p on deck.

"What's the matter, Captain," exclaimed the Count, in an agitated voice;
"is there any danger?"

"No, but there's no small amount of fear among some of us," answered the
skipper in a gruff voice. "We have got a fair wind, and are once more
at sea."

"What is that bright spot up there," asked the Count, pointing to a
light which streamed forth on the right hand.

"That, why that's the Maas Lighthouse," answered the skipper. "It marks
the entrance to the river, and we shall soon round it, and be in the
open sea. You'll then have the satisfaction of once more bounding over
the heaving wave."

"From previous experience I must own that I would rather escape that
satisfaction," observed the Count, making a long face. "Couldn't we
manage to make our way through some of the numerous canals which I have
heard intersect Holland in all directions?"

"We should have been a week or two, or even a month about it, if we had
made the attempt," answered the skipper. "We cannot tack in the canals
as we can in the open sea. Now we can stretch away from the land as far
as we like and then go about again, till we can head up again for the
Helder."

"Oh dear, oh dear, I suppose we must submit to our fate," groaned the
Count. "Baron, you have much to answer for, dragging me away from my
castle and home comforts and the watchful care of that estimable person
Johanna Klack."

"Why, you were in a great hurry to escape from her not long ago,"
answered the Baron, "and now you find fault with me because the sea
happens to be a little rough."

"When I wanted to escape from Johanna Klack we were in smooth water, and
I would rather endure the clatter of her tongue than the roaring waves
and the howling of the winds."

"It is too late to complain now, Count; regrets are vain things at the
best," said the Baron. "Let us be content with the present; see, we're
getting close to the lighthouse."

"So we are, I can distinguish it clearly," said the Count. "And,
hilloa, look up there at those gnats or moths, or what are they,
fluttering about the light?"

"Ha, ha, ha! moths or gnats," laughed the skipper; "why those are birds,
sea-birds and land birds of all descriptions, who come there for the
charitable purpose of being turned into pies and puddings and stews by
the light-keepers. All the keepers have to do is to go out and catch
them by their legs as they alight on the rails and wring their necks.
Our friends up ther