Chapter Fifteen.The Count, as evening approached, reached the borders of a Meer a short distance from the Zuyder Zee. It was fringed by trees and by tall reeds almost as high as the trees, which grew partly in the water and partly out of it. “If I could find a boat I might take a passage in her to the other side of the Meer, and thus continuing my journey obtain rest at the same time,” he thought.He hunted about, and at last found a path, at the further end of which he observed a barge with her bows run into the bank. Having left his knapsack and gun on the bank, he stepped on board, thinking that some of the crew might appear. Seeing no one, he was again going on shore, when the after hatch was flung open and threehuge heads adorned by nightcaps, with big staring eyes expressive of wonder, popped up, each face being more ugly than the other.“Who are you?” asked the first.“What business have you on board here?” inquired a second.“Where do you come from, where do you want to go?” asked a third, the ugliest of all three.“Really, gentlemen,” said the Count, bowing, for he was always polite, “you overwhelm me with questions. My object is to cross the Meer, or to get to some inn or farmhouse where I may pass the night in comfort.”“Ho, ho, ho!” exclaimed the last speaker. “You will not find any inn or farmhouse where you can pass the night on the borders of this Meer, but we’ll give you a passage to the other end, for which we are bound when we have had our suppers, always provided you are willing to pay for it.”“Certainly,” replied the Count. “I am willing to pay for everything I obtain. Your barge looks like a very safe one, and I will therefore engage a passage.”“Safe! I should think she was safe,” answered the ugly individual. “It would require a gale to upset her with all sail hoisted. Trust Captain Jan Dunck for that.”Upon this the Count looked harder than before at the ugly man’s countenance. “What, are you Captain Jan Dunck?” he inquired.“No doubt about that, though I do not command so large a craft as formerly,” said the ugly man. “If I mistake not, you are Count Funnibos, whom I, once upon a time, brought round from Antwerp, and landed at Amsterdam.”“No, you did not land me at Amsterdam,” answered the Count; “you landed me on the island of Marken, when you played that scurvy trick upon poor Pieter. I thought that you had been lost.”“So I nearly was, for theGolden Hogwent down, but my mate and small ship’s boy were saved. Here is one of them.”The mate gave a wink of recognition.“So you want me to carry you across the lake—is that it?” continued the skipper.“Such is my wish,” said the Count, though, at the same time, he felt very doubtful about trusting himself and his fortunes to Captain Jan Dunck.“Well, we’ll get under weigh immediately,” said the skipper. “Though there is no wind, we can pole the barge a considerable part of the distance.”“But I must first get my luggage, my fowling-piece, my knapsack, and telescope,” said the Count.“Well, be sharp about it,” answered the skipper. “Time and tide wait for no man.”“But there is no tide in this lake, and you did not appear to be in a hurry when I came on board,” said the Count.“For the best of reasons, we were fast asleep,” answered the skipper, as the Count went for his luggage, which neither the skipper, the mate, nor the crew offered to carry for him. He therefore brought it on board himself, for he had become wonderfully independent during his travels. He sat himself down on his knapsack, expecting that the skipper would at once get under weigh; but that individual, instead of doing so, dived again below, followed by his mate and his crew, to discuss some supper which they had stowed away in a locker.While the Count sat awaiting the return of the skipper and his crew on deck, he observed another boat in the distance, in which was a single man. The person appeared to have been watching the barge, and now cautiously approached, using a paddle, so as to make as little noise as possible. He was apparently about to address the Count when the skipper popped up his head, with his mouth full of food, on which the stranger immediately began to row away in an opposite direction.“Hilloa, you! have you anything to say to me? If not, keep your distance, or you will have to smart for it!” shouted the skipper.The stranger made no reply, but rowed slowly away, and Captain Jan Dunck again dived into the cabin. The stranger then stopped, and made a sign to the Count. Soon afterwards the mate and the crew, returning on deck, cast off the rope which secured the barge to the bank, and taking up some long spars, began to pole out into the lake, while the skipper sat at the helm smoking his pipe. He smoked and smoked as he used to do on board theGolden Hog, but did not invite the Count to join him. After some time the water became too deep for poling, and the mate and the crew took to their oars. The water was calm, and there appeared to be no possibility of danger; but yet the Count did not feel altogether comfortable.“And so you say that one-eyed Pieter threatened to bring me to justice?” growled Captain Jan Dunck.“I said nothing of the sort,” answered the Count; “I told you that the Baron and I took one-eyed Pieter on board our boat. Had he been drowned, you would have been guilty of his death; and you ought to be thankful to me for saving you from committing so great a crime.”“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed the skipper, and his mate and crew laughed in chorus. After the crew had rowed for some time, an island appeared in view, with dunes, or sandhills, rising over a considerable portion. It was a barren-looking spot, as far as the Count could judge in the fast increasing gloom of night.“We are going to put into the shore there,” said the skipper, pointing to it. “If you take my advice, you will land.”“But that is not the sort of place to which I wish to go,” said the Count. “My object on board your barge was to take a passage to some habitable region, where I could obtain food, rest, and shelter.”“The sea-gulls will afford you plenty of food; as to rest, you can lie down on the sand; and as for shelter, your pocket-handkerchief will afford you as much as you are likely to find.”“I protest against being so treated,” said the Count, naturally growing indignant.“To whom do you protest,” asked the skipper, “to me or my crew? There’s no one else to hear you, and we do not care the snuff of a candle for your protestations.”The mate and the crew uttered not a word.