sings. Perhaps ve go into ze
Scheldt, perhaps ve make for ze Texel and ze Zuyder Zee, perhaps ve go
noveres. Now you know."

He gave them a peculiar look and left them, and as the rain came on in a
drifting drizzle the boys made this an excuse for going below.

"Mike," said Vince, as soon as they were alone, "got a pencil?"

"No."

"And there is neither pen nor ink."

"Nor yet paper."

"Then we're floored there," said Vince impatiently.

"What did you want to do?"

"Want to do? Why, write home of course, telling them where we were. We
surely could post a letter at the port."

"No: he'll never give us a chance."

"Perhaps not; but we might bribe some one to take the letter."

"What with? I haven't a penny, and I don't believe you have."

Vince doubled his fists and rested his head upon them.

"I tell you what, then: we only gave our word for one day. We must wait
till we are in port, and then swim ashore. Some one would help us."

"If we could speak Dutch."

"Oh dear," said Vince, "how hard it is! But never mind, let's get away.
We might find an English ship there."

Mike shook his head, and Vince set to work inventing other ways of
escaping; but they finally decided that the best way would be to wait
till they were in the river or port, and then to try and get off each
with an oar to help support them in what might prove to be a longer swim
than they could manage.

That evening the weather lifted, and after a couple of hours' sail they
found themselves off a dreary, low-lying shore, upon which a cluster or
two of houses was visible, and several windmills--one showing up very
large and prominent at the mouth of what seemed to be a good-sized
river, whose farther shore they could faintly discern in the failing
evening light.

"We're going up there," said Vince--"that's certain." But just as it
began to grow dark there was a loud rattling, and down went an anchor,
the lugger swung round, and the boys were just able to make out that
they were about a couple of miles from the big windmill.

"Too many sandbanks to venture in," said Vince.

"No; we're waiting for a pilot."

"I believe," said Vince, "he'll wait for daylight and then sail up the
river; and if we don't escape somehow before we're twenty-four hours
older my name isn't Burnet."

Mike said nothing, but he did not seem hopeful; and soon after they were
summoned to the cabin to dinner, where the captain was very friendly.

"Aha!