"Your Excellency knows best. I shall make my just profits,—no more, no more."
"Yes, yes; you have many ways to make profits, I hear. All do well, too."
"When God pleases, it rains with every wind, your Excellency."
Then there was a little stir in the street,—that peculiar sense of something more than usual, which can make itself felt in the busiest thoroughfare,—and Golden went to the door and looked out. Joris Van Heemskirk was just passing, and his walk was something quicker than usual.
"Good-day to you, Councillor. Pray, sir, what is to do at the wharf? I perceive a great bustle comes thence."
"At your service, Councillor Golden. At the wharf there is good news. The 'Great Christopher' has come to anchor,—Captain Batavius de Vries. So a good-morrow, sir;" and Joris lifted his beaver, and proceeded on his way to Murray's Wharf.
Bram was already on board. His hands were clasped across the big right shoulder of Batavius, who stood at the mainmast, giving orders about his cargo. He was a large man, with the indisputable air of a sailor from strange seas, familiar with the idea of solitude, and used to absolute authority. He loved Bram after his own fashion, but his vocabulary of affectionate words was not a large one. Bram, however, understood him; he had been quite satisfied with his short and undemonstrative greeting,—
"Thee, Bram? Good! How goes it?"
The advent of Joris added a little to the enthusiasm of the meeting. Joris thoroughly liked Batavius, and their hands slipped into each other's with a mighty grasp almost spontaneously. After some necessary delay, the three men left the ship together. There was quite a crowd on the wharf. Some were attracted by curiosity; others, by the hope of a good job on the cargo; others, again, not averse to a little private bargaining for any curious or valuable goods the captain of the "Great Christopher" had for sale. Cohen was among the latter; but he had too much intelligence to interfere with a family party, especially as he heard Joris say to the crowd with a polite authority, "Make way, friends, make way. When a man is off a three-years' cruise, for a trifle he should not be stopped."