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

by G. A. Henty · English · Gutenberg #6952 · 695,651 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: By Pike and Dyke: a Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic

Author: G. A. Henty


        
Release date: November 1, 2004 [eBook #6952]
                Most recently updated: June 1, 2012

Language: English

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Credits: Produced by Martin Robb


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY PIKE AND DYKE: A TALE OF THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC ***




Produced by Martin Robb








By Pike and Dyke:

A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic


by G. A. Henty





PREFACE.

MY DEAR LADS,

In all the pages of history there is no record of a struggle so
unequal, so obstinately maintained, and so long contested as that
by which the men of Holland and Zeeland won their right to worship
God in their own way, and also--although this was but a secondary
consideration with them--shook off the yoke of Spain and achieved
their independence. The incidents of the contest were of a singularly
dramatic character. Upon one side was the greatest power of the
time, set in motion by a ruthless bigot, who was determined either
to force his religion upon the people of the Netherlands, or
to utterly exterminate them. Upon the other were a scanty people,
fishermen, sailors, and agriculturalists, broken up into communities
with but little bond of sympathy, and no communication, standing
only on the defensive, and relying solely upon the justice of their
cause, their own stout hearts, their noble prince, and their one
ally, the ocean. Cruelty, persecution, and massacre had converted
this race of peace loving workers into heroes capable of the most
sublime self sacrifices. Women and children were imbued with a
spirit equal to that of the men, fought as stoutly on the walls,
and died as uncomplainingly from famine in the beleaguered towns.
The struggle was such a long one that I have found it impossible
to recount all the leading events in the space of a single volume;
and, moreover, before the close, my hero, who began as a lad, would
have grown into middle age, and it is an established canon in books
for boys that the hero must himself be young. I have therefore
terminated the story at the murder of William of Orange, and hope
in another volume to continue the history, and to recount the
progress of the war, when England, after years of hesitation, threw
herself into the fray, and joined Holland in its struggle against
the power that overshadowed all Europe, alike by its ambition and
its bigotry. There has been no need to consult many authorities.
Motley in his great work has exhausted the subject, and for all
the historical facts I have relied solely upon him.

Yours very sincerely, G. A. HENTY



CHAPTER I

THE "GOOD VENTURE"


Rotherhithe in the year of 1572 differed very widely from the
Rotherhithe of today. It was then a scattered village, inhabited
chiefly by a seafaring population. It was here that the captains
of many of the ships that sailed from the port of London had their
abode. Snug cottages with trim gardens lay thickly along the banks
of the river, where their owners could sit and watch the vessels
passing up and down or moored in the stream, and discourse with
each other over the hedges as to the way in which they were handled,
the smartness of their equipage, whence they had come, or where
they were going. For the trade of London was comparatively small
in those days, and the skippers as they chatted together could form
a shrewd guess from the size and appearance of each ship as to the
country with which she traded, or whether she was a coaster working
the eastern or southern ports.

Most of the vessels, indeed, would be recognized and the captains
known, and hats would be waved and welcomes or adieus shouted as
the vessels passed. There was something that savoured of Holland
in the appearance of Rotherhithe; for it was with the Low Countries
that the chief trade of England was carried on; and the mariners
who spent their lives in journeying to and fro between London and
the ports of Zeeland, Friesland, and Flanders, who for the most part
picked up the language of the country, and sometimes even brought
home wives from across the sea, naturally learned something from
their neighbours. Nowhere, perhaps, in and about London were the
houses so clean and bright, and the gardens so trimly and neatly
kept, as in the village of Rotherhithe, and in all Rotherhithe not
one was brighter and more comfortable than the abode of Captain
William Martin.

It was low and solid in appearance; the wooden framework was
unusually massive, and there was much quaint carving on the beams.
The furniture was heavy and solid, and polished with beeswax until
it shone. The fireplaces were lined with Dutch tiles; the flooring
was of oak, polished as brightly as the furniture. The appointments
from roof to floor were Dutch; and no wonder that this was so, for
every inch of wood in its framework and beams, floor and furniture,
and had been brought across from Friesland by William Martin in
his ship, the Good Venture. It had been the dowry he received with
his pretty young wife, Sophie Plomaert.

Sophie was the daughter of a well-to-do worker in wood near
Amsterdam. She was his only daughter, and although he had nothing
to say against the English sailor who had won her heart, and who
was chief owner of the ship he commanded, he grieved much that
she should leave her native land; and he and her three brothers
determined that she should always bear her former home in her
recollection. They therefore prepared as her wedding gift a facsimile
of the home in which she had been born and bred. The furniture
and framework were similar in every particular, and it needed only
the insertion of the brickwork and plaster when it arrived. Two of
her brothers made the voyage in the Good Venture, and themselves
put the framework, beams, and flooring together, and saw to the
completion of the house on the strip of ground that William Martin
had purchased on the bank of the river.

Even a large summer house that stood at the end of the garden was a
reproduction of that upon the bank of the canal at home; and when
all was completed and William Martin brought over his bride she
could almost fancy that she was still at home near Amsterdam. Ever
since, she had once a year sailed over in her husband's ship, and
spent a few weeks with her kinsfolk. When at home from sea the great
summer house was a general rendezvous of William Martin's friends
in Rotherhithe, all skippers like himself, some still on active
service, others, who had retired on their savings; not all, however,
were fortunate enough to have houses on the river bank; and the
summer house was therefore useful not only as a place of meeting
but as a lookout at passing ships.

It was a solidly built structure, inclosed on the land side but open
towards the river, where, however, there were folding shutters, so
that in cold weather it could be partially closed up, though still
affording a sight of the stream. A great Dutch stove stood in one
corner, and in this in winter a roaring fire was kept up. There
were few men in Rotherhithe so well endowed with this world's goods
as Captain Martin. His father had been a trader in the city, but
William's tastes lay towards the sea rather than the shop, and as
he was the youngest of three brothers he had his way in the matter.
When he reached the age of twenty-three his father died, and with
his portion of the savings William purchased the principal share
of the Good Venture, which ship he had a few months before come to
command.

When he married he had received not only his house but a round sum
of money as Sophie's portion. With this he could had he liked have
purchased the other shares of the Good Venture; but being, though
a sailor, a prudent man, he did not like to put all his eggs into
one basket, and accordingly bought with it a share in another ship.
Three children had been born to William and Sophie Martin--a boy
and two girls. Edward, who was the eldest, was at the time this
story begins nearly sixteen. He was an active well built young
fellow, and had for five years sailed with his father in the Good
Venture. That vessel was now lying in the stream a quarter of
a mile higher up, having returned from a trip to Holland upon the
previous day. The first evening there had been no callers, for it
was an understood thing at Rotherhithe that a captain on his return
wanted the first evening at home alone with his wife and family; but
on the evening of the second day, when William Martin had finished
his work of seeing to the unloading of his ship, the visitors
began to drop in fast, and the summer house was well nigh as full
as it could hold. Mistress Martin, who was now a comely matron
of six-and-thirty, busied herself in seeing that the maid and her
daughters, Constance and Janet, supplied the visitors with horns
of home brewed beer, or with strong waters brought from Holland
for those who preferred them.

"You have been longer away than usual, Captain Martin," one of the
visitors remarked.

"Yes," the skipper replied. "Trade is but dull, and though the Good
Venture bears a good repute for speed and safety, and is seldom
kept lying at the wharves for a cargo, we were a week before she
was chartered. I know not what will be the end of it all. I verily
believe that no people have ever been so cruelly treated for their
conscience' sake since the world began; for you know it is not against
the King of Spain but against the Inquisition that the opposition
has been made. The people of the Low Countries know well enough
it would be madness to contend against the power of the greatest
country in Europe, and to this day they have borne, and are bearing,
the cruelty to which they are exposed in quiet despair, and without
a thought of resistance to save their lives. There may have been
tumults in some of the towns, as in Antwerp, where the lowest part
of the mob went into the cathedrals and churches and destroyed the
shrines and images; but as to armed resistance to the Spaniards,
there has been none.

"The first expeditions that the Prince of Orange made into the
country were composed of German mercenaries, with a small body of
exiles. They were scarce joined by any of the country folk. Though,
as you know, they gained one little victory, they were nigh all
killed and cut to pieces. So horrible was the slaughter perpetrated
by the soldiers of the tyrannical Spanish governor Alva, that when
the Prince of Orange again marched into the country not a man joined
him, and he had to fall back without accomplishing anything. The
people seemed stunned by despair. Has not the Inquisition condemned
the whole of the inhabitants of the Netherlands--save only a few
persons specially named--to death as heretics? and has not Philip
confirmed the decree, and ordered it to be carried into instant
execution without regard to age or sex? Were three millions of men,
women, and children ever before sentenced to death by one stroke
of the pen, only because they refused to change their religion?
Every day there are hundreds put to death by the orders of Alva's
Blood Council, as it is called, without even the mockery of a
trial."

There was a general murmur of rage and horror from the assembled
party.

"Were I her queen's majesty," an old captain said, striking his fist
on the table, "I would declare war with Philip of Spain tomorrow,
and would send every man who could bear arms to the Netherlands to
aid the people to free themselves from their tyrants.

"Ay, and there is not a Protestant in this land but would go
willingly. To think of such cruelty makes the blood run through
my veins as if I were a lad again. Why, in Mary's time there were
two or three score burnt for their religion here in England, and we
thought that a terrible thing. But three millions of people! Why,
it is as many as we have got in all these islands! What think you
of this mates?"

"It is past understanding," another old sailor said. "It is too
awful for us to take in."

"It is said," another put in, "that the King of France has leagued
himself with Philip of Spain, and that the two have bound themselves
to exterminate the Protestants in all their dominions, and as that
includes Spain, France, Italy, the Low Countries, and most of
Germany, it stands to reason as we who are Protestants ought to
help our friends; for you may be sure, neighbours, that if Philip
succeeds in the Low Countries he will never rest until he has tried
to bring England under his rule also, and to plant the Inquisition
with its bonfires and its racks and tortures here."

An angry murmur of assent ran round the circle.

"We would fight them, you may be sure," Captain Martin said, "to
the last; but Spain is a mighty power, and all know that there are
no soldiers in Europe can stand against their pikemen. If the Low
Countries, which number as many souls as we, cannot make a stand
against them with all their advantages of rivers, and swamps, and
dykes, and fortified towns, what chance should we have who have
none of these things? What I say, comrades, is this: we have got
to fight Spain--you know the grudge Philip bears us--and it is
far better that we should go over and fight the Spaniards in the
Low Countries, side by side with the people there, and with all the
advantages that their rivers and dykes give, and with the comfort
that our wives and children are safe here at home, than wait till
Spain has crushed down the Netherlands and exterminated the people,
and is then able, with France as her ally, to turn her whole strength
against us. That's what I say."

"And you say right, Captain Martin. If I were the queen's majesty
I would send word to Philip tomorrow to call off his black crew
of monks and inquisitors. The people of the Netherlands have no
thought of resisting the rule of Spain, and would be, as they have
been before, Philip's obedient subjects, if he would but leave
their religion alone. It's the doings of the Inquisition that have
driven them to despair. And when one hears what you are telling us,
that the king has ordered the whole population to be exterminated--man,
woman, and child--no wonder they are preparing to fight
to the last; for it's better to die fighting a thousand times, than
it is to be roasted alive with your wife and children!"

"I suppose the queen and her councillors see that if she were to
meddle in this business it might cost her her kingdom, and us our
liberty," another captain said. "The Spaniards could put, they say,
seventy or eighty thousand trained soldiers in the field, while,
except the queen's own bodyguard, there is not a soldier in England;
while their navy is big enough to take the fifteen or twenty ships
the queen has, and to break them up to burn their galley fires."

"That is all true enough," Captain Martin agreed; "but our English
men have fought well on the plains of France before now, and I don't
believe we should fight worse today. We beat the French when they
were ten to one against us over and over, and what our fathers did
we can do. What you say about the navy is true also. They have a
big fleet, and we have no vessels worth speaking about, but we are
as good sailors as the Spaniards any day, and as good fighters;
and though I am not saying we could stop their fleet if it came
sailing up the Thames, I believe when they landed we should show
them that we were as good men as they. They might bring seventy
thousand soldiers, but there would be seven hundred thousand
Englishmen to meet; and if we had but sticks and stones to fight
with, they would not find that they would have an easy victory."

"Yes, that's what you think and I think, neighbour; but, you see,
we have not got the responsibility of it. The queen has to think
for us all. Though I for one would be right glad if she gave the
word for war, she may well hesitate before she takes a step that
might bring ruin, and worse than ruin, upon all her subjects.
We must own, too, that much as we feel for the people of the Low
Countries in their distress, they have not always acted wisely.
That they should take up arms against these cruel tyrants, even
if they had no chance of beating them, is what we all agree would
be right and natural; but when the mob of Antwerp broke into the
cathedral, and destroyed the altars and carvings, and tore up the
vestments, and threw down the Manes and the saints, and then did the
same in the other churches in the town and in the country round,
they behaved worse than children, and showed themselves as intolerant
and bigoted as the Spaniards themselves. They angered Philip beyond
hope of forgiveness, and gave him something like an excuse for his
cruelties towards them."

"Ay, ay, that was a bad business," Captain Martin agreed; "a very
bad business, comrade. And although these things were done by a mere
handful of the scum of the town the respectable citizens raised no
hand to stop it, although they can turn out the town guard readily
enough to put a stop to a quarrel between the members of two of
the guilds. There were plenty of men who have banded themselves
together under the name of 'the beggars,' and swore to fight for
their religion, to have put these fellows down if they had chosen.
They did not choose, and now Philip's vengeance will fall on them
all alike."

"Well, what think you of this business, Ned?" one of the captains
said, turning to the lad who was standing in a corner, remaining, as
in duty bound, silent in the presence of his elders until addressed.

"Were I a Dutchman, and living under such a tyranny," Ned said
passionately, "I would rise and fight to the death rather than see
my family martyred. If none other would rise with me, I would take
a sword and go out and slay the first Spaniard I met, and again
another, until I was killed."

"Bravo, Ned! Well spoken, lad!" three or four of the captains said;
but his father shook his head.

"Those are the words of hot youth, Ned; and were you living there
you would do as the others--keep quiet till the executioners
came to drag you away, seeing that did you, as you say you would,
use a knife against a Spaniard, it would give the butchers a pretext
for the slaughtering of hundreds of innocent people."

The lad looked down abashed at the reproof, then he said: "Well,
father, if I could not rise in arms or slay a Spaniard and then
be killed, I would leave my home and join the sea beggars under La
Marck."

"There is more reason in that," his father replied; "though La
Marck is a ferocious noble, and his followers make not very close
inquiry whether the ships they attack are Spanish or those of other
people. Still it is hard for a man to starve; and when time passes
and they can light upon no Spanish merchantmen, one cannot blame
them too sorely if they take what they require out of some other
passing ship. But there is reason at the bottom of what you say.
Did the men of the sea coast, seeing that their lives and those of
their families are now at the mercy of the Spaniards, take to their
ships with those dear to them and continually harass the Spaniards,
they could work them great harm, and it would need a large fleet to
overpower them, and that with great difficulty, seeing that they
know the coast and all the rivers and channels, and could take
refuge in shallows where the Spaniards could not follow them. At
present it seems to me the people are in such depths of despair,
that they have not heart for any such enterprise. But I believe that
some day or other the impulse will be given--some more wholesale
butchery than usual will goad them to madness, or the words of some
patriot wake them into action, and then they will rise as one man
and fight until utterly destroyed, for that they can in the end
triumph over Spain is more than any human being can hope."

"Then they must be speedy about it, friend Martin," another said.
"They say that eighty thousand have been put to death one way
or another since Alva came into his government. Another ten years
and there will be scarce an able bodied man remaining in the Low
Country. By the way, you were talking of the beggars of the sea.
Their fleet is lying at present at Dover, and it is said that the
Spanish ambassador is making grave complaints to the queen on the
part of his master against giving shelter to these men, whom he
brands as not only enemies of Spain, but as pirates and robbers of
the sea."

"I was talking with Master Sheepshanks," another mariner put in,
"whose ships I sailed for thirty years, and who is an alderman and
knows what is going on, and he told me that from what he hears it
is like enough that the queen will yield to the Spanish request. So
long as she chooses to remain friends with Spain openly, whatever
her thoughts and opinions may be, she can scarcely allow her ports
to be used by the enemies of Philip. It must go sorely against
her high spirit; but till she and her council resolve that England
shall brave the whole strength of Spain, she cannot disregard the
remonstrances of Philip. It is a bad business, neighbours, a bad
business; and the sooner it comes to an end the better. No one
doubts that we shall have to fight Spain one of these days, and
I say that it were better to fight while our brethren of the Low
Countries can fight by our side, than to wait till Spain, having
exterminated them, can turn her whole power against us."

There was a general chorus of assent, and then the subject changed
to the rates of freight to the northern ports. The grievous need for
the better marking of shallows and dangers, the rights of seamen,
wages, and other matters, were discussed until the assembly broke
up. Ned's sisters joined him in the garden.

"I hear, Constance," the boy said to the elder, "there has been no
news from our grandfather and uncles since we have been away."

"No word whatever, Ned. Our mother does not say much, but I know
she is greatly troubled and anxious about it."

"That she may well be, Constance, seeing that neither quiet conduct
nor feebleness nor aught else avail to protect any from the rage
of the Spaniards. You who stay at home here only hear general tales
of the cruelties done across the sea, but if you heard the tales
that we do at their ports they would drive you almost to madness.
Not that we hear much, for we have to keep on board our ships, and
may not land or mingle with the people; but we learn enough from
the merchants who come on board to see about the landing of their
goods to make our blood boil. They do right to prevent our landing;
for so fired is the sailors' blood by these tales of massacre, that
were they to go ashore they would, I am sure, be speedily embroiled
with the Spaniards.

"You see how angered these friends of our father are who are
Englishmen, and have no Dutch blood in their veins, and who feel
only because they are touched by these cruelties, and because
the people of the Low Country are Protestants; but with us it is
different, our mother is one of these persecuted people, and we
belong to them as much as to England. We have friends and relations
there who are in sore peril, and who may for aught we know have
already fallen victims to the cruelty of the Spaniards. Had I
my will I would join the beggars of the sea, or I would ship with
Drake or Cavendish and fight the Spaniards in the Indian seas. They
say that there Englishmen are proving themselves better men than
these haughty dons."

"It is very sad," Constance said; "but what can be done?"

"Something must be done soon," Ned replied gloomily. "Things cannot
go on as they are. So terrible is the state of things, so heavy the
taxation, that in many towns all trade is suspended. In Brussels,
I hear, Alva's own capital, the brewers have refused to brew, the
bakers to bake, the tapsters to draw liquors. The city swarms with
multitudes of men thrown out of employment. The Spanish soldiers
themselves have long been without pay, for Alva thinks of nothing
but bloodshed. Consequently they are insolent to their officers, care
little for order, and insult and rob the citizens in the streets.
Assuredly something must come of this ere long; and the people's
despair will become a mad fury. If they rise, Constance, and my
father does not say nay, I will assuredly join them and do my best.

"I do not believe that the queen will forbid her subjects to give
their aid to the people of the Netherlands; for she allowed many to
fight in France for Conde and the Protestants against the Guises,
and she will surely do the same now, since the sufferings of our
brothers in the Netherlands have touched the nation far more keenly
than did those of the Huguenots in France. I am sixteen now, and
my father says that in another year he will rate me as his second
mate, and methinks that there are not many men on board who can pull
more strongly a rope, or work more stoutly at the capstan when we
heave our anchor. Besides, as we all talk Dutch as well as English,
I should be of more use than men who know nought of the language
of the country."

