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Henty George Alfred
By Pike and Dyke: a Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic

Ned told them the story, and the sailors when he had finished had each some tale to tell of oppression and cruelty to friends or relatives on the part of the Spaniards. When they had finished their midday meal, which was the heartiest the sailors had enjoyed for some days, for the landlord when making the bargain had paid them five crowns in advance, and the empty larder had been accordingly replenished, the skipper said to Ned, "I think that it will be just as well you did something, in case the magistrates should take it into their heads to send down to search the craft along the wharves. The landlord said that they might make inquiries as to what had become of the man who stayed last night at his inn. You may be sure he did not put down in his guest list a description which would help them much in their search for you, should they make one, still they keep a pretty sharp lookout over us, and if they search at all are likely to come to try here to begin with."

"I am quite ready to do anything you may set me to," Ned said.

"Then we will get the boat out, and row off and bait our hooks and try for fish; we have caught a few every day since we have been here. And, indeed, if it were not for the fish the men in most of the boats here would be starving."

"That will do capitally," Ned said. "Anyhow it will be an amusement to me."

The boat was pulled up alongside, Ned and four of the men got into it and rowed down the port into the Old Haven, and out between the two forts guarding the entrance into the Scheldt, then dropping their grapnel, baited some lines and began to fish. As boats from all the other craft lying by the shore were engaged in the same work, either with line or net, this was natural enough, and they did not return until evening was falling, by which time they had captured a considerable number of fish.

"We have had more luck than we have had all the week," one of the men said as they rowed back. "Sometimes we have only got just enough for ourselves, today when we don't want them we have caught enough to sell for two or three guilders; for fish are scarce now in the town and fetch good prices. However, they will come in handy for our voyage."

When they came alongside the skipper told them that three hours before two of the city constables had come along, and had inquired of him whether he had seen aught of a tall man of some thirty years of age, dressed in sober clothes, and with the appearance of a retainer in some good family. He had assured them he had seen none at all answering that description, and, indeed, that no one beside himself and his crew had been on the wharf that day. They had nevertheless come on board and searched the cabin, but finding nothing suspicious, and hearing that the rest of the crew, four men and a boy, were engaged in fishing, they had gone off without further question.

"Where do the guard boats ply?" Ned asked presently.

"A mile or two above the forts, and as much below; for, you see, vessels can come up either passage from the sea. It is the longest round by Walcheren, but far easier and freer from sandbanks. Vessels from the west generally take the Walcheren passage; but those from the east, and coasters who know every foot of the river, come by the eastern Scheldt."

"Which way do you think of going?"

"That by Flushing, if we have the choice. We pass several towns in the possession of the Spaniards, and were the beggars to come up they would probably take the other channel. And I have noticed that there are always two rowboats in the river to the east, and only one to the west. Our greatest difficulty will be in passing the two warships anchored at the mouth of the port, under the guns of the forts. Once fairly out into the Scheldt we may think ourselves safe, for the river is so wide that unless by grievous ill chance we are not likely to be seen on a dark night, such as this will be, by the rowboats. Our real danger is in getting through the two forts, and the ships at the mouth of this port.

"There is a vigilant watch kept at the forts; but there are not likely to be any sentries placed on the walls at the entrance of this inner haven, or on that running along by Old Haven down to the forts. We will start as soon as the tide turns, and drift down with it. We will get out a pole or two to keep our course down the centre till we get near the forts, and must then let her drift as she will, for a splash in the water or the slightest sound would call the attention of the sentries there, and if the alarm were given the boats of the two ships outside would have us to a certainty. I think the night is going to be most favourable. The clouds are low, and I have felt a speck or two of mist; it will come on faster presently, and it will want keen eyes to see five yards away when the night falls. Luckily there is not a breath of wind at present; and I hope there will not be until we are fairly out, otherwise we should be sure to drift ashore on one side or the other as we go down the channel."

