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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Granny or no granny," he whispered, "I tell you he looks just like one of those men in the voetspoelen." "Pooh!" sneered Carl, "I knew it. That picture was too much for you. Look sharp now, and see if yon fellow with the candle doesn't look like the other villain." "No, indeed, his face is as honest as a Gouda cheese. But, I say, Carl, that really was a horrid picture." "Humph!
This mode of putting prisoners to death was called voetspoelen, or feet washing, and was practiced by the Dutch upon the pirates of Dunkirk in 1605; and again by the Spaniards against the Dutch, in the horrible massacre that followed the siege of Haarlem. Bad as the painting was, the expression upon the pirates' faces was well given.
Now, while he capered about, boylike, and threw himself with an antic into his bed, he inwardly hoped that the voetspoelen would not haunt his dreams. It was a cold, cheerless room; a fire had been newly kindled in the burnished stove and seemed to shiver even while it was trying to burn.
Ludwig and Carl had spread their bedding upon the floor. One had already forgotten the voetspoelen, the race everything; but Carl was wide-awake.
He now lay like a monster chrysalis beside the half-frozen Peter, who, accordingly, was skating with all his might over the coldest, bleakest of dreamland icebergs. Something else, I say, besides the moonlight, was moving across the bare, polished floor moving not quite so slowly, but quite as stealthily. Wake up, Ludwig! The voetspoelen is growing real! No.
"I must have a good look at the beauty," he said, drawing closer, but the words were no sooner spoken than he turned pale and started so violently that he almost dropped the candle. "The voetspoelen!" he cried! "Why, boys, it's the man who sat by the fire!" "Of course it is," answered Peter. "We counted out money before him like simpletons. But what have we to do with voetspoelen, brother Ludwig?
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