Constance shook her head. "I do not think, Ned, that our father
would give you leave, at any rate not until you have grown up into
a man. He looks to having you with him, and to your succeeding
him some day in the command of the Good Venture, while he remains
quietly at home with our mother."

Ned agreed with a sigh. "I fear that you are right, Constance, and
that I shall have to stick to my trade of sailoring; but if the
people of the Netherlands rise against their tyrants, it would be
hard to be sailing backwards and forwards doing a peaceful trade
between London and Holland whilst our friends and relatives are
battling for their lives."

A fortnight later, the Good Venture filled up her hold with a cargo
for Brill, a port where the united Rhine, Waal, and Maas flow into
the sea. On the day before she sailed a proclamation was issued
by the queen forbidding any of her subjects to supply De la Marck
and his sailors with meat, bread, or beer. The passage down the
river was slow, for the winds were contrary, and it was ten days
afterwards, the 31st of March, when they entered the broad mouth
of the river and dropped anchor off the town of Brill. It was late
in the evening when they arrived. In the morning an officer came
off to demand the usual papers and documents, and it was not until
nearly two o'clock that a boat came out with the necessary permission
for the ship to warp up to the wharves and discharge her cargo.

Just as Captain Martin was giving the order for the capstan bars
to be manned, a fleet of some twenty-four ships suddenly appeared
round the seaward point of the land.

"Wait a moment, lads," the captain said, "half an hour will make no
great difference in our landing. We may as well wait and see what
is the meaning of this fleet. They do not look to me to be Spaniards,
nor seem to be a mere trading fleet. I should not wonder if they
are the beggars of the sea, who have been forced to leave Dover,
starved out from the effect of the queen's proclamation, and have
now come here to pick up any Spaniard they may meet sailing out."

The fleet dropped anchor at about half a mile from the town. Just
as they did so, a ferryman named Koppelstok, who was carrying
passengers across from the town of Maaslandluis, a town on the
opposite bank a mile and a half away, was passing close by the Good
Venture.

"What think you of yon ships?" the ferryman shouted to Captain
Martin.

"I believe they must be the beggars of the sea," the captain replied.
"An order had been issued before I left London that they were not
to be supplied with provisions, and they would therefore have had
to put out from Dover. This may well enough be them."

An exclamation of alarm broke from the passengers, for the sea
beggars were almost as much feared by their own countrymen as by the
Spaniards, the latter having spared no pains in spreading tales to
their disadvantage. As soon as the ferryman had landed his passengers
he rowed boldly out towards the fleet, having nothing of which he
could be plundered, and being secretly well disposed towards the
beggars. The first ship he hailed was that commanded by William
de Blois, Lord of Treslong, who was well known at Brill, where his
father had at one time been governor.

His brother had been executed by the Duke of Alva four years before,
and he had himself fought by the side of Count Louis of Nassau,
brother to the Prince of Orange, in the campaign that had terminated
so disastrously, and though covered with wounds had been one of
the few who had escaped from the terrible carnage that followed the
defeat at Jemmingen. After that disaster he had taken to the sea,
and was one of the most famous of the captains of De la Marck, who
had received a commission of admiral from the Prince of Orange.

"We are starving, Koppelstok; can you inform us how we can get some
food? We have picked up two Spanish traders on our way here from
Dover, but our larders were emptied before we sailed, and we found
but scant supply on board our prizes."

"There is plenty in the town of Brill," the ferryman said; "but none
that I know of elsewhere. That English brig lying there at anchor
may have a few loaves on board."

"That will not be much," William de Blois replied, "among five
hundred men, still it will be better than nothing. Will you row
and ask them if they will sell to us?"

"You had best send a strongly armed crew," Koppelstok replied.
"You know the English are well disposed towards us, and the captain
would doubtless give you all the provisions he had to spare; but to
do so would be to ruin him with the Spaniards, who might confiscate
his ship. It were best that you should make a show of force, so
that he could plead that he did but yield to necessity."

Accordingly a boat with ten men rowed to the brig, Koppelstok
accompanying it. The latter climbed on to the deck.

"We mean you no harm, captain," he said; "but the men on board these
ships are well nigh starving. The Sieur de Treslong has given me
a purse to pay for all that you can sell us, but thinking that you
might be blamed for having dealings with him by the authorities of
the town, he sent these armed men with me in order that if questioned
you could reply that they came forcibly on board."

"I will willingly let you have all the provisions I have on board,"
Captain Martin said; "though these will go but a little way among
so many, seeing that I only carry stores sufficient for consumption
on board during my voyages."

A cask of salt beef was hoisted up on deck, with a sack of biscuits,
four cheeses, and a side of bacon. Captain Martin refused any
payment.

"No," he said, "my wife comes from these parts, and my heart is with
the patriots. Will you tell Sieur de Treslong that Captain Martin
of the Good Venture is happy to do the best in his power for him
and his brave followers. That, Ned," he observed, turning to his
son as the boat rowed away, "is a stroke of good policy. The value
of the goods is small, but just at this moment they are worth much
to those to whom I have given them. In the first place, you see,
we have given aid to the good cause, in the second we have earned
the gratitude of the beggars of the sea, and I shall be much more
comfortable if I run among them in the future than I should have
done in the past. The freedom to come and go without molestation
by the sea beggars is cheaply purchased at the price of provisions
which do not cost many crowns."

On regaining the Sieur de Treslong's ship some of the provisions
were at once served out among the men, and the rest sent off among
other ships, and William de Blois took Koppelstok with him on board
the admiral's vessel.

"Well, De Blois, what do you counsel in this extremity?" De la
Marck asked.

"I advise," the Lord of Treslong replied, "that we at once send a
message to the town demanding its surrender."

"Are you joking or mad, Treslong?" the admiral asked in surprise.
"Why, we can scarce muster four hundred men, and the town is well
walled and fortified."

"There are no Spanish troops here, admiral, and if we put a bold
front on the matter we may frighten the burghers into submission.
This man says he would be willing to carry the summons. He says the
news as to who we are has already reached them by some passengers
he landed before he came out, and he doubts not they are in a rare
panic."

"Well, we can try," the admiral said, laughing; "it is clear we
must eat, even if we have to fight for it; and hungry as we all
are, we do not want to wait."

Treslong gave his ring to Koppelstok to show as his authority, and
the fisherman at once rowed ashore. Stating that the beggars of
the sea were determined to take the town, he made his way through
the crowd of inhabitants who had assembled at the landing place,
and then pushed on to the town hall, where the magistrates were
assembled. He informed them that he had been sent by the Admiral of
the Fleet and the Lord of Treslong, who was well known to them, to
demand that two commissioners should be sent out to them on behalf
of the city to confer with him. The only object of those who sent
him was to free the land from the crushing taxes, and to overthrow
the tyranny of Alva and the Spaniards. He was asked by the magistrates
what force De la Marck had at his disposal, and replied carelessly
that he could not say exactly, but that there might be five thousand
in all.

This statement completed the dismay that had been caused at the
arrival of the fleet. The magistrates agreed that it would be madness
to resist, and determined to fly at once. With much difficulty two
of them were persuaded to go out to the ship as deputies, and as
soon as they set off most of the leading burghers prepared instantly
for flight. The deputies on arriving on board were assured that no
injury was intended to the citizens or private property, but only
the overthrow of Alva's government, and two hours were given them
to decide upon the surrender of the town.

During this two hours almost all the inhabitants left the town,
taking with them their most valuable property. At the expiration of
the time the beggars landed. A few of those remaining in the city
made a faint attempt at resistance; but Treslong forced an entrance
by the southern gate, and De la Marck made a bonfire against the
northern gate and then battered it down with the end of an old
mast. Thus the patriots achieved the capture of the first town, and
commenced the long war that was to end only with the establishment
of the Free Republic of the Netherlands. No harm was done to such
of the inhabitants of the town as remained. The conquerors established
themselves in the best of the deserted houses; they then set to work
to plunder the churches. The altars and images were all destroyed;
the rich furniture, the sacred vessels, and the gorgeous vestments
were appropriated to private use. Thirteen unfortunates, among
them some priests who had been unable to effect their escape, were
seized and put to death by De la Marck.

He had received the strictest orders from the Prince of Orange to
respect the ships of all neutral nations, and to behave courteously
and kindly to all captives he might take. Neither of these injunctions
were obeyed. De la Marck was a wild and sanguinary noble; he had
taken a vow upon hearing of the death of his relative, the Prince
of Egmont, who had been executed by Alva, that he would neither
cut his hair nor his beard until that murder should be revenged,
and had sworn to wreak upon Alva and upon Popery the deep vengeance
that the nobles and peoples of the Netherlands owed them. This vow
he kept to the letter, and his ferocious conduct to all priests
and Spaniards who fell into his hands deeply sullied the cause for
which he fought.

Upon the day after the capture of the city, the Good Venture went
into the port. The inhabitants, as soon as they learned that the
beggars of the sea respected the life and property of the citizens,
returned in large numbers, and trade was soon re-established.
Having taken the place, and secured the plunder of the churches
and monasteries, De la Marck would have sailed away upon other
excursions had not the Sieur de Treslong pointed out to him the
importance of Brill to the cause, and persuaded him to hold the
place until he heard from the Prince of Orange.



CHAPTER II

TERRIBLE NEWS


A few days after Brill had been so boldly captured, Count Bossu
advanced from Utrecht against it. The sea beggars, confident as
they were as to their power of meeting the Spaniards on the seas,
knew that on dry land they were no match for the well trained
pikemen; they therefore kept within the walls. A carpenter, however,
belonging to the town, who had long been a secret partisan of the
Prince of Orange, seized an axe, dashed into the water, and swam
to the sluice and burst open the gates with a few sturdy blows.
The sea poured in and speedily covered the land on the north side
of the city.

The Spaniards advanced along the dyke to the southern gate, but
the sea beggars had hastily moved most of the cannon on the wall
to that point, and received the Spaniards with so hot a fire that
they hesitated. In the meantime the Lord of Treslong and another
officer had filled two boats with men and rowed out to the ships
that had brought the enemy, cut some adrift, and set others on fire.
The Spaniards at the southern gate lost heart; they were exposed
to a hot fire, which they were unable to return. On one side they
saw the water rapidly rising above the level of the dyke on which
they stood, on the other they perceived their only means of retreat
threatened. They turned, and in desperate haste retreated along
the causeway now under water. In their haste many slipped off the
road and were drowned, others fell and were smothered in the water,
and the rest succeeded in reaching such of the vessels as were
still untouched, and with all speed returned to Utrecht.

From the highest point of the masts to which they could climb,
Captain Martin, Ned, and the crew watched the struggle. Ned had
begged his father to let him go along the walls to the south gate
to see the conflict, but Captain Martin refused.

"We know not what the upshot of the business may be," he said. "If
the Spaniards, which is likely enough, take the place, they will
slaughter all they meet, and will not trouble themselves with
questioning anyone whether he is a combatant or a spectator. Besides,
when they have once taken the town, they will question all here,
and it would be well that I should be able to say that not only
did we hold ourselves neutral in the affair, but that none of my
equipage had set foot on shore today. Lastly, it is my purpose and
hope if the Spaniards capture the place, to take advantage of the
fact that all will be absorbed in the work of plunder, and to slip
my hawsers and make off. Wind and tide are both favourable, and
doubtless the crews of their ships will, for the most part, land
to take part in the sack as soon as the town is taken."

However, as it turned out, there was no need of these precautions;
the beggars were victorious and the Spaniards in full flight,
and great was the rejoicing in Brill at this check which they had
inflicted upon their oppressors. Bossu, retiring from Brill, took
his way towards Rotterdam. He found its gates closed; the authorities
refused to submit to his demands or to admit a garrison. They
declared they were perfectly loyal, and needed no body of Spanish
troops to keep them in order. Bossu requested permission for his
troops to pass through the city without halting. This was granted
by the magistrates on condition that only a corporal's company should
be admitted at a time. Bossu signed an agreement to this effect.
But throughout the whole trouble the Spaniards never once respected
the conditions they had made and sworn to with the inhabitants,
and no sooner were the gates opened than the whole force rushed in,
and the usual work of slaughter, atrocity, and plunder commenced.
Within a few minutes four hundred citizens were murdered, and
countless outrages and cruelties perpetrated upon the inhabitants.

Captain Martin completed the discharging of his cargo two days after
Bossu made his ineffectual attempt upon the town. A messenger had
arrived that morning from Flushing, with news that as soon as the
capture of Brill had become known in that seaport, the Seigneur de
Herpt had excited the burghers to drive the small Spanish garrison
from the town.

Scarcely had they done so when a large reinforcement of the enemy
arrived before the walls, having been despatched there by Alva, to
complete the fortress that had been commenced to secure the possession
of this important port at the mouth of the Western Scheldt. Herpt
persuaded the burghers that it was too late to draw back now. They
had done enough to draw the vengeance of the Spaniards upon them;
their only hope now was to resist to the last. A half witted man
in the crowd offered, if any one would give him a pot of beer, to
ascend the ramparts and fire two pieces of artillery at the Spanish
ships.

The offer was accepted, and the man ran up to the ramparts and
discharged the guns. A sudden panic seized the Spaniards, and the
whole fleet sailed away at once in the direction of Middelburg.

The governor of the island next day arrived at Flushing and was
at once admitted. He called the citizens together to the market
place and there addressed them, beseeching them to return to their
allegiance, assuring them that if they did so the king, who was the
best natured prince in all Christendom, would forget and forgive
their offenses. The effect of the governor's oratory was sadly marred
by the interruptions of De Herpt and his adherents, who reminded
the people of the fate that had befallen other towns that had
revolted, and scoffed at such good nature as the king displayed in
the scores of executions daily taking place throughout the country.

The governor, finding his efforts unavailing, had left the town,
and as soon as he did so the messenger was sent off to Brill, saying
that the inhabitants of Flushing were willing to provide arms and
ammunition if they would send them men experienced in partisan
warfare. Two hundred of the beggars, under the command of Treslong,
accordingly started the next day for Flushing. The Good Venture
threw off her hawsers from the wharf at about the same time that
these were starting, and for some time kept company with them.

"Did one ever see such a wild crew?" Captain Martin said, shaking
his head. "Never, I believe, did such a party set out upon a warlike
adventure."

The appearance of Treslong's followers was indeed extraordinary.
Every man was attired in the gorgeous vestments of the plundered
churches--in gold and embroidered cassocks, glittering robes, or
the sombre cowls and garments of Capuchin friars. As they sailed
along their wild sea songs rose in the air, mingled with shouts
for vengeance on the Spaniards and the Papacy.

"One would not think that this ribald crew could fight," Captain
Martin went on; "but there is no doubt they will do so. They must
not be blamed altogether; they are half maddened by the miseries
and cruelties endured by their friends and relations at the hands
of the Spaniards. I knew that when at last the people rose the
combat would be a terrible one, and that they would answer cruelty
by cruelty, blood by blood. The Prince of Orange, as all men know,
is one of the most clement and gentle of rulers. All his ordinances
enjoin gentle treatment of prisoners, and he has promised every
one over and over again complete toleration in the exercise of
religion; but though he may forgive and forget, the people will
not.

"It is the Catholic church that has been their oppressor. In its
name tens of thousands have been murdered, and I fear that the
slaughter of those priests at Brill is but the first of a series
of bloody reprisals that will take place wherever the people get
the upper hand."

A fresh instance of this was shown a few hours after the Good
Venture put into Flushing. A ship arrived in port, bringing with
it Pacheco, the Duke of Alva's chief engineer, an architect of
the highest reputation. He had been despatched by the duke to take
charge of the new works that the soldiers had been sent to execute,
and ignorant of what had taken place he landed at the port. He was
at once seized by the mob. An officer, willing to save his life,
took him from their hands and conducted him to the prison; but the
populace were clamorous for his blood, and Treslong was willing
enough to satisfy them and to avenge upon Alva's favourite officer
the murder of his brother by Alva's orders. The unfortunate officer
was therefore condemned to be hung, and the sentence was carried
into effect the same day.

A few days later an officer named Zeraerts arrived at Flushing with
a commission from the Prince of Orange as Governor of the Island
of Walcheren. He was attended by a small body of French infantry,
and the force under his command speedily increased; for as soon
as it was known in England that Brill and Flushing had thrown off
the authority of the Spaniards, volunteers from England began to
arrive in considerable numbers to aid their fellow Protestants in
the struggle before them.

The Good Venture had stayed only a few hours in Flushing. In
the present condition of affairs there was no chance of obtaining
a cargo there, and Captain Martin therefore thought it better not
to waste time, but to proceed at once to England in order to learn
the intention of the merchants for whom he generally worked as to
what could be done under the changed state of circumstances that
had arisen.

Every day brought news of the extension of the rising. The Spanish
troops lay for the most part in Flanders, and effectually deterred
the citizens of the Flemish towns from revolting; but throughout
Holland, Zeeland, and Friesland the flame of revolt spread rapidly.
The news that Brill and Flushing had thrown off the Spanish yoke
fired every heart. It was the signal for which all had been so long
waiting. They knew how desperately Spain would strive to regain her
grip upon the Netherlands, how terrible would be her vengeance if
she conquered; but all felt that it was better to die sword in hand
than to be murdered piecemeal. And accordingly town after town rose,
expelled the authorities appointed by Spain and the small Spanish
garrisons, and in three months after the rising of Brill the greater
part of the maritime provinces were free. Some towns, however, still
remained faithful to Spain. Prominent among these was Amsterdam, a
great trading city, which feared the ruin that opposition to Alva
might bring upon it, more than the shame of standing aloof when
their fellow countrymen were fighting for freedom and the right to
worship God in their own way.

On the 23rd of May, Louis of Nassau, with a body of troops from
France, captured the important town of Mons by surprise, but was
at once beleaguered there by a Spanish army. In June the States of
Holland assembled at Dort and formally renounced the authority of
the Duke of Alva, and declared the Prince of Orange, the royally
appointed stadtholder, the only legal representative of the Spanish
crown in their country; and in reply to an eloquent address of
Sainte Aldegonde, the prince's representative, voted a considerable
sum of money for the payment of the army the prince was raising
in Germany. On the 19th of June a serious misfortune befell the
patriot cause. A reinforcement of Huguenot troops, on the way to
succour the garrison of Mons, were met and cut to pieces by the
Spaniards, and Count Louis, who had been led by the French King to
expect ample succour and assistance from him, was left to his fate.

On the 7th of July the Prince of Orange crossed the Rhine with
14,000 foot and 7,000 horse. He advanced but a short distance when
the troops mutinied in consequence of their pay being in arrears,
and he was detained four weeks until the cities of Holland guaranteed
their payment for three months. A few cities opened their gates
to him; but they were for the most part unimportant places, and
Mechlin was the only large town that admitted his troops. Still
he pressed on toward Mons, expecting daily to be joined by 12,000
French infantry and 3,000 cavalry under the command of Admiral
Coligny.

The prince, who seldom permitted himself to be sanguine, believed
that the goal of his hopes was reached, and that he should now be
able to drive the Spaniards from the Netherlands. But as he was
marching forward he received tidings that showed him that all his
plans were shattered, and that the prospects were darker than they
had ever before been. While the King of France had throughout been
encouraging the revolted Netherlanders, and had authorized his
minister to march with an army to their assistance, he was preparing
for a deed that would be the blackest in history, were it not
that its horrors are less appalling than those inflicted upon the
captured cities of the Netherlands by Alva. On St. Bartholomew's Eve
there was a general massacre of the Protestants in Paris, followed
by similar massacres throughout France, the number of victims being
variously estimated at from twenty-five to a hundred thousand.

