THE DAWN OF OCTOBER THIRD
Gysbert rowed away frantically from the scene of destruction. He had
not, for the moment, the slightest idea what direction he was taking,
but his mind was actively at work. The wall of Leyden had fallen in for
the space of nearly a quarter of a mile! If the Spaniards had the
faintest suspicion of this, he reasoned, they would flock immediately to
the scene, and make an easy and terrible entrance. There was no
defending the breach from the _inside_, for the brave, but
hunger-enfeebled corps of John Van der Does would be as nothing before
the fierce thousands of the Spanish army. To his mind there remained but
one course,--he must in some way get word to Admiral Boisot and his Sea
Beggars, and let them make an entrance into the city before the
Spaniards got wind of the disaster.
With this end in view he looked about him, ascertained as nearly as he
could the position of the fleet, and commenced to row steadily in that
direction. As he drew near the Fortress of Lammen, however, he became
aware that something very strange was taking place. Wonderingly he
shipped his oars and turned about to watch the curious sight. Myriads of
tiny lights twinkled across the dark waste of waters. There was almost
no sound, but only a vague impression that something mysterious was
happening. After a time the lights formed themselves into a long
procession which seemed to flit steadily across the one remaining
causeway that led to the Hague.
The boy sat breathless, eager, marvelling at this apparently
never-ending procession of lights, twinkling in single file over what
seemed the very face of the water. For a time he could find no
explanation for this singular spectacle, till all at once the truth
flashed on him. The Spaniards were retreating! Under cover of darkness,
they were silently sneaking away, fleeing panic-stricken from the
unknown terror of that hideous sound in the night,--fleeing like cowards
at the very moment when fortune had rendered their entrance to the
coveted city as easy as stepping over a log!
Truly had God's providence operated in a marvellous manner! At the crash
of the falling wall, the terrified citizens of Leyden believed that the
Spaniards had at last effected their entrance in some horrible way. The
Spanish, on the other hand, felt certain that the citizens were making a
final, desperate sortie. And between this new danger on one side, and
the fierce Sea Beggars and the inward-surging ocean on the other, they
deemed retreat to be their only course, short of complete extermination,
and they fled away in the night.
For two hours Gysbert sat in his little boat and watched the retreat.
In all the city of Leyden or its environments, he was the only soul that
night who was aware of the true state of affairs. At length the last few
straggling lights disappeared, and all was silence and darkness. When he
was convinced that a nearer approach was safe, he rowed slowly toward
Fort Lammen, reconnoitering carefully at almost every yard. But the
nearer he drew, the plainer it became that the fort was absolutely
deserted. Boldly landing at the foot of the battlement, he entered at
the cannon-defended gate, and found the enclosure empty. Colonel Borgia
and his troops had fled so hastily that even some of their time-honored
battle-flags were left behind!
Gysbert was not content, however, with ascertaining only the condition
of Lammen. It was quite possible that the retreating army had halted at
Leyderdorp, the headquarters of Valdez, half a mile away. Now that he
was about it, he concluded that he might as well investigate there
before daylight. Again pushing off his boat, he paddled across the
shallow lake that now spread over what was ordinarily meadow-land. But
Leyderdorp was also deserted. Guided by a dying camp-fire, he reached a
small building which he guessed to be the abode of General Valdez. The
fire was built before the doorway, and over it was still cooking a pot
of "hodge-podge" or stewed meat and vegetables. Evidently it had been
intended for the breakfast of the general, but so speedy had been the
retreat that it was left behind in the hurry.
"Whew!" ejaculated Gysbert, leaning over the pot. "This smells right
savory to a stomach that has had nothing to-day but half a water-soaked
loaf! Thanks, my cowardly friends! I'll partake of your bounty before I
do another thing!" Swinging the pot from its hook, and scarcely waiting
for it to cool, he helped himself to a large quantity doled out with a
great iron spoon, and ate as only a half-starved, healthy boy can eat,
till he could hold no more.
Hunger satisfied, he proceeded to investigate the fleeing general's
quarters. By the dying fire-light he could discern several maps of
Leyden and the outlying districts pinned about the walls, and on the
table lay a scrap of paper hastily written upon. Gysbert took it out to
the fire, coaxed the embers into a blaze, and kneeling over the flames
tried to decipher the writing. It was in Latin, and very poor Latin at
that, and was plainly the General's farewell to the city. Gysbert had
been for over a year studying this language in school, so he was able to
construe its meaning fairly well.
"_Vale civitas!_" he read. "_Valete castelli parvii, qui relicti estis
propter aquam et non per vim inimicorum!_"
"'_Vale civitas!_'--That's 'Farewell city of Leyden!' I suppose.
'_Valete castelli parvii--_' What in the world can he mean by that! If I
had written such stuff in the Latin-school, the master would have boxed
my ears and kept me in from play for three days to write my
conjugations! What this doughty Spaniard _wished_ to remark was
probably--'Farewell miserable town! Thou art abandoned because of the
water, and not because of the strength of thy resistance!' Oh, ho! noble
Valdez, thy Latin is as poor as thy courage! I must keep this carefully
to hand to Admiral Boisot."
