The captain cast a grim side-glance at the young man like a hyena driven from his prey by a leopard. He would have liked to have the beautiful booty for himself, but was far too shrewd a business man not to avail himself of such a chance. Besides, the Messrs. Van Sluiten and Co., in Rotterdam, and Mr. Pitcher, who was probably now in the ship's office engaged with the book-keeper, had also a word to say. So he spoke in what was for him an unusually courteous tone, instead of the coarse one he had just used:
"If I can show it?--yes, sir. For what do you take Captain Van Broom? With us about everything is booked twice, sir, in farthings and pence. Are you surprised that the amount is so large? I will make it clear. The girl is the daughter of the Rev. Mr. Weise, who died eight days ago, and was buried with all honor at sea. He was a preacher in the region from which most of my passengers come. On the way, I must say it of him, he put himself to a good deal of trouble for his filthy people and did for them more than his strength would bear, while they in Southampton suffered with hunger and cold; and now on the voyage provisions with us became somewhat scarce, and the water--well, one has a heart in his breast, and I yielded to the preacher when he came to borrow for his people. So it has happened that his account has run up a little higher than is usual. At the best not much was to be got from the old man, though there still remained the girl, for whom doubtless a purchaser could be found. So I have taken the risk, and have by degrees given them credit for a hundred pounds."
"You before said ninety."
"A hundred pounds, by----!" shrieked the captain.
"Come with me into the office. There I will show you in black and white. You, there, supercargo, see to it that the thieving vagabonds do not slip from aboard. And you, Mr. Jones, do not leave the gangplank; and keep with you Jean and Jacob, and knock any one down who tries to leave the ship without a pass. Should any one ask for me, he must wait a moment. I have to speak with this gentleman. Will you follow me, Mr. Sternberg?"
The captain opened the door of a low and spacious cabin which was built on the deck. A dark-complexioned man, with immense brass rings in his ears, sat at a table covered with thick books and papers, diligently writing. Near him stood Mr. Pitcher, with his red, bloated, flabby cheeks, and on his wig-covered head his three-cornered hat, looking over his shoulder.
"Ah!" said the captain, "here you are, too, Mr. Pitcher. That fits charmingly. Now we can make the matter clear at once. This is Mr. Charles Pitcher, our general agent for New York. This--"
"I think I already have the honor," said Mr. Pitcher, lifting his hat. "Are not you Mr. Sternberg from Canada Creek, whom I met two years ago in Albany? Have you transacted your business with Mr. Brown? I lately saw you with him on Broadway. Well, other people want to live too. Excuse me, Mr. Sternberg; excuse me. Take a seat. What brings you to us at this time, Mr. Sternberg?"
"It is on account of Catherine Weise," said the captain, in whose eyes the simple countryman, with whom the rich Mr. Pitcher desired to have dealings, had assumed a quite different appearance. "I told you about her yesterday, Mr. Pitcher."
Between Mr. Pitcher and the captain there now took place a short but earnest conversation, of which Lambert understood nothing, as it was carried on in Dutch. They ought to have let the girl go free, but the hateful man at the desk opened a large book and said: "Catherine Weise, folio 470 to 475, beginning September sixth of last year, in Rotterdam, brought until to day, April fifteenth, 1758, port of New York, amounting to £89, 10s.--"