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The pungent smoke deep to his grateful lung.

It curled all blue throughout the cave and flew
Into the silver night. At once there flung

Into the crowded shop a boy, who cried to them:
6

"Oh, sirs, is there some learnedlawyer here,
Some advocate, or all-wise counsellor?

My master sent me to inquire where
Such men do mostly be, but every door

Was shut and barred, for late has grown the hour.
I pray you tell me where I may now find

One versed in law, the matter will not wait."
"I am a lawyer, boy," said Max, "my mind

Is not locked to my business, though 'tis late.
I shall be glad to serve what way is in my power.

7
Then once more, cloaked and ready, he set out,

Tripping the footsteps of the eager boy
Along the dappled cobbles, while the rout

Within the tavern jeered at his employ.
Through new-burst elm leaves filtered the white moon,

Who peered and splashed between the twinkling boughs,
Flooded the open spaces, and took flight

Before tall, serried houses in platoon,
Guarded by shadows. Past the Custom House

They took their hurried way in the Spring-scented night.
8

Before a door which fronted a canal
The boy halted. A dim tree-shaded spot.

The water lapped the stones in musical
And rhythmic tappings, and a galliot

Slumbered at anchor with no light aboard.
The boy knocked twice, and steps approached. A flame

Winked through the keyhole, then a key was turned,
And through the open door Max went toward

Another door, whence sound of voices came.
He entered a large room where candelabra burned.

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An aged man in quilted dressing gown

Rose up to greet him. "Sir," said Max, "you sent
Your messenger to seek throughout the town

A lawyer. I have small accomplishment,
But I am at your service, and my name

Is Max Breuck, Counsellor, at your command."
"Mynheer," replied the aged man, "obliged

Am I, and count myself much privileged.
I am Cornelius Kurler, and my fame

Is better known on distant oceans than on land.
10

My ship has tasted water in strange seas,
And bartered goods at still uncharted isles.

She's oft coquetted with a tropic breeze,
And sheered off hurricanes with jaunty smiles."

"Tush, Kurler," here broke in the other man,
"Enough of poetry, draw the deed and sign."

The old man seemed to wizen at the voice,
"My good friend, Grootver, --" he at once began.

"No introductions, let us have some wine,
And business, now that you at last have made your choice."

11
A harsh and disagreeable man he proved to be,

This Grootver, with no single kindly thought.
Kurler explained, his old hands nervously

Twisting his beard. His vessel he had bought
From Grootver. He had thought to soon repay

The ducats borrowed, but an adverse wind
Had so delayed him that his cargo brought

But half its proper price, the very day
He came to port he stepped ashore to find

The market glutted and his counted profits naught.
12

Little by little Max made out the way
That Grootver pressed that poor harassed old man.

His money he must have, too long delay
Had turned the usurer to a ruffian.

"But let me take my ship, with many bales
Of cotton stuffs dyed crimson, green, and blue,

Cunningly patterned, made to suit the taste
Of mandarin's ladies; when my battered sails

Open for home, such stores will I bring you
That all your former ventures will be counted waste.

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Such light and foamy silks, like crinkled cream,

And indigo more blue than sun-whipped seas,
Spices and fragrant trees, a massive beam

Of sandalwood, and pungent China teas,
Tobacco, coffee!" Grootver only laughed.

Max heard it all, and worse than all he heard
The deed to which the sailor gave his word.

He shivered, 'twas as if the villain gaffed
The old man with a boat-hook; bleeding, spent,

He begged for life nor knew at all the road he went.
14

For Kurler had a daughter, young and gay,
Carefully reared and shielded, rarely seen.

But on one black and most unfriendly day
Grootver had caught her as she passed between

The kitchen and the garden. She had run
In fear of him, his evil leering eye,

And when he came she, bolted in her room,
Refused to show, though gave no reason why.

The spinning of her future had begun,
On quiet nights she heard the whirring of her doom.

15
Max mended an old goosequill by the fire,

Loathing his work, but seeing no thing to do.
He felt his hands were building up the pyre

To burn two souls, and seized with vertigo
He staggered to his chair. Before him lay

White paper still unspotted by a crime.
"Now, young man, write," said Grootver in his ear.

"`If in two years my vessel should yet stay
From Amsterdam, I give Grootver, sometime

A friend, my daughter for his lawful wife.' Now swear."
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And Kurler swore, a palsied, tottering sound,
And traced his name, a shaking, wandering line.

Then dazed he sat there, speechless from his wound.
Grootver got up: "Fair voyage, the brigantine!"

He shuffled from the room, and left the house.
His footsteps wore to silence down the street.

At last the aged man began to rouse.
With help he once more gained his trembling feet.

"My daughter, Mynheer Breuck, is friendless now.
Will you watch over her? I ask a solemn vow."

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Max laid his hand upon the old man's arm,

"Before God, sir, I vow, when you are gone,
So to protect your daughter from all harm

As one man may." Thus sorrowful, forlorn,
The situation to Max Breuck appeared,

He gave his promise almost without thought,
Nor looked to see a difficulty. "Bred

Gently to watch a mother left alone;
Bound by a dying father's wish, who feared

The world's accustomed harshness when he should be dead;
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Such was my case from youth, Mynheer Kurler.
Last Winter she died also, and my days

Are passed in work, lest I should grieve for her,
And undo habits used to earn her praise.

My leisure I will gladly give to see
Your household and your daughter prosperous."

The sailor said his thanks, but turned away.
He could not brook that his humility,

So little wonted, and so tremulous,
Should first before a stranger make such great display.

19
"Come here to-morrow as the bells ring noon,

I sail at the full sea, my daughter then
I will make known to you. 'Twill be a boon

If after I have bid good-by, and when
Her eyeballs scorch with watching me depart,

You bring her home again. She lives with one
Old serving-woman, who has brought her up.

But that is no friend for so free a heart.
No head to match her questions. It is done.

And I must sail away to come and brim her cup.
20

My ship's the fastest that owns Amsterdam
As home, so not a letter can you send.

I shall be back, before to where I am
Another ship could reach. Now your stipend --"

Quickly Breuck interposed. "When you once more
Tread on the stones which pave our streets. -- Good night!

To-morrow I will be, at stroke of noon,
At the great wharf." Then hurrying, in spite

Of cake and wine the old man pressed upon
Him ere he went, he took his leave and shut the door.

21
'Twas noon in Amsterdam, the day was clear,

And sunshine tipped the pointed roofs with gold.
The brown canals ran liquidbronze, for here

The sun sank deep into the waters cold.
And every clock and belfry in the town

Hammered, and struck, and rang. Such peals of bells,
To shake the sunny morning into life,

And to proclaim the middle, and the crown,
Of this most sparkling daytime! The crowd swells,

Laughing and pushing toward the quays in friendly strife.
22

The "Horn of Fortune" sails away to-day.
At highest tide she lets her anchor go,

And starts for China. Saucy popinjay!
Giddy in freshest paint she curtseys low,

And beckons to her boats to let her start.
Blue is the ocean, with a flashing breeze.

The shining waves are quick to take her part.
They push and spatter her. Her sails are loose,

Her tackles hanging, waiting men to seize
And haul them taut, with chanty-singing, as they choose.

23
At the great wharf's edge Mynheer Kurler stands,

And by his side, his daughter, young Christine.
Max Breuck is there, his hat held in his hands,

Bowing before them both. The brigantine
Bounces impatient at the long delay,

Curvets and jumps, a cable's length from shore.
A heavy galliot unloads on the walls

Round, yellow cheeses, like gold cannon balls
Stacked on the stones in pyramids. Once more



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