“Yaw; a timber cargo. Dot vhas my fear. Dere you vhas, and dot’s to be my home, and vot oonder der sky is dot cask oonder der taffrail? Der schip’s provisions? Very like, very like. She hov a starved look. And who vhas dose dree men sitting up dere? Vhas dot der captain in dere yellow coat? He hov der look of a man who lives on rats. An’ I ask vhat dos a timber schip do down here? By Gott! I do not like the look of her.” I paid no attention to his words, and put on a frowning face to preserve my gravity, which was severely taxed, not more by Van Laar’s talk and appearance than by the grins of the men who were rowing the boat. We approached the brig, and Mr. Tarbrick came to the main rigging, as though he would have me steer the boat alongside under the main chains. “Brick, ahoy!” shouted Van Laar, standing up, and setting his thick legs apart to balance himself; for the boat swayed with some liveliness upon the swell that was running. “Hallo!” responded Tarbrick, with a flourish of his hand. “Vhat vhas dot cask oonder your shtern?” “It keeps the pump a-going,” cried Tarbrick. “Goot anchells!” cried Van Laar, “do I onderstand that you hov not a schip’s gompany strong enough to keep der pumps manned?” “We are four well men and myself,” shouted Tarbrick; “the rest are sick.” “I do not go home in dot schip,” said Van Laar, sitting down. “Oars!” I cried, as we swept alongside. “Mr. Van Laar, I beg you will step on board. Pray give us no trouble. You _must_ go, you know, though it should come to my having to send for fresh hands to whip you aboard,” by which word _whip_ he perfectly well understood me to mean a tackle made fast to the yardarm, used for hoisting. “Mr. Tarbrick, call those three fellows of yours aft to get this chest over the side.” The three men rose in a lifeless way from the top of the timber, shambled to abreast of the boat in a lifeless way, and in a lifeless way still dragged up Van Laar’s sea-chest, to the grummet handle of which a rope had been attached. “On deck dere,” called Van Laar, getting up again and planting his legs apart, “how moch do you leak in der hour?” I winked at Tarbrick, who was leaning over the rail, but the man was either a fool or did not catch my wink, for he answered, in his melancholy voice: “It’s a-drainin’ in very unpleasantly. I han’t sounded the well since this morning, but,” he added, as though to encourage Van Laar, “we’re full of timber and can’t sink.” Down sat the Dutchman again, with a weight of fall upon the thwart that made the boat throw a couple of little seas away from her quarters. “Here I sthop,” he said, doggedly folding his arms. “You will force me to row back to the brig, obtain fresh hands, and whip you aboard, Mr. Van Laar.” “You vhas a big,” he said, without looking at me.