Again he spoke,
and at length a monotonous "yaw" proclaimed that they were not dumb.

We went on board and found a perfect Dutch family on their way from
Antwerp to Rouen. Out stepped from her cabin the Captain's wife in
appropriate costume, her close little cap, large gold necklace and
ear-rings; and behind the Captain's spouse stepped forth two genuine
descendants of the nautical couple. Large round heads with large round
(what shall I say?) Hottentots to match and keep up the due balance
between head and tail.

Having explained our wants to the Captain, he produced as the chief
restorative an incomparable bottle of Schiedam, _i.e._, gin. To each he
offered a good large glass, and then in answer to our request for beef,
four bottles of excellent claret, two square loaves. For this he asked a
guinea, upon receiving which his features relaxed and he declared we
should have two more bottles of claret. Upon hearing we had a lady in
the packet he begged her acceptance of half a neat's tongue, some
butter, and a bag of rusks. Loaded with them, we took a joyful leave of
these sombre sailors and returned, with the orange cravat of our Belgian
friend for a flag, in triumph to the packet.

But a truce to my pen. Ostend is in sight, and now we are all rubbing
our hands and congratulating each other that wind and tide are in our
favour and that we shall be in in a couple of hours.

_Rev. E. Stanley to his niece, Isabella Stanley._[107]

BRUGES, _June 14, 1816_.

On our return from the Dutch vessel from which we recruited our
exhausted store, we found our poor Captain in sad tribulation, his
patience exhausted, but his temper luckily preserved. Having paced his
deck with a fidgeting velocity a due number of times, peeped thro' his
glass at every distant sail or cloud to observe whether they were in any
degree movable, and invoked Boreas in the most pitiable terms such as
"Oh Borus! Now do, good Borus just give us a blow," we had the
satisfaction at length, the supreme satisfaction, of perceiving a gentle
curl upon the water which soon settled into a steady breeze, before
which we glided away, delightfully enjoying our dinner upon the deck,
during which our party manifested their respective characters in most
charming style. One Farmer Dinmont[108] and Dousterswivel, a Dutchman,
were perfect specimens. A merry Belgian Equerry to the Prince of Orange,
laughed, joked, and amused us with sleight-of-hand tricks. Our Dutch
bee