e need have no fear of starving; when the wind blows
from the land they get land birds, and when from the ocean sea-birds,
and as they are nowise particular--not objecting to the fishy flavour of
the wild fowl--their pots and kettles are sure to be well supplied."

"Under those circumstances I should not object to be a light-keeper,"
observed the Baron. "The household expenses must be small, as they have
no butcher's bills to pay or taxes either."

"It is a somewhat solitary life," said the skipper. "Each man to his
taste, I prefer sailing over the free ocean, with my stout galiot under
my feet and plenty of sea room."

"Couldn't we stop and get some of the birds?" asked the Baron, who from
habit was constantly thinking of the best way to supply his larder.
"They would be a welcome addition to our sea-stock of provisions."

"The lighthouse-men would consider that we were poaching on their
preserves," said the skipper; "besides which, if we were to go nearer
than we now are, we should run the galiot ashore. See, we are already
leaving the lighthouse astern, and are now clear of the river."

"So I perceive," groaned the Count, as the vessel had heeled over and
began to pitch and tumble.

"Never fear, Count," said the skipper, in an encouraging tone; "we shall
soon be going free, and the galiot will then only roll pleasantly from
side to side, and assist to rock you to sleep when you turn in your
bunk."

"I'd rather not be rocked to sleep in that fashion," said the Count.
"Ever since I was a baby I have been able to sleep perfectly well in my
bed or arm-chair after dinner without being rocked. Couldn't you manage
to keep the galiot quiet, just to please me?"

"I could not keep her quiet to please the King of the Netherlands, or
the Burgomaster of Amsterdam or Rotterdam; no, not if you paid ten times
the sum you have for your passage-money," answered the skipper, in a
gruff tone.

"Then I suppose that I must submit to my hard fate," groaned the Count.
"Though I do wish--I cannot help wishing--that I had not come to sea;
and I here register the firm resolution I now form, that of my own free
will I will never--when once I set foot on shore--venture again on the
stormy ocean."

"Then I must observe, my dear Count, that we shall never manage to get
round the world, as you led me to suppose, when we started on our
travels, it was your desire to do," observed the Baron.

"Yes, but I did not take into considerati