The discussion had been going on for some time when Pieter said this. Not only had the wind risen, but the rain had begun to fall, and the Count and Baron were preparing to put up their umbrellas.
“It is very fortunate we brought them,” observed the Count. “Baron, your advice was sound when you suggested that we should do so.”
Meantime the skipper had been getting his boat ready; he had stepped the mast, and hoisted the sail.
“Pieter!” he exclaimed, “I want to say something to you.”
“What is it, Captain?” asked the one-eyed mariner, cautiously drawing near.
“Why, this!” cried the skipper. “That you are a treacherous old rascal, and that I intend to pay you off.”
As he spoke he hove a noose at the end of a rope over Pieter’s body, and before the one-eyed mariner was aware of what was going to happen, he was dragged off his feet into the water, while
the skipper, hauling aft the main-sheet, sailed away, dragging poor Pieter through the foaming waters astern. In his struggles Pieter had moved the rope up to his neck, and was now in danger of being throttled.
“Stop, stop!” shouted the Count and the Baron in chorus. “Let that man go! What are you about to do with him? You’ll throttle him, or drag off his head, or drown him—you’ll be guilty of murder. We’ll report your conduct to the Burgomaster of Amsterdam, and all the other authorities of Holland. Release him, let him go!”