Whilst I stood looking into the thickness, Vanderdecken came down the quarter-deck ladder. The wet of the fog sparkled in his beard, and his fur cap glistened to the lamplight. He stood in the doorway and stared at me under his great heavy brows as though surprised, and even startled, to see me; then exclaimed, "Ach, I had forgotten you sleep in this cabin to-night. The lamp can be left alight, if you please."
"If you please, mynheer," said I, with a note of careless indifference in my voice. In fact I would rather have been in darkness, but it was my policy to seem as if his wishes were all the same to me, let them run as they would.
"Tell Prins when he comes, it is my order he should leave the lamp burning," said he, speaking quietly and in a manner that recalled my earliest impressions of him when he talked low lest he should disturb Imogene. He gave me a stiff bow and walked to his cabin.
Five minutes after arrived Prins.
"'Tis the captain's wish," said I, in a low voice, "that the lamp should be kept alight."
"Good, sir," he replied, imitating my soft speech.
"It is for my convenience; I sleep here as you know, that the pump may be less disturbing. Captain Vanderdecken is good enough to consult my comfort, but as the light is bright, pray dim it, Prins. That may be managed, I hope?"
"Easily," he answered, and climbed upon the table to come at the lamp.
"So," said he, turning down the mesh, "how is that, Herr Fenton?"
"A little fainter yet—so! I thank you, Prins. Have you made an end of your work? I am in no hurry to lie down."