Down sat the Dutchman again, with a weight of fall upon the thwart that made the boat throw a couple of little seas away from her quarters.
“Here I sthop,” he said, doggedly folding his arms.
“You will force me to row back to the brig, obtain fresh hands, and whip you aboard, Mr. Van Laar.”
“You vhas a big,” he said, without looking at me.
“Men,” he exclaimed, addressing the seamen in the boat, “dere Black Vatch belongs to Mynheer Tulp. I vhas mate of her by Mynheer Tulp’s consent. Vill you allow your lawful mate to be put into dis beast of a schip, to starf, to drown, to miserably perish?”
“You had better jump on board,” said one of the men.
“Cast off!” I exclaimed. “I must return to Captain Greaves for further instructions.”
“Shtop!” shouted the Dutchman. “On deck dere, how vhas you off for provisions?”
“Very well off,” answered Tarbrick. “There’s plenty to eat aboard this here brig.”
“And how vhas you off for drink?”