you can go down into the cabin, up the shrouds, walk all over her, just as easy as a sailor could if she were still dashingaway before the breeze. Only it seems quiet, so tomb-like; there are no waves down there—only a swaying back and forth of the waters, and a see-sawing of the ship. You hear nothing from above. The great fishes will come swimming about, rubbing their noses against your glass, and staring with a wonderful look into your eyes. The very stillness sometimes gives life a chill. You hear just a moaning, wailing sound, like the last notes of an organ, and you cannot help thinking of dead men floating over and around you.
“A diver does not like to go down more than a hundred and twenty feet; at that depth the pressure is painful, and there is danger of internal injury. I can stay down, for five or six hours at a time, at a hundred and fifteen or twenty feet, and do a good deal of hard work. In the waters of Lake Huron the diver can see thirty or forty feet away, but the other lakes will screen a vessel not ten feet from you.
“Up here you seldom think of accident or death, but a hundred feet of water washing over your head would set you to thinking. A little stoppage of the air-pump, a leak in your hose, a careless action on the part of your tender, and a weight of a mountain would press the life out of you before you could make a move. And you may ‘foul’ your pipe or line yourself, and in your haste bring on what you dread. I often get my hose around a stair or rail, and generally release it without much trouble; the bare idea of what a slender thing holds back the clutch of death off my throat makes a cold sweat start from every pore.”
“I suppose you find many beautiful things,” said Eric.
“I wish I could describe half the wonderful and beautiful things I find,” cried Mr. Lacelle.
“There are flowers, the most exquisite that can be imagined; groves of coral, beautiful caverns, with floors of silver sand,spiral caves winding down, down, down, covered with beautiful, delicate plants, and leading to beds of smooth, hard sand, which shine like gold. Feathery ferns turn silver and crimson beneath your hand, and beautiful fish glide around you, or rest in the water, with no motion save the gentle pulsation of their gills as they breathe.
“I have stood upon the bottom of the ocean, and gazed up, awe-stricken and bewildered, at the wonderful masses of coral above my head, resembling forests of monstrous trees, with gnarled and twisted branches intertwined; and when I have considered that it was all the work of insects so tiny that millions of them were working at my feet, and I could not see them, I have compared my own littleness in the universe with the wonderful work of the least of them, and have felt my own insignificance.
“And curious things have happened, too. I was once examining an old wreck off South America. It was an old Spanishfrigate, supposed to have valuable jewels and a large amount of money aboard.
“I was walking over the wreck one day, and, being disappointed in not finding any treasure, was about returning, when I observed a curious heap of shells, close to one of the stanchions. I picked off a handful from the top of the heap, which was about two feet high, and regularly piled in a conical form, and seeing the shells were of a most beautiful pink color, and very delicate, I filled my pockets with them, and then, touching the life-lines, was pulled up.
“The divers in my employ were delighted with them, and as they were just the right size for buttons, one of the boys went down, with a large bag, to bring off the rest.
“I told him just where to find them; but when he came up, he declared there were none to be seen anywhere.
“I was sure he had not followed my directions; so I went down again; and judge my surprise when I found he had spoken truly.There was not one to be seen.The little wretches, disgusted with the disturbance I created, had all crawled away.”
“How curious!” exclaimed Eric. “Could you not find any of them?”
“Not a vestige of them.”
“It was singular—wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I have learned many singular things since I have gone under the sea. For instance, water is a very powerful conductor of sound, much more so than air. We often blast rocks under the water—”
“How can you?” interrupted Eric. “What keeps the powder dry?”
“We have water-proof charges prepared.”
“But how can you fire them under the water?” persisted Eric.
“By electricity,” responded Mr. Lacelle. “A report of blasting rock a little distance off, will scarcely disturb us upon the land; but under the water it is very different. We were once blasting rocks near the coast, andanother party were at work three quarters of a mile from us.
“Our charge was set, and ready to go off; I sent word to our distant neighbors that we were about to blast, and they had better come up until it was over. My courtesy was repaid by a very profane answer, accompanied with a request to ‘blast away.’
“So the charge was set off; and the unfortunate divers in the distance were hauled out of the water more dead than alive. I afterwards learned from them that the shock was tremendous.”
