BACK WITH THE PRINCE
Before throwing off the warps from the shore the captain gave each
man his orders. Two were to stand with fenders, in case the boat
drifted either against another craft or against the wall. Two were
to take the long poles used for punting. An old sail had been torn
up into strips and wrapped round these, with a pad of old rope at
the end, so that they could push off from the wall without noise.
Not a word was to be spoken in case of their being hailed, nor was
there to be the slightest movement on board unless the use of the
fenders or poles were required. Lastly, all took off their boots.
It was half an hour after the turn of the tide when the warps were
thrown off. The tide in the inner port was so sluggish that it was
absolutely necessary to pole the boat along until she got out into
what was known as the Old Haven, which was the cut leading down
from the town to the river.
The work was noiselessly done; and Ned, standing at the bow beside
the skipper, scarce heard the slightest sound. The night was
fortunately very dark, and looking intently he could hardly make
out the outline of the shore on either side. In a quarter of an
hour they emerged from the inner port. On their left hand the wall
of the fortifications connecting the town with the north fort at
the mouth of the haven rose high above them, but its outline could
be seen against the sky. The captain had told the men poling to
take her sharp round the corner, and keep her along as close as
possible to the foot of the wall, as she was far less likely to
be observed by any sentry who might be there than she would be if
kept out in the centre of the cut.
Very slowly the boat drifted along her course, assisted occasionally
by the men pushing with their poles against the foot of the wall
that rose a few feet from them, while those with the fender stood
in readiness to place them in position should the ship approach so
close to the wall as to render contact probable. The captain was
now at the tiller, the way given her by the poles being sufficient
to enable him to keep her on her course close to the wall. Another
quarter of an hour and they were at the end of the wall, for the
forts at the entrance were detached. They were now approaching the
most dangerous portion of the passage; they were no longer sheltered
in the shadow, but must go along openly. It was, however, improbable
that there would be sentries on the face of the fort looking towards
the town, and Ned, accustomed as he was to keep watch on deck at
night, could scarce make out the low shore a few yards away, and
felt pretty confident that the eyes of the sleepy sentries would
not be able to pierce the gloom.
The men had ceased poling now, only giving an occasional push to
keep her head straight and prevent her from swinging round. Presently
a sailor standing next to Ned touched his arm and pointed to the
right, and straining his eyes he could dimly make out a dark mass
looming in that direction.
Unlike the wall they had left, the forts stood at a little distance
back from the water, and Ned was sure that as he could scarce make
out the outline of the one nearest to them, no one upon its wall
could distinguish the tracery of the masts and rigging of the
boat. The mist had thickened since they had started, and coming on
heavier just at this point the fort was presently entirely obscured.
Another twenty minutes passed. They must be now, Ned knew, in the
course of the river; and he began to think that the danger was
over, when a dark object suddenly appeared from the mist, close at
hand. In another moment there was a shock, and then a long grinding
motion as the boat swept along by the side of a large ship. Following
the shock came a sharp challenge from the darkness above, followed
by other shouts. Obedient to orders they had received, no sound
was heard from the smack. Each man stooped low under the bulwarks.
Two or three shots rang out from the ship, and there was a hail in
Dutch--"Stop, or we will sink you."
Ned knew that this was an idle threat. The vessel was lying head to
the tide, and only a small gun or two in the stern could be brought
to bear, and already the ship was lost to sight in the mist. There
was much shouting and noise heard astern, and then the creaking of
blocks. Ned made his way aft.
"The game is up," the skipper said. "They will be alongside in a
few minutes. Dark as it is they cannot miss us. They will know that
we must have drifted straight down. We must take to the boats and
row for it."
"I should say, captain," Ned said, "we had best take to the boat
and row off for a short distance, and then wait. As likely as not
they may think when they board her that she has simply drifted out
from the town, having been carelessly moored. In that case they
may let drop her anchor and return to their ship."
"That is a happy thought," the captain said; and running forward
he told the crew to take the boat at once.
"I have another idea, captain," Ned said, just as they were about
to push off. "As we saw when we were passing the ship we are drifting
stern foremost. If we can fasten a long line to her stern we can
hang on to it. They will not be able to see us if we are twenty
fathoms astern. Then, if they anchor, and, as is likely enough,
leave two or three men on board, we can haul ourselves noiselessly
up with the rope and board her."
"Capital!" the captain replied. "I was wondering how we should find
her again in the dark. That would be the very thing."
He sprang on board again, fastened a light line to the rudder, and
dropped down into the boat again.
"Now, back her astern, lads, very gently. I can hear their oars."
In a minute the captain gave orders to cease rowing, for the line
had tightened. The Spanish ship was showing a bright light in her
stern. This acted as a guide to the boats, and in two or three
minutes after the crew had left the smack two large boats full of
soldiers came alongside. Those in the little boat, lying but fifty
or sixty yards away, could hear every word that was spoken. First
came a volley of angry exclamations of disappointment as the
Spaniards found that they had been called from their beds only to
capture an empty little coaster. As Ned had expected, they speedily
came to the conclusion that having been carelessly fastened up
alongside the wharves, without any one being left in charge, she
had drifted out with the tide.