Protestant Europe was filled with horror at this terrible crime.
Philip of Spain was filled with equal delight. Not only was the
danger that seemed to threaten him in the Netherlands at once and
forever, as he believed, at an end, but he saw in this destruction
of the Protestants of France a great step in the direction he had
so much at heart--the entire extirpation of heretics throughout
Europe. He wrote letters of the warmest congratulation to the King
of France, with whom he had formerly been at enmity; while the
Pope, accompanied by his cardinals, went to the church of St. Mark
to render thanks to God for the grace thus singularly vouchsafed
to the Holy See and to all Christendom. To the Prince of Orange
the news came as a thunderclap. His troops wholly lost heart, and
refused to keep the field. The prince himself almost lost his life
at the hands of the mutineers, and at last, crossing the Rhine, he
disbanded his army and went almost alone to Holland to share the
fate of the provinces that adhered to him. He went there expecting
and prepared to die.

"There I will make my sepulcher," was his expression in the letter
in which he announced his intention to his brother. Count Louis
of Nassau had now nothing left before him but to surrender. His
soldiers, almost entirely French, refused any longer to resist,
now that the king had changed his intentions, and the city was
surrendered, the garrison being allowed to retire with their weapons.

The terms of the capitulation were so far respected; but instead
of the terms respecting the townspeople being adhered to, a council
of blood was set up, and for many months from ten to twenty of the
inhabitants were hanged, burned, or beheaded every day. The news
of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, of the treachery of the King
of France towards the inhabitants of the Netherlands, and of the
horrible cruelties perpetrated upon the inhabitants of Mechlin and
other towns that had opened their gates to the Prince of Orange,
excited the most intense indignation among the people of England.

The queen put on mourning, but was no more inclined than before
to render any really efficient aid to the Netherlands. She allowed
volunteers to pass over, furnished some meagre sums of money, but
held aloof from any open participation in the war; for if before,
when France was supposed to be favourable to the Netherlands and
hostile to Spain, she felt unequal to a war with the latter power,
still less could she hope to cope with Spain when the deed of St.
Bartholomew had reunited the two Catholic monarchs.

Captain Martin, married to a native of the Netherlands, and mixing
constantly with the people in his trade, was naturally ardent, even
beyond the majority of his countrymen, in their cause, and over
and over again declared that were he sailing by when a sea fight
was going on between the Dutch and the Spaniards, he would pull
down his English flag, hoist that of Holland, and join in the fray;
and Ned, as was to be expected, shared to the utmost his father's
feelings on the subject. Early in September the Good Venture started
with a cargo for Amsterdam, a city that almost alone in Holland
adhered to the Spanish cause.

Sophie Martin was pleased when she heard that this was the ship's
destination; for she was very anxious as to the safety of her
father and brothers, from whom she had not heard for a long time.
Postage was dear and mails irregular. Few letters were written or
received by people in England, still more seldom letters sent across
the sea. There would, therefore, under the ordinary circumstances,
have been no cause whatever for uneasiness had years elapsed without
news coming from Amsterdam; and, indeed, during her whole married
life Sophie Martin had only received one or two letters by post from
her former home, although many communications had been brought by
friends of her husband's trading there. But as many weeks seldom
passed without the Good Venture herself going into Amsterdam, for
that town was one of the great trading centres of Holland, there
was small occasion for letters to pass. It happened, however, that
from one cause or another, eighteen months had passed since Captain
Martin's business had taken him to that port, and no letter had
come either by post or hand during that time.

None who had friends in the Netherlands could feel assured that
these must, either from their station or qualities, be safe from
the storm that was sweeping over the country. The poor equally
with the rich, the artisan equally with the noble, was liable to
become a victim of Alva's Council of Blood. The net was drawn so
as to catch all classes and conditions; and although it was upon
the Protestants that his fury chiefly fell, the Catholics suffered
too, for pretexts were always at hand upon which these could also
be condemned.

The Netherlands swarmed with spies and informers, and a single
unguarded expression of opinion was sufficient to send a man to
the block. And, indeed, in a vast number of cases, private animosity
was the cause of the denunciation; for any accusation could be
safely made where there was no trial, and the victims were often
in complete ignorance as to the nature of the supposed crime for
which they were seized and dragged away to execution.

When the vessel sailed Sophie Martin gave her husband a letter
to her father and brothers, begging them to follow the example of
thousands of their countrymen, and to leave the land where life and
property were no longer safe, and to come over to London. They would
have no difficulty in procuring work there, and could establish
themselves in business and do as well as they had been doing at
home.

They had, she knew, money laid by in London; for after the troubles
began her father had sold off the houses and other property he had
purchased with his savings, and had transmitted the result to England
by her husband, who had intrusted it for investment to a leading
citizen with whom he did business. As this represented not only
her father's accumulations but those of her brothers who worked
as partners with him, it amounted to a sum that in those days was
regarded as considerable.

"I feel anxious, Ned," Captain Martin said as he sailed up the Zuider
Zee towards the city, "as to what has befallen your grandfather and
uncles. I have always made the best of the matter to your mother,
but I cannot conceal from myself that harm may have befallen them.
It is strange that no message has come to us through any of our
friends trading with the town, for your uncles know many of my
comrades and can see their names in the shipping lists when they
arrive. They would have known how anxious your mother would be
at the news of the devil's work that is going on here, and, being
always tender and thoughtful for her, would surely have sent her
news of them from time to time as they had a chance. I sorely fear
that something must have happened. Your uncles are prudent men,
going about their work and interfering with none; but they are men,
too, who speak their mind, and would not, like many, make a false
show of affection when they feel none.

"Well, well; we shall soon know. As soon as the ship is moored and
my papers are declared in order, you and I will go over to Vordwyk
and see how they are faring. I think not that they will follow
your mother's advice and sail over with us; for it was but the last
time I saw them that they spoke bitterly against the emigrants,
and said that every man who could bear arms should, however great
his danger, wait and bide the time until there was a chance to strike
for his religion and country. They are sturdy men these Dutchmen,
and not readily turned from an opinion they have taken up; and
although I shall do my best to back up your mother's letter by my
arguments, I have but small hope that I shall prevail with them."

In the evening they were moored alongside the quays of Amsterdam,
at that time one of the busiest cities in Europe. Its trade was
great, the wealth of its citizens immense. It contained a large number
of monasteries, its authorities were all Catholics and devoted to
the cause of Spain, and although there were a great many well wishers
to the cause of freedom within its walls, these were powerless to
take action, and the movement which, after the capture of Brill
and Flushing, had caused almost all the towns of Holland to declare
for the Prince of Orange, found no echo in Amsterdam. The vessel
anchored outside the port, and the next morning after their papers
were examined and found in order she ranged up alongside the crowded
tiers of shipping. Captain Martin went on shore with Ned, visited
the merchants to whom his cargo was consigned, and told them that
he should begin to unload the next day.

He then started with Ned to walk to Vordwyk, which lay two miles
away. On reaching the village they stopped suddenly. The roof of
the house they had so often visited was gone, its walls blackened
by fire. After the first exclamation of surprise and regret they
walked forward until opposite the ruin, and stood gazing at it.
Then Captain Martin stepped up to a villager, who was standing at
the door of his shop, and asked him when did this happen, what had
become of the old man Plomaert?

"You are his son-in-law, are you not?" the man asked in reply. "I
have seen you here at various times." Captain Martin nodded. The
man looked round cautiously to see that none were within sound of
his voice.

"You have not heard, then?" he said. "It was a terrible business,
though we are growing used to it now. One day, it is some eight
months since, a party of soldiers came from Amsterdam and hauled
away my neighbour Plomaert and his three sons. They were denounced
as having attended the field preaching a year ago, and you know
what that means."

"And the villains murdered them?" Captain Martin asked in horror
stricken tones.

The man nodded. "They were hung together next day, together with
Gertrude, the wife of the eldest brother. Johan was, as you know,
unmarried. Elizabeth, the wife of Louis, lay ill at the time, or
doubtless she would have fared the same as the rest. She has gone
with her two daughters to Haarlem, where her family live. All their
property was, of course, seized and confiscated, and the house burnt
down; for, as you know, they all lived together. Now, my friend,
I will leave you. I dare not ask you in for I know not who may be
watching us, and to entertain even the brother-in-law of men who
have been sent to the gallows might well cost a man his life in
our days."

Then Captain Martin's grief and passion found vent in words, and
he roundly cursed the Spaniards and their works, regardless of
who might hear him; then he entered the garden, visited the summer
house where he had so often talked with the old man and his sons,
and then sat down and gave full vent to his grief. Ned felt almost
stunned by the news; being so often away at sea he had never given
the fact that so long a time had elapsed since his mother had
received a letter from her family much thought. It had, indeed,
been mentioned before him; but, knowing the disturbed state of the
country, it had seemed to him natural enough that his uncles should
have had much to think of and trouble them, and might well have
no time for writing letters. His father's words the evening before
had for the first time excited a feeling of real uneasiness about
them, and the shock caused by the sight of the ruined house, and
the news that his grandfather, his three uncles, and one of his
aunts, had been murdered by the Spaniards, completely overwhelmed
him.

"Let us be going, Ned," his father said at last; "there is nothing
for us to do here, let us get back to our ship. I am a peaceable
man, Ned, but I feel now as if I could join the beggars of the
sea, and go with them in slaying every Spaniard who fell into their
hands. This will be terrible news for your mother, lad."

"It will indeed," Ned replied. "Oh, father, I wish you would let me
stay here and join the prince's bands and fight for their freedom.
There were English volunteers coming out to Brill and Flushing when
we sailed from the Thames, and if they come to fight for Holland who
have no tie in blood, why should not I who am Dutch by my mother's
side and whose relations have been murdered?"

"We will talk of it later on, Ned," his father said. "You are young
yet for such rough work as this, and this is no common war. There
is no quarter given here, it is a fight to the death. The Spaniards
slaughter the Protestants like wild beasts, and like wild beasts
they will defend themselves. But if this war goes on till you have
gained your full strength and sinew I will not say you nay. As you
say, our people at home are ready to embark in a war for the cause
of liberty and religion, did the queen but give the word; and when
others, fired solely by horror at the Spaniards' cruelty, are ready
to come over here and throw in their lot with them, it seems to
me that it will be but right that you, who are half Dutch and have
had relatives murdered by these fiends, should come over and side
with the oppressed. If there is fighting at sea, it may be that I
myself will take part with them, and place the Good Venture at the
service of the Prince of Orange. But of that we will talk later
on, as also about yourself. When you are eighteen you will still
be full young for such work."

As they talked they were walking fast towards Amsterdam. "We will
go straight on board, Ned; and I will not put my foot ashore again
before we sail. I do not think that I could trust myself to meet
a Spaniard now, but should draw my knife and rush upon him. I have
known that these things happened, we have heard of these daily
butcherings, but it has not come home to me as now, when our own
friends are the victims."

Entering the gate of the town they made their way straight down
to the port, and were soon on board the Good Venture where Captain
Martin retired to his cabin. Ned felt too restless and excited to
go down at present; but he told the crew what had happened, and
the exclamations of anger among the honest sailors were loud and
deep. Most of them had sailed with Captain Martin ever since he had
commanded the Good Venture, and had seen the Plomaerts when they
had come on board whenever the vessel put in at Amsterdam. The fact
that there was nothing to do, and no steps to take to revenge the
murders, angered them all the more.

"I would we had twenty ships like our own, Master Ned," one of
them said. "That would give us four hundred men, and with those we
could go ashore and hang the magistrates and the councillors and
all who had a hand in this foul business, and set their public
buildings in a flame, and then fight our way back again to the
port."

"I am afraid four hundred men would not be able to do it here as
they did at Brill. There was no Spanish garrison there, and here
they have a regiment; and though the Spaniards seem to have the
hearts of devils rather than men, they can fight."

"Well, we would take our chance," the sailor replied. "If there was
four hundred of us, and the captain gave the word, we would show
them what English sailors could do, mates--wouldn't we?"

"Aye, that would we;" the others growled in a chorus.

The next morning the work of unloading began. The sailors worked
hard; for, as one of them said, "This place seems to smell of
blood--let's be out of it, mates, as soon as we can." At four in the
afternoon a lad of about Ned's age came on board. He was the son
of the merchant to whom the larger part of the cargo of the Good
Venture was consigned.

"I have a letter that my father charged me to give into your hands,
Captain Martin. He said that the matter was urgent, and begged me
to give it you in your cabin. He also told me to ask when you think
your hold will be empty, as he has goods for you for the return
voyage."

"We shall be well nigh empty by tomorrow night," Captain Martin
said, as he led the way to his cabin in the poop. "The men have
been working faster than usual, for it generally takes us three
days to unload."

"I do not think my father cared about that," the lad said when he
entered the cabin; "it was but an excuse for my coming down here,
and he gave me the message before all the other clerks. But methinks
that the letter is the real object of my coming."

Captain Martin opened the letter. Thanks to his preparation for
taking his place in his father's business, he had learnt to read
and write; accomplishments by no means general among sea captains
of the time.

"It is important, indeed," he said, as he glanced through the
letter. It ran as follows: "Captain Martin,--A friend of mine,
who is one of the council here, has just told me that at the meeting
this afternoon a denunciation was laid against you for having
publicly, in the street of Vordwyk, cursed and abused his Majesty
the King of Spain, the Duke of Alva, the Spaniards, and the Catholic
religion. Some were of opinion that you should at once be arrested
on board your ship, but others thought that it were better to wait
and seize you the first time you came on shore, as it might cause
trouble were you taken from under the protection of the British
flag. On shore, they urged, no question could arise, especially
as many English have now, although the two nations are at peace,
openly taken service under the Prince of Orange.

"I have sent to tell you this, though at no small risk to myself
were it discovered that I had done so; but as we have had dealings
for many years together, I think it right to warn you. I may say
that the counsel of those who were for waiting prevailed; but if,
after a day or two, they find that you do not come ashore, I fear
they will not hesitate to arrest you on your own vessel. Please
to destroy this letter at once after you have read it, and act as
seems best to you under the circumstances. I send this to you by
my son's hand, for there are spies everywhere, and in these days
one can trust no one."

"I am much obliged to you, young sir, for bringing me this letter.
Will you thank your father from me, and say that I feel deeply
indebted to him, and will think over how I can best escape from
this strait. Give him the message from me before others, that I
shall be empty and ready to receive goods by noon on the day after
tomorrow."

When the lad had left, Captain Martin called in Ned and William
Peters, his first mate, and laid the case before them.

"It is an awkward business, Captain Martin," Peters said. "You
sha'n't be arrested on board the Good Venture, as long as there is
a man on board can wield a cutlass; but I don't know whether that
would help you in the long run.

"Not at all, Peters. We might beat off the first party that came
to take me, but it would not be long before they brought up a force
against which we should stand no chance whatever. No, it is not by
fighting that there is any chance of escape. It is evident by this
that I am safe for tomorrow; they will wait at least a day to see
if I go ashore, which indeed they will make certain I shall do
sooner or later. As far as my own safety is concerned, and that
of Ned here, who, as he was with me, is doubtless included in the
denunciation, it is easy enough. We have only to get into the boat
after dark, to muffle the oars, and to row for Haarlem, which lies
but ten miles away, and has declared for the Prince of Orange. But
I do not like to leave the ship, for if they found us gone they
might seize and declare it confiscated. And although, when we got
back to England, we might lay a complaint before the queen, there
would be no chance of our getting the ship or her value from the
Spaniards. There are so many causes of complaint between the two
nations, that the seizure of a brig would make no difference one
way or another. The question is, could we get her out?"

"It would be no easy matter," Peters said, shaking his head. "That
French ship that came in this afternoon has taken up a berth outside
us, and there would be no getting out until she moved out of the
way. If she were not there it might be tried, though it would be
difficult to do so without attracting attention. As for the Spanish
war vessels, of which there are four in the port, I should not fear
them if we once got our sails up, for the Venture can sail faster
than these lubberly Spaniards; but they would send rowboats after
us, and unless the wind was strong these would speedily overhaul
us."

"Well, I must think it over," Captain Martin said. "I should be
sorry indeed to lose my ship, which would be well nigh ruin to me,
but if there is no other way we must make for Haarlem by boat."

The next day the work of unloading continued. In the afternoon the
captain of the French ship lying outside them came on board. He had
been in the habit of trading with Holland, and addressed Captain
Martin in Dutch.

"Are you likely to be lying here long?" he asked. "I want to get
my vessel alongside the wharf as soon as I can, for it is slow work
unloading into these lighters. There are one or two ships going
out in the morning, but I would rather have got in somewhere about
this point if I could, for the warehouses of Mynheer Strous, to
whom my goods are consigned, lie just opposite."

"Will you come down into my cabin and have a glass of wine with
me," Captain Martin said, "and then we can talk it over?"

Captain Martin discovered, without much trouble, that the French
captain was a Huguenot, and that his sympathies were all with the
people of the Netherlands.

"Now," he said, "I can speak freely to you. I was ashore the day
before yesterday, and learned that my wife's father, her three
brothers, and one of their wives have been murdered by the Spaniards.
Well, you can understand that in my grief and rage I cursed the
Spaniards and their doings. I have learnt that some spy has denounced
me, and that they are only waiting for me to set foot on shore to
arrest me, and you know what will come after that; for at present,
owing to the volunteers that have come over to Brill and Flushing,
the Spaniards are furious against the English. They would rather
take me on shore than on board, but if they find that I do not
land they will certainly come on board for me. They believe that I
shall not be unloaded until noon tomorrow, and doubtlessly expect
that as soon as the cargo is out I shall land to arrange for a
freight to England. Therefore, until tomorrow afternoon I am safe,
but no longer. Now, I am thinking of trying to get out quietly
tonight; but to do so it is necessary that you should shift your
berth a ship's length one way or the other. Will you do this for
me?"

"Certainly I will, with pleasure," the captain replied. "I will
give orders at once."

"No, that will never do," Captain Martin said. "They are all the
more easy about me because they know that as long as your ship is
there I cannot get out, but if they saw you shifting your berth it
would strike them at once that I might be intending to slip away.
You must wait until it gets perfectly dark, and then throw off your
warps and slacken out your cable as silently as possible, and let
her drop down so as to leave me an easy passage. As soon as it is
dark I will grease all my blocks, and when everything is quiet try
to get her out. What wind there is is from the southwest, which
will take us well down the Zuider Zee."

"I hope you may succeed," the French captain said. "Once under
sail you would be safe from their warships, for you would be two
or three miles away before they could manage to get up their sails.
The danger lies in their rowboats and galleys."

"Well, well, we must risk it," Captain Martin said. "I shall have
a boat alongside, and if I find the case is desperate we will take
to it and row to the shore, and make our way to Haarlem, where we
should be safe."

Ned, who had been keeping a sharp lookout all day, observed that
two Spanish officials had taken up their station on the wharf, not
far from the ship. They appeared to have nothing to do, and to be
indifferent to what was going on. He told his father that he thought
that they were watching. Presently the merchant himself came down
to the wharf. He did not come on board, but spoke to Captain Martin
as he stood on the deck of the vessel, so that all around could
hear his words.

"How are you getting on, Captain Martin?" he asked in Dutch.

"Fairly well," Captain Martin replied. "I think if we push on we
shall have her empty by noon tomorrow."

"I have a cargo to go back with you, you know," the merchant said,
"and I shall want to see you at the office, if you will step round
tomorrow after you have cleared."

"All right, Mynheer, you may expect me about two o'clock.

"But you won't see me," he added to himself.

The merchant waved his hand and walked away, and a few minutes
later the two officials also strolled off.

"That has thrown dust into their eyes," Captain Martin said, "and
has made it safe for Strous. He will pretend to be as surprised as
any one when he hears I have gone."



