“My son,” said Lamme under his breath, “the boatman will assuredly throw us into the water.”
“Let him throw you in if he wants to,” said Ulenspiegel.
“The big one is afraid,” said the crowd of workmen.
Lamme, who was still sitting his donkey, turned round and gave them a look of anger, but they jeered at him the more.
“Come on,” said Lamme. “Let us to the boat, and then they shall see if I am afraid.”
At these words the jeers broke out again, and Ulenspiegel said:
“Come, let us to the boat!”
When, therefore, they had dismounted from their donkeys they threw the bridles to the boatman’s lad, who caressed the animals in friendly wise and led them to a place where he saw some thistles growing. At the same time Ulenspiegel seized hold of the boat-hook, made Lamme get into the skiff, and then steered straight for the big boat. There he mounted on to the deck by the help of a rope, and Lamme climbed up in front of him, puffing and blowing.
Arrived on the bridge of the boat, Ulenspiegel leant down as if to lace up his boots, and at the same time he spoke a word into the boatman’s ear, who straightway laughed and gave Lamme a curious look. Then he began to roar out at him every kind of insult, calling him worthless rogue, a man bloated with vicious fat, prison-bred, pap-eter, and at the same time inquiring of him how many tons of oil they gave him when he was bled.
All of a sudden, without waiting to reply, Lamme threw himself like a mad bull upon the boatman, knocked him down, and began to beat him with all his might. The boatman, however, did not receive much injury, forasmuch as Lamme’s arms were but weak on account of their fatness. And the boatman suffered himself to be thus dealt with despite the fact that he was making a great pretence at resistance all the time. And the men and women who were watching the battle from the bank were astonished, and exclaimed to each other: “Who would have thought that this fat man could be so fiery!”