CHAPTER XII

BACK WITH THE PRINCE

Before throwing off the warps from the shore the captain gave each man his orders. Two were to stand with fenders, in case the boat drifted either against another craft or against the wall. Two were to take the long poles used for punting. An old sail had been torn up into strips and wrapped round these, with a pad of old rope at the end, so that they could push off from the wall without noise. Not a word was to be spoken in case of their being hailed, nor was there to be the slightest movement on board unless the use of the fenders or poles were required. Lastly, all took off their boots.

It was half an hour after the turn of the tide when the warps were thrown off. The tide in the inner port was so sluggish that it was absolutely necessary to pole the boat along until she got out into what was known as the Old Haven, which was the cut leading down from the town to the river.

The work was noiselessly done; and Ned, standing at the bow beside the skipper, scarce heard the slightest sound. The night was fortunately very dark, and looking intently he could hardly make out the outline of the shore on either side. In a quarter of an hour they emerged from the inner port. On their left hand the wall of the fortifications connecting the town with the north fort at the mouth of the haven rose high above them, but its outline could be seen against the sky. The captain had told the men poling to take her sharp round the corner, and keep her along as close as possible to the foot of the wall, as she was far less likely to be observed by any sentry who might be there than she would be if kept out in the centre of the cut.

Very slowly the boat drifted along her course, assisted occasionally by the men pushing with their poles against the foot of the wall that rose a few feet from them, while those with the fender stood in readiness to place them in position should the ship approach so close to the wall as to render contact probable. The captain was now at the tiller, the way given her by the poles being sufficient to enable him to keep her on her course close to the wall. Another quarter of an hour and they were at the end of the wall, for the forts at the entrance were detached. They were now approaching the most dangerous portion of the passage; they were no longer sheltered in the shadow, but must go along openly. It was, however, improbable that there would be sentries on the face of the fort looking towards the town, and Ned, accustomed as he was to keep watch on deck at night, could scarce make out the low shore a few yards away, and felt pretty confident that the eyes of the sleepy sentries would not be able to pierce the gloom.

The men had ceased poling now, only giving an occasional push to keep her head straight and prevent her from swinging round. Presently a sailor standing next to Ned touched his arm and pointed to the right, and straining his eyes he could dimly make out a dark mass looming in that direction.

Unlike the wall they had left, the forts stood at a little distance back from the water, and Ned was sure that as he could scarce make out the outline of the one nearest to them, no one upon its wall could distinguish the tracery of the masts and rigging of the boat. The mist had thickened since they had started, and coming on heavier just at this point the fort was presently entirely obscured.

Another twenty minutes passed. They must be now, Ned knew, in the course of the river; and he began to think that the danger was over, when a dark object suddenly appeared from the mist, close at hand. In another moment there was a shock, and then a long grinding motion as the boat swept along by the side of a large ship. Following the shock came a sharp challenge from the darkness above, followed by other shouts. Obedient to orders they had received, no sound was heard from the smack. Each man stooped low under the bulwarks. Two or three shots rang out from the ship, and there was a hail in Dutch–"Stop, or we will sink you."

Ned knew that this was an idle threat. The vessel was lying head to the tide, and only a small gun or two in the stern could be brought to bear, and already the ship was lost to sight in the mist. There was much shouting and noise heard astern, and then the creaking of blocks. Ned made his way aft.

"The game is up," the skipper said. "They will be alongside in a few minutes. Dark as it is they cannot miss us. They will know that we must have drifted straight down. We must take to the boats and row for it."

"I should say, captain," Ned said, "we had best take to the boat and row off for a short distance, and then wait. As likely as not they may think when they board her that she has simply drifted out from the town, having been carelessly moored. In that case they may let drop her anchor and return to their ship."

"That is a happy thought," the captain said; and running forward he told the crew to take the boat at once.

"I have another idea, captain," Ned said, just as they were about to push off. "As we saw when we were passing the ship we are drifting stern foremost. If we can fasten a long line to her stern we can hang on to it. They will not be able to see us if we are twenty fathoms astern. Then, if they anchor, and, as is likely enough, leave two or three men on board, we can haul ourselves noiselessly up with the rope and board her."

