“What is it?”
“I shpeak for all handts. Do not be afraid, Mr. Fielding. She vhas all right and every man vhas good friendts.”
“Afraid!” said I, looking at him steadily, though I was conscious that the blood was gone out of my cheeks. “I think you said afraid?”
“I ox pardon, I vhas——”
“There is no Dutchman in this ship—there is no Dutchman in all Holland that can make me afraid. Use another word and bear a hand. I mean to get an hour’s sleep this afternoon.”
“Dere vhas nothing I hope to stop you sleeping soundtly as long as you please.”
“What do you want?”
“Mr. Fielding, ve vants the brig’s course altered.”
“Ay, indeed. For what part of the world?”
“I hope you shall not sneer. By ter tunder of Cott, all handts vhas in earnest.”