As it was, the water poured in
over the starboard-gunnel, until the boat was filled up to his ankles.
This alarmed him still more, and he remained mute as a stockfish for a
quarter of an hour, during which he was swept away by the tide until he
was unable to discover the lights on shore. The wind freshened, and the
water became more rough, the night was dark as pitch, and the corporal
skimmed along before the wind and tide. "A tousand tyfels!" at last
muttered the corporal, as the searching blast crept round his fat sides,
and made him shiver. Gust succeeded gust, and, at last, the corporal's
teeth chattered with the cold: he raised his feet out of the water at
the bottom of the boat, for his feet were like ice, but in so doing, the
weight of his body being above the centre of gravity, the boat careened
over, and with a "Mein Gott!" he hastily replaced them in the cold
water. And now a shower of rain and sleet came down upon the unprotected
body of the corporal, which added to his misery, to his fear, and to
his despair.
"Where am I?" muttered he; "what will become of me? Ah, mein Gott!
twenty tousand tyfels--what had I to do in a boat--I, Corporal Van
Spitter?" and then he was again silent for nearly half an hour.
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