CHAPTER III

A FIGHT WITH THE SPANIARDS


As soon as it became dark, and the wharves were deserted, Captain
Martin sent two sailors aloft with grease pots, with orders that
every block was to be carefully greased to ensure its running
without noise. A boat which rowed six oars was lowered noiselessly
into the water, and flannel was bound round the oars. The men,
who had been aware of the danger that threatened their captain,
sharpened the pikes and axes, and declared to each other that
whether the captain ordered it or not no Spaniards should set foot
on board as long as one of them stood alive on the decks. The cook
filled a great boiler with water and lighted a fire under it, and
the carpenter heated a caldron of pitch without orders.

"What are you doing, Thompson?" the captain asked, noticing the
glow of the fire as he came out of his cabin.

The sailor came aft before he replied, "I am just cooking up a
little hot sauce for the dons, captain. We don't ask them to come,
you know; but if they do, it's only right that we should entertain
them."

"I hope there will be no fighting, lad," the captain said.

"Well, your honour, that ain't exactly the wish of me and my mates.
After what we have been hearing of, we feel as we sha'n't be happy
until we have had a brush with them 'ere Spaniards. And as to
fighting, your honour; from what we have heard, Captain Hawkins and
others out in the Indian seas have been ashowing them that though
they may swagger on land they ain't no match for an Englishman on
the sea. Anyhow, your honour, we ain't going to stand by and see
you and Master Ned carried away by these 'ere butchering Spaniards.

"We have all made up our minds that what happens to you happens to
all of us. We have sailed together in this ship the Good Venture
for the last seventeen or eighteen years, and we means to swim
or sink together. No disrespect to you, captain; but that is the
fixed intention of all of us. It would be a nice thing for us to
sail back to the port of London and say as we stood by and saw our
captain and his son carried off to be hung or burnt or what not
by the Spaniards, and then sailed home to tell the tale. We don't
mean no disrespect, captain, I says again; but in this 'ere business
we take our orders from Mr. Peters, seeing that you being consarned
as it were in the affair ain't to be considered as having, so to
speak, a right judgment upon it."

"Well, well, we shall see if there is a chance of making a
successful fight," Captain Martin said, unable to resist a smile
at the sailor's way of putting it.

The night was dark, and the two or three oil lamps that hung suspended
from some of the houses facing the port threw no ray of light which
extended to the shipping. It was difficult to make out against the
sky the outline of the masts of the French vessel lying some twenty
yards away; but presently Ned's attention was called towards her
by a slight splash of her cable. Then he heard the low rumble as
the ropes ran out through the hawse holes, and saw that the masts
were slowly moving. In two or three minutes they had disappeared
from his sight. He went into the cabin.

"The Frenchman has gone, father; and so noiselessly that I could
hardly hear her. If we can get out as quietly there is little fear
of our being noticed."

"We cannot be as quiet as that, Ned. She has only to slack away
her cables and drift with the tide that turned half an hour ago,
we have got to tow out and set sail. However, the night is dark,
the wind is off shore, and everything is in our favour. Do you see
if there be anyone about on the decks of the ships above and below
us."

Ned went first on to the stern, and then to the bow. He could
hear the voices of men talking and singing in the forecastles, but
could hear no movement on the deck of either ship. He went down
and reported to his father.

"Then, I think, we may as well start at once, Ned. There are
still sounds and noises in the town, and any noise we may make is
therefore less likely to be noticed than if we waited until everything
was perfectly still."

The sailors were all ready. All were barefooted so as to move as
noiselessly as possible. The four small cannon that the Good Venture
carried had been loaded to the muzzle with bullets and pieces of
iron. A search had been made below and several heavy lumps of stone,
a part of the ballast carried on some former occasion, brought
up and placed at intervals along the bulwarks. The pikes had been
fastened by a loose lashing to the mast, and the axes leaned in
readiness against the cannon.

"Now, Peters," Captain Martin said, "let the boat be manned. Do you
send a man ashore to cast off the hawser at the bow. Let him take
a line ashore with him so as to ease the hawser off, and not let
the end fall in the water. The moment he has done that let him
come to the stern and get on board there, and do you and he get
the plank on board as noiselessly as you can. As soon as the bow
hawser is on board I will give the men in the boat the word to
row. Ned will be on board her, and see that they row in the right
direction. The moment you have got the plank in get out your knife
and cut the stern warp half through, and directly her head is out,
and you feel the strain, sever it. The stern is so close to the
wharf that the end will not be able to drop down into the water
and make a splash."

Ned's orders were that as soon as the vessel's head pointed seaward
he was to steer rather to the right, so as to prevent the stream,
which, however, ran but feebly, from carrying her down on the bows
of the French ship. Once beyond the latter he was to go straight
out, steering by the lights on shore. The men were enjoined to drop
their oars as quietly as possible into the water at each stroke,
and to row deeply, as having the vessel in tow they would churn up
the water unless they did so. The boat rowed off a stroke or two,
and then, as the rope tightened, the men sat quiet until Captain
Martin was heard to give the order to row in a low tone; then they
bent to their oars. Peters had chosen the six best rowers on board
the ship for the purpose, and so quietly did they dip their oars
in the water that Captain Martin could scarce hear the sound, and
only knew by looking over the other side, and seeing that the shore
was receding, that the ship was in motion. Two minutes later Peters
came forward.

"I have cut the warp, Captain Martin, and she is moving out. I have
left Watson at the helm." Scarce a word was spoken for the next
five minutes. It was only by looking at the light ashore that they
could judge the progress they were making. Every one breathed more
freely now the first danger was over. They had got out from their
berth without attracting the slightest notice, either from the
shore or from the ships lying next to them. Their next danger was
from the ships lying at anchor off the port waiting their turn to
come in. Were they to run against one of these, the sound of the
collision, and perhaps the breaking of spars and the shouts of the
crew, would certainly excite attention from the sentries on shore.

So far the boat had been rowing but a short distance in advance of
the end of the bowsprit, but Captain Martin now made his way out
to the end of that spar, and told Ned that he was going to give
him a good deal more rope in order that he might keep well ahead,
and that he was to keep a sharp lookout for craft at anchor. Another
quarter of an hour passed, and Captain Martin thought that they
must now be beyond the line of the outer shipping. They felt the
wind more now that they were getting beyond the shelter of the
town, and its effect upon the hull and spars made the work lighter
for those in the boat ahead.

"Now, Peters, I think that we can safely spread the foresail and
call them in from the boat."

The sail had been already loosed and was now let fall; it bellied
out at once.

"Haul in the sheets, lads," Captain Martin said, and going forward
gave a low whistle. A minute later the boat was alongside. "Let
her drop astern, Peters," the captain said, as Ned and the rowers
clambered on board; "we may want her presently. Hullo! what's that?
It's one of the guard boats, I do believe, and coming this way."
The men heard the sound of coming oars, and silently stole to the
mast and armed themselves with the pikes, put the axes in their
belts, and ranged themselves along by the side of the ship towards
which the boat was approaching. "Will she go ahead of us or astern?"
Captain Martin whispered to the mate.

"I cannot tell yet, sir. By the sound she seems making pretty nearly
straight for us."

"How unfortunate," Captain Martin murmured; "just as it seemed that
we were getting safely away."

In another minute the mate whispered, "She will go astern of us,
sir, but not by much."

"I trust that she will not see us," the captain said. "But now we
are away from the town and the lights, it doesn't seem so dark,
besides their eyes are accustomed to it."

There was dead silence in the ship as the boat approached. She was
just passing the stern at the distance of about a ship's length,
when there was a sudden exclamation, and a voice shouted, "What
ship is that? Where are you going?" Captain Martin replied in Dutch.
"We are taking advantage of the wind to make to sea."

"Down with that sail, sir!" the officer shouted: "this is against
all regulations. No ship is permitted to leave the port between
sunrise and sunset. Pull alongside, lads; there is something strange
about this!"

"Do not come alongside," Captain Martin said sternly. "We are
peaceable traders who meddle with no one, but if you interfere with
us it will be the worse for you."

"You insolent hound!" the officer exclaimed furiously, "do you
dare to threaten me. Blow your matches, lads, and shoulder your
arquebuses. There is treason and rebellion here."

Those on board saw six tiny sparks appear, two in the bow and four
in the stern. A minute later the boat dashed alongside. As it did
so three great pieces of stone were cast into it, knocking down
two of the rowers.

"Fire!" the officer exclaimed as he sprang up to climb the ship's
side. The six muskets were discharged, and the men rose to follow
their leader, when there was a cry from the rowers "The boat is
sinking! She is staved in!"

At the same moment the officer fell back thrust through with a pike.
Two of the soldiers were cut down with axes, the other sprang back
into the sinking boat, which at once drifted astern.

"Up with her sails, lads!" Captain Martin shouted; "it is a question
of speed now. The alarm is spread on shore already." The sentries
of the various batteries were discharging their muskets and shouting,
and the roll of a drum was heard almost immediately. The crew soon
had every stitch of sail set upon the brig. She was moving steadily
through the water; but the wind was still light, although occasionally
a stronger puff gave ground for hope that it would ere long blow
harder.

"They will be some time before they make out what it is all about,
Peters," Captain Martin said. "The galleys will be manned, and will
row to the spot where the firing was heard. Some of the men in the
boat are sure to be able to swim, and will meet them as they come
out and tell them what has happened. The worst of it is, the moon
will be up in a few minutes. I forgot all about that. That accounts
for its being lighter. However, we have got a good start. One or
two guard boats may be out here in a quarter of an hour, but it
will take the galleys twice as long to gather their crews and get
out. It all depends on the wind. It is lucky it is not light yet,
or the batteries might open on us; I don't think now they will get
sight of us until we are fairly out of range."

Now that there was no longer occasion for silence on board the Good
Venture, the crew laughed and joked at the expense of the Spaniards.
They were in high spirits at their success, and their only regret
was that the brush with their pursuers had not been a more serious
one. It was evident from the talk that there was quite as much hope
as fear in the glances that they cast astern, and that they would
have been by no means sorry to see a foe of about their own strength
in hot pursuit of them. A quarter of an hour after the shattered
boat had dropped astern the moon rose on the starboard bow. It was
three-quarters full, and would assuredly reveal the ship to those
on shore. Scarcely indeed did it show above the horizon when there
was the boom of a gun astern, followed a second or two later by a
heavy splash in the water close alongside.

"That was a good shot," Captain Martin said; "but luck rather than
skill I fancy. There is little chance of their hitting us at this
distance. We must be a mile and a half away; don't you think so,
Peters?"

"Quite that, captain; and they must have given their gun a lot of
elevation to carry so far. I almost wonder they wasted their powder."

"Of course they can't tell in the least who they are firing at,"
the captain said. "They cannot have learnt anything yet, and can
have only known that there was firing off the port, and that a
craft is making out. We may be one of the sea beggars' vessels for
anything they know, and may have come in to carry off a prize from
under their very noses."

"That is so," the mate replied; "but the gun may have been fired
as a signal as much as with any hope of hitting us."

"So it may, so it may, Peters; I did not think of that. Certainly
that is likely enough. We know they have several ships cruising in
the Zuider Zee keeping a lookout for the beggars. On a night like
this, and with the wind astern, the sound will be heard miles away.
We may have trouble yet. I was not much afraid of the galleys, for
though the wind is so light we are running along famously. You see
we have nothing in our hold, and that is all in our favour so long
as we are dead before the wind. Besides, if the galleys did come
up it would probably be singly, and we should be able to beat them
off, for high out of water as we are they would find it difficult
to climb the sides; but if we fall in with any of their ships it
is a different matter altogether."

Four or five more shots were fired, but they all fell astern; and
as they were fully two miles and a half away when the last gun was
discharged, and the cannoneers must have known that they were far
out of range, Captain Martin felt sure that the mate's idea was a
correct one, and that the cannon had been discharged rather as a
signal than with any hope of reaching them.

"Ned, run up into the foretop," the captain said, "and keep a
sharp lookout ahead. The moon has given an advantage to those who
are on our track behind, but it gives us an advantage as against
any craft there may be ahead of us. We shall see them long before
they can see us."

Peters had been looking astern when the last gun was fired, and
said that by its flash he believed that he had caught sight of three
craft of some kind or other outside the ships moored off the port.

"Then we have two miles' start if those are their galleys," the
captain said. "We are stealing through the water at about the rate
of four knots, and perhaps they may row six, so it will take them
an hour to come up."

"Rather more than that, I should say, captain, for the wind at times
freshens a little. It is likely to be an hour and a half before
they come up."

"All the better, Peters. They will have learnt from those they
picked up from that boat that we are not a large craft, and that
our crew probably does not exceed twenty men; therefore, as those
galleys carry about twenty soldiers besides the twenty rowers, they
will not think it necessary to keep together, but will each do his
best to overtake us. One of them is sure to be faster than the
others, and if they come up singly I think we shall be able to
beat them off handsomely. It is no use discussing now whether it
is wise to fight or not. By sinking that first boat we have all
put our heads in a noose, and there is no drawing back. We have
repulsed their officers with armed force, and there will be no
mercy for any of us if we fall into their hands."

"We shall fight all the better for knowing that," Peters said
grimly. "The Dutchmen are learning that, as the Spaniards are finding
to their cost. There is nothing like making a man fight than the
knowledge that there is a halter waiting for him if he is beaten."

"You had better get two of the guns astern, Peters, so as to fire
down into them as they come up. You may leave the others, one on
each side, for the present, and run one of them over when we see
which side they are making for. Ah! that's a nice little puff. If
it would but hold like that we should show them our heels altogether."

In two or three minutes the puff died out and the wind fell even
lighter than before.

"I thought that we were going to have more of it," the captain said
discontentedly; "it looked like it when the sun went down."

"I think we shall have more before morning," Peters agreed; "but
I am afraid it won't come in time to help us much."

As the moon rose they were able to make out three craft astern of
them. Two were almost abreast of each other, the third some little
distance behind.

"That is just what I expected, Peters; they are making a race of
it. We shall have two of them on our hands at once; the other will
be too far away by the time they come up to give them any assistance.
They are about a mile astern now, I should say, and unless the wind
freshens up a bit they will be alongside in about twenty minutes.
I will give you three men here, Peters. As soon as we have fired
load again, and then slew the guns round and run them forward to
the edge of the poop, and point them down into the waist. If the
Spaniards get on board and we find them too strong for us, those
of us who can will take to the forecastle, the others will run up
here. Then sweep the Spaniards with your guns, and directly you
have fired charge down among them with pike and axe. We will do
the same, and it is hard if we do not clear the deck of them."

Just at this moment Ned hailed them from the top. "There is a ship
nearly ahead of us, sir; she is lying with her sails brailed up,
evidently waiting."

"How far is she off, do you think, Ned?"

"I should say she is four miles away," Ned replied.

"Well, we need not trouble about her for the present; there will
be time to think about her when we have finished with these fellows
behind. You can come down now, Ned."

In a few words the captain now explained his intentions to his men.

"I hope, lads, that we shall be able to prevent their getting
a footing on the deck; but if they do, and we find we can't beat
them back, as soon as I give the word you are to take either to
the forecastle or to the poop. Mr. Peters will have the two guns
there ready to sweep them with bullets. The moment he has fired give
a cheer and rush down upon them from both sides. We will clear them
off again, never fear. Ned, you will be in charge in the waist until
I rejoin you. Get ready to run one of the guns over the instant I
tell you on which side they are coming up. Depress them as much as
you can. I shall take one gun and you take the other, and be sure
you don't fire until you see a boat well under the muzzle of your
gun. Mind it's the boat you are to aim at, and not the men."

Captain Martin again ascended to the poop and joined Peters. The
two boats were now but a few hundred yards astern, and they could
hear the officers cheering on the rowers to exert themselves to
the utmost. The third boat was fully a quarter of a mile behind
the leaders. When they approached within a hundred yards a fire of
musketry was opened.

"Lie down under the bulwarks, men," Captain Martin said to the three
sailors. "It is no use risking your lives unnecessarily. I expect
one boat will come one side and one the other, Peters. If they do
we will both take the one coming up on the port side. One of us
may miss, and it is better to make sure of one boat if we can. I
think we can make pretty sure of beating off the other. Yes, there
they are separating. Now work your gun round a bit, so that it
bears on a point about twenty yards astern and a boat's length on
the port side. I will do the same. Have you done that?"

"Yes, I think I have about got it, sir."

"Very well, then. Stoop down now, or we may get hit before it is
time to fire."

The bulwarks round the poop were only about a foot high, but sitting
back from them the captain and the mate were protected from the
bullets that were now singing briskly over the stern of the ship.

"They are coming up, Peters," Captain Martin said. "Now kneel
up and look along your gun; get your match ready, and do not fire
till you see right into the boat, then clap on your match whether
I fire or not."

The boat came racing along until when within some twenty yards of
the stern, the cannons were discharged almost simultaneously. The
sound was succeeded by a chorus of screams and yells; the contents
of both guns had struck the boat fairly midships, and she sank
almost instantly. As soon as they had fired Captain Martin ran
forward and joined the crew in the waist. He had already passed
the word to Ned to get both guns over to the starboard side, and
he at once took charge of one while Ned stood at the other. The
Spaniards had pushed straight on without waiting to pick up their
drowning comrades in the other boat, and in a minute were alongside.
So close did the helmsman bring the boat to the side that the guns
could not be depressed so as to bear upon her, and a moment later
the Spaniards were climbing up the sides of the vessel, the rowers
dropping their oars and seizing axes and joining the soldiers.

"Never mind the gun, Ned; it is useless at present. Now, lads,
drive them back as they come up."

With pike and hatchet the sailors met the Spaniards as they tried
to climb up. The cook had brought his caldron of boiling water to
the bulwarks, and threw pailful after pailful down into the boat,
while the carpenter bailed over boiling pitch with the great ladle.
Terrible yells and screams rose from the boat, and the soldiers in
vain tried to gain a footing upon the ship's deck. As they appeared
above the level of the bulwarks they were met either with thrust
of pike or with a crashing blow from an axe, and it was but three
or four minutes from the moment that the fight began that the boat
cast off and dropped behind, more than half those on board being
killed or disabled. A loud cheer broke from the crew.

"Shall I run the guns back to the stern again," Peters asked from
above, "and give them a parting dose?"

"No, no," Captain Martin said, "let them go, Peters; we are fighting
to defend ourselves, and have done them mischief enough. See what
the third boat is doing, though."

"They have stopped rowing," Peters said, after going to the stern.
"I think they are picking up some swimmers from the boat we sank.
There cannot be many of them, for most of the rowers would have
been killed by our discharges, and the soldiers in their armour
will have sunk at once."

Captain Martin now ascended to the poop. In a short time the boat
joined that which had dropped astern, which was lying helpless in
the water, no attempt having been made to man the oars, as most of
the unwounded men were scalded more or less severely. Their report
was evidently not encouraging, and the third boat made no attempt
to pursue. Some of her oarsmen were shifted to the other boat, and
together they turned and made back for Amsterdam.

"Now then for this vessel ahead," Captain Martin said; "that is a
much more serious business than the boats."

The vessel, which was some two miles ahead of them, had now set
some of her sails, and was heading towards them.

"They can make us out now plainly enough, Peters, and the firing
will of course have told them we are the vessel that they are in
search of. I don't think that there is any getting away from them."

"I don't see that there is," the mate agreed. "Whichever way we
edged off they could cut us off. The worst of it is, no doubt she
has got some big guns on board, and these little things of ours are
of no good except at close quarters. It would be no use trying to
make a running fight with her?"

"Not in the least, Peters. We had better sail straight at her."

"You don't mean to try and carry her by boarding?" Peters asked
doubtfully. "She looks a large ship, and has perhaps a hundred and
fifty men on board; and though the Spaniards are no sailors they
can fight on the decks of their ships."

"That is so, Peters. What I think of doing is to bear straight
down upon her as if I intended to board. We shall have to stand one
broadside as we come up, and then we shall be past her, and with
our light draught we should run right away from her with this wind.
There is more of it than there was, and we are slipping away fast.
Unless she happens to knock away one of our masts we shall get away
from her."

