It was the oddest landscape, if landscape it could be called, that I had ever seen, and seemed as if it might have come up from Neptune's kingdom, like a whale, to have a breath of fresh air and a look at the world, and might be expected to dive again at any moment. And, indeed, it hath a trick of diving at times with unreverent suddenness. More than once while I lived there, we heard of a whole town or district disappearing in the night, leaving no trace to show where it had been.
"What is this, uncle?" I asked.
"This is Holland, my niece—Holland, our asylum, and that of many another wanderer. These are the Isles of Zealand, and we shall soon be at home."
My uncle spoke in a tone of enthusiasm which I could not understand.
"And what are these great green banks which we see on every side? Are they ramparts?"
"Ay, child, ramparts against the Dutchman's greatest foe and best friend, the sea. But for them, all yonder fertile fields would be under water, or at least but stagnant morasses, the haunts of wild fowl."
"The enemy seems to have had the best of it yonder!" said I, pointing to a place where innumerable active little figures were running to and fro, like ants in a disturbed ant-hill.
"Yes, I doubt we shall hear of mischief," said the captain, who could speak English very well. "Such a gale as we have had makes wild work with the dykes, though 'twas not as bad as though it had blown from another quarter."
"But who has built all these great arks?" I ventured to ask, looking with amazement at the high banks and heavy stone-work, which I could now see quite plainly.
"The Hollanders and Zealanders themselves, young lady!" Answered the captain, with justifiable pride. "For three hundred years and more, we have been conquering this country from the sea. Some time or other we may have to conquer it again from another power, who knows?"