WHEN THE WIND CHANGED
All the next day the children bent every effort toward sawing and
digging away at their window bars, but the hours wore away and only one
had been completely loosened, while another was unfastened at the
bottom. The knife-blade was becoming dull with this rough usage, and
their courage dropped in proportion as their strength gave out and night
approached. Well on in the afternoon, Gysbert again removed the tiles
and planking, for both had imagined they heard unusual sounds in the
room below. They were not mistaken. A moment's listening convinced them
that it was Dirk and the wife of Joachim Hansleer, holding an animated
conversation in low tones.
"Give me my share now, Dirk!" they heard the woman say. "If thou art
going to depart for Spain shortly, it will be just as well to settle up
this matter at once. I know not where my good man Joachim is, nor when I
will see him again, and I need the money."
"I shall not depart for Spain with those brats till after the sack of
the city, when the boy ought to be better. I do not half believe he is
as ill as he makes out to be. Why canst thou not wait till then?"
answered Dirk. "I must go away this afternoon, and will probably not be
back till after the third. I am going to make one more test to see if my
secret is still safe and practicable. When I return will be time
enough!"
"Thou art a slippery eel, Dirk Willumhoog, and that I know right well!"
replied the woman. "After the excitement is all over, thou wouldst find
some means of sliding away without paying up thy just debts. I swear to
thee that if thou dost not pay me at once those three hundred florins
which are due me for my trouble, I will go straightway upstairs after
thou art gone to the city and release those two children! And I care not
what may be the consequences!"
This knock-down argument evidently convinced Dirk that it would be best
to parley no longer with the decided Vrouw Hansleer, but pay her at
once. There was a clinking of coins, a counting aloud, several disputes
over the reckoning, and at last the matter was settled and peace
restored.
"Remember," warned Dirk as they were leaving the room, "to guard those
children well, for they will surely mean more money to us--" Then the
door was shut and the listeners heard no more.
"What can all this mean!" queried Gysbert. "Didst thou hear him speak of
'taking those two brats to Spain in a short time'? That means us, of
course! What can he possibly mean to do with us there, and how can we
bring him more money? One would think we were important personages and
he was trying to get a ransom for us!"
"It is all dark and mysterious," answered his sister, "but if we do what
we hope, Master Willumhoog will receive a little surprise before October
third! Come, we must waste no more time, but work away!" Later on they
saw Dirk Willumhoog leave the house, carrying with him a bag which they
did not doubt contained the remaining seven hundred florins. While
watching his progress down the road, Gysbert's attention suddenly became
fixed on something in the sky, and he seized Jacqueline's arm excitedly.
"Look, look!" he cried. "Dost thou see?"
"I see nothing! What is it?"
"Why the wind is changing! Look at those black clouds rising out of the
northwest! Look at the leaves of the trees all bending toward the east!
Look at the birds flying so low! I tell thee, Jacqueline, we are going
to have a terrible storm! The equinoctial gale should have come a week
ago, but it is here at last!"
What Gysbert predicted was quite correct. The continual east wind had at
last shifted to the northwest, bringing with it the strong, salt smell
of the sea. The sky was still beautifully clear and blue, but a
weather-wise person would have certainly read the signs of coming
change. Dirk Willumhoog was now far out of sight, but they saw Vrouw
Hansleer come out to the yard and scan the horizon anxiously.
"Here, Jacqueline," said Gysbert when the woman had gone in, "give me
that knife now, while thou dost take a rest. We must get along even
faster, for if the wind holds and the water rises, there will be fine
doings to-night, and we want to be prepared to take our part. Look! I
think the top of this end bar will give way in a short time."
"This surely will float the fleet, will it not?" asked his sister. "The
night I was captured Boisot sent a message that he was at Nord Aa, but
must remain there until the water rose. They have probably been stranded
there ever since."
"Surely, surely!" answered Gysbert. "And what is more, we ought to have
a full view from our little window here, if they come by. For though we
are a good distance from the canal, I think we could get a fine sight of
a battle, if there is to be one. Oh, I hope there will be a battle!" In
a frenzy of excitement, they kept at their work till darkness fell.
Before the last streaks of twilight had faded, they had witnessed the
puddles in the road grow and spread into small ponds, the ponds widen
and join themselves into a shallow lake which lapped against the walls
of the house.
Then came the tempest! The wind raged and howled; the sky was black with
high-piled clouds; the tree branches tossed and groaned, or were split
asunder with loud cracking noises; the walls of the farmhouse shook,
the windows rattled, and pandemonium itself seemed let loose! The
children trembled, half with awed admiration at this war in the
elements, half with delight at what this would mean to the besieged
city, and clasped their hands convulsively at every louder roar of the
wind or crash of huge trees falling. Down below it was evident that
panic and disorder reigned supreme. Cries and shouts of dismay mingled
with the shrill screaming of a woman's voice. Once they heard Vrouw
Hansleer splash out into the flooded yard, calling to someone unseen in
the darkness:
"Come, Wilhelm! come and help me move my furniture! Oh, my beautiful
furniture! it will all be ruined!"
