“Now,” said the sober sailor to the man who had been at the helm, “go forward and sleep; it is the only thing you’re fit for at present.”
The seaman obeyed, and disappeared down the fore hatchway. The sloop sailed on and on. The Count looked into the cabin and saw that the skipper was fast asleep; the Baron went forward and found half his crew employed in the same way.
“Never mind,” said the sober sailor; “the wind is fair, and provided no other big ship runs us down we shall get safely to Amsterdam soon after nightfall.”
This was cheering news to the travellers, and they promised a handsome reward to the sober sailor if he would take them in safely.
“Glad to do that for my own sake,” he answered. “It won’t be my fault if we do not.”
Still, as the wind was light the sloop sailed slowly; yet it was very evident, from the number of vessels they encountered, that they were approaching the great emporium of commerce; but the evening was drawing on, and darkness would increase the dangers of the voyage. At length they could only see lights glittering here and there, ahead and on every side, and tall masts rising out of the water. Now and then shouts warned them to get out of the way of some vessel, and the sober sailor shouted in return.
“Now, Mynheers, whichever of you can steer the best take the helm, and we will bring the sloop to an anchor. We must wait till daylight to get through the outer drawbridge.”
“I never steered in my life,” answered the Count.
“Nor I either,” said the Baron.
“Then do one of you take the tiller and do as I tell you,” said the sober sailor.