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The captain had already gone to sleep at the table. But the Czar laid a watch beside him; he could wake whenever he wished. When he awoke, he went into the dining-room, and found Jaen Scheerborck sleeping at the table. "Bring him out!" commanded the Czar. "Is he not to accompany your Majesty any more?" the chamberlain, who was a favourite, ventured to ask. "No!
But the horses, which were still running, were suddenly forced back, and sank on their knees. The first of the three rose no more; it had been fatally injured by bursting in the toll-gate. Three hours later, when the fleet and docks had been inspected, the Czar and Jaen Scheerborck sat in a seamen's tavern. The cabriolet stood without, and was "anchored" to a thatched roof.
"Now we will have something to eat," was the first thing he said. "Then something to drink, and then a great firework. I will light it myself down on the shore. But Jaen Scheerborck must be present." "You have thrown him out." "Have I? He was drunk, the fellow. Send for him at once." "You are so strange, Peter! Never the same for two minutes together."
Czar Peter shaded his eyes, and, when he recognised his old teacher and friend, Jaen Scheerborck from Amsterdam, he jumped into the boat over the rowers' shoulders and knees, rushed into Jaen's arms and kissed him, so that his pipe broke and the seaman's great grey beard was full of smoke and nearly took fire.
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