He held himself in readiness to board the skiff as soon as he came within leaping distance. But Grootz, with an activity little to be expected in so burly a frame, seized an oar that had been shipped by one of his men now lending a hand in hoisting Harry on board, and, springing to his feet, with a shrewd thrust sent the master spinning over the side of his boat into the river. He came up nearly a dozen yards away; his crew pulled towards him, and when he was at last hauled into the boat he was fifty yards down the river. He had evidently shipped a good deal of water, for Grootz’s blow must have knocked the breath out of his body; the purple hue of his cheeks had given place to a mottled sickliness. He gasped and puffed and swore; but Harry was by this time safe on board the brig; to take him by main force was clearly impossible; and the discomfited master had no alternative but to regain his own vessel. Harry was carried to the cabin, his wet clothes were taken off, he was wrapped in blankets and forced to swallow a good bumper of cordial before the Dutchman would allow him to speak. "Zo!" exclaimed Grootz when he was comfortable. "You saved my life, sir," said Harry warmly. "I was nearly done." "Zo!" "They were taking me to the Plantations. I never heard from Lord Marlborough. They trapped me. All my money was gone. I went to the Angel and Crown to find you, to ask you to give me work; you had sailed." "Zo! talk no more. Flotsam! Gunst! I tell you dis, my vrient; put not your drust in princes: every man learn dis zoon or late: better zoon. Zo!" The honest Dutchman left Harry to sleep while he resumed his interrupted journey to the shore. But he had barely reached the deck when he heard himself hailed by a stentorian voice from a wherry sweeping by under full sail and the rapid ply of oars. "Ahoy there! Ha’ ye seed a ship named the _Merry Maid_ a-sailen down-along this way?" "Ja, ja!" cried Grootz, chuckling; "what for you ask?" But the man gave him no answer; only called to the two men rowing the wherry to pull more lustily. "Hi!" shouted the Dutchman in his turn; and though his voice was usually low he could roar at need. "Hi! you be too late!" The man did not turn his head. "Hi! she is two mile ahead!" Sherebiah gave no sign. He was rapidly passing out of earshot. "Hi!" shouted Grootz still more loudly. "Sherebiah, stop! Mynheer Harry is here!" Sherebiah jumped up so violently that, heavy as the wherry was, he almost upset it. "Master Harry?" he roared. "Ja! I tell you." The wherry slewed round and headed toward the brig. Grootz lit his pipe and watched, his little eyes twinkling with amusement. Sherebiah looked positively aggrieved when he came aboard.