“My bear is not for sale, Mynheer Von Stroom.”
“It must immediately be sent out of the ship, Mynheer Kloots. I order you to send it away,—on your peril to refuse.”
“Then we will drop the anchor again, Mynheer Von Stroom, and send on shore to head-quarters to decide the point. If the Company insists that the brute be put on shore, be it so; but recollect, Mynheer Von Stroom, we shall lose the protection of the fleet, and have to sail alone. Shall I drop the anchor, Mynheer?”
This observation softened down the pertinacity of the supercargo: he had no wish to sail alone, and the fear of this contingency was more powerful than the fear of the bear.
“Mynheer Kloots, I will not be too severe; if the animal is chained, so that it does not approach me, I will consent to its remaining on board.”
“I will keep it out of your way as much as I can; but as for chaining up the poor animal, it will howl all day and night and you will have no sleep, Mynheer Von Stroom,” replied Kloots.
The supercargo, who perceived that the captain was positive and that his threats were disregarded, did all that a man could do who could not help himself. He vowed vengeance in his own mind, and then, with an air of condescension, observed—“Upon those conditions, Mynheer Kloots, your animal may remain on board.”
Mynheer Kloots and Philip then left the cabin; the former, who was in no very good humour, muttering as he walked away—“If the Company send their monkeys on board, I think I may well have my bear.” And pleased with his joke, Mynheer Kloots recovered his good humour.