Some days after this conversation, as they were all three seated at table, a corporal entered, and saluting the Commandant, informed him that a Dutch sailor had arrived at the fort, and wished to know whether he should be admitted.  Both Philip and Krantz turned pale at this communication—­they had a presentiment of evil, but they said nothing.  The sailor was ordered in, and in a few minutes, who should make his appearance but their tormentor, the one-eyed Schriften.  On perceiving Philip and Krantz seated at the table he immediately exclaimed, “Oh!  Captain Philip Vanderdecken, and my good friend Mynheer Krantz, first mate of the good ship Utrecht, I am glad to meet you again.”

“Captain Philip Vanderdecken!” roared the Commandant, as he sprung from his chair.

“Yes, that is my Captain, Mynheer Philip Vanderdecken; and that is my first mate, Mynheer Krantz; both of the good ship Utrecht:  we were wrecked together, were we not, Mynheer?  He! he!”

“Sangue de—­Vanderdecken! the husband?  Corpo del Diavolo—­is it possible?” cried the Commandant, panting for breath, as he seized his long sword with both hands, and clenched it with fury—­“What then, I have been deceived, cajoled, laughed at!” Then, after a pause—­the veins of his forehead distending so as almost to burst—­he continued, with a suppressed voice, “Most noble sir, I thank you; but now it is my turn.—­What, ho! there!  Corporal—­men, here instantly—­quick!”

Philip and Krantz felt convinced that all denial was useless.  Philip folded his arms and made no reply.  Krantz merely observed, “A little reflection will prove to you, sir, that this indignation is not warranted.”

“Not warranted!” rejoined the Commandant with a sneer; “you have deceived me; but you are caught in your own trap.  I have the paper signed, which I shall not fail to make use of. You are dead, you know, captain; I have your own hand to it, and your wife will be glad to believe it.”

“She has deceived you, Commandant, to get out of your power, nothing more,” said Vanderdecken.  “She would spurn a contemptible withered wretch like yourself, were she as free as the wind.”

“Go on, go on; it will be my turn soon.  Corporal, throw these two men into the dungeon:  a sentry at the door till further orders.  Away with them.  Most noble sir, perhaps your influential friends in Holland and Spain will enable you to get out again.”

Philip and Krantz were led away by the soldiers, who were very much surprised at this change of treatment.  Schriften followed them; and as they walked across the rampart to the stairs which led to their prison, Krantz, in his fury, burst from the soldiers, and bestowed a kick upon Schriften which sent him several feet forward on his face.

“That was a good one—­he! he!” cried Schriften, smiling and looking at Krantz as he regained his legs.