Almost exhausted, pale as death, the blood flowing from his wound opened
by the exertions he had made, Wenlock Christison dropped down on the
deck of the stranger, not knowing whether he was to find himself on
board an English or Dutch ship. The condition of the ship showed that
she had been hotly engaged, for numbers of dead men lay about her
blood-stained decks. From their appearance, as the light of the
lanterns occasionally glanced on them, Wenlock at once saw that they
were Dutch. Dutch was among the languages with which he was acquainted,
having met many Hollanders in America.
"Who are you?" said an officer, who saw him come over the side.
"An Englishman, and one of the few survivors of the ill-fated ship which
blew up just now," he answered. "Well-nigh a thousand men who walked
her decks in health and strength this morning are now in eternity."
"You are indeed fortunate in escaping then," said the Dutch officer,
"and though we must consider you a prisoner, you will be treated with
due courtesy on board this ship. I see that you are wounded, and badly
it seems to me, so that you must be forthwith put under the surgeon's
care."
Wenlock thanked him, and supported by a couple of men was carried below.
After this he knew nothing of what happened to him, for scarcely had he
been placed on a bed than he fainted. When he came to consciousness he
found the surgeon ready to administer some medicine, soon after which he
fell asleep, nor did he awake again till daylight. He inquired eagerly
what had occurred.
"You must not talk much," said the surgeon; "but this I will tell you,
that we have had a very fierce engagement, and lost three of our
stoutest ships; while, if the truth is known, you English have not been
less sufferers. Depend on it, altogether between us, four or five
thousand people have been killed: a sensible employment for human
beings. Heu! while we,--a free Protestant people,--were fighting for
liberty, you English were beguiled by your own traitorous sovereign,
bribed by the King of France, to attack us."
The surgeon, Nicholas Van Erk, notwithstanding his remarks, treated
Wenlock with the greatest kindness. They however gave him ample
material for thought. In a short time the Dutch fleet arrived off the
coast of Holland, and the injured ships proceeded to the chief naval
ports to undergo repair. The _Marten Harptez_, the ship on board which
Wenlock had found refuge, proceeded to Rotterdam.
"You are a prisoner, but I have got leave to receive you at my house,"
said Mynheer Van Erk; "and as I have a good many sick men to look after,
I do not purpose again going to sea. In truth, fighting may be a very
satisfactory amusement to people without brains; but I am a philosopher,
and have seen enough of it to be satisfied that it is a most detestable
occupation."
Wenlock found himself conveyed to a comfortable mansion in Rotterdam
overlooking a canal; indeed, what houses do not overlook canals in that
city? He was very weak, for his wound had been severe,--more severe
than he had supposed; and he was surprised that he should have been
enabled to undergo so much exertion as he had done. Van Erk, indeed,
told him that had he remained much longer in the water, he would
probably have fainted from loss of blood, and been drowned.
"As you may become a wise man and enjoy life, being young, that would
have been a pity," observed the philosopher; "but it depends how you
spend the future whether you should or should not be justly
congratulated on your escape."
The doctor's wife and only daughter,--the fair Frowline Gretchen,--
formed the only members of the surgeon's household, with their serving
maid Barbara. They, fortunately for Wenlock, were not philosophers, but
turned their attention to household affairs, and watched over him with
the greatest care. He, poor fellow, felt very sad and forlorn. For
many days he could only think with deep grief of the untimely loss of
his brave father. In time, however, he began to meditate a little also
about himself. All his prospects appeared blighted. The friends who
might have spoken of his brave conduct in the fight were dead. He had
hoped to obtain wealth, and to return and marry Mary Mead. He had not a
groat remaining in the world. Never in his life before had he been so
downhearted Gretchen observed his melancholy.
"You should not thus grieve for being a prisoner," she observed; "many
brave men have been so, and the time will come when you will be set at
liberty."
Wenlock then told her how he had lost his father, and how his own hopes
of advancement had been blighted. "Have you no one then who cares for
you?" she asked, in a tone of sympathy; "no one in your native land to
whom you desire to return?"
"Yes," said Wenlock; and he then told her of his engagement to the fair
Quakeress.
"Ah! I am not surprised at that," observed the Dutch girl, with a sigh.
After this, though as kind as usual, Wenlock observed that she was
somewhat more distant in her manner to him than she had been at first.
Considering that he was a prisoner, his time passed very pleasantly.
Having given his word to the authorities and to his host that he would
not attempt to escape, he was allowed to go about that picturesque town
as much as he pleased. Month after month the war continued, and he
remained a prisoner. His affection, however, for Mary Mead had rather
increased by absence than diminished; and fearing that she might forget
him, he at length wrote her a letter, entreating her to remain faithful,
and promising, as soon as he should be able, to return to England and
follow any course she might advise. In vain he waited for an answer to
this letter; week after week passed by, and none came.
"She has forgotten you," said Gretchen one day, observing him look very
sad.
Wenlock started! He was thinking the same thing. "I know not," he
answered; "I have heard that women are fickle."
"I did not say that," observed Gretchen; "but if you chose to disregard
the wishes of one you professed to love, I am not surprised that she
should at length have dismissed you from her thoughts. I do not say she
has, but it is possible."
Wenlock had for some time felt ashamed of being idle; for though his
host might have received payment for his support from the government,
yet that, he was sure, could not be sufficient to cover the expense to
which he was put. He expressed his wishes to his kind host.
"A very sensible remark," observed the surgeon, "and as you have now
recovered from your wound, and regained your strength, it is proper that
you should be employed. I have a brother, a merchant, trading with
Surinam. He may possibly give you employment. You speak several
languages, and write a good hand. You will, I doubt not, soon be ranked
among his principal clerks, if you have a good knowledge of accounts."
"If he will try me, I will do my best," answered Wenlock.
The next day he was installed as a clerk in the office of Peter Van Erk,
one of the principal merchants in the city. Wenlock had an aptitude for
business of which he had not been aware. He took a positive pleasure in
his work, and soon attracted the observation of his quick-sighted
employer.
The kind surgeon was highly pleased. "You do credit to my
recommendation, Christison," he observed; "you will soon win the
confidence of my brother, and will then be on the fair way to making
your fortune."
Time passed by. Wenlock made himself so useful that in a short time his
employer agreed to pay him a handsome salary. When peace was declared,
therefore, he felt that it would be folly to return to England, where he
had no home and no one from whom he had a right to demand assistance.
He had forfeited William Mead's regard by acting contrary to his advice,
while from Lord Ossory he might possibly fail to receive further
patronage. He had heard enough of the fickleness of those in authority,
and he did not expect to be better treated than others. He therefore
continued to work away steadily as a merchant's clerk in the house of
Van Erk and Company, of Rotterdam.