Читать книгу Dick Rodney; or, The Adventures of an Eton Boy онлайн

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* This was in 1532.

The usually jolly Dutch captain emitted a sigh and a mighty puff of smoke together. He applied once more to a square-case bottle of schiedam, and then became silent—even sad.

"Strange circumstances?" said I, echoing his words; "may I inquire what they were?"

"Ugh, myn brooder! I almost shudder when I think of them!"

My curiosity was naturally excited, and I added—

"Was he drowned?"

"No, no—worse."

"Killed?"

"I cannot say; he died by my hand on that cabin floor; and yet he did not, for he perished of a marsh fever ashore."

I thought that the brain of Captain Jan Van Zeervogel was disordered, or at least was becoming affected by the contents of his bottle of schiedam; but he resumed:

"Though I am not one who is much used to looking astern in the voyage of life, or back through the mists of time and memory, I will tell you this strange story, Mr. Rodney, as it happened to me."

The captain carefully refilled the brown bowl of his large pipe, lit it with equal deliberation, and after a few whiffs, during which his keen, gray eyes were bent on the cabin floor, he fixed them on the rudder case, and then commenced his tale.