“I must submit to my hard destiny,” thought the Count; “I have not made a very brilliant commencement of my sporting adventures, but I set out with the intention of shooting birds, and apparently the island abounds with them.”In a short time the barge touched the sandy beach.“You will step on shore, Count Funnibos,” said the skipper, with an ill-favoured grin on his countenance.“But I have paid my passage-money, and I protest.”“We settled that point some time ago,” said the skipper; “you will step on shore, as I have just remarked.”The Count looked at the mate and the crew. Their countenances wore the same ill-favoured expression as did that of the skipper. They merely placed a plank from the bow of the barge to the beach.“You will walk along the plank, Count Funnibos,” said the skipper.The Count took up his knapsack, his gun, and his telescope, and, shrugging his shoulders with as dignified an air as he could assume, obeyed. The moment he had set foot on the island, the plank was withdrawn and his retreat cut off. Directly afterwards the mate and the crew shoved the barge away from the shore, and began rowing as before, while the skipper resumed his seat at the helm, and puffed calmly from his pipe, as if he had just performed some meritorious act. A few sea-birds came flying in with loud cries and shrieks from their daily fishing excursions over the waters, but they would not have afforded him a palatable meal even if he had shot one of them.“The sand is soft, that is one comfort,” he thought; “and there are no wild beasts, wolves, or bears to trouble me; it might have rained, or there might have been a strong cold wind, or I might have been more hungry than I am; so I might have been worse off. A boat of some sort will probably be passing during the day and take me off. I may at present consider myself very like that great hero, Robinson Crusoe, or any other mariner who has been wrecked or marooned on a desert island.”These sort of thoughts occupied his mind till he fell fast asleep. Having had a long walk the previous day, he was more tired than usual, and did not once wake during the whole night. The rays of the rising sun glaring into his eyes aroused him, and he sprang to his feet, feeling rather stiff and somewhat chilled, for the night had been cold. He climbed to the top of a sand-hill, that he might take a wider survey. Scarcely had he reached it than he observed a boat approaching the shore. Putting down his gun and knapsack, he took out his telescope, and that he might steady it, stretched himself on the side of the sand-hill. Having adjusted the focus, he directed it towards the boat. She came nearer and nearer. He saw that she contained several people, who seemed to have the intention of landing.“I shall now be able to escape from this,” he thought.As the boat approached he could clearly distinguish the features of those in her. He could notbe mistaken; three were ladies—the Vrouw Van Arent and her two daughters; three were gentlemen—Mynheer Van Arent, Mynheer Bunckum, and a stranger. They helped the ladies out of the boat, and then all six walked along the beach. The stranger offered his arm to the fair Isabelle, which she took with evident willingness. Mynheer Bunckum walked on with Vrouw Margaret, and the old couple followed.“No, I cannot join them. I cannot so demean myself as to ask for a passage to the shore,” muttered the Count. “I only hope that they will not discover me. I shall certainly not discover myself, if I can help it.”If curiosity had brought the party to the island, they were soon satisfied, for in a short time they re-embarked, and the Count had lost his chance of escaping for that time.“It is better that it should be so,” he said. “I should only have had to answer disagreeable questions, and perhaps have subjected myself to further indignities.”Hunger now compelled him to seek for food, and loading his gun, he looked out for a bird which might come within range, but the birds all kept at a wary distance. He observed, further to the south, that the island was very much lower, and that the birds frequented it in greater numbers; heaccordingly bent his steps in that direction. It appeared level, and, as far as he could judge, easy to walk over. On reaching it, however, he found that it was sprinkled with so many shallow pools that he would speedily wet his boots through, therefore, sitting down on the first dry spot he came to, he pulled them off and hung them over his shoulders.“Come, I feel something like a sportsman now,” he said to himself.Immediately afterwards a duck came quacking by within range. He fired, and, to his infinite satisfaction, brought it to the ground. He rushed eagerly forward to secure his prize, and although it went fluttering on for some distance, he succeeded in catching it, and, wringing its neck, hung it behind him.“I need no longer fear dying of starvation, even although I may have to spend a day or two on this desert spot,” he said to himself.To his delight he brought down, before long, another duck, and was now thinking of returning to the higher ground, when he saw a boat passing near the further end of the low part of the island. He rushed forward to make a signal, hoping to attract the attention of those on board, but by the time he had got to the point to which he was directing his steps, the boat was at such a distance that his signals could not be seen. On and on he went; the sea-fowl came shrieking and quacking round him, when, to his dismay, he observed that dark clouds were gathering in the sky, threatening a storm of no gentle nature.“This sort of work is all very well in fine weather, but I have no fancy to be exposed to drenching rain and howling wind,” he said to himself. “I must get back, at all events, to the higher ground.”He had got so far from it, that this was no easy matter. Before he had walked for many minutes, down came the rain like a sheet of water, driven against him by the fierce wind.He had now good reason to be seriously alarmed. The water in the pools, before scarcely up to his ankles, now reached almost to his knees. “Can the dykes have been burst through?” he thought. “If so, my fate is sealed—not only mine, but that of numbers of the inhabitants of the surroundingdistrict.” From the rapid way in which the surface of the Meer rose he felt convinced that this must be the case. Still the love of life compelled him to try and save himself, and he did not despair; although, as far as he could see, no means of making his escape were likely to present themselves.
