But then, how would his men take it were he only to divulge his destination to them when they were well out at sea? The probability was that they would refuse to obey his orders, and insist upon returning. Professional sailors are not fond of ocean voyages in tiny craft. Evidently his only plan was to prowl about the docks that night, select with care three likely-looking men for his purpose,--men without wives or ties of any sort,--bring them on board the yacht, offer them good pay, and at the last moment tell them where he was bound for. Then, if they still consented to accompany him, he would sail away at once, allowing them no opportunity of gossiping with their friends on shore. Willem, he knew, was not the man for him. The honest Dutchman must be discharged at once on some pretext or other. Carew sat on deck, pipe in mouth, meditating on these matters. He was alone on the yacht, for Willem had gone off on leave for a few hours to visit some of his relatives. The sun was setting into a bank of rosy vapour that promised a continuance of fine weather. The hot day was closing with a sultry eve. On that quiet canal, and on the narrow quay beneath the lofty houses, there was no sound or sign of life. It was almost as if he were in the midst of some dead and long since deserted city. But of a sudden the peacefulness of that mediæval scene was rudely disturbed. First was heard a confused noise in the distance, as of angry human voices and the trampling of many wooden shoes. Louder, nearer was the sound, and then Carew perceived a man rush out upon the quay from a narrow alley, some hundred yards away, that led towards the principal docks. The man, who seemed frantic with terror, stood still for one brief moment, looked quickly around him, as if uncertain whither to hurry next: whether to plunge into the canal, or run along the quay to left or right. Then arose a loud yell of many voices behind him, as of hounds that at last have caught a view of the hunted creature; and the man, hearing it, darted off again at full speed along the canal bank in the direction of the yacht. Immediately afterwards there poured out of the alley a crowd of nearly a hundred men, women, and children, mostly of the lowest orders; denizens of the slums, though some were of a more respectable class; a crowd of Hollanders who had lost all their native phlegm for the nonce; a crowd gesticulating, howling, execrating, thirsting for the blood of the man they were pursuing; mad and fierce as a mob of Paris in revolutionary days when an aristocrat was scented by the sovereign people. The wretched man was hatless; his coat and half his shirt had been torn from his back; the blood was trickling down his face from the wounds on his head where the stones that had been hurled at him had hit.