"Capital!" the captain replied. "I was wondering how we should find her again in the dark. That would be the very thing."

He sprang on board again, fastened a light line to the rudder, and dropped down into the boat again.

"Now, back her astern, lads, very gently. I can hear their oars."

In a minute the captain gave orders to cease rowing, for the line had tightened. The Spanish ship was showing a bright light in her stern. This acted as a guide to the boats, and in two or three minutes after the crew had left the smack two large boats full of soldiers came alongside. Those in the little boat, lying but fifty or sixty yards away, could hear every word that was spoken. First came a volley of angry exclamations of disappointment as the Spaniards found that they had been called from their beds only to capture an empty little coaster. As Ned had expected, they speedily came to the conclusion that having been carelessly fastened up alongside the wharves, without any one being left in charge, she had drifted out with the tide.

"It would serve them right if we were to set her alight," one of the officers said.

"We had best not to do that," another replied. "It might cause an alarm in the town; and, besides, boats are wanted. We had better drop her anchor, and leave four men on board to take care of her. In the morning the knaves to whom she belongs will come out to claim her; and I warrant you the captain will punish them sharply for the trouble they have given us."

This opinion prevailed. A minute latter a splash was heard in the water, and in a very short time the line connecting the boat with the smack tightened, and those on board knew that she had been brought up by her anchor. There was a good deal of noise and trampling of feet as the Spaniards took their place in the boats again, and then the heavy splashing of many oars as they started to row back against the tide to their own vessel.

The captain wrung Ned's hand.

"You have saved the boat for us, young sir, for we should never have found her again; and if we had, those on board would have heard us rowing up to them, and would have given the alarm. Now we have only to wait for a bit, and then haul ourselves up and overpower the Spaniards."

"I doubt if we could do that without noise," Ned replied. "At any rate it would be very dangerous while their ship is lying so close. I should say the best plan will be to wait, as you say, till the Spaniards have settled themselves comfortably, then to haul up to her and push the boat along by her side, fending her off carefully so as to make no noise until we reach the bow, then we can cut the cable and let her drift. The tide is running strong now, and in half an hour she will be over a mile down the river, and there will be no fear of a shout being heard on board the ship, and we can then board her and tackle the Spaniards."

"That will certainly be the best way," the captain agreed. "Nothing could be better. Well, we will give them half an hour to settle themselves in the cabin. They will not stay on deck many minutes in the wet."

The sound of voices on board the smack soon ceased. After waiting half an hour to give the Spaniards time if not to go to sleep to become drowsy, the captain and one of his men began to pull upon the line. Presently the dark mass could be seen ahead, and they were soon up to her.

Very carefully they passed the boat alongside, taking pains to prevent her touching. When they reached the bow the captain grasped the cable, and with two or three cuts with the knife severed it. Then the boat was pushed off from the ship and gently paddled away to the full length of the line. Another half hour and they again drew alongside, and noiselessly climbed on to the deck. The men armed themselves with belaying pins, and Ned took his pistols from the belt beneath his jacket. Then they quietly approached the door. There was a light burning within.

The cabin was astern, and built upon the deck, and was used by the skipper himself and by any passengers he might be carrying, the crew living in the forecastle. The doors, which opened outwards, were noiselessly closed, for two of the Spaniards were sitting up playing cards, and there was no chance of taking the party so much by surprise as to capture them without noise. The instant the doors were closed a heavy coil of rope was thrown against them. There was a loud exclamation in the cabin, and a moment later a rush to the door. This, however, did not yield. Then a window in the side was thrown open and a head was thrust out, and there was a loud shout of "Treachery! Help!"

A moment later a heavy belaying pin fell on the head, and it disappeared. Then there was a loud explosion as an arquebus was fired, the bullet crashing through the door.

"It is a good thing we are well on our way," the skipper said. "We must be two miles from the Spanish ship now; and even if they hear the report they will not think it has anything to do with us. Besides, if they did, they could never find us."

