"All right, captain; my mouth close."

"I shall want a crew of two or three good, honest Dutchmen, pilot. Can you recommend me any men?"

"This very night you shall have one--my cousin Willem--a very good boy, captain."

"And there is another thing, pilot. What sort of a berth are you going to put me in in Rotterdam?"

"I will moor you along the Boompjees; nice quays them. Plenty good Schiedam shops on sh.o.r.e there. All yachts go there."

"I thought so; that's why I asked. Now, pilot, I do not want to be moored along the Boompjees. Take me to some quiet ca.n.a.l, out of the way; you understand--a place where no yachts or foreign vessels go."

"Ah, I know, captain, just the place: nothing but Holland schuyts there; no yachts like it, no captains like it; I not think you will like it."

"I will go there. But why don't you think I shall like it?"

"You no have Dutch nose; and that ca.n.a.l plenty smellful, captain."

CHAPTER IV

A narrow ca.n.a.l that pierces an out-of-the-way corner of old Rotterdam.

Mediaeval houses--narrow, lofty, terminating in quaint, pointed gables--overhang the sluggish waters. It is only frequented by the picturesque native ca.n.a.l boats, with their lofty masts and varnished oak sides, so marvellously clean, for all their dirty work. In this quiet spot, with its old-world, decaying look, it is difficult to realise that close at hand are the busy quays of the Boompjees, crowded with vessels from all parts of the world, noisy with the haste of modern commerce.

It is a bit of Rotterdam that does not change. The British tourist, unless he has lost himself, never explores the narrow alleys that lead down to the slimy water--a gloomy, dead quarter of the city, pervaded by a smell that is ancient and fish-like and something worse.

It was a sultry August midday. No breath of air stirred the water of the ca.n.a.l, which seemed to be fermenting under the fierce sunshine, and foul gases bubbled up on its surface.

Only one of the many vessels moored along the quay flew a foreign flag.

The blue ensign of Great Britain hung motionless from the mizzen of the yacht _Petrel_.

On the deck was a st.u.r.dy little man in baggy trousers, who, despite the languid influence of the day, was employed in polishing the bra.s.s-work on the vessel with an extraordinary energy. This was Willem, the pilot's cousin, who had entered into Carew's service, and who had, with Dutch diligence, set himself the task of scrubbing the yacht up to his high standard of Dutch smartness as quickly as possible.

The owner--by right of undisputed possession--was below, looking over some charts of the South Atlantic, which he had just purchased. The solicitor had been making all his preparations as rapidly but as quietly as possible. But little now remained to be done. So far, honest Willem was the only hand he had engaged; but he knew that he could easily ship as many men as he needed at a moment's notice in so large a seaport as Rotterdam. He told no one of his projected voyage across the Atlantic, knowing that to do so would at once attract attention to him; and he naturally dreaded that publicity should be given to his doings.

He showed himself in the streets as little as possible, and he always went forth to make his purchases in the early morning before English tourists were likely to be out of their beds. He had only been in port two days, but he was almost ready for sea. He had some tanks fitted into the cabin, so that he could carry sufficient water for a long voyage; he had filled all the lockers and bunks with a large quant.i.ty of tinned meats, biscuits, and other necessary stores; he had procured his charts; and all this had been done in the least conspicuous manner possible.

Though he had never before undertaken an ocean cruise of this magnitude, he knew what was requisite, and forgot nothing. There was no chronometer on board the yacht, and he could not afford to buy one; so, as his watch was not to be depended upon, he saw that he would have to navigate his vessel after the fashion of the good old days before chronometers were known. The ancient navigators carried with them their astrolabes--rough instruments, long since superseded by quadrants and s.e.xtants--which enabled them to find their lat.i.tude accurately enough. But having no timepieces, they were unable to ascertain their longitude by observation of the heavenly bodies, and had to rely on dead reckoning alone. So the mariner of old, after a long voyage across ocean currents of unknown speed and direction, was possibly many hundreds of miles out of his reckoning as regards longitude, though he knew his lat.i.tude to within a few miles.

Thus, supposing, for instance, he was bound for Barbadoes, he would sail boldly on until, according to his calculations, he was some few days' journey to the eastward of his port. Then he would steer for the exact lat.i.tude in which it lay, and follow that line of lat.i.tude till he reached his destination; which he was, of course, bound to do sooner or later. Moreover, it was his invariable custom to heave his vessel to every night while running down the lat.i.tude; as otherwise he might pa.s.s by the island without seeing it in the darkness, and lose himself entirely.

