CHAPTER XXII.

HELVOETSLUYS

The weather in the end considerably worsened; the wind sang in the

shrouds, the sea swelled higher, and the ship began to labour and cry

out among the billows. The song of the leadsman in the chains was now

scarce ceasing, for we thrid all the way among shoals. About nine in

the morning, in a burst of wintry sun between two squalls of hail, I

had my first look of Holland—a line of windmills birling in the breeze.

It was besides my first knowledge of these daft-like contrivances,

which gave me a near sense of foreign travel and a new world and life.

We came to an anchor about half-past eleven, outside the harbour of

Helvoetsluys, in a place where the sea sometimes broke and the ship

pitched outrageously. You may be sure we were all on deck save Mrs.

Gebbie, some of us in cloaks, others mantled in the ship’s tarpaulins,

all clinging on by ropes, and jesting the most like old sailor-folk

that we could imitate.

Presently a boat, that was backed like a partancrab, came gingerly

alongside, and the skipper of it hailed our master in the Dutch. Thence

Captain Sang turned, very troubled-like, to Catriona; and the rest of

us crowding about, the nature of the difficulty was made plain to all.

The _Rose_ was bound to the port of Rotterdam, whither the other

passengers were in a great impatience to arrive, in view of a

conveyance due to leave that very evening in the direction of the Upper

Germany. This, with the present half-gale of wind, the captain (if no

time were lost) declared himself still capable to save. Now James More

had trysted in Helvoet with his daughter, and the captain had engaged

to call before the port and place her (according to the custom) in a

shore boat. There was the boat, to be sure, and here was Catriona

ready: but both our master and the patroon of the boat scrupled at the

risk, and the first was in no humour to delay.

“Your father,” said he, “would be gey an little pleased if we was to

break a leg to ye, Miss Drummond, let-a-be drowning of you. Take my way

of it,” says he, “and come on-by with the rest of us here to Rotterdam.

Ye can get a passage down the Maes in a sailing scoot as far as to the

Brill, and thence on again, by a place in a rattel-waggon, back to

Helvoet.”

But Catriona would hear of no change. She looked white-like as she

beheld the bursting of the sprays, the green seas that sometimes poured

upon the fore-castle, and the perpetual bounding and swooping of the

boat among the billows; but she stood firmly by her father’s orders.

“My father, James More, will have arranged it so,” was her first word

and her last. I thought it very idle and indeed wanton in the girl to

be so literal and stand opposite to so much kind advice; but the fact

is she had a very good reason, if she would have told us. Sailing

scoots and rattel-waggons are excellent things; only the use of them

must first be paid for, and all she was possessed of in the world was

just two shillings and a penny halfpenny sterling. So it fell out that

captain and passengers, not knowing of her destitution—and she being

too proud to tell them—spoke in vain.

“But you ken nae French and nae Dutch neither,” said one.

“It is very true,” says she, “but since the year ’46 there are so many

of the honest Scotch abroad that I will be doing very well. I thank

you.”

There was a pretty country simplicity in this that made some laugh,

others looked the more sorry, and Mr. Gebbie fall outright in a

passion. I believe he knew it was his duty (his wife having accepted

charge of the girl) to have gone ashore with her and seen her safe:

nothing would have induced him to have done so, since it must have

involved the lose of his conveyance; and I think he made it up to his

conscience by the loudness of his voice. At least he broke out upon

Captain Sang, raging and saying the thing was a disgrace; that it was

mere death to try to leave the ship, and at any event we could not cast

down an innocent maid in a boatful of nasty Holland fishers, and leave

her to her fate. I was thinking something of the same; took the mate

upon one side, arranged with him to send on my chests by track-scoot to

an address I had in Leyden, and stood up and signalled to the fishers.

“I will go ashore with the young lady, Captain Sang,” said I. “It is

all one what way I go to Leyden;” and leaped at the same time into the

boat, which I managed not so elegantly but what I fell with two of the

fishers in the bilge.

