The next thing I clearly remember was crawling up on deck, clad in a
Dutch sailor's jacket and cap (I had been stripped for action when I was
pitched into the waves out of the _Zebra_), and seeing a stretch of red-
tiled roofs and windmills and tall towers on the bank of the broad
stream up which we sailed on the tide. Rotterdam was in sight.
I had lain in a sort of stupor since I was carried on board twenty-four
hours ago. The Dutchmen had been kind to me in their rough way,
particularly as they took me for a Frenchman. I thought it prudent not
to undeceive them, and passed myself off to the skipper as a castaway
citizen of the Republic One and Indivisible, which my knowledge of the
language made easy.
But, as you may imagine, now that I stood on the deck of the _Scheldt_,
my mind had room for but one thought. Miss Kit--where was she?
Even had her curiosity brought her on deck yesterday to see the rescue
of the poor foreigner, she would hardly have recognised in the smoke-
begrimed, swollen features of the half-drowned man her old squire and
comrade of long ago. Still less would Martin, who had never set eyes on
me for four years, discover me. I knew him well enough as I came upon
him just then leaning over the bulwark taking an eyeful of Dutch
scenery.
He turned round as I approached and nodded.
"_Comment vous portez-vous_?" said he, using up one of the slender stock
of French phrases he had at command.
I replied in French that I did well, and was entirely at monsieur's
service, and madame's too, for I heard, said I, monsieur did not travel
alone.
Martin, who only half-comprehended, looked at me doubtfully, and turned
on his heel.
Presently, as I leaned over the port watching the river, I overheard him
in conference with the skipper, who spoke imperfect English.
"Convent of the Carmelite Nuns?" said the latter; "that is outside the
town some distance. Is mademoiselle to be taken there?"
"Ay; those are my orders."
"Will she go?"
"She must," said Martin.
"She has not been very obedient so far," said the skipper with a laugh.
"You have not received much encouragement."
"What do I want encouragement for," growled Martin, "from her?"
"Perhaps the encouragement of Mees Norah, her maid, has been enough for
you. But I warn you, my young lady will not travel so easily by land as
by sea. You will need a troop of horse to take her to the Carmelites, I
expect."
This was said with a sneer at Martin's qualifications as a squire of
dames which that gentleman did not enjoy.
"I can manage my own business," said he in an unpleasant voice. "I
shall take her there in a carriage, and if she resists she will have to
find out she is not her own mistress."
"As you will," said the skipper. "I thank my stars I have not the
task."
Indeed, I came to learn later on that he had good reason for so wishing.
For Miss Kit, as soon as ever she discovered the vile plot which had
been practised on her, had retired to her cabin, and held every one on
board the _Scheldt_ at arm's-length except her maid, refusing to see
Martin, of the skipper, or any one, and fortifying herself like a
beleaguered garrison. Her cabin had a private companion ladder by which
she could reach the deck without passing through the men's quarters, and
after the first day or so, the poop was yielded to her as her own
territory without protest.
How was I to communicate with her now? I must if possible prevent her
incarceration in the convent, from which I knew escape would be
difficult.
I retired below and hastily scrawled on a piece of paper the following
note:--
"Miss Kit,--The half-drowned man who was taken on board yesterday was he
who writes this, and who is ready to die for you. You are to be carried
in a coach to-night to the Convent of the Carmelite Nuns. Make all the
delay possible before you consent to go, and so give me time to get
beforehand on the road, where I will find means to take you to a place
of safety.--Your devoted--
"Barry Gallagher."
This paper I folded, and returned on deck in the hope of finding some
means of getting it into my lady's hands.
Just as I passed the cook's galley, I came upon Norah, the maid, coming
out with a tray on which was a little bottle of wine and a plate of
biscuits. As we suddenly met, the tray slipped from her hand and fell
to the floor, spilling the contents of the bottle and scattering the
biscuits.
"Ach, but you're clumsy!" exclaimed the damsel.
It was on the point of my tongue to return the compliment in her own
language; but I remembered myself, and with a Frenchman's politeness
begged ten thousand pardons.
"Permit that I assist you to make good the damage, mademoiselle," said
I.
This mollified her, and she bade me hold the tray and pick up the
biscuits while she went for another bottle of wine.
When she returned, nothing would content me but that I should carry the
tray for her to the door of her lady's cabin, which she graciously
permitted, with a coquettish glance at Martin as we passed him on deck.
My agitation, if I betrayed any, was not all due to the fascinations of
Miss Norah, and Martin had no cause to be jealous on that score. The
truth was, that between the two top biscuits on the dish I had slipped
my little note!
"_Merci bien_, monsieur," said Norah at the door as she took the tray;
"and it's sorry I am I called you names."
"Any name from those pretty lips," began I, but she left me to finish my
compliment to the outside of the door.
When we moored alongside the Quai, I renewed my thanks to the Dutch
skipper, and offered to return him his coat. But he would not hear of
it. Only, said he, if I was disposed to-morrow to lend a hand at
unlading, he would consider the trouble of fishing me out of the North
Sea sufficiently repaid. This I promised by all means to do; and glad
to get free so easily, stepped ashore with the first to land.
As I passed the brig's poop I thought I saw a face peep from the little
cabin window, and after it a little hand wave. I put my own hand to my
lips as a symbol both of secrecy and devotion, and taking advantage of
the bustle attending on the arrival of a fresh craft, slipped out of the
crowd into the street beyond.
Here, among the first, I met a priest, to whom I made obeisance.