It was a slow method of navigation--not to say a risky one. But Carew would not have to encounter so many difficulties as the sailors of old; for ocean currents are better understood in these days, and the opportunities of speaking vessels at sea and ascertaining the exact longitude from them are very frequent.

Carew had spent all the money he had found on board the yacht, and there were still some necessary purchases to be made. The most expensive of the articles yet to be bought was a dinghy, to replace the one that had been lost. This very morning he had found his way to the Mont de Piete and p.a.w.ned everything he could well spare: Allen's watch and chain, the rifle, and one of the two binocular gla.s.ses. With that easy forgetfulness which was an attribute of his conscience, he had by this time almost come to believe that the barrister's yacht and fortune were rightfully his. The sum he thus raised was not a large one; but he calculated that it would enable him to meet every expense, though he would have to put to sea almost penniless, if not quite so.

While Willem was still busy on deck a tall, good-looking gentleman, with an honest but shrewd eye and tawny beard, came along the quay and stood in front of the yacht, inspecting her critically for a few moments.

"Is the owner on board?" he inquired of the sailor in Dutch.

"The English captain is in his cabin, sir," replied the little man in a solemn, nasal drawl.

"I should like to see him. Will you give him my card?"

Willem, taking the card, descended to the cabin. "Von man here for see you, captain," he said in his broken English.

Carew started. "A man to see me? What sort of man?" he asked.

"Him a gentleman man, for him has von tall black hat. Here was his paper," and he handed Carew the card.

The solicitor felt the blood forsake his heart. Some English acquaintance had found him out. He looked at the card with dread; then a sigh of relief escaped him; the name was certainly Dutch--Hoogendyk.

Carew went on deck and politely invited his visitor to come on board.

Mynheer Hoogendyk stepped down from the quay, and introduced himself in excellent English.

"I am a resident of Rotterdam," he said, "and I am a leading member of our Yacht Club. I have come to inform you that, with your permission, we shall be highly delighted to make our English _confrere_ an honorary member of the club during his stay in our city."

"I am very grateful to the club for the honour they confer upon me, and shall gladly avail myself of the privilege," replied the lawyer, who, as he spoke, made a resolve never to put his foot inside the club premises, but to ship his crew and sail from Rotterdam without delay. It was dangerous for him to stay longer, now that his retreat had been discovered.

"I only heard of you by accident yesterday," said the visitor, who, unlike most of his countrymen, was garrulous and inquisitive, though a good fellow. "Why have you picked up a berth in this dirty, out-of-the-way hole?"

"It is picturesque and quiet."

"And filthy and unhealthy. We must move you to a better spot. There is a capital berth just in front of the English church. You'll see lots of your countrymen there. How many hands have you on board? I see you have shipped one Dutchman."

"My two men were drunken ruffians, and I discharged them."

"I will undertake to get you a good crew of my countrymen if you like. I suppose you are going to cruise about our coasts. Where are you going to from here?"

"To Amsterdam," replied Carew, who was on tenterhooks of impatience. He felt how dangerous this man would be with his gossiping habits.

"And now, sir," said Mynheer Hoogendyk, drawing out a pocket-book and pencil, "I will take your name and enter it on the club books."

"Here is my card." Carew handed to him one of the barrister's cards.

"'Mr. Arthur Allen, Fountain Court, Temple!'" read the visitor. "Ah, you live in the Temple! I know it well. Are you a lawyer by chance?"

"I am a barrister."

"Ah! How delightful! We are chips of the same block, Mr. Allen. I, too, am a barrister, in practice in Rotterdam. Both yachtsmen, both advocates, what a bond of friendship there should be between us! You must come and see my yacht--such a pretty little schuyt--and also our law courts."

They sat together in the _Petrel's_ cabin, and the Dutch advocate commenced to question the solicitor on English law, comparing it with that in force in his own country. Carew was hugely bored and weary of his visitor's chatter, but did his best to be civil.

"And, by the way," cried the Dutchman at last, "there is a trial now proceeding which I am sure would be of the greatest interest to you; for you say that the criminal law is your particular line."

"What is it about?" asked the solicitor indifferently.