"Dark? der deyvil! ay," said Dirk Hatteraick; "where should I have a glim?"
"I have brought light;" and Glossin accordingly produced a tinder-box, and lighted a small lantern.
"You must kindle some fire too, for hold mich der deyvil, lch bin ganz gefrorne!"
"It is a cold place to be sure," said Glossin, gathering together some decayed staves of barrels and pieces of wood, which had perhaps lain in the cavern since Hatteraick was there last.
"Cold? Snow-wasser and hagel! it's perdition—I could only keep myself alive by rambling up and down this d-d vault, and thinking about the merry rouses we have had in it."
The flame then began to blaze brightly, and Hatteraick hung his bronzed visage, and expanded his hard and sinewy hands over it, with an avidity resembling that of a famished wretch to whom food is exposed. The light showed his savage and stern features, and the smoke, which in his agony of cold he seemed to endure almost to suffocation, after circling round his head, rose to the dim and rugged roof of the cave, through which it escaped by some secret rents or clefts in the rock; the same doubtless that afforded air to the cavern when the tide was in, at which time the aperture to the sea was filled with water.
"And now I have brought you some breakfast," said Glossin, producing some cold meat and a flask of spirits. The latter Hatteraick eagerly seized upon, and applied to his mouth; and, after a hearty draught, he exclaimed with great rapture, "Das schmeckt! That is good—that warms the liver!"—Then broke into the fragment of a High-Dutch song,
"Saufen Bier, und Brante-wein, Schmeissens alle die Fenstern ein; lch ben liederlich, Du bist liederlich; Sind wir nicht liederlich Leute a!"
"Well said, my hearty Captain!" cried Glossin, endeavouring to catch the tone of revelry—
"Gin by pailfuls, wine in rivers,
Dash the window-glass to shivers!
For three wild lads were we, brave boys,
And three wild lads were we;
Thou on the land, and I on the sand,
And jack on the gallows-tree!"