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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Bad weather!" said Kloots, rousing himself from a deep reverie. "Yes, bad weather, Mynheer Kloots. There never was a vessel which fell in with what we have just seen, but met with disaster soon afterwards. The very name of Vanderdecken is unlucky He! he!" Philip would have replied to the sarcasm, but he could not, his tongue was tied.
"We are full three degrees to the northward of the Cape," observed Mynheer Kloots, after he had computed his latitude. "The currents must be running strong; the wind is going down fast, and we shall have a change, if I mistake not."
"Well!" observed Mynheer Kloots wiping his forehead, which was damped with perspiration, "I have been told of this before, but I have mocked at the narration." Philip made no reply. Aware of the reality of the vision, and how deeply it interested him, he felt as if he were a guilty person. The moon had now risen above the clouds, and was pouring her mild pale light over the slumbering ocean.
"Mynheer Kloots, I will not be too severe; if the animal is chained, so that it does not approach me, I will consent to its remaining on board." "I will keep it out of your way as much as I can; but as for chaining up the poor animal, it will howl all day and night, and you will have no sleep, Mynheer Von Stroom," replied Kloots.
"God in heaven!" exclaimed Mynheer Kloots. Philip felt a hand upon his shoulder, and the cold darted through his whole frame. He turned round and met the one eye of Schriften, who screamed in his ear "PHILIP VANDERDECKEN That's the Flying Dutchman!"
Kloots was, like most Dutchmen, not a little obstinate, and this imperative behaviour on the part of the supercargo raised his bile. "There is nothing in the charter that prevents my having an animal on board," replied Kloots.
So saying, Mynheer Kloots left the cabin, and went to look after the supercargo, who remained on the forecastle, with his bald head and meagre body, haranguing the men in his shirt, which fluttered in the breeze. "I am very sorry, Mynheer Von Stroom," said Kloots, "but the bear shall be sent out of the vessel."
So saying, Mynheer Kloots left the cabin, and went to look after the supercargo, who remained on the forecastle, with his bald head and meagre body, haranguing the men in his shirt, which fluttered in the breeze. "I am very sorry, Mynheer Von Stroom," said Kloots, "but the bear shall be sent out of the vessel."
"It is strange that we do not fall in with any of the vessels of the fleet. They must all have been driven down here." "Perhaps they have kept a wider offing." "It had been as well if we had done the same," said Kloots. "That was a narrow escape last night. There is such a thing as having too little as well as having too much wind."
Below he had black plush breeches, light-blue worsted stockings, shoes, and broad silver buckles; round his waist was girded, with a broad belt, a canvas apron, which descended in thick folds nearly to his knee. In his belt was a large broad-bladed knife in a sheath of shark's skin. Such was the attire of Mynheer Kloots, captain of the Ter Schilling. He was as tall as he was corpulent.
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