XX
JACOB POOT CHANGES THE PLAN
The last note died away in the distance. Our boys, who in their vainefforts to keep up with the boat, had felt that they were skatingbackward, turned to look at one another.
"How beautiful that was!" exclaimed Van Mounen.
"Just like a dream!" said Ludwig.
Jacob drew close to Ben, giving his usual approving nod, as he spoke:
"Dat ish goot. Dat ish te pest vay--I shay petter to take to Leyden mita poat!"
"Take a boat!" exclaimed Ben, in dismay--"why, man, our plan was to_skate_, not to be carried like little children----"
"Tuyfels!" retorted Jacob, "dat ish no little--no papies--to go forpoat!"
The boys laughed, but exchanged uneasy glances. It would be great fun tojump on an ice-boat, if they had a chance; but to abandon so shamefullytheir grand undertaking--Who could think of such a thing?
An animated discussion arose at once.
Captain Peter brought his party to a halt.
"Boys," said he, "it strikes me that we should consult Jacob's wishes inthis matter. He started the excursion, you know."
"Pooh!" sneered Carl, throwing a contemptuous glance at Jacob, "who'stired? We can rest all night at Leyden."
Ludwig and Lambert looked anxious and disappointed. It was no slightthing to lose the credit of having skated all the way from Broek to theHague, and back again; but both agreed that Jacob should decide thequestion.
Good-natured, tired Jacob! He read the popular sentiment at a glance.
"Oh! no," he said, in Dutch. "I was joking. We will skate, of course."
The boys gave a delighted shout, and started on again with renewedvigor--
All but Jacob. He tried his best not to seem fatigued, and, by notsaying a word, saved his breath and energy for the great business ofskating. But in vain. Before long, the stout body grew heavier andheavier--the tottering limbs weaker and weaker. Worse than all, theblood, anxious to get far as possible from the ice, mounted to thepuffy, good-natured cheeks, and made the roots of his thin, yellow hairglow into a fiery red.
This kind of work is apt to summon Vertigo, of whom good Hans Andersenwrites--the same who hurls daring young hunters from the mountains, orspins them from the sharpest heights of the glaciers, or catches them asthey tread the stepping-stones of the mountain torrent.
Vertigo came, unseen, to Jacob. After tormenting him a while, with onetouch sending a chill from head to foot, with the next, scorching everyvein with fever, she made the canal rock and tremble beneath him, thewhite sails bow and spin as they passed, then cast him heavily upon theice.
"Hallo!" cried Van Mounen. "There goes Poot!"
Ben sprang hastily forward.
"Jacob! Jacob, are you hurt?"
Peter and Carl were lifting him. The face was white enough now. Itseemed like a dead face--even the good-natured look was gone.
A crowd collected. Peter unbuttoned the poor boy's jacket, loosened hisred tippet, and blew between the parted lips.
"Stand off, good people!" he cried, "give him air!"
"Lay him down," called out a woman from the crowd.
"Stand him upon his feet," shouted another.
"Give him wine," growled a stout fellow who was driving a loaded sled.
"Yes! yes, give him wine!" echoed everybody.
Ludwig and Lambert shouted in concert:
"Wine! wine! Who has wine!"
A sleepy-eyed Dutchman began to fumble mysteriously under the heaviestof blue jackets, saying as he did so:
"Not so much noise, young masters, not so much noise! The boy was a foolto faint off like a girl."
"Wine, quick!" cried Peter who, with Ben's help, was rubbing Jacob fromhead to foot.
Ludwig stretched forth his hand imploringly toward the Dutchman, whowith an air of great importance was still fumbling beneath the jacket.
"_Do_ hurry! He will die! Has any one else any wine?"
"He _is_ dead!" said an awful voice from among the bystanders.
This startled the Dutchman.
"Have a care!" he said, reluctantly drawing forth a small blue flask,"this is schnaps. A little is enough."
A little _was_ enough. The paleness gave way to a faint flush. Jacobopened his eyes, and--half bewildered, half ashamed,--feebly tried tofree himself from those who were supporting him.
* * * * *
There was no alternative, now, for our party but to have their exhaustedcomrade carried, in some way, to Leyden. As for expecting him to skateany more that day, the thing was impossible. In truth, by this time eachboy began to entertain secret yearnings toward ice-boats, and to avow aSpartan resolve not to desert Jacob. Fortunately a gentle, steady breezewas setting southward. If some accommodating schipper[23] would but comealong, matters would not be quite so bad after all.
[Footnote 23: Skipper. Master of a small trading vessel,--apleasure-boat or ice-boat.]
Peter hailed the first sail that appeared; the men in the stern wouldnot even look at him. Three drays on runners came along, but they werealready loaded to the utmost. Then an ice-boat, a beautiful, temptinglittle one, whizzed past like an arrow. The boys had just time to stareeagerly at it when it was gone. In despair, they resolved to prop upJacob with their strong arms, as well as they could, and take him to thenearest village.
At that moment a very shabby ice-boat came in sight. With but littlehope of success, Peter hailed it, at the same time taking off his hatand flourishing it in the air.
The sail was lowered, then came the scraping sound of the brake, and apleasant voice called out from the deck:
"What now?"
"Will you take us on?" cried Peter hurrying with his companions as fastas he could, for the boat was "bringing to" some distance ahead, "willyou take us on?"