Some more ropes had now been piled against the door, and there was no fear of its being burst open. Two men were posted at the windows on each side of the cabin with swords, for weapons had now been fetched from the forecastle.

"Now," the captain said, "let us get up the sails. There is but little wind, but I think there is enough to give us steerage way and prevent us from drifting on to the sandbanks."

"I suppose we are well beyond the guard boats now, captain?" Ned asked.

"Oh, yes; they are not more than half a mile below the forts. Besides, I should think they have not been out; for they would know that when the tide once turned no craft could come up from below. Yes, we are quite safe as far as they are concerned."

Sail was soon made; and though there was scarce wind enough to belly out the canvas, the boat began to move slowly through the water, as was shown by her answering her helm. The discharge of the arquebus in the cabin was continued from time to time.

"You may as well cease that noise," the captain shouted to them. "Your ship is miles away; and unless you want your throats cut you had better keep yourselves quiet. You know the beggars are not to be trifled with."

The soldiers ceased firing. They had, indeed, already concluded, from the fact that the boats did not come to their rescue, that the vessel must somehow have got far from their ship. The name of the terrible beggars filled them with alarm, for they knew that they showed no mercy. They had not the least idea as to the number of their captors, and gave themselves up for lost. An hour later the captain dropped the second anchor, and brought up in the stream.

"We must wait till morning," he said. "It is no use getting away from the Spaniards to be cast ashore; and there is no saying in what part of the river we may be at present, though we must certainly be six or seven miles below Bergen."

Towards morning the mist cleared off, and the wind began to freshen.

"I think it will blow hard before long," the captain said; "and as it is from the southwest it will soon carry us out of the river. Now, what had we better do with those fellows in the cabin?"

"I should say the best plan, captain, would be to bring the boat alongside, and tell them that if they will leave their arms behind them, and come out one by one, they may take to it and row ashore. That if they refuse, we shall open the door and give them no quarter."

"That would be the best plan," the captain agreed, and going to one of the windows offered these terms to the Spaniards. The men had prepared for the worst, and had determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible. So convinced were they that the beggars would show no quarter that they were at first incredulous.

"It is a trick to get us to give up our arms," one said.

"It is not," the captain replied. "I swear to you on the word of a sailor that we will respect the terms and allow you to depart unarmed. We don't want to throw away three or four lives merely for the pleasure of cutting your throats."

After a consultation between themselves the soldiers accepted the terms. Ned placed himself at one of the windows to see that the arms were laid aside before the men issued out. Then the coils of rope were removed, and the door opened, the sailors taking their place there in case the Spaniards at the last moment should catch up their arms. This, however, they had no idea of doing, and were indeed far more afraid of treachery than were their captors. One by one they issued out, passed between the line of the sailors to the bulwark, and got into the boat. It was still dark, and they could not tell that the group of men at the cabin door were all those on board. As soon as the last was in, the rope was thrown off and the boat dropped astern.

"It will be light enough to see the shore in half an hour," the captain said as they drifted away, "and then you can land where you like."

"It would be awkward if they happen to light upon some town," Ned said, "and so bring out boats to cut us off."

"There is no fear of that," the captain replied. "Tergoes is the only place down here in which they have a garrison, and that lies some miles away yet. Besides, we shall get under way as soon as we can make out the shore. They have only two oars on board, and are not likely to know very much about rowing; besides, we shall make out the shore from deck before they will from the boat."

"Of course you will not go round by Flushing now? It will be shorter for you to go straight out to sea through the islands."

"Yes, and less dangerous. There may be ships at Tergoes and on the east side of Walcheren, as they still hold Middleburg."

"The sooner we are out to sea the better, and it will of course suit you also," Ned replied. "I only wanted to put ashore at Flushing in order to take another boat there for Rotterdam, so that I shall save one day, if not two, if you sail direct."

