"Liberty on shore for an hour or two if you please," said they; "it's a long while that we've been treading the planks." "Yes, you may go; but I'll keelhaul every man who's not off to his work by daylight--recollect that," replied Vanderdecken. Donder und blitzen--we will all be on board, captain. "They be queer sort of people in this country," observed Jansen, who had been surveying the shore of the bay with his telescope. "I can't make them out at all. I see them put their heads down close to the ground, and then they stand up again; they wear their breeches very low, and yet they jump remarkably well--Hundred tousend tyfels!" continued he, as he looked through the telescope again; "there's one of them six feet high at least, and he has jumped twenty yards. It can't be a woman--if she is, what a springy partner she would make in a dance!" "We'll take the fiddle and schnapps on shore, and have a dance with the natives," cried the boatswain. "Mind you behave civilly and make friends with them," said Vanderdecken; "don't be rude to the women." "Nein, Mynheer," replied the crew, who now lowered the boats and were very soon pulling for the shore--every man with his pipe in his mouth. The spectre-crew gained the beach--quitted the boat, and took up a position under a high rock. The pipes were refilled--the schnapps handed round, and very soon they were as jolly as ghosts could be. "Come, Jansen, give us a song," cried Spielman; "and you, Dirk Spattrel, keep company with your fiddle." "My windpipe is not quite so fresh as it was once," said Jansen, putting his bony fingers up to his neck, "but here goes:-- "In spite of wind and weather, In spite of mountain waves, If our timbers hold together And we sink not to our graves; The Cape we still will double, boys, The stormy Cape we'll clear,-- Who cares for toil or trouble, boys, Who thinks of watery bier? "We left our wives behind us, Bright India's realms to gain, Let nothing then remind us Of them and home again; Close luff'd with well-set sails, lads, We still our course will steer, And beaten back by adverse gales, lads, Cry 'Thus, boys, and so near.' "Who cares for mocking billows, Or demons of the deep? One half sleep on our pillows, While t'others deck-watch keep; Who cares for lightning's flashing, boys, Or noisy thunder's roar? We laugh at wild spray dashing, boys, And clouds that torrents pour. "The ocean is the seaman's slave, Though mutiny it may; Our beast of burden is the wave As well by night as day; To round the Cape we'll reckon, lads, For so our captain will'd; Three cheers for Vanderdecken, lads, His vow shall be fulfill'd."