XLII
THE MYSTERIOUS WATCH
Something else than the missing guilders was brought to light on the dayof the fairy godmother's visit. This was the story of the watch that forten long years had been so jealously guarded by Raff's faithful vrouw.Through many an hour of sore temptation she had dreaded almost to lookupon it, lest she might be tempted to disobey her husband's request. Ithad been hard to see her children hungry and to know that the watch, ifsold, would enable the roses to bloom in their cheeks again--"but nay,"she would exclaim, "Meitje Brinker is not one to forget her man's lastbidding, come what may."
"Take good care of this, mine vrouw," he had said, as he handed it toher--that was all. No explanation followed, for the words were scarcelyspoken, when one of his fellow workmen rushed into the cottage, crying,"Come, man! the waters are rising! you're wanted on the dykes."
Raff had started at once, and that, as Dame Brinker has already toldyou, was the last she saw of him in his right mind.
On the day when Hans was in Amsterdam looking for work, and Gretel,after performing her household labors, was wandering about in search ofchips, twigs--anything that could be burned, Dame Brinker withsuppressed excitement had laid the watch in her husband's hand.
"It wasn't in reason," as she afterward said to Hans, "to wait anylonger, when a word from the father would settle all; no woman livingbut would want to know how he came by that watch." Raff Brinker turnedthe bright, polished thing over and over in his hand--then he examinedthe bit of smoothly ironed black ribbon fastened to it; he seemed hardlyto recognize it. At last he said, "Ah, I remember this! Why, you've beenrubbing it, vrouw, till it shines like a new guilder."
"Aye," said Dame Brinker nodding her head complacently.
Raff looked at it again. "Poor boy!" he murmured, then fell into a brownstudy.
This was too much for the dame. "Poor boy!" she echoed, somewhat tartly."What do you think I'm standing here for, Raff Brinker, and my spinninga-waiting, if not to hear more than that?"
"I told ye all, long since," said Raff, positively, as he looked up insurprise.
"Indeed, and you never did!" retorted the vrouw.
"Well, if not--since it's no affair of ours--we'll say no more aboutit," said Raff, shaking his head sadly; "like enough while I've beendead on the earth, all this time, the poor boy's died and been inHeaven. He looked near enough to it, poor lad!"
"Raff Brinker! If you're going to treat me this way, and I nursing youand bearing with you since I was twenty-two years old, it's a shame!aye, and a disgrace," cried the vrouw growing quite red, and scant ofbreath.
Raff's voice was feeble yet. "Treat you _what_ way, Meitje?"
"What way," said Dame Brinker, mimicking his voice and manner, "whatway? why just as every woman in the world is treated after she's stoodby a man through the worst, like a----"
"Meitje!"
Raff was leaning forward, with outstretched arms. His eyes were full oftears.
In an instant Dame Brinker was at his feet, clasping his hands in hers.
"Oh! what have I done! Made my good man cry, and he not back with mefour days! Look up, Raff! nay, Raff, my own boy, I'm sorry I hurt thee.It's hard not to be told about the watch after waiting ten years toknow--but I'll ask thee no more, Raff. Here, we'll put the thing awaythat's made the first trouble between us, after God just giving theeback to me."
"I was a fool to cry, Meitje," he said, kissing her, "and it's no morethan right ye should know the truth. But it seemed like it might betelling the secrets of the dead to talk about the matter."
"Is the man--the lad--thou wert talking of dead, think thee?" asked thevrouw, hiding the watch in her hand, but seating herself expectantly onthe end of his long foot-bench.
"It's hard telling," he answered.
"Was he so sick, Raff?"
"No, not sick, I may say; but troubled, vrouw, very troubled."
"Had he done any wrong, think ye?" she asked lowering her voice.
Raff nodded.
"_Murder?_" whispered the wife, not daring to look up.
"He said it was like to that, indeed."
"Oh! Raff, you frighten me--tell me more--you speak so strange--and youtremble. I must know all."
"If I tremble, mine vrouw, it must be from the fever. There is no guilton my soul, thank God!"
"Take a sip of this wine, Raff. There, now you are better. It was liketo a crime you were saying."
"Aye, Meitje, like to murder; _that_ he told me himself. But I'll neverbelieve it. A likely lad, fresh and honest looking as our own youngster,but with something not so bold and straight about him."
"Aye, I know," said the dame, gently, fearing to interrupt the story.
"He came upon me quite sudden," continued Raff. "I had never seen hisface before, the palest, frightenedest face that ever was. He caught meby the arm. 'You look like an honest man,' says he."
"Aye, he was right in that," interrupted the dame, emphatically.
Raff looked somewhat bewildered.
"Where was I, mine vrouw?"
"The lad took hold of your arm, Raff," she said, gazing at himanxiously.
"Aye, so. The words come awkward to me, and everything is half like adream, ye see."
"S-stut! What wonder, poor man," sighed the dame, stroking his hand. "Ifye had not head enough for a dozen, the wit would never have come to yeagain. Well, the lad caught ye by the arm, and said ye looked honest(well he might!). What then? Was it noon-time?"
"Nay; before daylight--long before early chimes."
"It was the same day you were hurt," said the dame. "I know it seemedyou went to your work in the middle of the night. You left off, wherehe caught your arm, Raff."
"Yes," resumed her husband--"and I can see his face this minute--sowhite and wild looking. 'Take me down the river a way,' says he. I wasworking then, you'll remember, far down on the line, across fromAmsterdam. I told him I was no boatman. 'It's an affair of life anddeath,' says he; 'take me on a few miles--yonder skiff is not locked,but it may be a poor man's boat and I'd be loath to rob him!' (The wordsmight differ some, vrouw, for it's all like a dream.) Well, I took himdown; it might be six or eight miles, and then he said he could run therest of the way on shore. I was in haste to get the boat back. Before hejumped out, he says, sobbing-like, 'I can trust you. I've done athing--God knows I never intended it--but the man is dead. I must flyfrom Holland.'"