“When you blow up the rocks, do you place the charges under them?” inquired Eric.
“O, no; that would have no effect: holes are drilled in the rock, and the charges placed within them.”
“And when the rocks are blown, what do you do with the pieces that come off?” asked Eric.
“We grapple them with hooks and chains, and draw them to the surface.”
“It is very interesting, and I am very much obliged to you for telling me so much,” said Eric. “I wish I could learnallabout it.”
“Well, my boy, you shall go with me to-morrow; and, if you’re not afraid to venture, I’ll take you down beneath the sea with me. It is quite safe near Amsterdam.”
“O, thank you, sir,” said Eric, eagerly, grasping the kind Frenchman’s hand.
“I must go now to the palace,” said Mr. Lacelle. “I have an engagement there. Will you do me the honor to amuse yourself here until I return?”
“Thank you,” said Eric again, with a joyous smile; for Mr. Lacelle’s room was stored with ‘curios’ from the bottom of the sea, and Eric knew he could spend a long time very comfortably there.
He was careful to secure Froll in her cage, that she might do no mischief; andthen he had a thoroughly good time, examining the sea things; and as they were all labelled with name and date, and the place from which they were taken, he gained much useful information.
Before night a letter came from his uncle, saying that Johnny was quite ill, and had been unable to travel to the Hague; but he was now so much better, that they would probably join Eric in a day or two.
“I shan’t mind waiting,” said Eric to himself; “and there’s nothing now to prevent my going to Amsterdam to-morrow; but I wish uncle Charlie could be with me too.”
Then he remembered that he had been left under the landlord’s care, and must obtain his permission. So he sought him out, and made known his request.
The landlord of the Vyverberg was a kind-hearted German. He was quite fond of his little American guest, and readily consented to his plan for the morrow, telling Eric thatMonsieur Lacelle was a remarkable man, and he could not be in better hands.
“I think this is just the jolliest country, and full of the jolliest people in the world,” was Eric’s mental comment before he fell asleep that night. Indeed, there are few people more kind-hearted, thoughtful, or hospitable than the Dutch and Germans.
Eric’s parents were anxiously wondering how their boy fared alone in Gravenhaag.
Could they have seen him as he read his promised chapter, and knelt to commit himself to God, or afterwards, falling asleep, his last thought of the kindness of the people around him, their own sleep would have been far lighter, and their prayers would have blessed the good foreigners.
CHAPTER VIII.THRILLING EXPERIENCE.
Early in the morning they went to Amsterdam, or Amsteldamme, as the Germans call it, because it controls the tides of the Amstel River.
The city of Amsteldamme is situated on a marsh, and all its houses and buildings are erected on piles, which are driven from forty to fifty feet into the earth.
“How many canals!” was Eric’s first remark, when he obtained a good view of the city.
“Yes,” said Mr. Lacelle. “When I was a boy, I counted the bridges across the canals, and there were two hundred and fifty. The city is divided by the canals into ninetyislands. Those high walls were once ramparts, but have since been converted into public walks. They are planted with trees, and make excellent promenades.”
“But suppose there should be another war,” said Eric; “what would their defence be?”
“They could easily flood the surrounding country.”
“What splendid streets these are!” said Eric, as they passed through one and another with rows of beautiful shade trees, handsome little stone bridges, broad, clean pavements, and long lines of elegant mansions.
They were indeed very beautiful streets, not easily to be surpassed in all Europe.
“I should think,” said Eric, thoughtfully, “that there would be danger to the people here in having so much water in their town. Do the dikes ever give way?”
“Very seldom. The people watch them very faithfully, and whenever a break isdiscovered it is instantly repaired. There is a very interesting story connected with the dikes of Holland, which I will tell you, to show you what great service a little boy did his country.
“The little hero, Peter Daik, was on his way home, one night, from a village to which he had been sent by his father on an errand, when he noticed the water trickling through a narrow opening in the dike, built up to keep out the sea.
“He stopped, and thought of what would happen if the hole were not closed.