When they were within half a mile of the Spanish ship they saw her
bows bear off.

"Lie down, lads," the captain ordered, "she is going to give us a
broadside. When it is over start one of those sea beggar songs you
picked up at Brill; that will startle them, and they will think we
are crowded with men and going to board them."

A minute later eight flashes of fire burst from the Spanish ship,
now lying broadside to them. One shot crashed through the bulwarks,
two others passed through the sails, the rest went wide of their
mark. As soon as it was over the crew leapt to their feet and burst
into one of the wild songs sung by the sea beggars.

"Keep our head straight towards her, Peters," Captain Martin said.
"They will think we mean to run her down, and it will flurry and
confuse them."

Loading was not quick work in those days, and the distance between
the vessels was decreased by half before the guns were again fired.
This time it was not a broadside; the guns went off one by one as
they were loaded, and the aim was hasty and inaccurate, for close
as they were not a shot struck the hull of the Good Venture, though
two or three went through the sails. In the bright moonlight men
could be seen running about and officers waving their arms and giving
orders on board the Spaniard, and then her head began to pay off.

"We have scared them," Captain Martin laughed. "They thought we were
going to run them down. They know the sea beggars would be quite
content to sink themselves if they could sink an enemy. Follow
close in her wake, Peters, and then bear off a little as if you
meant to pass them on their starboard side; then when you get close
give her the helm sharp and sweep across her stern. We will give
her the guns as we pass, then bear off again and pass her on her
port side; the chances are they will not have loaded again there."

The Spanish ship was little more than a hundred yards ahead. When
she got before the wind again Captain Martin saw with satisfaction
that the Good Venture sailed three feet to her two. The poop and
stern galleries of the Spaniard were clustered with soldiers, who
opened a fire with their muskets upon their pursuer. The men were
all lying down now at their guns, which were loaded with musket
balls to their muzzles.

"Elevate them as much as you can. She is much higher out of the
water than we are. Now, Peters, you see to the guns, I will take
the helm."

"I will keep the helm, sir," the mate replied.

"No, you won't, Peters; my place is the place of danger. But if
you like you can lie under the bulwark there after you have fired,
and be ready to take my place if you see me drop. Now, lads, get
ready."

So saying the captain put down the tiller. The Good Venture swept
round under the stern of the Spaniard at a distance of some forty
yards, and as she did so the guns loaded with bullets to the
muzzle were fired one after the other. The effect was terrible,
and the galleries and poop were swept by the leaden shower. Then
the captain straightened the helm again. The crew burst into the
wild yells and cries the beggars raised when going into battle. The
Spaniards, confused by the terrible slaughter worked by the guns
of their enemies, and believing that they were about to be boarded
on the port side by a crowd of desperate foemen, hastily put up
the tiller, and the ship bore away as the Good Venture swept up,
presenting her stern instead of her broadside to them.

To the momentary relief of the Spaniards their assailant instead
of imitating their maneuvers kept straight upon her course before
the wind, and instead of the wild cries of the beggars a hearty
English cheer was raised. As Captain Martin had expected, the guns
on the port side had not been reloaded after the last discharge,
and the Good Venture was two or three hundred yards away before
the Spaniards recovered from their surprise at what seemed the
incomprehensible maneuver of their foes, and awoke to the fact
that they had been tricked, and that instead of a ship crowded with
beggars of the sea their supposed assailant had been an English
trader that was trying to escape from them.

A dozen contradictory orders were shouted as soon as the truth
dawned upon them. The captain had been killed by the discharge of
grape, and the first lieutenant severely wounded. The officer in
command of the troops shouted to his men to load the guns, only to
find when this was accomplished that the second lieutenant of the
ship had turned her head in pursuit of the enemy, and that not a
single gun would bear. There was a sharp altercation between the
two authorities, but the military chief was of the highest rank.

"Don't you see," he said furiously, "that she is going away from
us every foot. She was but a couple of hundred yards away when I
gave the order to load, and now she is fully a quarter of a mile."

"If I put the helm down to bring her broadside on," the seaman
said, "she will be half a mile ahead before we can straighten up
and get in her wake again; and unless you happen to cripple her
she will get away to a certainty."

"She will get away anyhow," the soldier roared, "if we don't cripple
her. Put your helm down instantly."

The order was given and the ship's head swayed round. There was a
flapping of sails and a rattling of blocks, and then a broadside
was fired; but it is no easy matter for angry and excited men to
hit a mast at the distance of nearly half a mile. One of the shots
ploughed up the deck within a yard of the foot of the mainmast,
another splintered a boat, three others added to the holes in the
sails, but no damage of importance was done. By the time the Spaniard
had borne round and was again in chase, the Good Venture was over
half a mile ahead.

"It is all over now, captain," Peters said as he went aft. "Unless
we light upon another of these fellows, which is not likely, we
are safe."

"Are any of the men hit, Peters?"

"The carpenter was knocked down and stunned by a splinter from the
boat, sir; but I don't think it is serious."

"Thank God for that," the captain said. "Now, will you take the
helm?" There was something in the voice that startled the mate.

"Is anything the matter, sir? Don't say you are hit."

"I am hit, Peters, and I fear rather badly; but that matters little
now that the crew and ship are safe."

Peters caught the captain, for he saw that he could scarce stand,
and called two men to his assistance. The captain was laid down on
the deck.

"Where are you hit, sir?"

"Halfway between the knee and the hip," Captain Martin replied
faintly. "If it hadn't been for the tiller I should have fallen,
but with the aid of that I made shift to stand on the other leg. It
was just before we fired, at the moment when I put the helm down."

"Why didn't you call me?" Peters said reproachfully.

"It was of no good getting two of us hit, Peters; and as long as
I could stand to steer I was better there than you."

Ned came running aft as the news was passed along that the captain
was wounded, and threw himself on his knees by his father's side.

"Bear up, Ned; bear up like a man," his father said. "I am hit
hard, but I don't know that it is to death. But even if it is, it
is ten thousand times better to die in battle with the Spaniards
than to be hung like a dog, which would have befallen me and perhaps
all of us if they had taken us."

By Peters' directions a mattress was now brought up, and the captain
carried down to his cabin. There was no thought on board now of the
pursuers astern, or of possible danger lying ahead. The news that
Captain Martin was badly wounded damped all the feelings of triumph
and enthusiasm which the crew had before been feeling at the success
with which they had eluded the Spaniard while heavily punishing
her. As soon as the captain was laid on a sofa Peters examined the
wound. It was right in front of the leg, some four inches above
the knee.

"There is nothing to be done for it," Captain Martin said. "It has
smashed the bone, I am sure."

"I am afraid it has, captain," Peters said ruefully; "and it is no
use my saying that it has not. I think, sir, we had best put in at
Enkhuizen. We are not above four or five miles from it now, and we
shall find surgeons there who will do all they can for you."

"I think that will be the best plan, Peters."

The orders were given at once, and the ship's course altered, and
half an hour later the lights of Enkhuizen were seen ahead.



CHAPTER IV

WOUNDED


They dropped anchor a short distance off the port, and then lit
some torches and waved them.

"The firing is sure to have been heard," Peters said, "and they
will be sending off to know what is going on, otherwise there would
have been small chance of getting in tonight."

As the mate anticipated, the sound of oars was soon heard, and a
large boat rowed out towards them. It stopped at a distance of a
hundred yards, and there was a shout of "What ship is that?"

"The English brig Good Venture. We pray you to allow us to bring our
captain, who has been sorely wounded by the Spaniards, on shore."

"What has been the firing we have heard? We could see the flashes
across the water."

"We have been twice engaged," Peters shouted; "first with two
Spanish galleys, and then with a large ship of war, which we beat
off with heavy loss."

"Well done, Englishmen!" the voice exclaimed, and the boat at once
rowed out to the brig. "You cannot come in tonight," the Dutch
official said, "for the chain is up across the harbour, and the
rule is imperative and without exception; but I will gladly take
your captain on shore, and he shall have, I promise you, the best
surgical aid the town can give him. Is he the only one hurt?"

"One of the men has been injured with a splinter, but he needs but
bandaging and laying up for a few days. We have had a shot or two
through our bulwarks, and the sails are riddled. The captain's son
is below with him; he acts as second mate, and will tell you all
about this affair into which we were forced."

"Very well; we will take him ashore with us then. There is quite
an excitement there. The news that a sea fight was going on brought
all the citizens to the walls."

The mattress upon which Captain Martin was lying was brought out
and lowered carefully into the stern of the boat. Ned took his
seat beside it, and the boat pushed off. Having passed the forts
they entered the port and rowed to the landing place. A number of
citizens, many of them carrying torches, were assembled here.

"What is the news?" a voice asked as the boat approached.

"It is an English ship, burgomaster. She has been hotly engaged;
first with Spanish galleys, and then with a warship, which was
doubtless the one seen beating up this afternoon. She sank one of
the galleys and beat off the ship." A loud cheer broke from the
crowd. When it subsided the official went on: "I have the English
captain and his son on board. The captain is sorely wounded, and
I have promised him the best medical aid the town can give him."

"That he shall have," the burgomaster said. "Let him be carried to
my house at once. Hans Leipart, do you hurry on and tell my wife
to get a chamber prepared instantly. You have heard who it is, and
why he is coming, and I warrant me she will do her best to make the
brave Englishman comfortable. Do two others of you run to Doctors
Zobel and Harreng, and pray them to hasten to my house. Let a
stretcher be fetched instantly from the town hall."

As soon as the stretcher was brought the mattress was placed on it,
and six of the sailors carried it on shore. The crowd had by this
time greatly increased, for the news had rapidly spread. Every
head was bared in token of sympathy and respect as the litter was
brought up. The crowd fell back and formed a lane, and, led by the
burgomaster, the sailors carried the wounded man into the town. He
was taken upstairs to the room prepared for him, and the surgeons
were speedily in attendance. Medicine in those days was but a
primitive science, but the surgery, though rough and rude, was far
ahead of the sister art. Wars were of such constant occurrence that
surgeons had ample opportunity for practice; and simple operations
such as the amputation of limbs, were matters of very common
occurrence. It needed but a very short examination by the two surgeons
to enable them to declare that the leg must at once be amputated.

"The bone appears to be completely smashed," one of them said.
"Doubtless the ball was fired at a very short distance." A groan
burst from Ned when he heard the decision.

"I knew that it would be so, Ned," his father said. "I never doubted
it for a moment. It is well that I have been able to obtain aid so
speedily. Better a limb than life, my boy. I did not wince when I
was hit, and with God's help I can stand the pain now. Do you go
away and tell the burgomaster how it all came about, and leave me
with these gentlemen."

As soon as Ned had left the room, sobbing in spite of his efforts
to appear manly, the captain said: "Now, gentlemen, since this must
be done, I pray you to do it without loss of time. I will bear it
as best I can, I promise you; and as three or four and twenty years
at sea makes a man pretty hard and accustomed to rough usage, I
expect I shall stand it as well as another."

The surgeons agreed that there was no advantage in delay, and
indeed that it was far better to amputate it before fever set in.
They therefore returned home at once for their instruments, the
knives and saws, the irons that were to be heated white hot to stop
the bleeding, and the other appliances in use at the time. Had Ned
been aware that the operation would have taken place so soon, he
would have been unable to satisfy the curiosity of the burgomaster
and citizens to know how it had happened that an English trader had
come to blows with the Spaniards; but he had no idea that it would
take place that night, and thought that probably some days would
elapse before the surgeons finally decided that it was necessary
to amputate it.

One of the surgeons had, at the captain's request, called the
burgomaster aside as he left the house, and begged him to keep the
lad engaged in conversation until he heard from him that all was
over. This the burgomaster willingly promised to do; and as many
of the leading citizens were assembled in the parlour to hear the
news, there was no chance of Ned's slipping away.

"Before you begin to tell us your story, young sir, we should be
glad to know how it is that you speak our language so well; for
indeed we could not tell by your accent that you are not a native
of these parts, which is of course impossible, seeing that your
father is an Englishman and captain of the ship lying off there."

"My mother comes from near here," Ned said. "She is the daughter of
Mynheer Plomaert, who lived at Vordwyk, two miles from Amsterdam.
She went over to England when she married my father, but when he
was away on his voyages she always spoke her own language to us
children, so that we grew to speak it naturally as we did English."

Ned then related the news that met them on their arrival at his
grandfather's home, and the exclamation of fury on the part of his
father.

"It is a common enough story with us here," the burgomaster said,
"for few of us but have lost friends or relatives at the hands
of these murderous tyrants of ours. But to you, living in a free
land, truly it must have been a dreadful shock; and I wonder not
that your father's indignation betrayed him into words which, if
overheard, might well cost a man his life in this country."

"They were overheard and reported," Ned said; and then proceeded to
relate the warning they had received, the measures they had taken
to get off unperceived, the accidental meeting with the guard boat
and the way in which it had been sunk, the pursuit by the galleys
and the fight with them, and then the encounter with the Spanish
ship of war.

"And you say your father never relaxed his hold of the tiller when
struck!" the burgomaster said in surprise. "I should have thought
he must needs have fallen headlong to the ground."

"He told me," Ned replied, "that at the moment he was hit he was
pushing over the tiller, and had his weight partly on that and
partly on his other leg. Had it been otherwise he would of course
have gone down, for he said that for a moment he thought his leg
had been shot off."

When Ned finished his narrative the burgomaster and magistrates
were loud in their exclamations of admiration at the manner in
which the little trader had both fought and deceived her powerful
opponent.

"It was gallantly done indeed," the burgomaster said. "Truly it
seems marvellous that a little ship with but twenty hands should
have fought and got safely away from the Don Pedro, for that was
the ship we saw pass this afternoon. We know her well, for she has
often been in port here before we declared for the Prince of Orange
a month ago. The beggars of the sea themselves could not have done
better,--could they, my friends? though we Dutchmen and Zeelanders
believe that there are no sailors that can match our own."

The story had taken nearly an hour to tell, and Ned now said:

"With your permission, sir, I will now go up to my father again."

"You had best not go for the present," the burgomaster said. "The
doctor asked me to keep you with me for awhile, for that he wished
his patient to be entirely undisturbed. He is by his bedside now,
and will let me know at once if your father wishes to have you with
him."

A quarter of an hour later a servant called the burgomaster out.
The surgeon was waiting outside.

"It is finished," he said, "and he has borne it well. Scarce a
groan escaped him, even when we applied the hot irons; but he is
utterly exhausted now, and we have given him an opiate, and hope
that he will soon drop off to sleep. My colleague will remain with
him for four hours, and then I will return and take his place. You
had best say nothing to the lad about it. He would naturally want
to see his father; we would much rather that he should not. Therefore
tell him, please, that his father is dropping off to sleep, and
must not on any account be disturbed; and that we are sitting up
with him by turns, and will let him know at once should there be
any occasion for his presence."

Ned was glad to hear that his father was likely to get off to
sleep; and although he would gladly have sat up with him, he knew
that it was much better that he should have the surgeon beside him.
The burgomaster's wife, a kind and motherly woman, took him aside
into a little parlour, where a table was laid with a cold capon,
some manchets of bread, and a flask of the burgomaster's best wine.
As Ned had eaten nothing since the afternoon, and it was now past
midnight, he was by no means sorry to partake of some refreshment.
When he had finished he was conducted to a comfortable little chamber
that had been prepared for him, and in spite of his anxiety about
his father it was not long before he fell asleep.

The sun was high before he awoke. He dressed himself quickly and
went downstairs, for he feared to go straight to his father's room
lest he might be sleeping.

"You have slept well," the burgomaster's wife said with a smile;
"and no wonder, after your fatigues. The surgeon has just gone,
and I was about to send up to wake you, for he told me to tell you
that your father had passed a good night, and that you can now see
him."

Ned ran upstairs, and turning the handle of the door very quietly
entered his father's room. Captain Martin was looking very pale,
but Ned thought that his face had not the drawn look that had marked
it the evening before.

"How are you, my dear father?"

"I am going on well, Ned; at least so the doctors say. I feel I
shall be but a battered old hulk when I get about again; but your
mother will not mind that, I know."

"And do the doctors still think that they must take the leg off?"
Ned asked hesitatingly.

"That was their opinion last night, Ned, and it was my opinion too;
and so the matter was done off hand, and there is an end of it."

"Done offhand?" Ned repeated. "Do you mean"--and he hesitated.

"Do I mean that they have taken it off? Certainly I do, Ned. They
took it off last night while you were downstairs in the burgomaster's
parlour; but I thought it would be much better for you not to know
anything about it until this morning. Yes, my boy, thank God, it
is all over! I don't say that it wasn't pretty hard to bear; but
it had to be done, you know, and the sooner it was over the better.
There is nothing worse than lying thinking about a thing."

Ned was too affected to speak; but with tears streaming down his
cheeks, leant over and kissed his father. The news had come as a
shock to him, but it seemed to have lifted a weight from his mind.
The worst was over now; and although it was terrible to think that
his father had lost his leg, still this seemed a minor evil after
the fear that perhaps his life might be sacrificed. Knowing that his
father should not be excited, or even talk more than was absolutely
necessary, Ned stayed but a few minutes with him, and then hurried
off to the ship, where, however, he found that the news that the
captain's leg had been amputated, and that the doctors hoped that
he would go on well, had been known some hours before; as Peters
had come on shore with the first dawn of daylight for news, and
heard from the burgomaster's servant that the amputation had taken
place the evening before, and an hour later had learned from the
lips of the doctor who had been watching by the captain's bedside,
that he had passed a fairly good night, and might so far be considered
to be doing well.

"What do you think we had better do, Master Ned? Of course it will
be for the captain to decide; but in these matters it is always
best to take counsel beforehand. For although it is, of course,
what he thinks in the matter will be done, still it may be that
we might direct his thoughts; and the less thinking he does in his
present state the better."

"What do you mean as to what is to be done, Peters?"

"Well, your father is like to be here many weeks; indeed, if I said
many months I don't suppose it would be far from the truth. Things
never go on quite smooth. There are sure to be inflammations,
and fever keeps on coming and going; and if the doctor says three
months, like enough it is six."

"Of course I shall stay here and nurse him, Peters."

"Well, Master Ned, that will be one of the points for the captain
to settle. I do not suppose he will want the Good Venture to be
lying idle all the time he is laid up; and though I can sail the
ship, the trading business is altogether out of my line. You know
all the merchants he does business with, going ashore, as you most
always do with him; I doubt not that you could fill his place and
deal with them just the same as if he was here."

"But I cannot leave him at present."

"No, no, Master Ned; no one would think of it. Now, what I have
been turning over in my mind is, that the best thing for the captain
and for you and your good mother is that I should set sail in the
Venture without the loss of a day and fetch her over. If the wind
is reasonable, and we have good luck, we may be back in ten days
or so. By that time the captain may be well enough to think where
we had better go for a cargo, and what course had best be taken
about things in general."

"I think that would certainly be the best plan, Peters; and I will
suggest it to my father at once. He is much more likely to go on
well if my mother is with him, and she would be worrying sadly at
home were she not by his side. Besides, it will be well for her
to have something to occupy her, for the news of what has befallen
her father and brothers will be a terrible blow to her. If I put
it in that way to him I doubt not that he will agree to the plan;
otherwise, he might fear to bring her out here in such troubled
times, for there is no saying when the Spaniards will gather their
army to recover the revolted cities, or against which they will
first make their attempts. I will go back at once, and if he be
awake I will tell him that you and I agree that it will be best
for you to sail without loss of an hour to fetch my mother over,
and that we can then put off talking about other matters until the
ship returns."

Ned at once went back to his father's bedroom. He found the captain
had just awoke from a short sleep.

