“God in Heaven! no disrespect, Mynheer;—­the animal is a bear, as you see; he is very tame, even with strangers.  He belongs to me.  I have had him since he was three months old.  It was all a mistake.  The mate, Mynheer Hillebrant, put him in the cabin, that he might be out of the way while the duty was carrying on, and he quite forgot that he was here.  I am very sorry, Mynheer Von Stroom; but he will not come here again, unless you wish to play with him.”

“Play with him!  I! supercargo to the Company, play with a bear!  Mynheer Kloots, the animal must be thrown overboard immediately.”

“Nay, nay; I cannot throw overboard an animal that I hold in much affection, Mynheer Von Stroom; but he shall not trouble you.”

“Then, Captain Kloots, you will have to deal with the Company, to whom I shall represent the affair.  Your charter will be cancelled, and your freight-money will be forfeited.”

Kloots was, like most Dutchmen, not a little obstinate, and this imperative behaviour on the part of the supercargo raised his bile.  “There is nothing in the charter that prevents my having an animal on board,” replied Kloots.

“By the regulations of the Company,” replied Von Stroom, falling back in his chair with an important air, and crossing his thin legs, “you are required to receive on board strange and curious animals, sent home by the governors and factors to be presented to crowned heads,—­such as lions, tigers, elephants, and other productions of the East;—­but in no instance is it permitted to the commanders of chartered ships to receive on board, on their own account, animals of any description, which must be considered under the offence of private trading.”

“My bear is not for sale, Mynheer Von Stroom.”

“It must immediately be sent out of the ship, Mynheer Kloots; I order you to send it away,—­on your peril to refuse.”

“Then we will drop the anchor again, Mynheer Von Stroom, and send on shore to head-quarters to decide the point.  If the Company insists that the brute be put on shore, be it so; but recollect, Mynheer Von Stroom, we shall lose the protection of the fleet, and have to sail alone.  Shall I drop the anchor, Mynheer?”

This observation softened down the pertinacity of the supercargo; he had no wish to sail alone, and the fear of this contingency was more powerful than the fear of the bear.

“Mynheer Kloots, I will not be too severe; if the animal is chained, so that it does not approach me, I will consent to its remaining on board.”

“I will keep it out of your way as much as I can; but as for chaining up the poor animal, it will howl all day and night, and you will have no sleep, Mynheer Von Stroom,” replied Kloots.

The supercargo, who perceived that the captain was positive, and that his threats were disregarded, did all that a man could do who could not help himself.  He vowed vengeance in his own mind, and then, with an air of condescension, observed:  “Upon those conditions, Mynheer Kloots, your animal may remain on board.”