“They are on board the sloop, and, for what I can tell, at the bottom of the Zuyder Zee,” said the Count.
“We must endeavour to regain them forthwith if they are afloat, or fish them up if they are at the bottom,” said the Baron. “Come along. I left the sober sailor waiting for me. We may possibly find him, and at once put off in search of our property.”
“But I should prefer having some supper first,” exclaimed the Count. “I am well-nigh starving.”
“Never mind, my dear Count,” said the Baron, “I have eaten enough for two, and there’s no time to be lost. It is of the greatest importance that we should forthwith recover our portmanteaus and umbrellas. Why, we have all the money in them, and our note-books and journals.”
“And my ties and tooth-brush,” put in the Count. “Of course, of course. I will still the cravings of my appetite and sacrifice my feelings for the common weal.”
“Eight, right; a noble principle,” said the Baron. “I shall be able to enjoy a second supper with you when we return.” And the Baron acting as guide, they set off for the quay where, to the best of his belief, he had left the sober sailor. Wonderful to relate, the sober sailor was there, waiting patiently, smoking his pipe with his arms folded, a picture of resignation. As far as could be perceived in the gloom of night, he did not appear to be much surprised at hearing of the accident which had befallen the sloop.
“Cheer up, Mynheers, we will find her,” he said. “She’s not likely to have got far. There’s a bit of a current round that point, but after that the tide runs slowly, and she will have been brought up by some other vessel across which she’s been driven, or is still floating slowly out towards the Zuyder Zee.” Saying this, he bent to his oars and pulled away down the canal. The lights glittered from the upper windows of many houses, showing that the inhabitants were not yet in bed, and the tall masts of numerous vessels towered up towards the sky, with yards across seen indistinctly in the gloom of night. The moon shone forth and shed her pale light on the smooth surface of the water, which looked bright and silvery, very different to the hue it is apt to wear in the daytime.
“If I were not so hungry and so anxious about our portmanteaus and umbrellas I should enjoy this,” observed the Count.
“I do enjoy it,” said the Baron, stroking his waistcoat. “As to our portmanteaus and umbrellas, my mind is greatly relieved by the assurances of our friend the sober sailor here.”
“I hope you are so with sufficient reason,” observed the Count, who was in low spirits, as people often are when they are hungry.