"Mein Gott! but dat is rank mutiny, Mynheer Shemmy Tucks," observed Corporal Van Spitter, who had come upon the deck unperceived by Jemmy, and had listened to the song.
"Mutiny, is it?" replied Jemmy, "and report this also.
"I'll give you a bit of my mind, fat thief,
You, corporal, may be d----d."
"Dat is better and better--I mean to say, worser and worser," replied the corporal.
"Take care I don't pitch you overboard," replied Jemmy, in wrath.
"Dat is most worse still," said the corporal, stalking aft, and leaving Jemmy Ducks to follow up the train of his own thoughts.
Jemmy, who had been roused by the corporal, and felt the snow insinuating itself into the nape of the neck, thought he might as well go down below.
The corporal made his report, and Mr Vanslyperken made his comments, but he did no more, for he was aware that a mere trifle would cause a general mutiny. The recovery of Snarleyyow consoled him, and little thinking what had been the events of the preceding night, he thought he might as well prove his devotion to the widow, by paying his respects in a snow-storm--but not in the attire of the day before--Mr Vanslyperken was too economical for that; so he remained in his long threadbare great-coat and foul-weather hat. Having first locked up his dog in the cabin, and entrusted the key to the corporal, he went on shore, and presented himself at the widow's door, which was opened by Babette, who with her person barred entrance: she did not wait for Vanslyperken to speak first.
"Mynheer Vanslyperken, you can't come in. Frau Vandersloosh is very ill in bed--the doctor says it's a bad case--she cannot be seen."