"Zounds, woman!" responded the voice. "Dost thou think thou canst save
thy wretched furniture in this pass! Thou shalt be thankful to get off
with thy life! Take what thou canst carry and be quick, for the Kirk-way
is broken through, and the flood will soon be upon us. Hurry, hurry, I
say! Merciful St. Anthony! I can hear it roar now!" And true enough,
from far in the distance came a faint, ominous sound, low at first as
the sighing of a summer breeze, yet dreadful enough to those who
understood it, to paralyze every muscle with terror. With one final
shriek Vrouw Hansleer darted into the house for a moment, then out again
and the children heard the retreating footsteps splashing hurriedly down
the road. After that a deathlike silence reigned in the house.
"Gysbert, they have gone and left us!" cried the terrified Jacqueline.
"Left us to perish here like rats drowned in a trap when the flood
reaches us! Oh, it is cruel, cruel!"
"Nonsense!" retorted her brother. "This is the finest thing that could
have happened. I am certain the flood will not rise higher than these
windows, so we will be perfectly safe from drowning. And now that they
have deserted the house, we can turn our attention to getting out of the
door somehow, and not bother with these window bars any longer. I feel
certain the wood of the door will yield to this knife, and when we have
made a hole big enough, we can crawl out, or burst it open, or pull back
the bolts, or something. But we must be quick about it, for we want to
get ahead of Dirk and warn the city before October third. That is the
day after to-morrow." In the pitchy darkness they groped and found the
door. Gysbert began immediately to hack away at one of the panels,
finding that it offered much less resistance than did the deeply
imbedded iron bars of the window.
"Courage, Jacqueline!" he called at intervals. "We are going to make it
soon, without fail. But thou hadst best keep watch at the window." The
storm far from abating, increased in violence. The wind shifted again
from the northwest to the southwest, piling up the waters of the German
ocean in huge masses, and dashing them against the broken dykes. At
about eleven o'clock, the ominous, distant murmur increased to a loud
roar. Jacqueline at the window called to Gysbert, and together they
watched the terrible, awe-inspiring sight, or as much of it as they
could see in the darkness.
The dreadful _something_ approached nearer and nearer, till, with an
ear-splitting sound it suddenly appeared out of the gloom,--a huge black
wall of water nearly ten feet high, rolling forward with incredible
swiftness, deluging, submerging, or pushing before it everything that
came in its way. For one horrible instant it surged about the house,
rocking the structure to its very foundations, and threatening to uproot
it outright, and fling it to the ground. But the house stood firm, and
the vanguard of the flood passed on, leaving the water well up to the
second story window, and burying all else in its swirling depths.
When this moment of danger was past the children breathed again. Gysbert
went back to his work on the door with only an, "I told thee so!" while
Jacqueline kept watch at her post by the window. The black waters just a
little way below her seemed dangerously near, and she imagined them to
be rapidly rising. But as they were not yet up to the window, the
children were for the present, at least, safe.
At midnight another panorama was spread before their eyes. While Gysbert
was digging away at the door, Jacqueline was suddenly startled by a
bright flash and a sharp report, across the black waste of waters.
Instantly it was followed by a resounding roar, as from the mouths of
twenty cannon. Gysbert dropped the knife and rushed to the window.
"The fleet! The fleet!" he cried. "They have passed the Kirk-way, and
are making their way toward the city! Long live Admiral Boisot!" It was
indeed the doughty Admiral and his fearless Beggars of the Sea. Up till
that day he had been all but in despair, and had even written to the
Prince of Orange that the expedition must be abandoned if the wind did
not change. Then came the storm. The waters rose, and the Kirk-way,
already broken through, was soon levelled, and the flotilla passed in
triumph at midnight toward the village of Zoeterwoude. Not half a mile
distant from the farmhouse in which the children were incarcerated, the
fleet received its first challenge from the guarding Spanish sentinels,
and answered with such a roar of cannon as all but staggered the
astounded outposts.
Then ensued a terrible battle, amid a scene perhaps the strangest in
which ever a battle was fought. From out the village of Zoeterwoude
flocked the Spanish, making their way in any kind of craft on which they
could lay hands. The fleet found itself progressing amid half-submerged
tree-tops and orchards, interspersed with chimney stacks and the roofs
of low houses. In this strange surrounding they grappled with the
Spanish enemy. All the advantage, however, was on their side, as they
had but to upset the frail crafts of the Spanish in order to create the
most utter rout in the ranks of the enemy.
From the window the children watched the strange spectacle, the room
being frequently illuminated by the glare from the cannons. So near were
they, that even the shouts and cries reached them distinctly, and once
was borne to them across the waters, the "Song of the Beggars" uplifted
in a swelling chorus of triumphant voices:
"Long live the Beggars! Wilt thou God's word cherish--
Long live the Beggars! bold of heart and hand.
Long live the Beggars! God will not see thee perish.
Long live the Beggars! oh, noble Christian band!"
Then the fleet swept on, and though the sound of shouting and
cannonading diminished but little, the battle passed out of the range of
the children's vision.
When morning dawned over the waste of gray waters, it revealed a weird
and desolate scene outside the window. But inside, it lighted up a door
in which Gysbert had carved a hole long enough for him to reach his arm
through and unloose the bolts!
A CRASH IN THE NIGHT