“Give it me,” I said. “Give it me, Longshore Jack. Before they catch
us.” To my horror, I saw that the creature was a woman in a man's
clothes. She took me for one of her gang. She was too much frightened to
think things out. “I thought you were one of the other lot,” she gasped,
as she handed me a pocketbook.
“Didn't he get the letters, too?” I asked at a venture. “No,” she said,
sitting up, now, panting, to take a good look at me. I stared at her for
a moment. I, myself, was out of breath.
“They're going,” I said, hearing the noise of the pursuit passing away
in the check. “I'll just spy out the land.” I opened the door till it
was an inch or two ajar, so that I could see what was going on outside.
“They're gone,” I said again, still keeping up the pretence of being on
her side. As I said it, I glanced back to fix her features on my memory.
She had a pale, resolute face with fierce eyes, which seemed fierce from
pain, not from any cruelty of nature. It was a pleasant face, as far as
one could judge of a face made up to resemble a dirty pedlar's face.
Seeing my look, she seemed to watch me curiously, raising herself up,
till she stood unsteadily by the wall. “When did you come in?” she said,
meaning, I suppose, when did I join the gang.
“Last week,” I answered, swinging the door a little further open.
Footsteps were coming rapidly along the road. I heard excited voices, I
made sure that it was the search party going back to the schooner.
“Digame, muchacho,” she said in Spanish. It must have been some sort of
pass-word among them. Seeing by my face that I did not understand she
repeated the words softly. Then at that very instant she was on me like
a tigress with a knife. I slipped to one side instinctively. I suppose
I half saw her as the knife went home. She grabbed at the pocket-book,
which I swung away from her hand. The knife went deep into the door,
with a drive which must have jarred her to the shoulder. “Give it me,”
she gasped, snatching at me like a fury. I dodged to one side, up the
court, horribly scared. She followed, raving like a mad thing, quite
ghastly white under her paint, wholly forgetful that she was acting a
man's part. When once we were dodging I grew calmer. I led her to the
end of the court, then ducked. She charged in, blindly, against the
wall, while I raced to the door, very pleased with my success. I did not
hear her follow me, so, when I got to the door, I looked back. Just at
that instant, there came a smart report. The creature had fired at me
with a pistol; the bullet sent a dozen chips of brick into my face. I
went through the door just as the shot from the second barrel thudded
into the lintel. Going through hurriedly I ran into Mr. Jermyn, as he
came round the corner with the captain. “I've got it,” I said. “Look
out. She's in there.”
“Who?” they said. “The thief? A woman?” They did not stay, but thrust
through the door.
Mr. Jermyn dragged me through with them. “You say you've got it,
Martin?”
“Yes,” I answered, handing him the book. “Here it is.”
“That's a mercy,” he said. “Now then, where's the thief?”
I had been out of the court, I suppose thirty seconds; it cannot have
been more. Yet, when I went back with those two men, the woman had gone,
as though she had never been there. “She's over the wall,” cried the
captain, running up the court. But when we looked over the wall there
was no trace of her, except some slight scratches upon the brick, where
her toes had rested. On the other side of the wall was a tulip bed full
of rows of late flowering tulips, not yet out. There was no footmark on
the earth. Plainly she had not jumped down on the other side. “Check,”
said captain. “Is she in one of the houses?”
But the houses on the left side of the court (on the other side the
court had no houses, only brick walls seven feet high) were all old,
barred in, deserted mansions, with padlocks on the doors. She could not
possibly have entered one of those.
“They're old plague-houses,” said Mr. Jermyn.
“They've been deserted twenty years now, since the great sickness.”
“Yes?” said the captain, carelessly. “But where can she have got to?”
“Well. It beats me,” Mr. Jermyn replied. “But perhaps she ran along the
wall to the end, then jumped down into the lane. That's the only thing
she could have done. By the way, boy, you were shot at. Were you hit?”
“No,” I answered. “But I got jolly near it. The bullet went just by me.”
“Ah,” he said. “Take this. You'll have to be armed in future.”
He handed me a beautiful little double-barrelled pocket pistol. “Be
careful,” he said. “It's loaded. Put it in your pocket. You musn't be
seen carrying arms here. That would never do.”
“Boy,” said the captain. “D'ye think you could shin up that water-spout,
so as to look over the parapet there, on to the leads of the houses?”