The Count, as evening approached, reached the borders of a Meer a short distance from the Zuyder Zee. It was fringed by trees and by tall reeds almost as high as the trees, which grew partly in the water and partly out of it. “If I could find a boat I might take a passage in her to the other side of the Meer, and thus continuing my journey obtain rest at the same time,” he thought.
He hunted about, and at last found a path, at the further end of which he observed a barge with her bows run into the bank. Having left his knapsack and gun on the bank, he stepped on board, thinking that some of the crew might appear. Seeing no one, he was again going on shore, when the after hatch was flung open and threehuge heads adorned by nightcaps, with big staring eyes expressive of wonder, popped up, each face being more ugly than the other.
“Who are you?” asked the first.
“What business have you on board here?” inquired a second.
“Where do you come from, where do you want to go?” asked a third, the ugliest of all three.
“Really, gentlemen,” said the Count, bowing, for he was always polite, “you overwhelm me with questions. My object is to cross the Meer, or to get to some inn or farmhouse where I may pass the night in comfort.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” exclaimed the last speaker. “You will not find any inn or farmhouse where you can pass the night on the borders of this Meer, but we’ll give you a passage to the other end, for which we are bound when we have had our suppers, always provided you are willing to pay for it.”
“Certainly,” replied the Count. “I am willing to pay for everything I obtain. Your barge looks like a very safe one, and I will therefore engage a passage.”
“Safe! I should think she was safe,” answered the ugly individual. “It would require a gale to upset her with all sail hoisted. Trust Captain Jan Dunck for that.”
Upon this the Count looked harder than before at the ugly man’s countenance. “What, are you Captain Jan Dunck?” he inquired.
“No doubt about that, though I do not command so large a craft as formerly,” said the ugly man. “If I mistake not, you are Count Funnibos, whom I, once upon a time, brought round from Antwerp, and landed at Amsterdam.”
“No, you did not land me at Amsterdam,” answered the Count; “you landed me on the island of Marken, when you played that scurvy trick upon poor Pieter. I thought that you had been lost.”
“So I nearly was, for theGolden Hogwent down, but my mate and small ship’s boy were saved. Here is one of them.”
The mate gave a wink of recognition.
“So you want me to carry you across the lake—is that it?” continued the skipper.
“Such is my wish,” said the Count, though, at the same time, he felt very doubtful about trusting himself and his fortunes to Captain Jan Dunck.
“Well, we’ll get under weigh immediately,” said the skipper. “Though there is no wind, we can pole the barge a considerable part of the distance.”
“But I must first get my luggage, my fowling-piece, my knapsack, and telescope,” said the Count.
“Well, be sharp about it,” answered the skipper. “Time and tide wait for no man.”
“But there is no tide in this lake, and you did not appear to be in a hurry when I came on board,” said the Count.
“For the best of reasons, we were fast asleep,” answered the skipper, as the Count went for his luggage, which neither the skipper, the mate, nor the crew offered to carry for him. He therefore brought it on board himself, for he had become wonderfully independent during his travels. He sat himself down on his knapsack, expecting that the skipper would at once get under weigh; but that individual, instead of doing so, dived again below, followed by his mate and his crew, to discuss some supper which they had stowed away in a locker.
While the Count sat awaiting the return of the skipper and his crew on deck, he observed another boat in the distance, in which was a single man. The person appeared to have been watching the barge, and now cautiously approached, using a paddle, so as to make as little noise as possible. He was apparently about to address the Count when the skipper popped up his head, with his mouth full of food, on which the stranger immediately began to row away in an opposite direction.
“Hilloa, you! have you anything to say to me? If not, keep your distance, or you will have to smart for it!” shouted the skipper.
The stranger made no reply, but rowed slowly away, and Captain Jan Dunck again dived into the cabin. The stranger then stopped, and made a sign to the Count. Soon afterwards the mate and the crew, returning on deck, cast off the rope which secured the barge to the bank, and taking up some long spars, began to pole out into the lake, while the skipper sat at the helm smoking his pipe. He smoked and smoked as he used to do on board theGolden Hog, but did not invite the Count to join him. After some time the water became too deep for poling, and the mate and the crew took to their oars. The water was calm, and there appeared to be no possibility of danger; but yet the Count did not feel altogether comfortable.