"We'll pay for the ride!" shouted Carl.
The man on board scarcely noticed him except to mutter something aboutits not being a trekschuit. Still looking toward Peter he asked:
"How many?"
"Six."
"Well, it's Nicholas' day--up with you! Young gentleman sick?" (noddingtoward Jacob).
"Yes--broken down--skated all the way from Broek," answered Peter--"Doyou go to Leyden?"
"That's as the wind says--It's blowing that way now--Scramble up!"
Poor Jacob! if that willing Mrs. Poot had only appeared just then, herservices would have been invaluable. It was as much as the boys could doto hoist him into the boat. All were in at last. The schipper, puffingaway at his pipe, let out the sail, lifted the brake, and sat in thestern with folded arms.
"Whew! How fast we go!" cried Ben. "This is something like! Feel better,Jacob?"
"Much petter, I tanks you."
"Oh, you'll be as good as new in ten minutes. This makes a fellow feellike a bird."
Jacob nodded, and blinked his eyes.
"Don't go to sleep, Jacob; it's too cold. You might never wake up, youknow. Persons often freeze to death in that way."
"I no sleep," said Jacob confidently--and in two minutes he was snoring.
Carl and Ludwig laughed.
"We must wake him!" cried Ben; "it is dangerous, I tell you,--Jacob!Ja-a-c----"
Captain Peter interfered, for three of the boys were helping Ben for thefun of the thing.
"Nonsense! don't shake him! Let him alone, boys. One never snores likethat when one's freezing. Cover him up with something. Here, this cloakwill do; hey, schipper?" and he looked toward the stern for permissionto use it.
The man nodded.
"There," said Peter, tenderly adjusting the garment, "let him sleep. Hewill be frisky as a lamb when he wakes. How far are we from Leyden,schipper?"
"Not more'n a couple of pipes," replied a voice, rising from smoke likethe genii in fairy tales (puff! puff!), "likely not more'n one an' ahalf (puff! puff!) if this wind holds!" (puff! puff! puff!).
"What is the man saying, Lambert?" asked Ben, who was holding hismittened hands against
his cheeks to ward off the cutting air.
"He says we're about two pipes from Leyden. Half the boors here on thecanal measure distances by the time it takes them to finish a pipe."
"How ridiculous."
"See here, Benjamin Dobbs," retorted Lambert, growing unaccountablyindignant at Ben's quiet smile; "see here, you've a way of calling everyother thing you see on _this_ side of the German ocean, 'ridiculous.' Itmay suit _you_, this word, but it don't suit _me_. When you wantanything ridiculous just remember your English custom of making the LordMayor of London, at his installation, count the nails in a horseshoe toprove _his learning_."
"Who told you we had any such custom as that?" cried Ben, looking gravein an instant.
"Why, I _know_ it, no use of any one telling me. It's in all thebooks--and it's true. It strikes me," continued Lambert, laughing inspite of himself, "that you have been kept in happy ignorance of a goodmany ridiculous things on _your_ side of the map."
"Humph!" exclaimed Ben, trying not to smile. "I'll inquire into thatLord Mayor business when I get home. There must be some mistake.B-r-r-roooo! How fast we're going. This is glorious!"
It was a grand sail, or ride, I scarce know which to call it; perhaps"fly" would be the best word; for the boys felt very much as Sinbad didwhen, tied to the roc's leg, he darted through the clouds; or asBellerophon felt when he shot through the air on the back of his wingedhorse Pegasus.
Sailing, riding, or flying, whichever it was, everything was rushingpast, backward--and, before they had time to draw a long breath, Leydenitself, with its high peaked-roofs, flew half-way to meet them.
When the city came in sight it was high time to waken the sleeper. Thatfeat accomplished, Peter's prophecy came to pass. Master Jacob was quiterestored and in excellent spirits.
The schipper made a feeble remonstrance when Peter, with hearty thanks,endeavored to slip some silver pieces into his tough, brown palm.
"Ye see, young master," said he, drawing away his hand, "the regularline o' trade's _one_ thing, and a favor's another."
"I know it," said Peter, "but those boys and girls of yours will wantsweets when you get home. Buy them some in the name of Saint Nicholas."
The man grinned. "Aye, true enough, I've young 'uns in plenty, a cleanboat-load of them. You are a sharp young master at guessing."
This time, the knotty hand hitched forward again, quite carelessly, itseemed, but its palm was upward. Peter hastily dropped in the money andmoved away.
The sail soon came tumbling down. Scrape, scrape went the brake,scattering an ice shower round the boat.
"Good-bye, schipper!" shouted the boys, seizing their skates and leapingfrom the deck one by one, "many thanks to you!"
"Good-bye! good-b----Hold! here! stop! I want my coat."
Ben was carefully assisting his cousin over the side of the boat.
"What is the man shouting about? Oh, I know, you have his wrapper roundyour shoulders!"
"Dat ish true," answered Jacob, half jumping, half tumbling down uponthe framework, "dat ish vot make him sho heavy."
"Made _you_ so heavy, you mean, Poot?"
"Ya, made you sho heavy--dat ish true," said Jacob innocently, as heworked himself free from the big wrapper; "dere, now you hands it mithim straits way and tells him I voz much tanks for dat."
"Ho! for an inn!" cried Peter, as they stepped into the city. "Be brisk,my fine fellows!"
Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates Page 23