“He knew—for he had often heard his father tell of the sad disasters which had come from small beginnings—how, in a few hours, the opening would become bigger, and let in the mighty mass of water pressing on the dike, until, the whole defence being washed away, the rolling, dashing, angry sea would sweep on to the next village, destroying life and property, and everything in its way. Should he run home and alarmthe villagers? It would be dark before they could arrive; and the hole, even then, might be so large as to defy all attempts to close it. What could he do to prevent such terrible ruin—he, only a little boy?
“I will tell what he did. He sat down on the bank of the canal, stopped the opening with his hand, and patiently awaited the passing of a villager. But no one came.
“Hour after hour rolled slowly by; yet there sat the heroic boy in the cold and darkness, shivering, wet, and tired, but stoutly pressing his hand against the water that tried to pass the dangerous breach.
“All night he staid at his post. At last morning broke, when a clergyman, walking up the canal, heard a groan, and looking around to see where it came from, seeing the boy, and surprised at his strange position, exclaimed with astonishment,—
“‘Why are you there, my child?’
“‘I am keeping back the water, sir, andsaving the village from being drowned,’ answered little Peter, with lips so benumbed with cold that he could hardly speak.
“The astonished minister at once relieved him of his hard duty, and the poor little fellow had but just strength enough left to alarm the villagers, who flocked to the dike, and repaired the breach.
“Heroic boy! What a noble spirit of self-devotion he had shown! resolving to brave all the fatigue, the danger, the cold and darkness, rather than permit the ruin which would come if he deserted his post.
“There is a beautiful poem on the subject by Miss Carey. I will repeat a few of the last verses.”
Then Mr. Lacelle repeated in a clear, mellow voice, whose slight foreign accent lent it an additional charm to Eric’s ear,—
“So faintly calling and crying
Till the sun is under the sea,—
Crying and moaning till the stars
Come out for company.
He thinks of his brother and sister,
Asleep in their safe, warm bed;
He thinks of his father and mother;
Of himself as dying—and dead;
And of how, when the night is over,
They must come and find him at last;
But he never thinks he can leave the place
Where duty holds him fast.
“The good dame in the cottage
Is up and astir with the light,
For the thought of her little Peter
Has been with her all the night.
And now she watches the pathway,
As yestereve she had done;
But what does she see so strange and black
Against the rising sun?
Her neighbors are bearing between them
Something straight to her door;
Her child is coming home, but not
As ever he came before.
“‘He is dead!’ she cries; ‘my darling!’
And the startled father hears,
And comes and looks the way she looks,
And fears the thing she fears;
Till a glad shout from the bearers
Thrills the stricken man and wife—
‘Give thanks, for your son has saved our land,
And God has saved his life!’
So there in the morning sunshine
They knelt about the boy,
And every head was bared and bent
In tearful, reverent joy.
“‘Tis many a day since then; but still,
When the sea roars like a flood,
Their boys are taught what a boy can do
Who is brave, and true, and good;
For every man in that country
Takes his son by the hand,
And tells him of little Peter,
Whose courage saved the land.
They have many a valiant hero
Remembered through the years,
But never one whose name so oft
Is named with loving tears.
And his deed shall be sung by the cradle,
And told to the child on the knee,
So long as the dikes of Holland
Divide the land from the sea.”
They had now come to the Y, an inlet of the Zuyder Zee, where several of the men under Mr. Lacelle were at work.
“Here we are,” said Eric, gladly. “Here we are! Now for my ‘thrilling experience,’ as the newspapers say.”
There was a tent close by, into which they stepped to change their dress for the diver’s costume.
“Nobody would know me now, I am sure,” said Eric to himself, when, with much difficulty, and considerable help from the attendants, he emerged from the tent arrayed in the suit. “I can hardly drag my feet along, they are so heavy; and I’m decidedly glad that my every-day hat is not like this helmet.”
Mr. Lacelle had given him particular directions about diving, and now the life-line and air-hose were adjusted, and the brave boy stood beside the professional diver, waiting for the descent.
The signal was given, and soon Eric was going down underneath the blue, cold waves. He could not see Mr. Lacelle; it seemed as if he were never to stop going down: the water sang around his ears; and seeing nothing but water made him giddy and faint. He thought he must certainly smother,and, for an instant, was thoroughly afraid.
Then he remembered that, at a single touch of the life-line, the men above would instantly draw him up, and, feeling quite at his ease again, began to look about him. To his great joy he saw the bottom, and was presently upon it, and walking towards Mr. Lacelle.