But the dawn was already breaking, and Gysbert hurried back to Lammen,
carrying with him as a souvenir, the iron pot of hodge-podge. Early that
morning there was to be a combined assault on the fort by the Admiral's
fleet and the citizens of the town. The day before, Boisot had
despatched the last pigeon into the city, urging the starving populace
to aid him in one last desperate attack. With the first streaks of
daylight all was in readiness, and the Admiral prepared to push his
fleet under the very guns of cannon-bristling Lammen. But to his great
astonishment, as the flotilla drew nearer, not a sound came from within
the fort, not a vestige of life was to be seen anywhere. A sickening
fear assailed him that the Spaniards had entered the walls during the
night, which would explain the hideous sounds he had heard, and were
already sacking the city.
Suddenly upon the summit of the breastwork appeared the figure of a
small boy. With one hand he waved his cap, and in the other he
brandished a great pot of hodge-podge.
"Come on! Come on!" he shouted. "They've gone! They fled in the night!
Have no fear!" For a moment good Boisot could hardly believe his senses.
But his sailors lost no time, pushed the fleet to the very walls of the
fortress and found it to be true. Past the terrible Lammen they floated
in triumph. The watching, wondering citizens of the city opened the
gates with shouts of joy, and the conquering fleet sailed in. Leyden was
saved!
In the twinkling of an eye were the canals and docks lined with throngs
of the starving populace. They grasped with famished delight the loaves
of bread thrown to them by the jolly Beggars of the Sea, and nearly
choked themselves to death trying to swallow huge mouthfuls without even
chewing them.
Gysbert waited impatiently on the fortress till he saw the familiar
lugger of Joris Fruytiers come into view, and then ran down and climbed
aboard her. Words cannot describe the meeting between himself and
Jacqueline, who during that night of terror and uncertainty had given
him up for dead. They had much to tell each other, but little time to
give to it, for old Captain Joris demanded at once the whole history of
Gysbert's night, and was loud in the praise of his bravery.
When the last vessel had entered the gates, stanch Admiral Boisot stood
on the deck of his flag-ship and made a speech to the assembled crowds.
He ended by saying that both the city and the Sea Beggars had much to
thank God for, and proposed that they all proceed to the great cathedral
of St. Peter, to render their praise to the God of Battles at once. Then
many remembered what in the excitement of the moment they had quite
forgotten--that the day was Sunday! With the Admiral at their head, they
marched in solid ranks down the Breede Straat, and entered the cathedral
reverently.
"Shall we go?" questioned Gysbert of his sister. "Or dost thou think we
had best go straight home first?"
"No," answered Jacqueline, "I think God's worship claims us before all
else!" and they entered the church with the rest. Only a suffering,
plague-stricken, lately besieged and recently delivered people could
have rendered such thanks as rose up to God's throne from St. Peter's
that day. There were sounds of suppressed sobbing all through the
congregation, and strong men's eyes grew moist when the clergyman read:
"'Oh, that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for His
wonderful works to the children of men!
"'They cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He saved them out of
their distresses!
"'For He satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry with good
things!
"'He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death. He brake
their bands in sunder!
"'For He commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind which lifteth up the
waves!
"'Oh, give thanks unto the Lord for He is good, for His mercy endureth
forever!'"
Then the congregation rose, and every voice joined in their battle-hymn:
"A mighty fortress is our God,
A bulwark never failing!
Our helper He amid the flood
Of mortal ills prevailing.
For still our ancient foe
Doth seek to work us woe,
His craft and power are great,
And armed with cruel hate,--
On earth is not his equal!"
But in the midst of the second verse, a general emotion checked the
volume of sound. One by one the voices failed, till at last the whole
vast multitude broke down and wept like children, out of the great
thankfulness for their deliverance. In their corner by a window, Gysbert
openly sobbed with his head on his arm, and Jacqueline stood with the
tears raining down her face, and the glad light of happiness in her
eyes.
"Come," she said when the service was over. "We must hasten at once to
Vrouw Voorhaas! I have sad misgivings that all is not well with her."
They had, however, gone but a few steps when they heard a shout behind
them, and turning they beheld Dr. Pieter de Witt beckoning to them and
running as fast as he could come. Seizing Gysbert, he hugged him
distractedly, and he squeezed Jacqueline's hand till she almost screamed
aloud.
"You blessed, blessed children!" he shouted. "I never supposed I should
see you again! Ah, this will indeed re-animate old Jan, and even Vrouw
Voorhaas may--but come!" And he rushed them along so fast that
Jacqueline could hardly find breath in which to ask after the sick
woman.
"She is very, very low!" panted De Witt. "We hardly expect her to live
through the day, but the sight of you two may make some difference,--I
cannot tell! Hurry, hurry!" They reached Belfry Lane, stopped a moment
to regain breath, and all three crept upstairs as softly as possible.
The opened door revealed a strange sight to their astonished gaze. Jan
stood huddled in a corner, eyes wide with amazement, apprehension, and
doubt. Vrouw Voorhaas, withered and shrunken by her long illness, half
sat up in her bed looking more like a ghost than a living being. But
most astonishing of all, over her leaned a stranger, a tall, gaunt man
clad in the uniform of the Beggars of the Sea. He bent over the woman,
clasping her hand and questioning her anxiously in a low voice. Her
face was lined with despair, and her words, though faint, were audible
to the listeners at the door:
"Gone!--gone!--not here!--" Suddenly she raised her head and saw the
newcomers. With a great happy cry she pointed to them:
"They are here! they are safe!--I have fulfilled my duty,--praise God!"
and she fell back unconscious on the pillow.
THE SECRET OUT