"We must bear up, Captain Vanderdecken," replied Jansen; "the ship leaks like an old sieve; our hold is full of water; the men are worn out; every sail we have has been bent and split; nothing but the foresail left. It's no use, Captain Vanderdecken, we must bear up and refit."
"You forget mine oath," replied Vanderdecken, surlily. "Hold on, Jansen, that sea is aboard of us."
Jansen shook his three jackets and ten pair of small-clothes, as soon as the drenching had passed over.
"I tell you, Mynheer Vanderdecken, it won't do—we must bear up."
"Yaw, yaw," responded the crew.
"Mine oath!" cried the captain again, as he held on by one of the belaying pins.
"Without sails, without provisions, and without fresh water on board, you cannot keep your oath—which was to double the Cape. We must bear up, refit, and then try it again."
"Mine Oath—I have sworn—I cannot—I will not bear up; Jansen, hold your tongue."
"Well, you may keep your oath—for we will bear up for you against your will."
"We will! Who will? Do you mutiny?"