“Yes,” I said. “I think I could, from the top of the wall.”
“Why,” Mr. Jermyn said. “She couldn't have got up there.”
“An active woman might,” the captain said. “You see, the water-spout is
only six feet long from the wall to the eaves. There's good footing on
the brackets. It's three quick steps. Then one vigorous heave over the
parapet. There you are, snug as a purser's billet, out of sight.”
“No woman could have done it,” Mr. Jermyn said. “Besides, look here. We
can't go further in the matter. We've recovered the book. We must get
back to the ship.”
So the scheme of climbing up the water pipe came to nothing. We walked
off together wondering where the woman had got to. Long afterwards I
learned that she heard all that we said by the wall there. While we
talked, she was busy reloading her pistol, waiting. At the door of the
court we paused to pull out her knife from where it stuck. It was a not
very large dagger-knife, with a small woman's grip, inlaid with silver,
but bound at the guard with gold clasps. The end of the handle was also
bound with gold. The edge of the broad, cutting blade curved to a long
sharp point. The back was straight. On the blade was an inscription in
Spanish, “Veneer o Morir” (“To conquer or die”), with the maker's name,
Luis Socartes, Toledo, surrounded by a little twirligig. I have it in
my hand as I write. I value it more than anything in my possession. It
serves to remind me of a very remarkable woman.
“There, Martin,” said Mr. Jermyn. “There's a curiosity for you. Get one
of the seamen to make a sheath for it. Then you can wear it at your back
on your belt like a sailor.”
As we walked back to the ship, I told Mr. Jermyn all that I had seen of
the morning's adventure. He said that the whole, as far as he could make
it out, had been a carefully laid plot of some of James the Second's
spies. He treated me as an equal now. He seemed to think that I had
saved the Duke from a very dreadful danger. The horsey man, he said, was
evidently a trusted secret agent, who must have made friends with the
carpenter on some earlier visit of the schooner. He had planned his raid
on the Duke's papers very cleverly. He had arrived on board when no one
was about. He had bribed the carpenter (so we conjectured, piecing the
evidence together) to shout fire, when we were busy at breakfast. Then,
when all was ready, this woman, whoever she was, had gone forward to
the bo'sun's locker, where she had set fire to half a dozen of those
fumigating chemical candles which she had brought in her box. The
candles at once sputtered out immense volumes of evil smelling smoke.
The carpenter, watching his time, raised the alarm of fire, while the
horsey man, hidden below, waited till all were on deck to force the
spring-locks on the Duke's cabin-door. When once he had got inside the
cabin, he had worked with feverish speed, emptying all the drawers,
ripping up the mattress, even upsetting the books from the bookshelf,
all in about two minutes. Luckily the Duke kept nearly all his secret
papers about his person. The pocket-book was the only important
exception. This, a very secret list of all the Western gentry ready to
rise, was locked in a casket in a locked drawer.
“It shows you,” said Mr. Jermyn, “how well worked, that he did all this
in so little time. If you hadn't fallen on the nail, Martin, our friends
in the West would have fared badly. It was very clever of you to bring
us out of the danger.” When we got back aboard the schooner, we found,
as we had expected, that the men in league with the horsey man had
deserted. Neither carpenter nor boatswain was to be found. Both had
bolted off in pursuit of the horsey man at the moment of alarm, leaving
their chests behind them. I suppose they thought that the plot had
succeeded. I dare say, too, that the horsey man, who was evidently well
known to them both, had given them orders to desert in the confusion,
so that he might suck their brains at leisure elsewhere. Altogether,
the morning's work from breakfast time till ten was as full of moving
incident as a quiet person's life. I have never had a more exciting two
hours. When I sat down to my own breakfast (which I ate in the cabin
among the gentlemen) I seemed to have grown five years older. All three
men made much of me. They brought out all sorts of sweetmeats for me,
saying I had saved them from disaster. The Duke was especially kind.
“Why, Jermyn,” he said, “we thought we'd found a clever messenger; but
we've found a guardian angel.” He gave me a belt made of green Spanish
leather, with a wonderfully wrought steel clasp. “Here,” he said. “Wear
this, Martin. Here's a holster on it for your pistol. These pouches
hold cartridges. Then this sheath at the back will hold your dagger, the
spoils of war.”
