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Updated: May 31, 2025
This bold scheme of color would be no less than shocking on the Thames; but, sitting in that olive-green canal, in a retired part of Rotterdam, "Waterspin" looked like a pleasing Dutch caricature of Noah's Ark.
To take "Lorelei" to all the places I meant to see to-day would have occupied half a week, though none were at a great distance from Amsterdam but the waterways there do not in all places connect conveniently for a boat of "Lorelei's" size, though we might have left "Waterspin" behind. So I proposed the car, and everybody caught at the idea.
That was the way it happened that we had two nights at Enkhuisen; but the second we spent on "Lorelei-Mascotte" and "Waterspin," sleeping on the boats for the first time, and it was great fun. The next morning early, we had a picnic breakfast on board, making coffee with the grand apparatus in Mr.
I am so much at home on the water that I hadn't noticed the tossing and lolloping of the barge, but I realized now what was the matter. The morning was fresh, with a gusty wind blowing up the Maas, against the tide running strongly out; and consequently little "Lorelei" and sturdy "Waterspin" strained at their moorings like chained dogs who spy a bone just beyond their reach.
If it were not such a fine day, Alb would not have taken the risk with "Mascotte" and "Waterspin," even to please his particular American girl, and if it were not to please her, he would probably not have come in any case. Yet that thing behind us was skimming along too fast to be anything else save a motor-boat.
On board, there was the usual business of putting our belongings to rights after an absence on shore; and when I came on to "Mascotte" from "Waterspin," already Amsterdam with its smoke cloud and widespreading mass of buildings, like gray bubbles against the clear sky was sinking out of sight.
Before starting, I had to go to my stateroom on "Waterspin" to change wet clothes for dry ones, and when I was ready to take up my part of skipper, no one was on deck save the Chaperon and Tibe a subdued Tibe buttoned up in a child's cape, which his mistress insisted on buying in Amsterdam for him to wear in cold weather.
"Motor's all right. It must be the propeller that's wrong. I'm going down to see," he explained, no trace of excitement on his face, no hint of flurry in his voice. Alb is a good plucked one, and for presence of mind and savoir faire I've never met his equal. As "Mascotte" had slowed down, and then stopped, "Waterspin" came lolloping alongside.
He had a friendly nod for the brown-faced skipper of a smoking tug, a few words for another, and smiles for every one. "I'm telling them that I've a wager on, and begging their kind help to win it," he explained to me, as gradually he pushed "Mascotte" and "Waterspin" through, and ahead of, the other craft.
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