“And so you say that one-eyed Pieter threatened to bring me to justice?” growled Captain Jan Dunck.
“I said nothing of the sort,” answered the Count; “I told you that the Baron and I took one-eyed Pieter on board our boat. Had he been drowned, you would have been guilty of his death; and you ought to be thankful to me for saving you from committing so great a crime.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed the skipper, and his mate and crew laughed in chorus. After the crew had rowed for some time, an island appeared in view, with dunes, or sandhills, rising over a considerable portion. It was a barren-looking spot, as far as the Count could judge in the fast increasing gloom of night.
“We are going to put into the shore there,” said the skipper, pointing to it. “If you take my advice, you will land.”
“But that is not the sort of place to which I wish to go,” said the Count. “My object on board your barge was to take a passage to some habitable region, where I could obtain food, rest, and shelter.”
“The sea-gulls will afford you plenty of food; as to rest, you can lie down on the sand; and as for shelter, your pocket-handkerchief will afford you as much as you are likely to find.”
“I protest against being so treated,” said the Count, naturally growing indignant.
“To whom do you protest,” asked the skipper, “to me or my crew? There’s no one else to hear you, and we do not care the snuff of a candle for your protestations.”
The mate and the crew uttered not a word.
“I must submit to my hard destiny,” thought the Count; “I have not made a very brilliant commencement of my sporting adventures, but I set out with the intention of shooting birds, and apparently the island abounds with them.”
In a short time the barge touched the sandy beach.
“You will step on shore, Count Funnibos,” said the skipper, with an ill-favoured grin on his countenance.
“But I have paid my passage-money, and I protest.”
“We settled that point some time ago,” said the skipper; “you will step on shore, as I have just remarked.”
The Count looked at the mate and the crew. Their countenances wore the same ill-favoured expression as did that of the skipper. They merely placed a plank from the bow of the barge to the beach.
“You will walk along the plank, Count Funnibos,” said the skipper.
The Count took up his knapsack, his gun, and his telescope, and, shrugging his shoulders with as dignified an air as he could assume, obeyed. The moment he had set foot on the island, the plank was withdrawn and his retreat cut off. Directly afterwards the mate and the crew shoved the barge away from the shore, and began rowing as before, while the skipper resumed his seat at the helm, and puffed calmly from his pipe, as if he had just performed some meritorious act. A few sea-birds came flying in with loud cries and shrieks from their daily fishing excursions over the waters, but they would not have afforded him a palatable meal even if he had shot one of them.
“The sand is soft, that is one comfort,” he thought; “and there are no wild beasts, wolves, or bears to trouble me; it might have rained, or there might have been a strong cold wind, or I might have been more hungry than I am; so I might have been worse off. A boat of some sort will probably be passing during the day and take me off. I may at present consider myself very like that great hero, Robinson Crusoe, or any other mariner who has been wrecked or marooned on a desert island.”
These sort of thoughts occupied his mind till he fell fast asleep. Having had a long walk the previous day, he was more tired than usual, and did not once wake during the whole night. The rays of the rising sun glaring into his eyes aroused him, and he sprang to his feet, feeling rather stiff and somewhat chilled, for the night had been cold. He climbed to the top of a sand-hill, that he might take a wider survey. Scarcely had he reached it than he observed a boat approaching the shore. Putting down his gun and knapsack, he took out his telescope, and that he might steady it, stretched himself on the side of the sand-hill. Having adjusted the focus, he directed it towards the boat. She came nearer and nearer. He saw that she contained several people, who seemed to have the intention of landing.
“I shall now be able to escape from this,” he thought.
As the boat approached he could clearly distinguish the features of those in her. He could notbe mistaken; three were ladies—the Vrouw Van Arent and her two daughters; three were gentlemen—Mynheer Van Arent, Mynheer Bunckum, and a stranger. They helped the ladies out of the boat, and then all six walked along the beach. The stranger offered his arm to the fair Isabelle, which she took with evident willingness. Mynheer Bunckum walked on with Vrouw Margaret, and the old couple followed.
“No, I cannot join them. I cannot so demean myself as to ask for a passage to the shore,” muttered the Count. “I only hope that they will not discover me. I shall certainly not discover myself, if I can help it.”
If curiosity had brought the party to the island, they were soon satisfied, for in a short time they re-embarked, and the Count had lost his chance of escaping for that time.
“It is better that it should be so,” he said. “I should only have had to answer disagreeable questions, and perhaps have subjected myself to further indignities.”
Hunger now compelled him to seek for food, and loading his gun, he looked out for a bird which might come within range, but the birds all kept at a wary distance. He observed, further to the south, that the island was very much lower, and that the birds frequented it in greater numbers; heaccordingly bent his steps in that direction. It appeared level, and, as far as he could judge, easy to walk over. On reaching it, however, he found that it was sprinkled with so many shallow pools that he would speedily wet his boots through, therefore, sitting down on the first dry spot he came to, he pulled them off and hung them over his shoulders.
“Come, I feel something like a sportsman now,” he said to himself.