From the boat the business appeared yet more precarious than from the

ship, she stood so high over us, swung down so swift, and menaced us so

perpetually with her plunging and passaging upon the anchor cable. I

began to think I had made a fool’s bargain, that it was merely

impossible Catriona should be got on board to me, and that I stood to

be set ashore at Helvoet all by myself and with no hope of any reward

but the pleasure of embracing James More, if I should want to. But this

was to reckon without the lass’s courage. She had seen me leap with

very little appearance (however much reality) of hesitation; to be

sure, she was not to be beat by her discarded friend. Up she stood on

the bulwarks and held by a stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats,

which made the enterprise more dangerous, and gave us rather more of a

view of her stockings than would be thought genteel in cities. There

was no minute lost, and scarce time given for any to interfere if they

had wished the same. I stood up on the other side and spread my arms;

the ship swung down on us, the patroon humoured his boat nearer in than

was perhaps wholly safe, and Catriona leaped into the air. I was so

happy as to catch her, and the fishers readily supporting us, escaped a

fall. She held to me a moment very tight, breathing quick and deep;

thence (she still clinging to me with both hands) we were passed aft to

our places by the steersman; and Captain Sang and all the crew and

passengers cheering and crying farewell, the boat was put about for

shore.

As soon as Catriona came a little to herself she unhanded me suddenly,

but said no word. No more did I; and indeed the whistling of the wind

and the breaching of the sprays made it no time for speech; and our

crew not only toiled excessively but made extremely little way, so that

the _Rose_ had got her anchor and was off again before we had

approached the harbour mouth.

We were no sooner in smooth water than the patroon, according to their

beastly Hollands custom, stopped his boat and required of us our fares.

Two guilders was the man’s demand—between three and four shillings

English money—for each passenger. But at this Catriona began to cry out

with a vast deal of agitation. She had asked of Captain Sang, she said,

and the fare was but an English shilling. “Do you think I will have

come on board and not ask first?” cries she. The patroon scolded back

upon her in a lingo where the oaths were English and the rest right

Hollands; till at last (seeing her near tears) I privately slipped in

the rogue’s hand six shillings, whereupon he was obliging enough to

receive from her the other shilling without more complaint. No doubt I

was a good deal nettled and ashamed. I like to see folk thrifty, but

not with so much passion; and I daresay it would be rather coldly that

I asked her, as the boat moved on again for shore, where it was that

she was trysted with her father.

“He is to be inquired of at the house of one Sprott, an honest Scotch

merchant,” says she; and then with the same breath, “I am wishing to

thank you very much—you are a brave friend to me.”

“It will be time enough when I get you to your father,” said I, little

thinking that I spoke so true. “I can tell him a fine tale of a loyal

daughter.”

“O, I do not think I will be a loyal girl, at all events,” she cried,

with a great deal of painfulness in the expression. “I do not think my

heart is true.”

“Yet there are very few that would have made that leap, and all to obey

a father’s orders,” I observed.

“I cannot have you to be thinking of me so,” she cried again. “When you

had done that same, how would I stop behind? And at all events that was

not all the reasons.” Whereupon, with a burning face, she told me the

plain truth upon her poverty.

“Good guide us!” cried I, “what kind of daft-like proceeding is this,

to let yourself be launched on the continent of Europe with an empty

purse—I count it hardly decent—scant decent!” I cried.

“You forget James More, my father, is a poor gentleman,” said she. “He

is a hunted exile.”

“But I think not all your friends are hunted exiles,” I exclaimed. “And

was this fair to them that care for you? Was it fair to me? was it fair

to Miss Grant that counselled you to go, and would be driven fair

horn-mad if she could hear of it? Was it even fair to these Gregory

folk that you were living with, and used you lovingly? It’s a blessing

you have fallen in my hands! Suppose your father hindered by an

accident, what would become of you here, and you your lee-lone in a

strange place? The thought of the thing frightens me,” I said.

“I will have lied to all of them,” she replied. “I will have told them

all that I had plenty. I told _her_ too. I could not be lowering James

More to them.”

I found out later on that she must have lowered him in the very dust,

for the lie was originally the father’s, not the daughter’s, and she

thus obliged to persevere in it for the man’s reputation. But at the

time I was ignorant of this, and the mere thought of her destitution

and the perils in which see must have fallen, had ruffled me almost

beyond reason.

“Well, well, well,” said I, “you will have to learn more sense.”

I left her mails for the moment in an inn upon the shore, where I got a

direction for Sprott’s house in my new French, and we walked there—it

was some little way—beholding the place with wonder as we went. Indeed,

there was much for Scots folk to admire: canals and trees being

intermingled with the houses; the houses, each within itself, of a

brave red brick, the colour of a rose, with steps and benches of blue

marble at the cheek of every door, and the whole town so clean you

might have dined upon the causeway. Sprott was within, upon his

ledgers, in a low parlour, very neat and clean, and set out with china

and pictures, and a globe of the earth in a brass frame. He was a

big-chafted, ruddy, lusty man, with a crooked hard look to him; and he

made us not that much civility as offer us a seat.

