Jo.
[Nervously.] You all seem to enjoy it.
Clementine.
Wasn’t that on the herring catch?
Marietje.
[Going on with her knitting.] His second voyage, a blow from the fore sail, and he lay overboard. He was rope caster. The skipper reached him the herring shovel, but it was smooth and it slipped from his hands. Then Jerusalem, the mate, held out the broom to him—again he grabbed hold. The three of them pulled him up; then the broom gave way, he fell back into the waves, and for the third time the skipper threw him a line. God wanted my little brother, the line broke, and the end went down with him to the bottom of the sea.
Clementine.
Frightful! frightful!—Grabbed it three times, and lost it three times.
Marietje.