"Father, I do not want to trouble you to think at present, but will
tell you what Master Peters and I, who have been laying our heads
together, concluded is best to be done. You are likely to be laid
up here for some time, and it will be far the best plan for the
Good Venture to sail over and fetch mother to nurse you."

"I shall get on well enough, Ned. They are kindly people here; and
regarding our fight with the Spaniards as a sign of our friendship
and goodwill towards them, they will do all in their power for me."

"Yes, father, I hope, indeed, that you will go on well; and I am
sure that the good people here will do their best in all ways for
you, and of course I will nurse you to the best of my power, though,
indeed, this is new work for me; but it was not so much you as
mother that we were thinking of. It will be terrible for her when
the news comes that her father and brothers are all killed, and that
you are lying here sorely wounded. It will be well nigh enough to
drive her distraught. But if she were to come over here at once
she would, while busying about you, have less time to brood over
her griefs; and, indeed, I see not why she should be told what has
happened at Vordwyk until she is here with you, and you can break
it to her. It will come better from your lips, and for your sake
she will restrain her grief."

"There is a great deal in what you say, Ned, and, indeed, I long
greatly to have her with me; but Holland is no place at present
to bring a woman to, and I suppose also that she would bring the
girls, for she could not well leave them in a house alone. There
are plenty of friends there who would be glad to take them in; but
that she could decide upon herself. However, as she is a native
here she will probably consider she may well run the same risks as
the rest of her countrywomen. They remain with their fathers and
husbands and endure what perils there may be, and she will see no
reason why she should not do the same."

"What we propose is that the Venture should set sail at once and
fetch my mother over, and the girls, if she sees fit to bring them.
I shall of course stay here with you until the brig returns, and
by that time you will, I hope, be strong enough to talk over what
had best be done regarding the ship and business generally."

"Well, have your way, Ned. At present I cannot think over things
and see what is best; so I will leave the matter in your hands, and
truly I should be glad indeed to have your mother here with me."

Well content to have obtained the permission Ned hurried from the
room.

"Has the burgomaster returned?" he asked when he reached the lower
storey.

"He has just come in, and I was coming up to tell you that dinner
is served."

"Is it eleven o'clock already?" Ned exclaimed. "I had no idea it
was so late." He entered the room and bowed to the burgomaster and
his wife.

"Worshipful sir," he said, "I have just obtained leave from my
father to send our ship off to London to fetch hither my mother to
come to nurse him. I trust that by the time she arrives he will be
able to be moved, and then they will take lodgings elsewhere, so
as not to trespass longer upon your great kindness and hospitality."

"I think that it is well that your mother should come over," the
burgomaster said; "for a man who has had the greater part of his
leg taken off cannot be expected to get round quickly. Besides,
after what you told us last night about the misfortune that has
befallen her family, it were best that she should be busied about
her husband, and so have little time to brood over the matter. As
to hospitality, it would be strange indeed if we should not do all
that we could for a brave man who has been injured in fighting our
common enemy. Send word to your mother that she will be as welcome
as he is, and that we shall be ready in all respects to arrange
whatever she may think most convenient and comfortable. And now
you had best sit down and have your meal with us. As soon as it is
over I will go down with you to the wharf, and will do what I can
to hasten the sailing of your ship. I don't think," he went on, when
they had taken their seats at table, "that there is much chance
of her meeting another Spaniard on her way out to sea, for we have
news this morning that some ships of the beggars have been seen
cruising off the entrance, and the Spaniards will be getting under
shelter of their batteries at Amsterdam. I hear they are expecting
a fleet from Spain to arrive soon to aid in their operations against
our ports. However, I have little fear that they will do much by
sea against us. I would we could hold our own as well on the land
as we can on the water."

Ned found the meal extremely long and tedious, for he was fretting
to be off to hasten the preparations on board the Good Venture,
and he was delighted when at last the burgomaster said:

"Now, my young friend, we will go down to the wharf together."

But although somewhat deliberate, the burgomaster proved a valuable
assistant. When he had told Ned that he would do what he could to
expedite the sailing of the ship, the lad had regarded it as a mere
form of words, for he did not see how he could in any way expedite
her sailing. As soon, however, as they had gone on board, and
Ned had told Peters that the captain had given his consent to his
sailing at once, the burgomaster said: "You can scarce set sail
before the tide turns, Master Peters, for the wind is so light that
you would make but little progress if you did. From what Master
Martin tells me you came off so hurriedly from Amsterdam that you
had no time to get ballast on board. It would be very venturesome
to start for a voyage to England unless with something in your
hold. I will give orders that you shall be furnished at once with
sandbags, otherwise you would have to wait your turn with the other
vessels lying here; for ballast is, as you know, a rare commodity
in Holland, and we do not like parting even with our sand hills.
In the meantime, as you have well nigh six hours before you get
under way, I will go round among my friends and see if I cannot
procure you a little cargo that may pay some of the expenses of
your voyage."

Accordingly the burgomaster proceeded at once to visit several of
the principal merchants, and, representing that it was the clear
duty of the townsfolk to do what they could for the men who had
fought so bravely against the Spaniards, he succeeded in obtaining
from them a considerable quantity of freight upon good terms; and
so zealously did he push the business that in a very short time
drays began to arrive alongside the Good Venture, and a number of
men were speedily at work in transferring the contents to her hold,
and before evening she had taken on board a goodly amount of cargo.

Ned wrote a letter to his mother telling her what had taken place,
and saying that his father would be glad for her to come over to
be with him, but that he left it to her to decide whether to bring
the girls over or not. He said no word of the events at Vordwyk;
but merely mentioned they had learned that a spy had denounced his
father to the Spaniards as having used expressions hostile to the
king and the religious persecutions, and that on this account he
would have been arrested had he not at once put to sea. Peters was
charged to say nothing as to what he had heard about the Plomaerts
unless she pressed him with questions. He was to report briefly
that they were so busy with the unloading of the ship at Amsterdam
that Captain Martin had only once been ashore, and leave it to be
inferred that he only landed to see the merchants to whom the cargo
was consigned.

"Of course, Peters, if my mother presses you as to whether any
news has been received from Vordwyk, you must tell the truth; but
if it can be concealed from her it will be much the best. She will
have anxiety enough concerning my father."

"I will see," Peters said, "what can be done. Doubtless at first
she will be so filled with the thought of your father's danger
that she will not think much of anything else; but on the voyage
she will have time to turn her thoughts in other directions, and she
is well nigh sure to ask about her father and brothers. I shall be
guided in my answers by her condition. Mistress Martin is a sensible
woman, and not a girl who will fly into hysterics and rave like a
madwoman.

"It may be too, she will feel the one blow less for being so taken
up with the other; however, I will do the best I can in the matter,
Master Ned. Truly your friend the burgomaster is doing us right
good service. I had looked to lose this voyage to England, and that
the ten days I should be away would be fairly lost time; but now,
although we shall not have a full hold, the freight will be ample
to pay all expenses and to leave a good profit beside."

As soon as the tide turned the hatches were put on, the vessel was
warped out from her berth, and a few minutes later was under sail.

Ned had been busy helping to stow away the cargo as fast as it
came on board, twice running up to see how his father was getting
on. Each time he was told by the woman whom the burgomaster had
now engaged to act as nurse, that he was sleeping quietly. When he
returned after seeing the Good Venture fairly under way, he found
on peeping quietly into the room that Captain Martin had just woke.

"I have had a nice sleep, Ned," he said, as the lad went up to his
bedside. "I see it is already getting dark. Has the brig sailed?"

"She has just gone out of port, father. The wind is light and it
was no use starting until tide turned; although, indeed, the tides
are of no great account in these inland waters. Still, we had to
take some ballast on board as our hold was empty, and they might
meet with storms on their way home; so they had to wait for that.
But, indeed, after all, they took in but little ballast, for the
burgomaster bestirred himself so warmly in our favour that the
merchants sent down goods as fast as we could get them on board,
and short as the time was, the main hold was well nigh half full
before we put on the hatches; so that her voyage home will not be
without a good profit after all."

"That is good news, Ned; for although as far as I am concerned the
money is of no great consequence one way or the other, I am but
part owner, and the others might well complain at my sending the
ship home empty to fetch my wife instead of attending to their
interests."

"I am sure they would not have done that, father, seeing how well
you do for them, and what good money the Venture earns. Why, I
have heard you say she returns her value every two years. So that
they might well have gone without a fortnight's earnings without
murmuring."

"I don't suppose they would have murmured, Ned, for they are all
good friends of mine, and always seem well pleased with what I do
for them. Still, in matters of business it is always well to be
strict and regular; and I should have deemed it my duty to have
calculated the usual earnings of the ship for the time she was
away, and to have paid my partners their share as if she had been
trading as usual. It is not because the ship is half mine and that
I and my partners make good profit out of her, that I have a right
to divert her from her trade for my own purposes. As you say, my
partners might be well content to let me do so; but that is not
the question, I should not be content myself.

"We should always in business work with a good conscience, being
more particular about the interests of those who trust us than of
our own. Indeed, on the bare ground of expediency it is best to do
so; for then, if misfortune happens, trade goes bad, or your vessel
is cast away, they will make good allowance for you, knowing that
you are a loser as well as they, and that at all times you have
thought as much of them as of yourself. Lay this always to heart,
lad. It is unlikely that I shall go to sea much more, and ere long
you will be in command of the Good Venture. Always think more of
the interests of those who trust you than of your own.

"They have put their money into the ship, relying upon their
partner's skill and honesty and courage. Even at a loss to yourself
you should show them always that this confidence is not misplaced.
Do your duty and a little more, lad. Most men do their duty. It is
the little more that makes the difference between one man and the
other. I have tried always to do a little more, and I have found
my benefit from it in the confidence and trust of my partners in
the ship, and of the merchants with whom I do business. However, I
am right glad that the ship is not going back empty. I shall reckon
how much we should have received for the freight that was promised
me at Amsterdam, then you will give me an account of what is to be
paid by the merchants here. The difference I shall make up, as is
only right, seeing that it is entirely from my own imprudence in
expressing my opinion upon affairs particular to myself, and in
no way connected with the ship, that I was forced to leave without
taking in that cargo."

Ned listened in silence to his father's words, and resolved to
lay to heart the lessons they conveyed. He was proud of the high
standing and estimation in which his father was held by all who
knew him, and he now recognized fully for the first time how he
had won that estimation. It was not only that he was a good sailor,
but that in all things men were assured that his honour could
be implicitly relied upon, and that he placed the interest of his
employers beyond his own.

After the first day or two Ned could see but little change in his
father's condition; he was very weak and low, and spoke but seldom.
Doubtless his bodily condition was aggravated now by the thought
that must be ever present to him--that his active career was
terminated. He might, indeed, be able when once completely cured
to go to sea again, but he would no longer be the active sailor he
had been; able to set an example of energy to his men when the winds
blew high and the ship was in danger. And unless fully conscious
that he was equal to discharging all the duties of his position,
Captain Martin was not the man to continue to hold it.

Ned longed anxiously for the return of the Good Venture. He knew
that his mother's presence would do much for his father, and that
whatever her own sorrows might be she would cheer him. Captain
Martin never expressed any impatience for her coming; but when
each morning he asked Ned, the first thing, which way the wind was
blowing, his son knew well enough what he was thinking of. In the
meantime Ned had been making inquiries, and he arranged for the
hire of a comfortable house, whose inhabitants being Catholics,
had, when Enkhuizen declared for the Prince of Orange, removed
to Amsterdam. For although the Prince insisted most earnestly and
vigorously that religious toleration should be extended to the
Catholics, and that no one should suffer for their religion, all were
not so tolerant; and when the news arrived of wholesale massacres
of Protestants by Alva's troops, the lower class were apt to rise
in riot, and to retaliate by the destruction of the property of
the Catholics in their towns.

Ned had therefore no difficulty in obtaining the use of the house,
on extremely moderate terms, from the agent in whose hands its
owner had placed his affairs in Enkhuizen. The burgomaster's wife
had at his request engaged two female servants, and the nurse
would of course accompany her patient. The burgomaster and his wife
had both protested against any move being made; but Ned, although
thanking them earnestly for their hospitable offer, pointed out that
it might be a long time before his father could be about, that it
was good for his mother to have the occupation of seeing to the
affairs of the house to divert her thoughts from the sick bed, and,
as it was by no means improbable that she would bring his sisters
with her, it would be better in all respects that they should have
a house of their own. The doctors having been consulted, agreed
that it would be better for the wounded man to be among his own
people, and that no harm would come of removing him carefully to
another house.

"A change, even a slight one, is often a benefit," they agreed;
"and more than counterbalances any slight risk that there may be
in a patient's removal from one place to another, providing that
it be gently and carefully managed."

Therefore it was arranged that as soon as the Good Venture was seen
approaching, Captain Martin should be carried to his new abode, where
everything was kept prepared for him, and that his wife should go
direct to him there.



CHAPTER V

NED'S RESOLVE


On the ninth morning after the departure of the brig Ned was up
as soon as daylight appeared, and made his way to the walls. The
watchman there, with whom he had had several talks during the last
two days, said:

"There is a brig, hull down, seaward, and I should say that she is
about the size of the one you are looking for. She looks, too, as
if she were heading for this port."

"I think that is she," Ned said, gazing intently at the distant
vessel. "It seems to me that I can make out that her jib is lighter
in colour than the rest of her canvas. If that is so I have no
doubt about its being the Good Venture, for we blew our jib away
in a storm off Ostend, and had a new one about four months ago."

"That is her then, young master," the watchman said, shading his
eyes and looking intently at the brig. "Her jib is surely of lighter
colour than the rest of her canvas."

With this confirmation Ned at once ran round to the house he had
taken, and told the servants to have fires lighted, and everything
in readiness for the reception of the party.

"My father," he said, "will be brought here in the course of an
hour or so. My mother will arrive a little later."

Ned then went round to the doctor, who had promised that he would
personally superintend the removing of his patient, and would bring
four careful men and a litter for his conveyance. He said that
he would be round at the burgomaster's in half an hour. Ned then
went back to his father. Captain Martin looked round eagerly as he
entered.

"Yes, father," Ned said, answering the look; "there is a brig in
sight, which is, I am pretty sure, the Good Venture. She will be
in port in the course of a couple of hours. I have just been round
to Doctor Harreng, and he will be here in half an hour with the
litter to take you over to the new house."

Captain Martin gave an exclamation of deep thankfulness, and then
lay for some time with his eyes closed, and spoke but little until
the arrival of the doctor and the men with the litter.

"You must first of all drink this broth that has just been sent up
for you," the surgeon said, "and then take a spoonful of cordial.
It will be a fatigue, you know, however well we manage it; and you
must be looking as bright and well as you can by the time your good
wife arrives, else she will have a very bad opinion of the doctors
of Enkhuizen."

Captain Martin did as he was ordered. The men then carefully raised
the mattress with him upon it, and placed it upon the litter.

"I think we will cover you up altogether," the doctor said, "as we
go along through the streets. The morning air is a good deal keener
than the atmosphere of this room, and you won't want to look about."

The litter was therefore completely covered with a blanket, and
was then lifted and taken carefully down the broad staircase and
through the streets. The burgomaster's wife had herself gone on
before to see that everything was comfortably prepared, and when
the bed was laid down on the bedstead and the blanket turned back
Captain Martin saw a bright room with a fire burning on the hearth,
and the burgomaster's wife and nurse beside him, while Ned and the
doctor were at the foot of the bed.

"You have not suffered, I hope, in the moving, Captain Martin?"
the burgomaster's wife asked.

"Not at all," he said. "I felt somewhat faint at first, but the
movement has been so easy that it soon passed off. I was glad my
head was covered, for I do not think that I could have stood the
sight of the passing objects."

"Now you must drink another spoonful of cordial," the doctor said,
"and then lie quiet. I shall not let you see your wife when she
arrives if your pulse is beating too rapidly. So far you have been
going on fairly, and we must not have you thrown back."

"I shall not be excited," Captain Martin replied. "Now that I
know the vessel is in sight I am contented enough; but I have been
fearing lest the brig might fall in with a Spaniard as she came
through the islands, and there would be small mercy for any on board
had she been detected and captured. Now that I know she is coming
to port safely, I can wait quietly enough. Now, Ned, you can be
off down to the port."

The doctor went out with Ned and charged him strictly to impress
upon his mother the necessity for self restraint and quiet when
she saw her husband.

"I am not over satisfied with his state," he said, "and much will
depend on this meeting. If it passes off well and he is none the
worse for it tomorrow, I shall look to see him mend rapidly; but
if, on the other hand, he is agitated and excited, fever may set
in at once, and in that case, weak as he is, his state will be very
serious."

"I understand, sir, and will impress it upon my mother; but I do
not think you need fear for her. Whatever she feels she will, I am
sure, carry out your instructions."

Ned went down to the port. He found that the brig was but a quarter
of a mile away. He could make out female figures on board, and knew
that, as he had rather expected would be the case, his mother had
brought his sisters with her. Jumping into a boat he was rowed off
to the vessel, and climbing the side was at once in his mother's
arms. Already he had answered the question that Peters had shouted
before he was halfway from the shore, and had replied that his father
was going on as well as could be expected. Thus when Ned leapt on
board his mother and the girls were in tears at the relief to the
anxiety that had oppressed them during the voyage lest they should
at its end find they had arrived too late.

"And he is really better?" were Mrs. Martin's first words as she
released Ned from her embrace.

"I don't know that he is better, mother, but he is no worse. He
is terribly weak; but the doctor tells me that if no harm comes to
him from his agitation in meeting you, he expects to see him mend
rapidly. He has been rather fretting about your safety, and I think
that the knowledge that you are at hand has already done him good.
His voice was stronger when he spoke just before I started than
it has been for some days. Only, above all things, the doctor says
you must restrain your feelings and be calm and quiet when you first
meet him. And now, girls, how are you both?" he asked turning to
them. "Not very well, I suppose; for I know you have always shown
yourselves bad sailors when you have come over with mother."

"The sea has not been very rough," Janet said; "and except when we
first got out to sea we have not been ill."

"What are you going to do about the girls?" Mrs. Martin asked. "Of
course I must go where your father is, but I cannot presume upon
the kindness of strangers so far as to quarter the girls upon them."

"That is all arranged, mother. Father agreed with me that it would
not be pleasant for any of you being with strangers, and I have
therefore taken a house; and he has just been moved there, so you
will have him all to yourself."

"That is indeed good news," Mrs. Martin said. "However kind people
are, one is never so comfortable as at home. One is afraid of
giving trouble, and altogether it is different. I have heard all
the news, my boy. Master Peters tried his best to conceal it from
me, but I was sure by his manner that there was something wrong.
It was better that I should know at once," she went on, wiping her
eyes. "Terrible as it all is, I have scarce time to think about
it now when my mind is taken up with your father's danger. And it
hardly came upon me even as a surprise, for I have long felt that
some evil must have befallen them or they would have assuredly
managed to send me word of themselves before now."

By this time the Good Venture had entered the port, and had drawn
up close beside one of the wharves. As soon as the sails were lowered
and the warps made fast, Peters directed three of the seamen to
bring up the boxes from the cabin, and to follow him. Ned then led
the way to the new house.

"I will go up first, mother, and tell them that you have come."

Mrs. Martin quietly removed her hat and cloak, followed Ned upstairs,
and entered her husband's room with a calm and composed face.

"Well, my dear husband," she said almost cheerfully, "I have come
to nurse you. You see when you get into trouble it is us women that
you men fall back upon after all."

The doctor, who had retired into the next room when he heard that
Mrs. Martin had arrived, nodded his head with a satisfied air. "She
will do," he said. "I have not much fear for my patient now."

Ned, knowing that he would not be wanted upstairs for some time,
went out with Peters after the baggage had been set down in the
lower room.