“There,” said the captain. “Now I'll give you something else to fit you
out. I'll give you a pocket flask. What's more, I'll teach you how to
make cartridges. We'll make a stock this morning.”
While he was speaking, the mate came down to tell us how sorry he was
that it was through him that the horsey man was shown over the ship. “He
told me he'd important letters for Mr. Scott,” he said, “so I thought it
was only right to show him about, while you was dressing. The carpenter
came to me. 'This gentleman's got letters for Mr. Scott,' he said. So
I was just taken in. He was such a smooth spoken chap. After I got to
know, I could 'a' bit my head off.” They spoke kindly to the man, who
was evidently distressed at his mistake. They told him to give orders
for a watchman to walk the gangway all day long in future, which to me
sounded like locking the stable door too late. After that, I learned how
to make pistol cartridges until the company prepared to go ashore.
The chests of the deserters were locked up in the lazaret, or store
cupboard, so that if the men came aboard again they might not take away
their things.
“Before we start,” the Duke said, “I must just say this. We know, from
this morning's work, that the spies of the English court know much more
than we supposed. We may count it as certain that this ship is being
watched at this moment. Now, we must put them off the scent, because I
must see Argyle without their knowledge. It is not much good putting to
sea again, as a blind, for they can't help knowing that we are here
to see Argyle. They have only to watch Argyle's house to see us enter,
sooner or later. I suggest this as a blind. We ought to ride far out
into the country to Zaandam, say, by way of Amsterdam. That's about
twenty miles. Meanwhile Argyle shall come aboard here. The schooner
shall take him up to Egmont; he'll get there this afternoon. He must
come aboard disguised though. At Zaandam, we three will separate, Jermyn
will personate me, remaining in Zaandam. The boy shall carry letters in
a hurry to Hoorn; dummy letters, of course. While I shall creep off to
meet Argyle--somewhere else. If we start in a hurry they won't have
time to organize a pursuit. There are probably only a few secret agents
waiting for us here. What do you say?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Jermyn. “I myself should say this. Send the boy on at
once to Egmont with a note to Stendhal the merchant there. They won't
suspect the boy. They won't bother to follow him, probably. Tell
Stendhal to send Out a galliot to take Argyle off the schooner while
at sea. The galliot can land Argyle somewhere on the coast. That would
puzzle them rarely. She can then ply to England, or elsewhere, so that
her men won't have a chance of talking. As for the schooner, she can
proceed north to anchor at the Texel till further orders. At the same
time, we could ride south to Noordwyk; find a barge there going north.
Hide in her cabin till she arrives, say, at Alkmaar. Meet Argyle
somewhere near there. Then remain hidden till it is time to move. We can
set all the balls moving, by sticking up a few bills in the towns.”
I did not know what he meant by this. Afterwards I learned that the
conspirators took their instructions from advertisements for servants,
or of things lost, which were stuck up in public places. To the
initiated, these bills, seemingly innocent, gave warning of the Duke's
plan. Very few people in Holland (not more than thirty I believe)
were in the secret of his expedition. Most of these thirty knew other
loyalists, to whom, when the time came, they gave the word. When the
time came we were only about eighty men all told. That is not a large
force, is it, for the invasion of a populous kingdom?
They talked it out for a little while, making improvements on Mr.
Jermyn's plan. They had a map by them during some of the time. Before
they made their decision, they turned me out of the cabin, so that I
know not to this day what the Duke did during the next few days. I know
only this, that he disappeared from his enemies, so completely that the
spies were baffled. Not only James's spies, that is nothing: but the
spies of William of Orange were baffled. They knew no more of his
whereabouts than I knew. They had to write home that he had gone, they
could not guess where; but possibly to Scotland to sound the clans. All
that I know of his doings during the next week is this. After about half
an hour of debate, the captain went ashore to one of the famous inns in
the town. From this inn, he despatched, one by one, at brief intervals,
three horses, each to a different inn along the Egmont highway. He gave
instructions to the ostlers who rode them to wait outside the inns named
till the gentlemen called for them. He got the third horse off, in this
quiet way, at the end of about an hour. I believe that he then sent
a printed book (with certain words in it underlined, so as to form a
message) by the hand of a little girl, to the Duke of Argyle's lodging.
I have heard that it was a book on the training of horses to do tricks.
There was probably some cipher message in it, as well as the underlined
message. Whatever it was, it gave the Duke his instructions.