ADRIAN VAN DER WERF
Words cannot express the astonishment of Jan Van Buskirk when he
returned from the burgomaster's, to find no Jacqueline in the little
house in Belfry Lane. Unfortunately, she had still grasped the crumpled
note in her hand when she left the house, so he had absolutely no clew
to her whereabouts. The only explanation he could offer to himself was
that she must have gone out unpremeditatedly to obtain some fresh
medicine at a little chemist shop near by. So he sat down to wait for
her return.
But the time passed on and still she did not come. An hour rolled by and
Vrouw Voorhaas awoke to ask for Jacqueline. Jan quieted her by telling
her that the girl had retired to take a little rest, and Vrouw Voorhaas
went to sleep again. Another hour passed, and Jan, frightened almost out
of his senses, resolved to seek Dr. de Witt. Waking Vrouw Voorhaas he
told her that he did not feel well and was going out to consult the
doctor. She, he said, must go quietly to sleep again, as it was nothing
serious. Unsuspectingly she assented, and he hurried out to find Dr. de
Witt, weary with his day's exertion, just about to turn into bed. The
tale was soon told, and Pieter de Witt lost not a moment in resuming his
clothes.
"She has answered some summons," said he, "and has been led into a trap.
I know it! I have suspected all along that something like this would
happen when we least dreamed of it. My God! It is unthinkable!" From end
to end the two searched the city that night. No one had heard of her,
none had seen her, and they returned home in the gray of early morning,
foot-sore, despairing and heartsick.
"It will kill Vrouw Voorhaas," said De Witt, "and by this time she must
certainly know something is wrong, since both you and the girl have been
away all night. Come right for me, Jan, if it is necessary, but I must
turn in now for just a few moment's rest, or I'll break down too." Poor
Jan crept home broken and almost in tears. At the door he was met by
Vrouw Voorhaas who had dragged herself out of bed to search the house
for its usual inmates. Her eyes were wild and haggard, and she faced him
fiercely.
"Where hast thou been all night? Where are Jacqueline and Gysbert?" she
demanded.
"Oh, they are all right,--all safe!" he tried to prevaricate, but his
face betrayed him.
"It is not so! Thou liest!" she interrupted him. "Evil has come to
them,--I know it! I know it! For many days have I suspected that all was
not well with Gysbert, and now Jacqueline has disappeared too. Thou
canst not deceive me! Do not try! Ah, Dirk Willumhoog, thou--" She
could not finish, but fell unconscious at the feet of Jan.
He tried to raise her, but in his own weakened condition found it
impossible, and concluded that the best thing to do was to go back at
once for the doctor. Pieter de Witt, exhausted but indefatigable still
in the cause of his friends, hurried back with him at once. Together
they succeeded in raising her and getting her back to bed, but they
failed utterly in restoring her to consciousness. Dr. de Witt shook his
head many times over the black prospect.
"This shock has caused a sudden relapse--and no wonder!" he said. "I
sadly fear that the end is not now far away. Thou wilt have to be her
attendant now, Jan. For the sake of the children do thy best, and I will
help thee!"
"There is one more possibility that we have not tried," said Jan. "We
did not go to the burgomaster's. Can it be possible that another message
came while I was returning, and she hurried out with it, going some
other way? Perchance as it was late, Mynheer Van der Werf's wife would
not allow her to go home, and has kept her till morning. Perchance she
has been taken sick there."
"It is a small chance, Jan,--a very small one!" said De Witt. "They
would surely have sent us word in any case. But go to him if it will set
thy heart at rest. I will stay with Vrouw Voorhaas the while." Jan set
out once more, his poor old legs fairly tottering under him with loss of
sleep, lack of food, and weakness. But excitement still buoyed him up,
and the faint, vague hope that Jacqueline might have passed the night
with Mevrouw Van der Werf spurred him on to one more effort. It was yet
too early to find the burgomaster at the statehouse, so he proceeded
straight to the residence in the Werfsteg.
He was obliged to lift the heavy knocker several times before he could
arouse the sleepy servants within. At length he was admitted by a
yawning, hastily clad domestic who went to call the burgomaster. Van der
Werf came down quickly, expecting another message from outside the city.
His face was pale, haggard and careworn, and his eyes showed plainly
that he had passed a sleepless night.
"Jan," he cried, "what news hast thou? Is there another message?" Then
seeing the old man's wild, questioning eyes,--"Ah! what ails thee? Has
anything dreadful happened?"
"Is she not here? Is she not here?" muttered Jan, sinking limply into a
chair.
"Is who not here?" questioned Van der Werf mystified.
"Jacqueline!--the Juffrouw Jacqueline!"
"Juffrouw Jacqueline has not been here for three days! Why, Jan, what
has happened?" Then the old man told the story, while Van der Werf
listened with darkening face.
"'Tis passing strange! 'Tis fairly devillish!" he vociferated. "I could
feel no worse if harm had come to one of my own family! Nay, I know
nothing about her, and what is worse, I can do nothing. I am as helpless
as thou art. My hands are tied! Thou sayest thou hast searched the
city?--even I can do no more! If she has by any means been taken beyond
the walls,--God help her!" The two men sat for some moments gloomily
silent. Jan had reached a point of exhaustion where his body absolutely
refused to obey the behests of his mind,--when he attempted to take his
departure, he could not rise from his chair.