Immediately afterwards a duck came quacking by within range. He fired, and, to his infinite satisfaction, brought it to the ground. He rushed eagerly forward to secure his prize, and although it went fluttering on for some distance, he succeeded in catching it, and, wringing its neck, hung it behind him.
“I need no longer fear dying of starvation, even although I may have to spend a day or two on this desert spot,” he said to himself.
To his delight he brought down, before long, another duck, and was now thinking of returning to the higher ground, when he saw a boat passing near the further end of the low part of the island. He rushed forward to make a signal, hoping to attract the attention of those on board, but by the time he had got to the point to which he was directing his steps, the boat was at such a distance that his signals could not be seen. On and on he went; the sea-fowl came shrieking and quacking round him, when, to his dismay, he observed that dark clouds were gathering in the sky, threatening a storm of no gentle nature.
“This sort of work is all very well in fine weather, but I have no fancy to be exposed to drenching rain and howling wind,” he said to himself. “I must get back, at all events, to the higher ground.”
He had got so far from it, that this was no easy matter. Before he had walked for many minutes, down came the rain like a sheet of water, driven against him by the fierce wind.
He had now good reason to be seriously alarmed. The water in the pools, before scarcely up to his ankles, now reached almost to his knees. “Can the dykes have been burst through?” he thought. “If so, my fate is sealed—not only mine, but that of numbers of the inhabitants of the surroundingdistrict.” From the rapid way in which the surface of the Meer rose he felt convinced that this must be the case. Still the love of life compelled him to try and save himself, and he did not despair; although, as far as he could see, no means of making his escape were likely to present themselves.
Chapter Sixteen.As he was hurrying on along the shore, he saw what looked to him like a wheelbarrow, with a heap of gourds or inflated skins, or some other roundish objects, though he could scarcely at the distance distinguish what they were. He reached the spot. “Come, at all events, if the waters rise, as I fear they will, these things will enable me to construct a raft on which I may manage to float on the troubled waters,” he said to himself.Lashing them together, he took his seat on the top of this curiously constructed raft. Scarcely had he done so, when the waters came rushing over the island, and carried him and his raft far away as they swept onward in their course. On and on he went, his very natural fear being that he should be carried into the Zuyder Zee; he soon, however, came in sight of land raised above the waters, on which he could distinguish cottages and other buildings.“Well, this is a new style of navigation, but I ought to be thankful that I have got something to keep me above water,” he said to himself.He of course, as he glided on, was looking about in all directions, and he now caught sight in the distance of what he hoped was a boat. Again and again he cast his eager gaze at the object. Yes, it was a boat, and a man was in her; he waved his hat and shouted. As he approached, the Count looked at him; yes, he was, there could be no doubt about it, the one-eyed mariner, old Pieter, who shouted—“Hold on, Mynheer! hold on! and I will soon be up to you.”“What, don’t you know me?” asked the Count, as Pieter got near.“Bless me, of course I do; and glad I am to have come to take you on board, or you might have been carried away into the Zuyder Zee, or somewhere else, for aught I can tell. When I saw you on board Captain Jan Dunck’s vessel, I tried to get near enough to warn you that you must beware of him, as I felt sure that he would play you some scurvy trick or other. He has been going on from bad to worse, all owing to the oceans of schiedam he has poured down that ugly mouth of his.”This was said when the Count was comfortably seated in the stern of Pieter’s boat. There was another person on board whom the Count recognised as the small ship’s boy, who had long been Pieter’s faithful companion. He nodded and smiled his recognition, and seemed highly delighted at again meeting with the Count.“And now where shall we go?” asked Pieter.“To the nearest shore where I can obtain food and shelter, and change my wet garments,” answered the Count.“Well, you do look dampish,” observed Pieter.“Damp! I have been wet to the skin for these hours past, and almost starved to death in the bargain,” said the Count.“Then I will lose no time in taking you to Meppel, or any other place we can most easily reach.” And bending his back to the oars, the one-eyed mariner pulled away.“‘One good turn deserves another,’ as the old saying is,” observed Pieter, for he wanted to say something to keep up the Count’s spirits. “You saved my life and gave me this boat, and now I have the satisfaction of saving yours.”“You are an honest fellow, Pieter, and as I prize honest men, of whom I have not discovered as many as I desire in the world, I should be glad if you and the small ship’s boy will accompany me, and I will endeavour to obtain some post which I consider suited to your merits.” Old Pieter gladly accepted the Count’s offer, and it did not make him pull the less vigorously. All night long they rowed on, till they arrived at a part of the country which the flood had not reached. Here Pieter took the Count to the house of a farmer to whom the honest boatman was well known, having been on various occasions employed by him. The good farmer treated the Count with the utmost hospitality and kindness. It was some days, however, before the Count had sufficiently recovered to be once more himself, and able to extend his walks beyond the precincts of the farm. He had gone one day to some distance, when he saw a large and picturesque house rising amid an extensive shrubbery; an open gate invited him to enter. As he walked along he caught the sound of voices, and presently found himself in the presence of a party of gentlemen, seated round a table with books and papers before them. Conspicuous on one side was a large easel supporting a handsome picture. “Ah! this is something out of the way,” thought the Count, and advancing he made a bow and introduced himself.