"So you had a fine voyage of it, Peters?"

"We should have been better for a little more wind, both coming and
going," the mate said; "but there was nothing much to complain of."

"You could not have been long in the river then, Peters?"

"We were six and thirty hours in port. We got in at the top of tide
on Monday morning, and went down with the ebb on Tuesday evening.
First, as in duty bound, I went to see our good dame and give her
your letter, and answer her questions. It was a hard business that,
and I would as lief have gone before the queen herself to give
her an account of things as to have gone to your mother. Of course
I hoisted the flag as we passed up the river. I knew that some of
them were sure to be on watch at Rotherhithe, and that they would
run in and tell her that the Good Venture was in port again. I had
rather hoped that our coming back so soon might lead her to think
that something was wrong, for she would have known that we could
scarce have gone to Amsterdam and discharged, loaded up again, and
then back here, especially as the wind had been light ever since
she sailed. And sure enough the thought had struck her; for when
I caught sight of the garden gate one of your sisters was there on
the lookout, and directly she saw me she ran away in. I hurried on
as fast as I could go then, for I knew that Mistress Martin would
be sorely frightened when she heard that it was neither your father
nor you. As I got there your mother was standing at the door. She
was just as white as death. 'Cheer up, mistress,' I said as cheery
as I could speak. 'I have bad news for you, but it might have been
a deal worse. The captain's got a hurt, and Master Ned is stopping
to nurse him.'

"She looked at me as if she would read me through. 'That's the
truth as I am a Christian man, mistress,' I said. 'It has been a
bad business, but it might have been a deal worse. The doctor said
that he was doing well.' Then your mother gave a deep sigh, and
I thought for a moment she was going to faint, and ran forward to
catch her; but she seemed to make an effort and straighten herself
up, just as I have seen the brig do when a heavy sea has flooded
her decks and swept all before it.

"'Thanks be to the good God that he is not taken from me,' she
said. 'Now I can bear anything. Now, Peters, tell me all about it.'

"'I ain't good at telling a story, Mistress Martin,' I said; 'but
here is Master Ned's letter. When you have read that maybe I can
answer questions as to matters of which he may not have written. I
will stand off and on in the garden, ma'am, and then you can read
it comfortable like indoors, and hail me when you have got to the
bottom of it.' It was not many minutes before one of your sisters
called me in. They had all been crying, and I felt more uncomfortable
than I did when those Spanish rascals gave us a broadside as I went
in, for I was afraid she would so rake me with questions that she
would get out of me that other sad business; and it could hardly
be expected that even the stoutest ship should weather two such
storms, one after the other.

"'I don't understand it all, Master Peters,' she said, 'for my son
gives no good reason why the Spaniards should thus have attacked an
English ship; but we can talk of that afterwards. All that matters
at present is, that my husband has been wounded and has lost his
leg, and lies in some danger; for although Ned clearly makes the
best of it, no man can suffer a hurt like that without great risk
of life. He wishes me to go over at once. As to the girls, he says
I can take them with me or leave them with a friend here. But they
wish, as is natural, greatly to go; and it were better for all
reasons that they did so. Were they left here they would be in
anxiety about their father's state, and as it may be long before he
can be moved I should not like to leave them in other charge than
my own. When will you be ready to sail again?"

"'I shall be ready by tomorrow evening's tide, Mistress Martin,' I
said. 'I have cargo on board that I must discharge, and must have
carpenters and sailmakers on board to repair some of the damages
we suffered in this action. I do not think I can possibly be ready
to drop down the river before high water tomorrow, which will be
about six o'clock. I will send a boat to the stairs here at half
past five to take you and your trunks on board.'

"'We shall be ready,' she said. 'As Ned says that my husband is well
cared for in the house of the burgomaster, and has every comfort
and attention, there is nothing I need take over for him.' I said
that I was sure he had all he could require, and that she need take
no trouble on that score; and then said that with her permission
I would go straight back on board again, seeing there was much to
do, and that it all came on my shoulders just at present.

"I had left the bosun in charge, and told him to get the hatches
off and begin to get up the cargo as soon as he had stowed the
sails and made all tidy; for I had not waited for that, but had
rowed ashore as soon as the anchor was dropped. So without going
back to the brig I crossed the river and landed by the steps at
the bridge, and took the letters to the merchants for whom I had
goods, and prayed them to send off boats immediately, as it was
urgent for me to discharge as soon as possible; then I went to the
merchants whose names you had given me, and who ship goods with
us regularly, to tell them that the Venture was in port but would
sail again tomorrow evening, and would take what cargo they could
get on board for Enkhuizen or any of the seaward ports, but not
for Amsterdam or other places still in the hands of the Spaniards.

"Then I went to the lord mayor and swore an information before
him to lay before the queen and the council that the Spaniards had
wantonly, and without offence given, attacked the Good Venture and
inflicted much damage upon her, and badly wounded her captain; and
would have sunk her had we not stoutly defended ourselves and beat
them off. I was glad when all that was over, Master Ned; for, as
you know, I know nought about writing. My business is to sail the
ship under your father's orders; but as to talking with merchants
who press you with questions, and seem to think that you have nought
to do but to stand and gossip, this is not in my way, and I wished
sorely that you had been with me, and could have taken all this
business into your hands.

"Then I went down to the wharves, and soon got some carpenters at
work to mend the bulwarks and put some fresh planks on the deck
where the shot had ploughed it up. Luckily enough I heard of a man
who had some sails that he had bought from the owners of a ship
which was cast away down near the mouth of the river. They were a
little large for the Venture; but I made a bargain with him in your
father's name, and got them on board and set half a dozen sailmakers
to work upon them, and they were ready by the next afternoon. The
others will do again when they have got some new cloths in, and a
few patches; but if we had gone out with a dozen holes in them the
first Spaniard who saw us, and who had heard of our fight with the
Don Pedro, would have known us at once.

"I was thankful, I can tell you, when I got on board again. Just
as I did so some lighters came out, and we were hard at work till
dusk getting out the cargo. The next morning at daylight fresh
cargo began to come out to us, and things went on well, and would
have gone better had not people come on board pestering me with
questions about our fight with the Spaniards. And just at noon two
of the queen's officers came down and must needs have the whole
story from beginning to end; and they had brought a clerk with
them to write it down from my lips. They said we had done right
gallantly, and that no doubt I should be wanted the next day at
the royal council to answer other questions touching the affair.
You may be sure I said no word about the fact that in six hours we
should be dropping down the river; for like enough if I had they
would have ordered me not to go, and as I should have gone whether
they had or not--seeing that Captain Martin was looking for his
wife, and that the mistress was anxious to be off--it might have
led to trouble when I got back again.

"By the afternoon we had got some thirty tons of goods on board,
and although that is but a third of what she would carry, I was well
content that we had done so much. After the new sails had come on
board I had put a gang to work to bend them, and had all ready and
the anchor up just as the tide turned. We had not dropped down many
hundred yards when the boat with Mistress Martin and your sisters
came alongside; and thankful I was when it came on dark and we
were slipping down the river with a light southwesterly wind, for
I had been on thorns all the afternoon lest some messenger might
arrive from the council with orders for me to attend there. I did
not speak much to your mother that evening, for it needs all a
man's attention to work down the river at night.

"The next morning I had my breakfast brought up on deck instead
of going down, for, as you may guess, I did not want to have your
mother questioning me; but presently your sister came up with a
message to me that Mistress Martin would be glad to have a quarter
of an hour's conversation with me as soon as duty would permit me
to leave deck. So after awhile I braced myself up and went below,
but I tell you that I would rather have gone into action again with
the Don Pedro. She began at once, without parley or courtesies, by
firing a broadside right into me.

"'I don't think, Master Peters, that you have told me yet all there
is to be told.'

"That took me between wind and water, you see. However, I made a
shift to bear up.

"'Well, Mistress Martin,' says I, 'I don't say as I have given you
all particulars. I don't know as I mentioned to you as Joe Wiggins
was struck down by a splinter from the longboat and was dazed for
full two hours, but he came round again all right, and was fit for
duty next day.'

"Mrs. Martin heard me quietly, and then she said:

"'That will not do, John Peters; you know well what I mean. You
need not fear to tell me the news; I have long been fearing it.
My husband is not one to talk loosely in the streets and to bring
upon himself the anger of the Spaniards. He must have had good
cause before he said words that spoken there would place his life
in peril. What has happened at Vordwyk?"

"Well, Master Ned, I stood there as one struck stupid. What was there
to say? I am a truthful man, but I would have told a lie if I had
thought it would have been any good. But there she was, looking
quietly at me, and I knew as she would see in a moment whether
I was speaking truth or not. She waited quiet ever so long and at
last I said:

"'The matter is in this wise, Mistress Martin. My orders was I was
to hold my tongue about all business not touching the captain or
the affairs of this ship. When you sees the captain it's for you
to ask him questions, and for him to answer if he sees right and
good to do so.'

"She put her hand over her face and sat quiet for some time, and
when she looked up again her eyes were full of tears and her cheeks
wet; then she said in a low tone:

"'All, Peters,--are they all gone?'

"Well, Master Ned, I was swabbing my own eyes; for it ain't in a
man's nature to see a woman suffering like that, and so quiet and
brave, without feeling somehow as if all the manliness had gone out
of him. I could not say nothing. What could I say, knowing what the
truth was? Then she burst out a-crying and a-sobbing, and I steals
off without a word, and goes on deck and sets the men a-hauling at
the sheets and trimming the sails, till I know there was not one
of them but cussed me in his heart and wished that the captain was
back again.

"Mistress Martin did not say no word about it afterwards. She came
up on deck a few times, and asked me more about the captain, and
how he looked, and what he was doing when he got his wound. And
of course I told her all about it, full and particular, and how he
had made every one else lie down, and stood there at the tiller as
we went under the stern of the Spaniard, and that none of us knew
he was hit until it was all over; and how we had peppered them with
our four carronades, and all about it. But mostly she stopped down
below till we hauled our wind and headed up the Zuider Zee towards
Enkhuizen."

"Well, now it is all over, Peters," Ned said, "there is no doubt
that it is better she should have heard the news from you instead
of my father having to tell her."

"I don't deny that that may be so, Master Ned, now that it is all
over and done; but never again will John Peters undertake a job
where he is got to keep his mouth shut when a woman wants to get
something out of him. Lor' bless you, lad, they just see right
through you; and you feel that, twist and turn as you will, they
will get it out of you sooner or later. There, I started with
my mind quite made up that orders was to be obeyed, and that your
mother was to be kept in the dark about it till she got here; and
I had considered with myself that in such a case as this it would
be no great weight upon my conscience if I had to make up some kind
of a yarn that would satisfy her; and yet in three minutes after
she got me into that cabin she was at the bottom of it all."

"You see, she has been already very uneasy at not hearing for so
long from her father and brothers, Peters; and that and the fact
that my father had spoken openly against the Spanish authorities
set her upon the track, and enabled her to put the questions
straightforwardly to you."

"I suppose that was it, sir. And now, has the captain said anything
about what is going to be done with the ship till he gets well?"

"Nothing whatever, Peters. He has spoken very little upon any
subject. I know he has been extremely anxious for my mother to
arrive, though he has said but little about it. I fancy that for
the last few days he has not thought that he should recover. But the
doctor told me I must not be uneasy upon that ground, for that he
was now extremely weak, and men, even the bravest and most resolute
when in health, are apt to take a gloomy view when utterly weak and
prostrate. His opinion was that my mother's coming would probably
cheer him up and enable him to rally.

"I think, too, that he has been dreading having to tell her the
terrible news about her father and brothers; and now he knows that
she is aware of that it will be a load off his mind. Besides, I
know that for his sake she will be cheerful and bright, and with
her and the girls with him, he will feel as if at home. The doctor
told me that the mind has a great influence over the body, and
that a man with cheerful surroundings had five chances to one as
against one amongst strangers, and with no one to brighten him up.
I have no doubt that as soon as he gets a little stronger he will
arrange what is to be done with the brig, but I am sure it will be
a long time before he can take the command again himself."

"Ay, I fear it will be," Peters agreed. "It is a pity you are not
four or five years older, Master Ned. I do not say that I couldn't
bring the ship into any port in Holland; for, having been sailing
backwards and forwards here, man and boy, for over thirty years, I
could do so pretty nigh blindfold. But what is the good of bringing
a ship to a port if you have not got the head to see about getting
a cargo for her, and cannot read the bills of lading, or as much
as sign your name to a customs list.

"No, Master Ned, I am not fit for a captain, that is quite certain.
But though I would not mind serving under another till your father
is fit to take charge again, I could not work on board the Venture
under another for good. I have got a little money saved up, and
would rather buy a share in a small coaster and be my own master
there. After serving under your father for nigh twenty years, I
know I should not get on with another skipper nohow."

"Well, Peters, it is no use talking it over now, because I have
no idea what my father's decision will be. I hope above all things
that he will be able to take command again, but I have great doubts
in my own mind whether he will ever do so. If he had lost the leg
below the knee it would not so much have mattered; but as it is,
with the whole leg stiff, he would have great difficulty in getting
about, especially if the ship was rolling in a heavy sea."

John Peters shook his head gravely, for this was the very thing
he had turned in his mind over and over again during the voyage to
and from England.

"Your cargo is not all for this place, I suppose, Peters?"

"No, sir. Only two or three tons which are down in the forehold
together are for Enkhuizen, the rest are for Leyden and the Hague.
I told the merchants that if they put their goods on board I must
sail past the ports and make straight on to Enkhuizen; for that
first of all I must bring Mistress Martin to the captain, but that
I would go round and discharge their goods as soon as I had brought
her here. It was only on these terms I agreed to take the cargo."

"That will do very well, Peters. I will go on board with you at
once, and see to whom your goods are consigned here, and warn them
to receive them at once. You will get them on shore by tonight,
and then tomorrow I will sail with you to Leyden and the Hague,
and aid you in getting your cargo into the right hands there. Now
that my mother and the girls are here my father will be able to
spare me. We can be back here again in four or five days, and by
that time I hope he will be so far recovered as to be able to think
matters over, and come to some decision as to the future management
of the brig. Of course if he wishes me to stay on board her I shall
obey his orders, whether you or another are the captain."

"Why, of course, you will remain on board, Master Ned. What else
should you do?"

"Well, Peters, my own mind is set upon joining the Prince of
Orange, and fighting against the Spaniards. Before I sailed from
home I told my sisters that was what I was longing to do, for I
could scarce sleep for thinking of all the cruelties and massacres
that they carried out upon the people of the Netherlands, who are,
by my mother's side, my kinsfolk. Since then I have scarce thought
of aught else. They have murdered my grandfather and uncles and one
of my aunts; they have shot away my father's leg, and would have
taken his life had he not escaped out of their hands; so that what
was before a longing is now a fixed idea, and if my father will
but give me permission, assuredly I will carry it out.

"There are many English volunteers who have already crossed the
sea to fight against these murderers, although unconnected by ties
of blood as I am, and who have been brought here to fight solely
from pity and horror, and because, as all know, Spain is the enemy
of England as well as of the Netherlands, and would put down our
freedom and abolish our religion as she has done here. I know that
my wishes, in this as in all other matters, must give way to those
of my father. Still I hope he may be moved to consent to them."

Ned thought it better to allow his father and mother to remain
quietly together for some time, and did not therefore return to
the house until twelve o'clock, when he knew that dinner would be
prepared; for his mother was so methodical in her ways that everything
would go on just as at home directly she took charge of the affairs
of the house. He went up for a few minutes before dinner, and was
struck with the change in the expression of his father's face.
There was a peaceful and contented look in his eyes, and it almost
seemed to Ned that his face was less hollow and drawn than before.
Ned told him that it would be necessary for the brig to go round to
Leyden and the Hague, and that Peters had proposed that he should
go with him to see the merchants, and arrange the business parts
of the affair.

"That will do very well," Captain Martin said. "You are young,
Ned, to begin having dealings with the Dutch merchants, but when
you tell them how it comes that I am not able to call upon them
myself, they will doubtless excuse your youth."

"Do you wish us to take any cargo there, father, if we can get
any?"

Captain Martin did not answer for some little time, then he said:

"No, Ned, I think you had best return here in the ship. By that time
I shall, I hope, be capable of thinking matters over, and deciding
upon my arrangements for the future. When is Peters thinking of
sailing?"

"By tomorrow morning's tide, sir. He said that he could be ready
perhaps by this evening; but that unless you wished it otherwise
he would not start till tomorrow's tide, as he will thereby avoid
going out between the islands at night."

"That will be the best way, Ned. If the winds are fair he will be
at the Hague before nightfall."

The day after his return Ned took an opportunity of speaking to his
mother as to his wish to take service with the Prince of Orange,
and to aid in the efforts that the people of the Netherlands were
making to free themselves from their persecutors. His mother, as
he feared would be the case, expressed a strong opposition to his
plan.

"You are altogether too young, Ned, even if it were a matter that
concerned you."

"It does concern me, mother. Are you not Dutch? And though I was
born in England and a subject of the queen, it is natural I should
feel warmly in the matter; besides we know that many English are
already coming over here to help. Have not the Spanish killed my
relations, and unless they are driven back they will altogether
exterminate the Protestants of the Netherlands? Have they not
already been doomed to death regardless of age and sex by Philip's
proclamation? and do not the Spaniards whenever they capture a town
slay well nigh all within it?"

"That is all true enough," his mother agreed; "but proves in no
way that you are a fit age to meddle in the affair."

"I am sixteen, mother; and a boy of sixteen who has been years at
sea is as strong as one of eighteen brought up on land. You have
told me yourself that I look two or three years older than I am,
and methinks I have strength to handle pike and axe."

"That may be perfectly true," said Mrs. Martin, "but even supposing
all other things were fitting, how could we spare you now when
your father will be months before he can follow his trade on the
sea again, even if he is ever able to do so?"

"That is the thing, mother, that weighs with me. I know not what my
father's wishes may be in that respect, and of course if he holds
that I can be of use to him I must give up my plan; but I want you
at any rate to mention it to him. And I pray you not to add your
objections, but to let him decide on the matter according to his
will."

"There will be no occasion for me to add objections, Ned. I do not
think your father will listen to such a mad scheme for a moment."

It was not until three or four days later that Mrs. Martin, seeing
that her husband was stronger and better, and was taking an interest
in what passed in the house, fulfilled her promise to Ned by telling
his father of his wishes.

"You must not be angry with him," she said when she had finished;
"for he spoke beautifully, and expressed himself as perfectly willing
to yield his wishes to yours in the matter. I told him, of course,
that it was a mad brained scheme, and not to be thought of. Still,
as he was urgent I should lay it before you, I promised to do so."

Captain Martin did not, as his wife expected, instantly declare
that such a plan was not to be thought of even for a moment, but
lay for some time apparently turning it over in his mind.

"I know not quite what to say," he said at length.

"Not know what to say?" his wife repeated in surprise. "Why, husband,
you surely cannot for a moment think of allowing Ned to embark in
so wild a business."

"There are many English volunteers coming over; some of them not
much older, and not so fit in bodily strength for the work as Ned.
He has, too, the advantage of speaking the language, and can pass
anywhere as a native. You are surprised, Sophie, at my thinking of
this for a moment."

"But what would you do without him?" she exclaimed in astonishment.

"That is what I have been thinking as I lay here. I have been
troubled what to do with Ned. He is too young yet to entrust with
all the business of the ship, and the merchants here and at home
would hesitate in doing business with a lad. Moreover, he is too
young to be first mate on board the brig. Peters is a worthy man and
a good sailor, but he can neither read nor write and knows nought
of business; and, therefore, until I am able, if I ever shall be,
to return to the Good Venture, I must have a good seaman as first
mate, and a supercargo to manage the business affairs of the
ship. Were Ned four years older he could be at once first mate and
supercargo. There, you see your objection that I need him falls to
the ground. As to other reasons I will think them over, and speak
to you another time."



