"'Tis a stork, yah, op myne eer! Upon my honor, it is!" muttered uncle Van Swearingen.
"Nanking is not an idiot, papa!" said Elsje, overjoyed.
The widow was delighted at the enterprise of her son.
When Nanking had carried the great bird to the nest he made a little speech:
"Worshipful masters and good people all, I have been at great pains to get this stork, not for my own gratification entirely, though there are some here I expect to please particularly. (He looked at Elsje and his mother.) This stork will pick up the offal and eat it, and we shall have no more bad fevers here for want of a good scavenger. By and by he will bring more storks, and they will multiply; and every house, however humble, shall have its own stork family to ornament the chimney-top and remind us of our dear native land. I have done all this good with the hope of being useful, and now I hope nobody will call me wicked names any more."
Nanking cut the fastenings on the bird and set it on the new-made nest. In a minute the stork stood up on its short legs, poked its beautiful head and neck into the air, and with its wings struck Nanking so heavy a blow that it knocked him off the roof of the house, but happily the fall did not hurt him. As he arose the huge bird was spreading its wings for flight. Before Nanking could climb the ladder again, it was sailing through the air, magnificent as a ship, toward its winter pastures on the bay of Chisopecke.
"He! Zoo!" exclaimed the soldiers.
"Foei! weg!" cried the fishermen.
Only three persons said "Ach! helas!"—the Widow Cloos, pretty Elsje, and Nanking.
"Thy stork is a savage bird!" cried Peter Alrichs. "The English on the Chisopecke name it a swan!"