“You are welcome, noble Count, to our revels,” said one of the gentlemen, who appeared to be the president. “But ours is a feast of reason and the flow of soul, and we are met here to discuss works of art, to hear read the practical effusions of our members, and to enjoy the society of men of intellect and erudition.”“A very praiseworthy and satisfactory mode of passing time, and I am fortunate in having fallen into such good company,” remarked the Count.The various members of the society individually welcomed him. A poet had just read some verses he had composed, which were received with thundering applause, one of the excellent rules of the society being that every one was to praise the works of the rest. The artist now exhibited his paintings; when the others had admired them to their fill, the Count looked at them through his spectacles, and if he did make a mistake, and suppose that a horse was a cow, or a sheep a pig, he wisely kept his opinion to himself, merely exclaiming: “Beautiful! how true to nature. What exquisite colouring; what elegant outlines! yet all are equalled by the composition.” As no one asked him to point out the individual excellencies of which he spoke, he was looked upon as a first-rate judge of art.“Now, gentlemen, as our friend Scrubzen has not been able to-day to complete his grand picture, I am deputed to invite you to inspect it to-morrow, when it will be in a more forward state. We shall, I hope, be favoured by your presence, Count Funnibos?”“By all means,” answered the Count, who was highly pleased with the society into which he had fallen; and he parted from them to return to the house of his hospitable entertainer. The next morning he set out to repair to the house of which the president had given him the address.“Several of Scrubzen’s admirers have already arrived,” said the president, whom he met at the door; “and with them a distinguished foreigner.”As the Count and the president entered, they saw at the further end of the room a large picture on an easel representing a coast scene. On one side stood the artist explaining the details of his painting; a number of ladies and gentlemen were gazing at it with admiring glances; but one figure especially attracted the attention of the Count. Itwas, there could be no doubt about it, Baron Stilkin, whom he thought had long since reached Amsterdam, or had returned to his family mansion. Yes, it was the Baron, not decreased in rotund proportions since they parted. “Grand, very grand!” he exclaimed in sonorous tones, approaching the picture. “It reminds me forcibly of the best of Claude’s productions; exquisite colouring!”“And what is your opinion, Count Funnibos?” asked the President.“He has grown wonderfully fat,” answered the Count, who was thinking of the Baron. “I fear that no carriage can be found strong enough to take him home.”“I beg your pardon, Count, I was speaking of the picture,” remarked the President. The Baron, however, had heard the Count’s voice; turning round, he opened his arms to give him a friendly embrace.“What, my dear Count! Is it you, yourself?”“I think you ran away and left me to my mysterious fate,” said the Count, with a slight degree of stiffness. “I conclude that you did not receive my letter requesting you to meet me at Amsterdam, and stating the reasons for my not rejoining you sooner; however, I am very glad to see you again.”“No, indeed, I received no letter,” answered the Baron. “Had I done so, it would have saved me a world of anxiety.”“We must remember that we are in the presence of strangers,” said the Count. “Our friend here desired to know my opinion of that magnificent picture. I may add that it surpasses my utmost expectations.”His opinion highly pleased the artist as well as the spectators, who were delighted to find their countryman’s production so highly praised by two distinguished foreigners.“And now, Count,” said the Baron, as they walked away arm in arm, “I am compelled to return home. My son, the hope of my house, is about to marry a lady whose magnificent fortune will retrieve the fallen fortunes of our family. Will you accompany me?”“By all manner of means,” answered the Count. “I have met with sufficient adventures, or rather misadventures, to satisfy me for the rest of my life. I have seen a large portion of Holland, if not the whole of it, and I am satisfied that it is as well worth seeing as any country in the world.”“Your decision gives me infinite satisfaction,” answered the Baron. “We will go back to-morrow, and I hope that you will be present at the wedding of my beloved son. I would rather he married the lady himself, though she is of an age which might have been considered suitable to me.”The Count and the Baron travelled back, accompanied by Pieter and the small ship’s boy, at a far greater speed than that at which they had performed their outward journey. The Count was greatly relieved that his castle and estates had not run away during his absence, although Johanna Klack, at the very hour of his arrival, gave him notice that she must give up his service.“To-morrow is the day fixed for my dear son’s wedding,” said the Baron, who had called on the Count. “You will, I trust, honour him and me by your presence, and that of your household.”“By all means,” said the Count. “I will come myself, and bring one-eyed Pieter and the small ship’s boy. It will be a novel and interesting spectacle to them.”The Count and his attendants arrived. The happy bridegroom appeared dressed in the height of fashion, the hour for the nuptial party to set out had struck.“I must go in and bring forth the bride,” he said; and he soon reappeared with a female, holding a large bouquet in her hand. She wore a wreath of roses and a white veil over her head; her neck was long, so was her nose; her figure was the reverse of stout, but that in a youthful female is to be admired.“Is that a mop-stick with clothes hung on it?” whispered the small ship’s boy, as he gazed at the future Baroness.“My dear Baron,” said the Count, after he had made a profound bow to the lady, “how did your son manage to make up his mind?”“I made it up for him,” answered the Baron. “He is a dutiful son, and does whatever I tell him. Suppose we change the subject, and when the nuptials are over, what do you say to setting out again on our travels? I shall be as ready as before to keep the accounts, and I hope to put a fair share into the common fund.”“I will think about it,” said the Count. “At present, I have had travelling enough to satisfy me for some time to come; and as Johanna Klack has left my service, I do not know into whose hands I can satisfactorily leave the charge of my castle and estates during my absence.”The End.