In another half hour it was light enough to make out the shore. The anchor was again weighed in and the boat got under way. They were now off the end of the Island of St. Anna, and leaving South Beveland behind them turned up the channel called the Kype, between the Islands of North Beveland and Duveland. Here they passed many fishing smacks and coasting vessels, for they were now in the heart of Zeeland, and far beyond reach of the Spaniards. They were frequently hailed, and were greeted with shouts of applause when they told how they had given the Spaniards the slip and made their escape from Bergen. Two hours later they were out at sea, and before sunset entered the port of Rotterdam. Finding, when he landed, that the Prince of Orange had that day returned from a trip to Haarlem and some other towns, where he had been engaged in raising the spirits of the citizens, inciting them to resistance, and urging them that it was necessary to make a common effort against the enemy, and not to allow the town to be taken piecemeal, Ned at once made his way to the house he occupied. As he entered one of the pages hurried up to him.

"What do you want?" he asked. "The prince is ready to give audience to all who have important business, but it is too much that he should be intruded upon by sailor lads."

"You do not remember me!" Ned laughed. "Your memory is a short one, Master Hans."

"I did not, indeed!" the page exclaimed. "Who would have thought of seeing you dressed as a sailor boy? The prince will be glad to see you; for the first question he asked when he crossed the threshold this afternoon was whether you had returned."

He hurried away, and returned a minute later with word that the prince would see Ned at once.

"Well, my brave lad, so you have returned," the prince said as Ned entered. "I have blamed myself many times for letting you go upon so dangerous a mission, and I am glad indeed to see that you have safely returned, even if you have failed altogether touching the matter on which you went."

"I thought more of the honour than of the danger of the mission you intrusted to me, your excellency," Ned replied, "and am happy to say that I have fulfilled it successfully, and have brought you back messages by word of mouth from all, save one, of those to whom your letters were addressed."

"Say you so!" the prince exclaimed in tones of satisfaction. "Then you have indeed done well. And how fared it with you on your journey? Did you deliver the letters and return here without suspicion falling upon you?"

"No, sir. I have run some slight risk and danger owing to an unfortunate meeting with Councillor Von Aert, who was of a more suspicious nature than his countrymen in general; but I will not occupy your excellency's time by talking about myself, but will deliver the various messages with which I am charged."

He then went through the particulars of his interviews with each of the nine persons he had visited, and gave the contents of the letter, word for word, he had received from the tenth, excusing himself for not having brought the message by word of mouth, owing to the difficulty of obtaining a private audience with him. He also produced the paper upon which he had jotted down all the particulars of the men and money that had been confided to him.

"Your news might be better, and worse," the prince said when he had concluded. "Some of these men doubtless are, as they say, zealous in the cause, others are not to be largely trusted in extremities. The money they promise is less than I had hoped. Promises are cheaper than gold, and even here in Holland, where all is at stake, the burghers are loath to put their hands in their pockets, and haggle over their contributions as if they were to be spent for my pleasure instead of their own safety. It is pitiful to see men so fond of their moneybags. The numbers of men who can be relied upon to rise are satisfactory, and more even than I had hoped for; for in matters like this a man must proceed cautiously, and only sound those upon whom he feels sure beforehand he can rely. The worst of it is, they are all waiting for each other. One will move if another will move, but none will be first. They will move if I get a victory. But how can I win a victory when I have no army nor money to raise one, and when each city will fight only in its own defence, and will not put a man under arms for the common cause?"

As the prince was evidently speaking to himself rather than to him, Ned remained silent. "Please to write all the particulars down that you have given me," the prince went on, "that I may think it over at my leisure. And so you could not see the Count of Coeverden? Was he more difficult of access than he of Sluys?"

"I do not know that he was, sir," Ned replied; "but my attire was not such as to gain me an entrance into antechambers."

"No, I did not think of that," the prince said. "You should have taken with you a suit of higher quality. I forgot when I agreed that you should, for safety, travel as a country lad, that in such dress you could hardly gain an entrance into the palaces of nobles; and of course it would have excited surprise for one so attired to try to purchase such clothes as would have enabled you to boldly enter."

