As if the child knew what was coming in the morning, he had lain crying all night. So the skipper told. Crying for Mother, who was sick. When the skipper tried to console him, he said: “No, skipper, even if Mother does get well, I eat my last herring today.” That’s what started Father to drinking.
Clementine.
Now, Marietje.
Marietje.
No, truly, Miss, when he came back from Pieterse’s with the money, Toontje’s share of the cargo as rope caster, eighteen guilders and thirty-five cents for five and a half weeks. Then he simply acted insane, he threw the money on the ground, then he cursed at—I won’t repeat what—at everything. And I, how old was I then? Fourteen. I picked up the money, crying. We needed it. Mother’s sickness and burial had cost a lot. Eighteen guilders is a heap of money, a big heap.
Jo.
Eighteen guilders for your child, eighteen—[Listening in alarm to the blasts of the wind.] Hush! keep still!
Saart.
Nothing, nothing at all! What makes you so afraid tonight?
Jo.