Suddenly a sound like heavy peals of thunder reverberated through the water. At a motion from Mr. Lacelle, Eric looked quickly upward, and saw a school of tiny fish, darting with great velocity towards them, and several large fishes in pursuit of the little ones.
On they came, straight towards Eric and Mr. Lacelle; but just before reaching them, they turned sharply off in the opposite direction; as they turned, the noise increased to a heavy peal, and ceased as they passed from sight.
“How wonderful!” exclaimed Eric, involuntarily;and his voice sounded like roaring and screaming, though he had spoken quite softly.
Mr. Lacelle then held at arm’s length a small cartridge, which he signalled, by the lines, for the men above to ignite. Almost instantly it exploded. Eric was perfectly astounded by the effects of the report.
It seemed as if huge rocks had fallen upon his helmet; and such a crashing, rending sound as accompanied the shock! It was quite as much as he was able to bear in the way of noise. Mr. Lacelle told him afterwards, that the noise of the report in the air would be no louder than that of a common fire-cracker.
Eric hoped that Mr. Lacelle would make no more experiments in sound, and the diver did not seem at all anxious to do so.
It was rather awe-inspiring, Eric thought, to be walking easily about at the bottom of the sea, knowing that around and above him lay the mighty element of death. Andthere, under the water, the eighth psalm came into his mind, and he realized its beauty as he had never been able to before.
He walked around, picking up shells and curious plants, and being careful to keep near Mr. Lacelle, who was making some calculations about the building of a huge bridge, contemplated by the king. Several large fish swam lazily up to Eric, eyed him curiously, and let themselves be patted upon the back.
“How amused Nettie would be!” he thought, and wished the huge fish were less inquisitive, as he did not particularly fancy them. He was quite interested in the flowers, which were as brilliant and beautiful as any upon the land, when suddenly he discovered a heap of shells quite similar to those which Mr. Lacelle had described the day before. He put several handfuls of them into his diver’s basket, and then, moving off a few steps, he watched to see what they would do.
When all was quiet, they moved slowly atfirst, then more rapidly, and all crawled away in the same direction.
“That is very curious,” thought Eric to himself. “I wish I knew what they are.”
When he moved again, something struck his foot. Looking quickly down through the window in his helmet, he saw a small, square box, made of tin, and fastened with a padlock. A key was in the lock, and Eric turned it and opened the box, wondering what it could contain. The lid flew back, and disclosed an inner cover, on which was painted a coat of arms, with the name “Arthur Montgomery” engraved beneath. A spring was visible, and, pressing it, Eric disclosed to his astonished vision a number of English sovereigns—gold coins worth about five dollars apiece.
His first impulse was to show the prize to Mr. Lacelle, but he could not readily attract his attention. So, putting the box in his basket after safely locking it, he busied himself with gathering the beautiful flowerswithin his reach, and storing them in his basket to press for his mother.
Suddenly he felt himself being drawn up slowly towards the surface, and, turning his head, saw that Mr. Lacelle was also ascending.
He knew that they were being drawn up because Mr. Lacelle wished him to catch the return train to Gravenhaag, and had cautioned the men at the pumps not to let them remain under water more than half an hour; but he was extremely surprised to find that the time had passed.
On reaching “terra firma,” so much hurrying had to be done in changing his armor for more convenient land apparel, that he entirely forgot the box of money until seated beside Mr. Lacelle in the carriage. Then he showed it to him.
“Thatwasa find, for so young a submarinist,” said Mr. Lacelle. “It is yours, my boy; divers consider themselves entitledto all such unexpectedly discovered valuables.”
“But,” said Eric, eagerly, “the owner’s name is upon the box; and see! here is a letter addressed to ‘Arthur Montgomery, Bart., Clone, Lancaster County, England.’ I think I ought to return it.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Lacelle, pleased with Eric’s honesty, “conscientiously you ought; but you are not obliged to by law.”
“I would much rather,” said Eric, earnestly. “Will you please to inquire about it, and see that it reaches the owner?” Mr. Lacelle promised, and, seeing Eric safely aboard the cars, bade him good by, and left for Amsteldamme.