"I might possibly have managed as a peasant lad," Ned replied with a smile; "but having been detected in that attire, and being eagerly sought for by Von Aert's agents, I was at the time dressed as a peasant woman, and could think of no possible excuse upon which I might obtain an audience with the count."

"No, indeed," the prince said smiling. "I must hear your story with all its details; but as it is doubtless somewhat long, I must put it off until later. After the evening meal you shall tell us your adventures before I betake myself to my work."

Ned retired to his own room and resumed the attire he usually wore. After supper he was sent for by the prince, with whom he found the chamberlain and three or four of his principal officers.

"Now, young sir, tell us your story," the prince said. "Do not fear of its being long. It is a rest to have one's mind taken off the affairs of state. I have already told these gentlemen what valuable services you have rendered to the cause we all have at heart, and they, like myself, wish to know how you fared, and how you escaped the danger you referred to at the hands of Von Aert."

Thus requested, Ned gave a full account of his journey, and of the adventures he had met with in Brussels and on his way back.

"What think you, sirs," the prince asked when Ned had concluded his story. "It seems to me that this lad has shown a courage, a presence of mind, and a quickness of decision that would be an honour to older men. The manner in which he escaped from the hands of Von Aert, one of the craftiest as well as of the most cruel of the Council of Blood, was excellent; and had he then, after obtaining his disguise, escaped at once from the city, I for one should assuredly not have blamed him, and I consider he showed a rare devotion in continuing to risk his life to deliver my letters. Then, again, the quickness with which he contrives to carry out his scheme for saying a word to the Count of Sluys was excellent; and though he takes no credit to himself, I doubt not that the escape of the boat, after falling foul of the Spanish ship, was greatly due to him. I think, sirs, you will agree with me that he has the makings of a very able man in him, and that henceforth we can safely intrust him with the most delicate as well as the most perilous missions."

There was a general cordial agreement.

"I am free to aver that you are right and that I am wrong, prince," the chamberlain said. "I know that you seldom fail in your judgment of character, and yet it seemed to me, if you will not mind my saying so, that it was not only rash but wrong to risk the lives of our friends in Brussels upon the chances of the discretion of the lad. I now see you were right, for there are few indeed who, placed as he was, would have carried out his mission as skilfully and well as he has done."

"By the way," the prince said, "I would beg you to seek out the captain of the boat in which you came here, and bid him come to me this time tomorrow evening. I would fain hear from him somewhat further details as to how you escaped from the Spaniards, for I observed that in this matter you were a little reticent as to your share in it. He may be able to tell me, too, more about the strength of the Spanish garrisons in Bergen and its neighbourhood than you can do."

For the next fortnight Ned was employed carrying messages from the prince to various towns and ports. Alva was at Amsterdam, and the army under his son, Don Frederick, was marching in that direction on their way from Zutphen. They came down upon the little town of Naarden on the coast of the Zuider Zee. A troop of a hundred men was sent forward to demand its surrender. The burghers answered that they held the town for the king and the Prince of Orange, and a shot was fired at the troopers. Having thus committed themselves, the burghers sent for reinforcements and aid to the Dutch towns, but none were sent them, and when the Spaniards approached on the 1st of December they sent out envoys to make terms. The army marched forward and encamped a mile and a half from the town.

A large deputation was sent out and was met by General Romero, who informed them that he was commissioned on the part of Don Frederick to treat with them. He demanded the keys, and gave them a solemn pledge that the lives and properties of all the inhabitants should be respected. The gates were thrown open, and Romero with five hundred soldiers entered. A sumptuous feast was prepared for them by the inhabitants. After this was over the citizens were summoned by the great bell to assemble in the church that was used as a town hall. As soon as they assembled the soldiers attacked them and killed them all. The town was then set on fire, and almost every man, woman, and child killed. Don Frederick forbade that the dead should be buried, and issued orders forbidding anyone, on pain of death, to give shelter to the few fugitives who had got away. The few houses which had escaped the flames were levelled to the ground, and Naarden ceased to exist.