The fleet set forth and cruised in front of Amsterdam a sea league away, in such a sort that none could enter or come out against their will.
On the fifth day the rain ceased; the wind blew sharper in the clear sky; the Amsterdam folk made no stir.
Suddenly Ulenspiegel saw Lamme come up on deck, driving before him with great blows of his wooden ladle the ship’s truxman, a young man skilful in the French and Flemish tongues, but more skilful still in the science of the teeth.
“Good-for-naught,” said Lamme, beating him, “didst thou deem thou couldst scatheless eat my fricassees before their due time? Go up to the masthead and see if aught budges on the ships of Amsterdam. Doing this thou wilt do well.”
But the truxman answered:
“What will you give me?”
“Dost thou think,” said Lamme, “to be paid without doing the work? Thieves’ spawn, if thou dost not climb, I shall have thee flogged. And thy French shall not save thee.”
“’Tis a beauteous tongue,” said the truxman, “a tongue for love and war.”
“Well! lazybones?” asked Lamme.