"It would serve them right if we were to set her alight," one of
the officers said.
"We had best not to do that," another replied. "It might cause an
alarm in the town; and, besides, boats are wanted. We had better
drop her anchor, and leave four men on board to take care of her.
In the morning the knaves to whom she belongs will come out to
claim her; and I warrant you the captain will punish them sharply
for the trouble they have given us."
This opinion prevailed. A minute latter a splash was heard in the
water, and in a very short time the line connecting the boat with the
smack tightened, and those on board knew that she had been brought
up by her anchor. There was a good deal of noise and trampling
of feet as the Spaniards took their place in the boats again, and
then the heavy splashing of many oars as they started to row back
against the tide to their own vessel.
The captain wrung Ned's hand.
"You have saved the boat for us, young sir, for we should never
have found her again; and if we had, those on board would have heard
us rowing up to them, and would have given the alarm. Now we have
only to wait for a bit, and then haul ourselves up and overpower
the Spaniards."
"I doubt if we could do that without noise," Ned replied. "At any
rate it would be very dangerous while their ship is lying so close.
I should say the best plan will be to wait, as you say, till the
Spaniards have settled themselves comfortably, then to haul up to
her and push the boat along by her side, fending her off carefully
so as to make no noise until we reach the bow, then we can cut
the cable and let her drift. The tide is running strong now, and
in half an hour she will be over a mile down the river, and there
will be no fear of a shout being heard on board the ship, and we
can then board her and tackle the Spaniards."
"That will certainly be the best way," the captain agreed. "Nothing
could be better. Well, we will give them half an hour to settle
themselves in the cabin. They will not stay on deck many minutes
in the wet."
The sound of voices on board the smack soon ceased. After waiting
half an hour to give the Spaniards time if not to go to sleep to
become drowsy, the captain and one of his men began to pull upon
the line. Presently the dark mass could be seen ahead, and they
were soon up to her.
Very carefully they passed the boat alongside, taking pains to
prevent her touching. When they reached the bow the captain grasped
the cable, and with two or three cuts with the knife severed it.
Then the boat was pushed off from the ship and gently paddled away
to the full length of the line. Another half hour and they again
drew alongside, and noiselessly climbed on to the deck. The men
armed themselves with belaying pins, and Ned took his pistols from
the belt beneath his jacket. Then they quietly approached the door.
There was a light burning within.
The cabin was astern, and built upon the deck, and was used by the
skipper himself and by any passengers he might be carrying, the
crew living in the forecastle. The doors, which opened outwards,
were noiselessly closed, for two of the Spaniards were sitting up
playing cards, and there was no chance of taking the party so much
by surprise as to capture them without noise. The instant the doors
were closed a heavy coil of rope was thrown against them. There
was a loud exclamation in the cabin, and a moment later a rush to
the door. This, however, did not yield. Then a window in the side
was thrown open and a head was thrust out, and there was a loud
shout of "Treachery! Help!"
A moment later a heavy belaying pin fell on the head, and it
disappeared. Then there was a loud explosion as an arquebus was
fired, the bullet crashing through the door.
"It is a good thing we are well on our way," the skipper said.
"We must be two miles from the Spanish ship now; and even if they
hear the report they will not think it has anything to do with us.
Besides, if they did, they could never find us."
Some more ropes had now been piled against the door, and there was
no fear of its being burst open. Two men were posted at the windows
on each side of the cabin with swords, for weapons had now been
fetched from the forecastle.
"Now," the captain said, "let us get up the sails. There is but
little wind, but I think there is enough to give us steerage way
and prevent us from drifting on to the sandbanks."
"I suppose we are well beyond the guard boats now, captain?" Ned
asked.
"Oh, yes; they are not more than half a mile below the forts.
Besides, I should think they have not been out; for they would know
that when the tide once turned no craft could come up from below.
Yes, we are quite safe as far as they are concerned."
Sail was soon made; and though there was scarce wind enough to
belly out the canvas, the boat began to move slowly through the
water, as was shown by her answering her helm. The discharge of
the arquebus in the cabin was continued from time to time.
"You may as well cease that noise," the captain shouted to them.
"Your ship is miles away; and unless you want your throats cut you
had better keep yourselves quiet. You know the beggars are not to
be trifled with."
The soldiers ceased firing. They had, indeed, already concluded,
from the fact that the boats did not come to their rescue, that
the vessel must somehow have got far from their ship. The name of
the terrible beggars filled them with alarm, for they knew that
they showed no mercy. They had not the least idea as to the number
of their captors, and gave themselves up for lost. An hour later
the captain dropped the second anchor, and brought up in the stream.
"We must wait till morning," he said. "It is no use getting away
from the Spaniards to be cast ashore; and there is no saying in what
part of the river we may be at present, though we must certainly
be six or seven miles below Bergen."
Towards morning the mist cleared off, and the wind began to freshen.
"I think it will blow hard before long," the captain said; "and as
it is from the southwest it will soon carry us out of the river.
Now, what had we better do with those fellows in the cabin?"