“Is James More Macgregor now in Helvoet, sir?” says I.

“I ken nobody by such a name,” says he, impatient-like.

“Since you are so particular,” says I, “I will amend my question, and

ask you where we are to find in Helvoet one James Drummond, _alias_

Macgregor, _alias_ James More, late tenant in Inveronachile?”

“Sir,” says he, “he may be in Hell for what I ken, and for my part I

wish he was.”

“The young lady is that gentleman’s daughter, sir,” said I, “before

whom, I think you will agree with me, it is not very becoming to

discuss his character.”

“I have nothing to make either with him, or her, or you!” cries he in

his gross voice.

“Under your favour, Mr. Sprott,” said I, “this young lady is come from

Scotland seeking him, and by whatever mistake, was given the name of

your house for a direction. An error it seems to have been, but I think

this places both you and me—who am but her fellow-traveller by

accident—under a strong obligation to help our countrywoman.”

“Will you ding me daft?” he cries. “I tell ye I ken naething and care

less either for him or his breed. I tell ye the man owes me money.”

“That may very well be, sir,” said I, who was now rather more angry

than himself. “At least, I owe you nothing; the young lady is under my

protection; and I am neither at all used with these manners, nor in the

least content with them.”

As I said this, and without particularly thinking what I did, I drew a

step or two nearer to his table; thus striking, by mere good fortune,

on the only argument that could at all affect the man. The blood left

his lusty countenance.

“For the Lord’s sake dinna be hasty, sir!” he cried. “I am truly

wishfu’ no to be offensive. But ye ken, sir, I’m like a wheen

guid-natured, honest, canty auld fellows—my bark is waur nor my bite.

To hear me, ye micht whiles fancy I was a wee thing dour; but na, na!

it’s a kind auld fallow at heart, Sandie Sprott! And ye could never

imagine the fyke and fash this man has been to me.”

“Very good, sir,” said I. “Then I will make that much freedom with your

kindness as trouble you for your last news of Mr. Drummond.”

“You’re welcome, sir!” said he. “As for the young leddy (my respects to

her!), he’ll just have clean forgotten her. I ken the man, ye see; I

have lost siller by him ere now. He thinks of naebody but just himsel’;

clan, king, or dauchter, if he can get his wameful, he would give them

a’ the go-by! ay, or his correspondent either. For there is a sense in

whilk I may be nearly almost said to be his correspondent. The fact is,

we are employed thegether in a business affair, and I think it’s like

to turn out a dear affair for Sandie Sprott. The man’s as guid’s my

pairtner, and I give ye my mere word I ken naething by where he is. He

micht be coming here to Helvoet; he micht come here the morn, he

michtnae come for a twalmouth; I would wonder at naething—or just at

the ae thing, and that’s if he was to pay me my siller. Ye see what way

I stand with it; and it’s clear I’m no very likely to meddle up with

the young leddy, as ye ca’ her. She cannae stop here, that’s ae thing

certain sure. Dod, sir, I’m a lone man! If I was to tak her in, its

highly possible the hellicat would try and gar me marry her when he

turned up.”

“Enough of this talk,” said I. “I will take the young leddy among

better friends. Give me, pen, ink, and paper, and I will leave here for

James More the address of my correspondent in Leyden. He can inquire

from me where he is to seek his daughter.”

This word I wrote and sealed; which while I was doing, Sprott of his

own motion made a welcome offer, to charge himself with Miss Drummond’s

mails, and even send a porter for them to the inn. I advanced him to

that effect a dollar or two to be a cover, and he gave me an

acknowledgment in writing of the sum.

Whereupon (I giving my arm to Catriona) we left the house of this

unpalatable rascal. She had said no word throughout, leaving me to

judge and speak in her place; I, upon my side, had been careful not to

embarrass her by a glance; and even now, although my heart still glowed

inside of me with shame and anger, I made it my affair to seem quite

easy.

“Now,” said I, “let us get back to yon same inn where they can speak

the French, have a piece of dinner, and inquire for conveyances to

Rotterdam. I will never be easy till I have you safe again in the hands

of Mrs. Gebbie.”

“I suppose it will have to be,” said Catriona, “though whoever will be

pleased, I do not think it will be her. And I will remind you this once

again that I have but one shilling, and three baubees.”

“And just this once again,” said I, “I will remind you it was a

blessing that I came alongst with you.”

“What else would I be thinking all this time?” says she, and I thought

weighed a little on my arm. “It is you that are the good friend to me.”