As he was hurrying on along the shore, he saw what looked to him like a wheelbarrow, with a heap of gourds or inflated skins, or some other roundish objects, though he could scarcely at the distance distinguish what they were. He reached the spot. “Come, at all events, if the waters rise, as I fear they will, these things will enable me to construct a raft on which I may manage to float on the troubled waters,” he said to himself.
Lashing them together, he took his seat on the top of this curiously constructed raft. Scarcely had he done so, when the waters came rushing over the island, and carried him and his raft far away as they swept onward in their course. On and on he went, his very natural fear being that he should be carried into the Zuyder Zee; he soon, however, came in sight of land raised above the waters, on which he could distinguish cottages and other buildings.
“Well, this is a new style of navigation, but I ought to be thankful that I have got something to keep me above water,” he said to himself.
He of course, as he glided on, was looking about in all directions, and he now caught sight in the distance of what he hoped was a boat. Again and again he cast his eager gaze at the object. Yes, it was a boat, and a man was in her; he waved his hat and shouted. As he approached, the Count looked at him; yes, he was, there could be no doubt about it, the one-eyed mariner, old Pieter, who shouted—
“Hold on, Mynheer! hold on! and I will soon be up to you.”
“What, don’t you know me?” asked the Count, as Pieter got near.
“Bless me, of course I do; and glad I am to have come to take you on board, or you might have been carried away into the Zuyder Zee, or somewhere else, for aught I can tell. When I saw you on board Captain Jan Dunck’s vessel, I tried to get near enough to warn you that you must beware of him, as I felt sure that he would play you some scurvy trick or other. He has been going on from bad to worse, all owing to the oceans of schiedam he has poured down that ugly mouth of his.”
This was said when the Count was comfortably seated in the stern of Pieter’s boat. There was another person on board whom the Count recognised as the small ship’s boy, who had long been Pieter’s faithful companion. He nodded and smiled his recognition, and seemed highly delighted at again meeting with the Count.
“And now where shall we go?” asked Pieter.
“To the nearest shore where I can obtain food and shelter, and change my wet garments,” answered the Count.
“Well, you do look dampish,” observed Pieter.
“Damp! I have been wet to the skin for these hours past, and almost starved to death in the bargain,” said the Count.
“Then I will lose no time in taking you to Meppel, or any other place we can most easily reach.” And bending his back to the oars, the one-eyed mariner pulled away.
“‘One good turn deserves another,’ as the old saying is,” observed Pieter, for he wanted to say something to keep up the Count’s spirits. “You saved my life and gave me this boat, and now I have the satisfaction of saving yours.”
“You are an honest fellow, Pieter, and as I prize honest men, of whom I have not discovered as many as I desire in the world, I should be glad if you and the small ship’s boy will accompany me, and I will endeavour to obtain some post which I consider suited to your merits.” Old Pieter gladly accepted the Count’s offer, and it did not make him pull the less vigorously. All night long they rowed on, till they arrived at a part of the country which the flood had not reached. Here Pieter took the Count to the house of a farmer to whom the honest boatman was well known, having been on various occasions employed by him. The good farmer treated the Count with the utmost hospitality and kindness. It was some days, however, before the Count had sufficiently recovered to be once more himself, and able to extend his walks beyond the precincts of the farm. He had gone one day to some distance, when he saw a large and picturesque house rising amid an extensive shrubbery; an open gate invited him to enter. As he walked along he caught the sound of voices, and presently found himself in the presence of a party of gentlemen, seated round a table with books and papers before them. Conspicuous on one side was a large easel supporting a handsome picture. “Ah! this is something out of the way,” thought the Count, and advancing he made a bow and introduced himself.
“You are welcome, noble Count, to our revels,” said one of the gentlemen, who appeared to be the president. “But ours is a feast of reason and the flow of soul, and we are met here to discuss works of art, to hear read the practical effusions of our members, and to enjoy the society of men of intellect and erudition.”
“A very praiseworthy and satisfactory mode of passing time, and I am fortunate in having fallen into such good company,” remarked the Count.
The various members of the society individually welcomed him. A poet had just read some verses he had composed, which were received with thundering applause, one of the excellent rules of the society being that every one was to praise the works of the rest. The artist now exhibited his paintings; when the others had admired them to their fill, the Count looked at them through his spectacles, and if he did make a mistake, and suppose that a horse was a cow, or a sheep a pig, he wisely kept his opinion to himself, merely exclaiming: “Beautiful! how true to nature. What exquisite colouring; what elegant outlines! yet all are equalled by the composition.” As no one asked him to point out the individual excellencies of which he spoke, he was looked upon as a first-rate judge of art.