CHAPTER VI

THE PRINCE OF ORANGE


Mistress Martin was much troubled in her mind by what seemed to
her the unaccountable favour with which her husband had received
Ned's proposal. She did not, however, allow any trace of this
feeling to escape her, nor did she mention to Ned that she had as
yet spoken as to his wishes to his father. The next day Captain
Martin himself renewed the subject.

"I told you yesterday, Sophie, why in my opinion Ned would at
present be of little aid to me in the matter of the brig, and may
even go further in that respect and say that I think for a time it
will be just as well that he were not on board. Having no established
position there would be no special duties for him to perform. Now,
I have made a point of telling him all about the consignments and
the rates of freight, and have encouraged him always to express
his opinion freely on these matters in order that his intelligence
might thereby be quickened; but if he so expressed himself to the
supercargo the latter might well take offence and difficulties
arise, therefore before you spoke to me I had quite resolved that it
would be best he should sail no more in the Good Venture until old
enough to come in and take the place of second mate and supercargo,
but that I would place him with some captain of my acquaintance,
under whom he would continue to learn his duty for the next three
or four years."

"That is a good reason, doubtless, husband, why Ned should not sail
in the Venture, but surely no reason at all why he should carry
out this mad fancy of his."

"No reason, I grant you, wife; but it simply shows that it happens
at this moment we can well spare him. As to the main question, it
is a weighty one. Other young Englishmen have come out to fight for
the Netherlands with far less cause than he has to mix themselves
up in its affairs. Moreover, and this principally, it is borne
strongly upon my mind that it may be that this boy of ours is called
upon to do good service to Holland. It seems to me wife," he went
on, in answer to the look of astonishment upon his wife's face,
"that the hand of Providence is in this matter.

"I have always felt with you a hatred of the Spaniards and a deep
horror at the cruelties they are perpetrating upon this unhappy
people, and have thought that did the queen give the order for war
against them I would gladly adventure my life and ship in such an
enterprise; further than that I have not gone. But upon that day
when I heard the news of your father and brothers' murder I took
a solemn oath to heaven of vengeance against their slayers, and
resolved that on my return to England I would buy out my partners
in the Good Venture, and with her join the beggars of the sea and
wage war to the death against the Spaniards. It has been willed
otherwise, wife. Within twenty-four hours of my taking that oath
I was struck down and my fighting powers were gone forever.

"My oath was not accepted. I was not to be an instrument of
God's vengeance upon these murderers. Now, our son, without word
or consultation with me, feels called upon to take up the work I
cannot perform. It happens strangely that he can for the next two
or three years be well spared from his life at sea. That the boy
will do great feats I do not suppose; but he is cool and courageous,
for I marked his demeanour under fire the other day. And it may
be that though he may do no great things in fighting he may be
the means in saving some woman, some child, from the fury of the
Spaniards. If he saved but one, the next three years of his life
will not have been misspent."

"But he may fall--he may be killed by the Spaniards!" Mistress
Martin said in great agitation.

"If it be the will of God, wife, not otherwise. He is exposed to
danger every time he goes to sea. More than once since he first
came on board, the Venture has been in dire peril; who can say that
her next voyage may not be her last. However, I decide nothing now;
tomorrow I will speak to the boy myself and gather from his words
whether this is a mere passing fancy, natural enough to his age and
to the times, or a deep longing to venture his life in the cause
of a persecuted people whose blood runs in his veins, and who have
a faith which is his own and ours."

Mrs. Martin said no more; her husband's will had, since she married,
been in all matters of importance law to her, and was more so than
ever now that he lay weak and helpless. His words and manner too
had much impressed her. Her whole sympathies were passionately with
her countrymen, and the heavy losses she had so recently sustained
had added vastly to her hatred of the Spaniards. The suggestion,
too, of her husband that though Ned might do no great deeds as a
soldier he might be the means of saving some woman or child's life,
appealed to her womanly feelings.

She had girls of her own, and the thought that one of like age
might possibly be saved from the horrors of the sack of a city by
Ned's assistance appealed to her with great force. She went about
the house for the rest of the day subdued and quiet. Ned was puzzled
at her demeanour, and had he not seen for himself that his father
was progressing satisfactorily he would have thought that some
relapse had taken place, some unfavourable symptom appeared. But
this was clearly not the reason, and he could only fancy that now
his mother's anxiety as to his father's state was in some degree
abating, she was beginning to feel the loss of her father and
brothers all the more.

That the request she had promised to make in his name to his father
had anything to do with the matter did not enter his mind. Indeed,
he had begun to regret that he had made it. Not that his intense
longing to take service against the Spaniards was in any way abated,
but he felt it was selfish, now that he might for the first time
be of real use to his parents, for him thus to propose to embark
in adventures on his own account. He had asked his mother to put
the matter before his father, but he had scarce even a hope the
latter would for a moment listen to the proposal. The next morning
after breakfast, as he was about to start for a stroll to the wharf
to have a talk with Peters, his mother said to him quietly: "Put
aside your cap, Ned, your father wishes to speak to you."

She spoke so gravely that Ned ascended the stairs in some perturbation
of spirit. Doubtless she had spoken to his father, and the latter
was about to rate him severely for his folly in proposing to
desert his duty, and to embark in so wild an adventure as that he
had proposed. He was in no way reassured by the grave tone in which
his father said:

"Place that chair by my bedside, Ned, and sit down; my voice is
not strong and it fatigues me to speak loud. And now," he went on,
when Ned with a shamefaced expression had seated himself by the
bedside, "this desire that your mother tells me of to fight against
the Spaniards for a time in the service of the Prince of Orange,
how did it first come to you?"

"Ever since I heard the terrible story of the persecutions here,"
Ned replied. "I said to myself then that when I came to be a man I
would take revenge for these horrible murders. Since then the more
I have heard of the persecutions that the people here have suffered
in the cause of their religion, the more I have longed to be able
to give them such aid as I could. I have spoken of it over and over
again to my sisters; but I do not think that I should ever have
ventured to put my desire into words, had it not been for the
terrible news we learnt at Vordwyk. Now, however, that they have
killed my grandfather and uncles and have wounded you, I long more
than ever to join the patriots here; and of course the knowledge
that many young Englishmen were coming out to Brill and Flushing
as volunteers added to my desire. I said to myself if they who are
English are ready to give their lives in the cause of the Hollanders,
why should not I, who speak their language and am of their blood?"

"You have no desire to do great deeds or to distinguish yourself?"
Captain Martin asked.

"No, father; I have never so much as thought of that. I could not
imagine that I, as a boy, could be of any great service. I thought
I might, perhaps, being so young, be able to be of use in passing
among the Spaniards and carrying messages where a man could not
get through. I thought sometimes I might perhaps carry a warning
in time to enable women to escape with their children from a town
that was about to be beleaguered, and I hoped that if I did stand
in the ranks to face the Spaniards I should not disgrace my nation
and blood. I know, father, that it was presumptuous for me to think
that I could be of any real use; and if you are against it I will,
of course, as I told my mother, submit myself cheerfully to your
wishes."

"I am glad to see, Ned, that in this matter you are actuated by
right motives, and not moved by any boyish idea of adventure or of
doing feats of valour. This is no ordinary war, my boy. There is
none of the chivalry of past times in the struggle here. It is one
of life and death--grim, earnest, and determined. On one side
is Philip with the hosts of Spain, the greatest power in Europe,
determined to crush out the life of these poor provinces, to stamp
out the religion of the country, to leave not one man, woman, or
child alive who refuses to attend mass and to bow the knee before
the Papist images; on the other side you have a poor people tenanting
a land snatched from the sea, and held by constant and enduring
labour, equally determined that they will not abjure their religion,
that they will not permit the Inquisition to be established among
them, and ready to give lives and homes and all in the cause
of religious liberty. They have no thought of throwing off their
allegiance to Spain, if Spain will but be tolerant. The Prince
of Orange issues his orders and proclamations as the stadtholder
and lieutenant of the king, and declares that he is warring for
Philip, and designs only to repel those who, by their persecution
and cruelty, are dishonouring the royal cause.

"This cannot go on forever, and in time the Netherlands will be
driven to entreat some other foreign monarch to take them under his
protection. In this war there is no talk of glory. Men are fighting
for their religion, their homes, their wives and families. They
know that the Spaniards show neither quarter nor mercy, and that
it is scarce more than a question between death by the sword and
death by torture and hanging. There is no mercy for prisoners. The
town that yields on good conditions is sacked and destroyed as is
one taken by storm, for in no case have the Spaniards observed the
conditions they have made, deeming oaths taken to heretics to be
in no way binding on their consciences.

"Thus, Ned, those who embark upon this war engage in a struggle in
which there is no honour nor glory, nor fame nor reward to be won,
but one in which almost certain death stares them in the face, and
which, so far as I can see, can end only in the annihilation of
the people of this country, or in the expulsion of the Spaniards.
I do not say that there is no glory to be gained; but it is not
personal glory. In itself, no cause was ever more glorious than
that of men who struggle, not to conquer territory, not to gather
spoil, not to gratify ambition, but for freedom, for religion, for
hearth and home, and to revenge the countless atrocities inflicted
upon them by their oppressors. After what I have said, do you still
wish to embark upon this struggle?"

"I do wish it, father," Ned said firmly. "I desire it above all
things, if you and my mother can spare me."

Captain Martin then repeated to Ned the reasons that he had given
his wife for consenting to his carrying out his wishes: the fact
that there was no place for him at present on board the Good Venture,
the oath of vengeance upon the Spaniards that he had taken, and
his impression that although he himself could not carry out that
oath, its weight had been transferred to his son, whose desire to
take up the work he had intended to carry out, just at this moment,
seemed to him to be a special design of Providence.

"Now Ned," he concluded, "you understand the reasons that sway
me in giving my consent to your desire to do what you can for the
cause of religion and liberty. I do not propose that you should
at present actually take up arms that I question if you are strong
enough to wield. I will pray the burgomaster to give you letters
of introduction to the Prince, saying you are a young Englishman
ready and desirous of doing all that lies in your power for the
cause; that you speak the language as a native, and will be ready
to carry his messages wheresoever he may require them to be sent;
that you can be relied upon to be absolutely faithful, and have
entered the cause in no light spirit or desire for personal credit
or honour, but as one who has suffered great wrong in the loss of
near relatives at the hands of the Spaniards, and is wishful only
of giving such services as he can to the cause.

"It may be that coming with such recommendation the Prince will
see some way in which he can turn your services to account. And now
leave me, my boy. I am wearied with all this talking; and although
I deem that it is not my duty to withstand your wishes, it is no
slight trial to see my only son embark in so terrible and perilous
an adventure as this. But the cause I regard as a sacred one, and
it seems to me that I have no right to keep you from entering upon
it, as your mind lies that way."

Ned left the room greatly impressed with his father's words. He was
glad indeed that the permission he had asked for had been granted,
and that he was free to devote himself to the cause so dear to
most Englishmen, and doubly so to him from his relations with the
country. Sailing backwards and forwards to the various ports in
the Netherlands, and able to hold intercourse with all he met, he
had for years been listening to tales of atrocity and horror, until
he had come to regard the Spaniards as human monsters, and to long
with all his heart and strength to be able to join the oppressed
people against their tyrants.

Now he had got permission to do so. But he felt more than he had
done before the serious nature of the step which he was taking; and
although he did not for a moment regret the choice he had made, he
was conscious of its importance and of the solemn nature of the
duties he took upon himself in thus engaging in the struggle between
the Netherlands and Spain. He passed the room where his mother was
sitting, went over and kissed her, and then taking his cap passed
out into the street and mounted the ramparts, where he could think
undisturbed. His father's words had not shaken his determination,
although they had depressed his enthusiasm; but as he paced up and
down, with the fresh air from the sea blowing upon his cheek, the
feeling of youth and strength soon sent the blood dancing through
his veins again. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes brightened.

"There is honour and glory in the struggle," he said. "Did not the
people, old and young, pour out to the Crusades to wrest Jerusalem
from the hands of the infidels? This is a more glorious task. It is
to save God's followers from destruction; to succour the oppressed;
to fight for women and children as well as for men. It is a holier
and nobler object than that for which the Crusaders fought. They
died in hundreds of thousands by heat, by famine, thirst, and the
swords of the enemy. Few of those who fought ever returned home
to reap glory for their deeds; but there was honour for those who
fell. And in the same spirit in which even women and children left
their homes, and went in crowds to die for the Holy Sepulchre, so
will I venture my life for religion and freedom here."

An hour later he returned home; he could see that his mother had
been crying.

"Mother," he said, "I trust you will not grieve over this. I have
been thinking how the women of the early days sent their husbands
and sons and lovers to fight for the Holy Sepulchre. I think that
this cause is an even greater and more noble one; and feel sure
that though you may be anxious, you will not grudge me to do my
best for our religion and country people."

"Truly I think it is a holy cause, my boy; and after what your
father has said, I would not if I could say nay. I can only pray
that heaven will bless and keep you, and one day restore you to
me. But you will not be always fighting, Ned. There is no saying
how long the struggle may last; and if I let you go, it is with
the promise that at one-and-twenty at the latest you will return
to us, and take your place again as your father's right hand and
mine."

"I promise you, mother, that then, or if at any time before that
you write and say to me come home, I will come."

"I am content with that," his mother said.

That afternoon Ned told Peters what had been decided, and the
following morning the latter had a long talk with Captain Martin,
who directed him to apply to the other owners of the ship to appoint
him an able first mate, and also to choose one of their clerks in
whom they had confidence to sail in the vessel as supercargo.

"The doctors tell me, Peters, that in two or three months I may be
able to return home and to get about on crutches; but they advise
me that it will be at least another four months before I can strap
on a wooden leg and trust my weight to it. When I can do that, I
shall see how I can get about. You heard from Ned last night that
he is going to enter as a sort of volunteer under the Prince of
Orange?"

"Yes, he told me, Captain Martin. He is a lad of spirit; and if I
were fifteen years younger I would go with him."

"He is young for such work yet," Captain Martin said doubtfully.

"He is a strong youth, Captain Martin, and can do a man's work. His
training at sea has made him steady and cool; and I warrant me, if
he gets into danger, he will get out again if there is a chance.
I only hope, Captain Martin, that the brush we have had with the
Spaniards will not be our last, and that we too may be in the way
of striking a blow at the Spaniards."

"I hope that we may, Peters," Captain Martin said earnestly. "My
mind is as much bent upon it as is Ned's; and I will tell you what
must at present be known only to yourself, that I have made up my
mind that if I recover, and can take command of the Good Venture
again, I will buy up the other shares, so that I can do what I like
with her without accounting to any man. I need not do so much on
board as I used to do, but will get you a good second mate, and will
myself only direct. Then we will, as at present, trade between London
and the Netherlands; but if, as is likely enough, the Spaniards
and Hollanders come to blows at sea, or the prince needs ships to
carry troops to beleaguered towns, then for a time we will quit
trading and will join with the Good Venture, and strike a blow at
sea."

"That is good hearing, Captain Martin," Peters said, rubbing his
hands. "I warrant me you will not find one of the crew backward
at that work, and for my part I should like nothing better than to
tackle a Spaniard who does not carry more than two or three times
our own strength. The last fellow was a good deal too big for us,
but I believe if we had stuck to him we should have beaten him in
the end, big as he was."

"Perhaps we might, Peters; but the ship was not mine to risk then,
and we had cargo on board. If, in the future, we meet a Spaniard
when the ship is mine to venture, and our hold is clear, the Good
Venture shall not show him her stern I warrant you, unless he be
big enough to eat us."

On the following day the Good Venture set sail for England, and the
burgomaster having received a message from Captain Martin, praying
him to call upon him, paid him a visit. Captain Martin unfolded his
son's plans to him, and prayed him to furnish him with a letter to
the prince recommending him as one who might be trusted, and who
was willing to risk his life upon any enterprise with which he
might intrust him. This the burgomaster at once consented to do.

"Younger lads than he," he said, "have fought stoutly on the walls
of some of our towns against the Spaniards; and since such is his
wish, I doubt not he will be able to do good service. All Holland
has heard how your ship beat off the Don Pedro; and the fact that
the lad is your son, and took part in the fight, will at once
commend him to the prince. All Englishmen are gladly received; not
only because they come to fight as volunteers on our side, but as
a pledge that the heart of England is with us, and that sooner or
later she will join us in our struggle against Spain. And doubtless,
as you say, the fact that the lad is by his mother's side one of
us, and that he can converse in both our language and yours with
equal ease, is greatly in his favour. Tomorrow I will furnish him
with letters to the prince, and also to two or three gentlemen of
my acquaintances, who are in the prince's councils."

When the burgomaster had left, Captain Martin called Ned in.

"Now, you are going as a volunteer, Ned, and for a time, at any
rate, there must be no question of pay; you are giving your services
and not selling them. In the first place you must procure proper
attire, in which to present yourself to the prince; you must also
purchase a helmet, breast and back pieces, with sword and pistols.
As for money, I shall give you a purse with sufficient for your
present needs, and a letter which you can present to any of the
merchants in the seaports with whom we have trade, authorizing you
to draw upon me, and praying them to honour your drafts. Do not
stint yourself of money, and do not be extravagant. Your needs
will be small, and when serving in a garrison or in the field you
will, of course, draw rations like others. I need not give you a
list of the merchants in the various towns, since you already know
them, and have been with me at many of their places of business.

"In regard to your actions, I say to you do not court danger, but
do not avoid it. The cause is a good one, and you are risking your
life for it; but remember also that you are an only son, and there
are none to fill your place if you fall. Therefore be not rash;
keep always cool in danger, and if there is a prospect of escape
seize it promptly. Remember that your death can in no way benefit
Holland, while your life may do so; therefore do not from any
mistaken sense of heroism throw away your life in vain defence, when
all hope of success is over, but rather seek some means of escape
by which, when all is lost, you can manage to avoid the vengeance
of the Spaniards. I fear that there will be many defeats before
success can be obtained, for there is no union among the various
states or cities.

"Holland and Zeeland alone seem in earnest in the cause, though
Friesland and Guelderland will perhaps join heartily; but these
provinces alone are really Protestant, in the other the Catholics
predominate, and I fear they will never join heartily in resistance
to Spain. How this narrow strip of land by the sea is to resist
all the power of Spain I cannot see; but I believe in the people
and in their spirit, and am convinced that sooner than fall again
into the grasp of the Inquisition they will open the sluices and
let the sea in over the country they have so hardly won from it,
and will embark on board ship and seek in some other country that
liberty to worship God in their own way that is denied them here."

It was not necessary to purchase many articles of clothing, for
the dress of the people of Holland differed little from that of the
English. Ned bought a thick buff jerkin to wear under his armour,
and had little difficulty in buying steel cap, breast and back piece,
sword and pistols; for the people of Holland had not as yet begun
to arm generally, and many of the walls were defended by burghers
in their citizen dress, against the mail clad pikemen of Spain.

Three days later Ned took a tearful farewell of his family, and
set sail in a small vessel bound for Rotterdam, where the Prince
of Orange at present was. The voyage was made without adventure,
and upon landing Ned at once made his way to the house occupied by
the prince. There were no guards at the gate, or any sign of martial
pomp. The door stood open, and when Ned entered a page accosted
him and asked his business.

"I have letters for the prince," he said, "which I pray you to hand
to him when he is at leisure."

"In that case you would have to wait long," the page replied,
"for the prince is at work from early morning until late at night.
However, he is always open of access to those who desire to see
him, therefore if you will give me the name of the writer of the
letter you bear I will inform him, and you can then deliver it
yoursel

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