"Thou must stay and have a little food and drink,--such poor stuff as I
can offer thee!" said the burgomaster seeing his plight, and he rang for
a servant to bring in such fare as they had in the house. Jan had no
heart to attack the breakfast, but Van der Werf insisted that he should
eat a little to sustain his strength. So he made a brave attempt, while
the burgomaster strode restlessly up and down the room.
"Jan, Jan!" he cried at length. "The Lord hath put more on my shoulders
than mortal man can bear! Dost thou know, it is by my will alone that
this city holds out? Daily I receive the most cajoling and fair-spoken
notes from Commander Valdez. He makes the most extravagant promises of
mercy and leniency if I will only open the gates. 'Tis but a siren's
song, as everyone well knows! Yet the dissatisfied ones are clamorous to
try once more the mercy of the Spaniard!--They accuse me of starving and
killing them for a mere question of my personal pride. My God! has not
one of my own family already died of the plague? Is not my own wife even
now desperately ill? Am _I_ the gainer by my policy? Alas, no! Jan, a
dead body was found placed against my door yesterday morning. We all
know what that means,--they lay the city's terrible plight to my
stubbornness. But while I live, I swear I will not open the gates!"
When Jan somewhat refreshed, had finished his meal and rose to start for
home, Van der Werf offered to accompany him a way, saying he wanted no
breakfast himself and must be at the statehouse early. Together they
went out, the burgomaster supporting the old man's feeble steps as
tenderly as a son might have assisted his father. Not many rods behind
them, two or three malcontents, well-known for having always leaned
toward the opinions of the Glippers, began to follow the magistrate,
muttering remarks of no very pleasant nature. Jan the fiery, turned
about once and rebuked them:
"Hold thy tongue, Janus de Vries! And thou, Pieter Brouwer, hast thou
not thyself been fed from the burgomaster's own kitchen! I know all
about thee! Who art thou to utter complaint!"
"Do not pay any more attention to them, Jan, lest they begin to be wordy
and attract more attention to themselves and us than is desirable!" said
Van der Werf. But a crowd had already begun to gather, which in an
incredibly short time grew into a mob, shouting, yelling, gesticulating,
fiercely demanding bread and the opening of the gates. The burgomaster
began to fear, not for his own life, but for that of the feeble old man
who would be so helpless in their hands did they come at last to
violence. Just at this crisis, they emerged into the triangular space in
front of the old church of St. Pancras.
Deeming the time ripe for him to exert all his powers of persuasion on
this threatening throng, Van der Werf ascended the steps of the edifice,
placed Jan in a protecting angle of the doorway, and turned about to
face the crowd. As he removed his great felt hat, the morning sunlight
fell through the surrounding lime-trees on a face, calm, imposing and
softened with a great and overwhelming sadness. Its silent appeal
touched even the hearts of the famishing mob, and when he raised his
hand there was instant silence. Then after a moment he spoke, in words
that history has forever made memorable:
"What would ye, my friends? Why do ye murmur that we do not break our
vows and surrender to the Spaniards? That would be a fate more horrible
than what the city now endures! I tell you I have made an oath to hold
the city, and may God give me strength to keep that oath! I can die but
once, whether by your hands, or the enemy's, or the hand of God. My own
fate is indifferent to me, but not so that of the city which has been
entrusted to my care. I know that we shall starve if we are not soon
relieved, but starvation is preferable to a dishonored death, is it not?
Your threats move me not! My life is at your disposal. Here is my
sword,--plunge it into my breast if ye will! Take my body to appease
your hunger, but do not expect me to surrender while I live!" He held
out his arms a moment, then dropped them at his side.
Instantly a great shout of approval went up from the multitude. In the
twinkling of an eye the threats were changed to cries of encouragement
to the city and defiance to the enemy, transmuted by the persistent,
dogged courage of one man standing absolutely alone!
"Long live Adrian Van der Werf!" they shouted. "We will indeed fight to
the end!" And leaving the two standing on the steps of St. Pancras, the
crowd rushed to the walls where they remained all day hurling renewed
defiance at the Spaniards.
When the mob had deserted them, Van der Werf escorted Jan to Belfry Lane
and left him at the door, after which he proceeded with firmer step and
easier mind to his daily duties at the statehouse. But when Jan reached
Vrouw Voorhaas's room, he sat suddenly down in a chair and looked hard
at the doctor, who noticed that the old man's expression was as exalted
as though he had seen some heavenly vision.
"What is the matter?" he asked. "Hast thou found Juffrouw Jacqueline?"
"Nay," answered Jan, "I have not found her. But Pieter de Witt, I have
just beheld the finest act of courage that it was ever the lot of one
poor man to witness! If Adrian Van der Werf can thus bear the sorrows of
a whole city on his heart, thou and I, through God, must not shrink at
the burdens His wisdom has seen fit to lay upon us!" And he told the
doctor of his morning's experience.
ALONZO DE ROVA IS AS GOOD AS HIS WORD