“Now, gentlemen, as our friend Scrubzen has not been able to-day to complete his grand picture, I am deputed to invite you to inspect it to-morrow, when it will be in a more forward state. We shall, I hope, be favoured by your presence, Count Funnibos?”
“By all means,” answered the Count, who was highly pleased with the society into which he had fallen; and he parted from them to return to the house of his hospitable entertainer. The next morning he set out to repair to the house of which the president had given him the address.
“Several of Scrubzen’s admirers have already arrived,” said the president, whom he met at the door; “and with them a distinguished foreigner.”
As the Count and the president entered, they saw at the further end of the room a large picture on an easel representing a coast scene. On one side stood the artist explaining the details of his painting; a number of ladies and gentlemen were gazing at it with admiring glances; but one figure especially attracted the attention of the Count. Itwas, there could be no doubt about it, Baron Stilkin, whom he thought had long since reached Amsterdam, or had returned to his family mansion. Yes, it was the Baron, not decreased in rotund proportions since they parted. “Grand, very grand!” he exclaimed in sonorous tones, approaching the picture. “It reminds me forcibly of the best of Claude’s productions; exquisite colouring!”
“And what is your opinion, Count Funnibos?” asked the President.
“He has grown wonderfully fat,” answered the Count, who was thinking of the Baron. “I fear that no carriage can be found strong enough to take him home.”
“I beg your pardon, Count, I was speaking of the picture,” remarked the President. The Baron, however, had heard the Count’s voice; turning round, he opened his arms to give him a friendly embrace.
“What, my dear Count! Is it you, yourself?”
“I think you ran away and left me to my mysterious fate,” said the Count, with a slight degree of stiffness. “I conclude that you did not receive my letter requesting you to meet me at Amsterdam, and stating the reasons for my not rejoining you sooner; however, I am very glad to see you again.”
“No, indeed, I received no letter,” answered the Baron. “Had I done so, it would have saved me a world of anxiety.”
“We must remember that we are in the presence of strangers,” said the Count. “Our friend here desired to know my opinion of that magnificent picture. I may add that it surpasses my utmost expectations.”
His opinion highly pleased the artist as well as the spectators, who were delighted to find their countryman’s production so highly praised by two distinguished foreigners.
“And now, Count,” said the Baron, as they walked away arm in arm, “I am compelled to return home. My son, the hope of my house, is about to marry a lady whose magnificent fortune will retrieve the fallen fortunes of our family. Will you accompany me?”
“By all manner of means,” answered the Count. “I have met with sufficient adventures, or rather misadventures, to satisfy me for the rest of my life. I have seen a large portion of Holland, if not the whole of it, and I am satisfied that it is as well worth seeing as any country in the world.”
“Your decision gives me infinite satisfaction,” answered the Baron. “We will go back to-morrow, and I hope that you will be present at the wedding of my beloved son. I would rather he married the lady himself, though she is of an age which might have been considered suitable to me.”
The Count and the Baron travelled back, accompanied by Pieter and the small ship’s boy, at a far greater speed than that at which they had performed their outward journey. The Count was greatly relieved that his castle and estates had not run away during his absence, although Johanna Klack, at the very hour of his arrival, gave him notice that she must give up his service.
“To-morrow is the day fixed for my dear son’s wedding,” said the Baron, who had called on the Count. “You will, I trust, honour him and me by your presence, and that of your household.”
“By all means,” said the Count. “I will come myself, and bring one-eyed Pieter and the small ship’s boy. It will be a novel and interesting spectacle to them.”
The Count and his attendants arrived. The happy bridegroom appeared dressed in the height of fashion, the hour for the nuptial party to set out had struck.
“I must go in and bring forth the bride,” he said; and he soon reappeared with a female, holding a large bouquet in her hand. She wore a wreath of roses and a white veil over her head; her neck was long, so was her nose; her figure was the reverse of stout, but that in a youthful female is to be admired.
“Is that a mop-stick with clothes hung on it?” whispered the small ship’s boy, as he gazed at the future Baroness.
“My dear Baron,” said the Count, after he had made a profound bow to the lady, “how did your son manage to make up his mind?”
“I made it up for him,” answered the Baron. “He is a dutiful son, and does whatever I tell him. Suppose we change the subject, and when the nuptials are over, what do you say to setting out again on our travels? I shall be as ready as before to keep the accounts, and I hope to put a fair share into the common fund.”
“I will think about it,” said the Count. “At present, I have had travelling enough to satisfy me for some time to come; and as Johanna Klack has left my service, I do not know into whose hands I can satisfactorily leave the charge of my castle and estates during my absence.”
|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5| |Chapter 6| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 8| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10| |Chapter 11| |Chapter 12| |Chapter 13| |Chapter 14| |Chapter 15| |Chapter 16|