“Does any one understand English here? If so, I want their assistance without delay. I can promise a handsome reward to all who give it.”
“Come in, come in,” said a voice in a foreign accent. A native appeared at the door with a light in his hand. “Mynheer Van Wijk will see you,” said he, as he conducted Owen into a room where a white man was reclining in a hammock, with a huge pipe in his mouth, whom he supposed to be Mynheer Van Wijk, the owner of the mansion.
“Vat you want?” exclaimed Mynheer, gazing at Owen, as he stood, shoeless and hatless, in his still damp shirt and trousers.
Owen, in as few words as possible, explained who he was, and the accident which had happened.
“Donder en bliksem, dat is bad,” exclaimed the Dutchman, tumbling out of his hammock and putting on his coat and shoes. “Dare is no time to lose; we must go off at once. And you, young gentleman, want food and clothing. You’ll be getting fever if we don’t look after you. Mine young son’s clothes will fit you; you must put them on.”
He shouted, when a servant appeared, to whom he gave some orders. In a few minutes the servant returned with a bundle of clothes and a towel.
Owen thankfully exchanged his wet garments for the young Dutchman’s dress, although he was conscious that he cut a somewhat unusual appearance in it. He had scarcely time to finish his toilet before another servant came in with several dishes of food.
“Fall to,” said Mynheer Van Wijk; “we have no time to lose I have sent down to ze harbour to order two boats to be got ready. You and I will go in one, and my friend Jacob Leefkens will take charge of ze other. He known ze set of ze tides about here as well as any native.”
Owen quickly finished his repast, of which he stood greatly in need.
“My captain and the men with him have no provisions, and I should be thankful to take a supply if you will enable me to procure them,” said Owen.