“Good God!” cries Niklaas, “arquebuses! I have been imposed upon—that villain Olins—arquebuses!” And Guy knows that Bodé Volcker is not a patriot, but only a smuggler.
“Jush th’ same—cost your—hic—your head,” hiccoughs Guy. Then he suggests, with drunken leer: “I couldn’t bear to have my future banker—th’ man who’s going to give me all—hic—the gambling money I want, pass out of the world. See the pint, Bodé Volcker!”
“How much money do you demand? I’m—I’m a poor man!”
“You’ll be a poorer man soon! See the pint, Bodé Volcker!” and avarice grins at fear.
“How much money do you want?” pleads the man of commerce.
“Lotsch; but we’ll talk ’bout that afterwards,” hiccoughs Chester. “Sign this charter—get vessel ’way first, then we’ll have bottle or two together, and I’ll draw a ducish big draft on you.”
“You’ll not betray me—you’re sure they’re arquebuses?”
“Call in custom house officers—open ’em and see!” cries Guy.
But this is too horrible for contemplation. Bodé Volcker signs with a palsied hand the charter paper of [[154]]the Esperanza to leave Antwerp forthwith for Amsterdam and other ports on general trade.
“As you love yourself, Bodé Volcker—my dear banker, Bodé Volcker,—get those goods on board at once,” whispers Guy, pocketing the charter paper, “and—and bring me a bottle of wine.”