"Holy father," said I in French, "I beg you to direct me to the Convent
of the Carmelite Nuns of this town, to which I have a message of
importance from Ireland. I am a stranger here, and have but just
landed."
The priest eyed me suspiciously.
"The holy sisters receive no visitors but the clergy," said he. "I will
carry your letter."
"Alas! I have no letter. My message is by word of mouth, and I am free
to impart it to no one but to the lady superior. Does monseigneur
suspect me of ill motives in seeking the convent?"
He liked to be called monseigneur; and looking me up and down, concluded
the holy sisters had little to fear from me.
"The holy sisters live a mile or so beyond the city, before you come to
Overschie, on the road to Delft. You will know the house by the high
wall and the cross above the gate."
"Monseigneur," said I, "a thousand thanks, and may the saints make your
bed to-night;" and I departed along the road he pointed out.
I had not gone far, or reached the open fields beyond the town, when I
perceived, grazing at the roadside, a horse with saddle and pillion,
such as market folk rode, which had evidently broken tether while its
riders were away on some errand at a neighbouring _auberge_.
Necessity, which knows no law, and made me villain enough to deceive a
priest, was hardly likely to stick at borrowing a nag, especially when
the safety of my dear young mistress was at stake. It went to my heart
to think that the honest couple would have to complete their marketing
on foot; but I promised them in my mind that if the beast was one of
sense and natural affection, it should find its way home sooner or later
when its present task was done.
A short ride now cleared me of the town and brought me on to the road
which follows the canal to Delft. It was already dark, and as I ambled
past the lofty windmills that skirt the canal, I met scarcely a soul.
Presently at a junction of roads I distinguished a little way back from
the highroad the roof of a building almost hidden in trees, and closed
round with a high wall. A thick, nail-studded gate, surmounted by a
cross, marked the entrance. Here, then, was my destination.
I reined in my horse under the deepest shadow of the wall, within view
of the portal, and waited. To pass the time, I took from my pocket the
pistol which had lain there all the while I was in the water, and
drawing the wet charge, replaced it with powder and shot which I had
taken the precaution to provide myself with before I left the _Scheldt_.
Then it occurred to me, if I was to play highwayman, I could do it more
securely out in the solitary road than within earshot of the holy
sisters, who might harbour within their precincts watch-dogs, human or
animal, who could spoil sport of that kind.
So I rode a little way back on my steps and halted under a clump of
trees at the cross-roads, straining my ears impatiently for the noise of
wheels.
Nearly an hour elapsed before they came, and I concluded Miss Kit must
have taken my advice and given her custodian a bad time of it before she
permitted herself to be conducted from the ship to the vehicle. Now the
wheels advanced rapidly, and the frequent crack of the driver's whip
showed that Martin was trying to make up for lost time.
I could see as they approached that the two men were on the box, leaving
the inside to the ladies. The driver was evidently pointing out the
roof of the convent, dimly visible among the trees, and a face at the
open window was peering out in the same direction.
At that moment I darted out of my hiding-place, and firing my pistol in
the air, but near enough to the driver's ears to make him jump, shouted
gruffly,--
"_Haltez la_!"
The horse came up short on his haunches. The terror-stricken men gaped
round in a dazed way and tumbled off on the far side of the coach, while
the maid within uttered a loud scream. But almost before any of them
knew what had happened, I was bending beside the face at the window.
"Quick, Miss Kit, mount behind me." And passing my arm round her, I
drew her through the window and set her on the pillion behind me; and
next moment we were galloping away as fast as the beast could carry us,
with her dear arms clasping me, and her breath coming and going in quick
tumult on my neck.
For a mile we rode thus without a word, when I heard her give a little
laugh.
"What is it?" I asked.
"What a trouble for Martin!" said she, "He has Norah to console him."
"I am not jealous of Norah."
And I thought her arms held me a little firmer.
"How well you managed it," said she in a little. "I was terrified too,
just at first. Where are we going?"
"To Biddy McQuilkin's, at the Hague."
"Biddy McQuilkin's!" exclaimed she, with a start of surprise. "Surely
she is dead."
"So I thought; but she is not. She keeps an inn at the Hague; and has
orders from one in high authority among the Irish rebels to take care of
you."
"As a prisoner?"
"Surely not; as a lady."
She sighed.
"One peril never seems to be past," said she, "but a new one looms
ahead."
"Courage," said I. "Providence that saved you from the old peril will
save you from the new."
"Ah, Barry," she said gently, "I begin to wonder if your name spells
Providence to me. On that hateful ship I wondered often what had become
of you. When I saw behind us at Malin a red flag waved on the cliff-
top, I said, Could that be you, but for once too late to help?"
"It was," I replied.
"I knew it!" she exclaimed almost triumphantly, "Night by night as we
sailed further and further from home, I prayed Heaven to send you. Once
when an English warship crossed our path, I pictured you among the crew,
and wished they might capture us. Then when I got that wonderful little
letter among the biscuits I knew my prayer was answered; and I troubled
myself about nothing but to do your bidding. Poor Martin," and she
laughed again, "he was the sufferer by that."
You may fancy if her voice across my shoulder that night was not music
in my ears! It humoured her to talk of all the perils we had
encountered together, and of the ups and downs in our lots since that
first day I brought her in the boat from Rathmullan to Knockowen. Then
she spoke of her father and the peril he was in, and of the feuds and
dangers that beset our distracted country. From that we came to talk of
my adventures, and of Tim. But I could not find it in my heart to tell
her of the paper under the hearth at Kilgorman, or of the villainy by
which her father came into the estates he now held.
Near the end of our talk I mentioned that I had seen Captain Lestrange
in Derry.