"What was it, did he say, Raff? Had he been shooting at a comrade, likethey do down at the University at Gottingen?"
"I can't recall that. Mayhap he told me; but it's all like a dream. Isaid it wasn't for me, a good Hollander, to cheat the laws of my countryby helping him off that way; but he kept saying, 'God knows I aminnocent!' and looked at me in the starlight as fair, now, andclear-eyed as our little Hans might--and I just pulled away faster."
"It must have been Jan Kamphuisen's boat," remarked Dame Brinker, dryly;"none other would have left his oars out that careless."
"Aye--it was Jan's boat sure enough. The man will be coming in to see meSunday, likely, if he's heard; and young Hoogsvliet too. Where was I?"
[It was lucky the dame restrained herself. To have spoken at all of Janafter the last night's cruel disappointment would have been to have letout more sorrow and suspicion than Raff could bear.]
"Where were you? Why not very far, forsooth--the lad hadn't yet given yethe watch--alack I misgive whether he came by it honestly!"
"Why, vrouw," exclaimed Raff in an injured tone, "he was dressed softand fine as the prince himself. The watch was his own, clear enough."
"How came he to give it up?" asked the dame, looking uneasily at thefire, for it needed another block of peat.
"I told ye just now," he answered with a puzzled air.
"Tell me again," said Dame Brinker, wisely warding off anotherdigression.
"Well, just before jumping from the boat, he says, handing me the watch,'I'm flying from my country as I never thought I could. I'll trust youbecause you look
honest. Will you take this to my father--not to-day butin a week, and tell him his unhappy boy sent it; and tell him if everthe time comes that he wants me to come back to him, I'll braveeverything and come. Tell him to send a letter to--to'--there, the restis all gone from me. I _can't_ remember where the letter was to go. Poorlad! poor lad," resumed Raff, sorrowfully taking the watch from hisvrouw's lap, as he spoke--"and it's never been sent to his father tothis day."
"I'll take it, Raff, never fear--the moment Gretel gets back. She willbe in soon. What was the father's name did you say? Where were you tofind him?"
"Alack!" answered Raff, speaking very slowly, "it's all slipped me. Ican see the lad's face, and his great eyes, just as plain--and Iremember his opening the watch, and snatching something from it andkissing it--but no more. All the rest whirls past me; there's a kind ofsound like rushing waters comes over me when I try to think."
"Aye. That's plain to see, Raff; but I've had the same feeling after afever. You're tired now--I must get ye straight on the bed again. Where_is_ the child, I wonder?"
Dame Brinker opened the door, and called, "Gretel! Gretel!"
"Stand aside, vrouw," said Raff, feebly, as he leaned forward, andendeavored to look out upon the bare landscape; "I've half a mind tostand beyond the door just once."
"Nay, nay," she laughed, "I'll tell the meester how ye tease, and fidgetand bother, to be let out in the air; and, if he says it, I'll bundle yewarm to-morrow, and give ye a turn on your feet. But I'm freezing youwith this door open. I declare if there isn't Gretel with her apronfull, skating on the canal, like wild. Why, man," she continued almostin a scream, as she slammed the door, "thou'rt walking to the bedwithout my touching thee! Thou'lt fall!"
The dame's "thee" proved her mingled fear and delight, even more thanthe rush which she made toward her husband. Soon he was comfortablysettled under the new cover, declaring as his vrouw tucked him in snugand warm, that it was the last daylight that should see him abed.
"Aye! I can hope it myself," laughed Dame Brinker, "now you have beenfrisking about at that rate." As Raff closed his eyes, the dame hastenedto revive her fire, or rather to dull it, for Dutch peat is like aDutchman, slow to kindle, but very good at a blaze when once started.Then putting her neglected spinning-wheel away, she drew forth herknitting from some invisible pocket and seated herself by the bedside.
"If you could remember that man's name, Raff," she began cautiously, "Imight take the watch to him, while you're sleeping; Gretel can't but bein soon."
Raff tried to think; but in vain.
"Could it be Boomphoffen," suggested the dame. "I've heard how they'vehad two sons turn out bad--Gerard and Lambert?"
"It might be," said Raff. "Look if there's letters on the watch; that'llguide us some."
"Bless thee, man," cried the happy dame, eagerly lifting the watch, "whythou'rt sharper than ever! Sure enough. Here's letters! L. J. B. That'sLambert Boomphoffen you may depend; what the J is for I can't say; butthey used to be grand kind o' people, high feathered as fancy fowl. Justthe kind to give their children all double names, which isn't scriptureanyway."
"I don't know about that, vrouw. Seems to me there's long mixed names inthe Holy Book, hard enough to make out. But you've got the right guessat a jump. It was your way always," said Raff, closing his eyes; "takethe watch to Boompkinks and try."
"Not Boompkinks; I know no such name; it's Boomphoffen."
"Aye, take it there."
"Take it there, man! why the whole brood of 'em's been gone to Americathese four years. But go to sleep, Raff; you look pale and out ofstrength. It'll all come to you, what's best to do, in the morning.
"So, Mistress Gretel! Here you are at last!"
* * * * *
Before Raff awoke that evening, the fairy godmother, as we know, hadbeen at the cottage, the guilders were once more safely locked in thebig chest, and Dame Brinker and the children were faring sumptuously onmeat and white bread and wine.
So the mother, in the joy of her heart, told them the story of the watchas far as she deemed it prudent to divulge it. It was no more than fair,she thought, that the poor things should know, after keeping the secretso safe, ever since they had been old enough to know anything.
Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates Page 45