“You debrive me of my liberty,” he shouted in his deepest tones, “and I vhas content till ve meets mit a schip to take me out of dis beesly hooker. But, by Cott! mine dinner vhas to be someding more dan schip’s bread, or I vhas sorry for you, Dis is Mynheer Tulp’s schip. I oxpects my full rations. If not, I goes to der law vhen I gets home, and I takes der bedt from oonder you und your vife. A pretty consbiracy--first against mine liberty and now against mine appetite. I have brought my hogs, as you Englishmen say, to a nice market indeedt.” “Mr. Fielding,” said Captain Greaves quietly, “step on deck, if you please, and send Yan Bol to me with the bilboes. You will keep the deck till Yan Bol returns.” I hastened up the ladder, and found Yan Bol tramping to and fro. I repeated the captain’s instructions to him. “Who vhas der bilboes for?” said he, in a voice that trembled upon the ear with the power of its volume. “Van Laar,” said I. He looked not in the least surprised. “For Herr Van Laar. I shall hov to pick out der biggest;” and he went forward to fetch the bilboes, as the irons in which sailors’ legs were imprisoned were in those days termed. We had considerably risen the sail that I had made out shortly before eight bells, and I took the telescope from the companion way to look at her. She was apparently a small brig, smaller than the _Black Watch_, visible as yet above the horizon to the line of her bulwark rails only. I found something singular in the trim of her canvas, but she was too far off at present to make sure of in any direction of character, tonnage, or aspect, and I returned the glass to its brackets, satisfied at all events to have discovered that she was heading to cross our hawse, and would be within easy speaking distance anon. Bol came aft with the bilboes and descended into the cabin, whence very soon afterward there arose through the open skylight a great noise of voices. Van Laar was giving trouble. He declined to sit quietly while Yan Bol fitted him. His deep voice roared out Dutch oaths, intermingled with insults in English leveled at Captain Greaves. Galloon barked furiously, and Yan Bol’s deeper notes rolled upward like the sound of thunder above the explosions of artillery. Presently I heard a noise of wrestling; then Van Laar called out: “All right, all right! Let me go! Put her on! I vhas quiet now, but after dis, if I vhas you, I vould hang myself.” His voice was then muffled, as though he had been dragged or carried into his cabin, and a few minutes later Yan Bol came on deck, lifting his hair with one hand and wiping the sweat from under it with the other. “He gifs too much trouble,” said he, with a massive shake of his head, “it vhas not right. He vhas a badt sailor, too. I could have told Captain Greaves dot before we sailed from Amsterdam. Van Laar put a ship ashore two years ago. He vhas too fat and lazy for der sea. He vhas ignorant, and has not a sailor’s heart in him.”