"I should say the best plan, captain, would be to bring the boat
alongside, and tell them that if they will leave their arms behind
them, and come out one by one, they may take to it and row ashore.
That if they refuse, we shall open the door and give them no
quarter."
"That would be the best plan," the captain agreed, and going to
one of the windows offered these terms to the Spaniards. The men
had prepared for the worst, and had determined to sell their lives
as dearly as possible. So convinced were they that the beggars
would show no quarter that they were at first incredulous.
"It is a trick to get us to give up our arms," one said.
"It is not," the captain replied. "I swear to you on the word of
a sailor that we will respect the terms and allow you to depart
unarmed. We don't want to throw away three or four lives merely
for the pleasure of cutting your throats."
After a consultation between themselves the soldiers accepted the
terms. Ned placed himself at one of the windows to see that the
arms were laid aside before the men issued out. Then the coils of
rope were removed, and the door opened, the sailors taking their
place there in case the Spaniards at the last moment should catch
up their arms. This, however, they had no idea of doing, and were
indeed far more afraid of treachery than were their captors. One
by one they issued out, passed between the line of the sailors to
the bulwark, and got into the boat. It was still dark, and they
could not tell that the group of men at the cabin door were all
those on board. As soon as the last was in, the rope was thrown
off and the boat dropped astern.
"It will be light enough to see the shore in half an hour," the
captain said as they drifted away, "and then you can land where
you like."
"It would be awkward if they happen to light upon some town," Ned
said, "and so bring out boats to cut us off."
"There is no fear of that," the captain replied. "Tergoes is the
only place down here in which they have a garrison, and that lies
some miles away yet. Besides, we shall get under way as soon as we
can make out the shore. They have only two oars on board, and are
not likely to know very much about rowing; besides, we shall make
out the shore from deck before they will from the boat."
"Of course you will not go round by Flushing now? It will be shorter
for you to go straight out to sea through the islands."
"Yes, and less dangerous. There may be ships at Tergoes and on the
east side of Walcheren, as they still hold Middleburg."
"The sooner we are out to sea the better, and it will of course suit
you also," Ned replied. "I only wanted to put ashore at Flushing
in order to take another boat there for Rotterdam, so that I shall
save one day, if not two, if you sail direct."
In another half hour it was light enough to make out the shore.
The anchor was again weighed in and the boat got under way. They
were now off the end of the Island of St. Anna, and leaving South
Beveland behind them turned up the channel called the Kype, between
the Islands of North Beveland and Duveland. Here they passed many
fishing smacks and coasting vessels, for they were now in the
heart of Zeeland, and far beyond reach of the Spaniards. They were
frequently hailed, and were greeted with shouts of applause when
they told how they had given the Spaniards the slip and made their
escape from Bergen. Two hours later they were out at sea, and before
sunset entered the port of Rotterdam. Finding, when he landed, that
the Prince of Orange had that day returned from a trip to Haarlem
and some other towns, where he had been engaged in raising the
spirits of the citizens, inciting them to resistance, and urging
them that it was necessary to make a common effort against the enemy,
and not to allow the town to be taken piecemeal, Ned at once made
his way to the house he occupied. As he entered one of the pages
hurried up to him.
"What do you want?" he asked. "The prince is ready to give audience
to all who have important business, but it is too much that he
should be intruded upon by sailor lads."
"You do not remember me!" Ned laughed. "Your memory is a short one,
Master Hans."
"I did not, indeed!" the page exclaimed. "Who would have thought of
seeing you dressed as a sailor boy? The prince will be glad to see
you; for the first question he asked when he crossed the threshold
this afternoon was whether you had returned."
He hurried away, and returned a minute later with word that the
prince would see Ned at once.
"Well, my brave lad, so you have returned," the prince said as Ned
entered. "I have blamed myself many times for letting you go upon
so dangerous a mission, and I am glad indeed to see that you have
safely returned, even if you have failed altogether touching the
matter on which you went."
"I thought more of the honour than of the danger of the mission
you intrusted to me, your excellency," Ned replied, "and am happy
to say that I have fulfilled it successfully, and have brought you
back messages by word of mouth from all, save one, of those to whom
your letters were addressed."
"Say you so!" the prince exclaimed in tones of satisfaction. "Then
you have indeed done well. And how fared it with you on your journey?
Did you deliver the letters and return here without suspicion
falling upon you?"
"No, sir. I have run some slight risk and danger owing to an
unfortunate meeting with Councillor Von Aert, who was of a more
suspicious nature than his countrymen in general; but I will not
occupy your excellency's time by talking about myself, but will
deliver the various messages with which I am charged."
He then went through the particulars of his interviews with each
of the nine persons he had visited, and gave the contents of the
letter, word for word, he had received from the tenth, excusing
himself for not having brought the message by word of mouth, owing
to the difficulty of obtaining a private audience with him. He also
produced the paper upon which he had jotted down all the particulars
of the men and money that had been confided to him.
"Your news might be better, and worse," the prince said when he had
concluded. "Some of these men doubtless are, as they say, zealous
in the cause, others are not to be largely trusted in extremities.
The money they promise is less than I had hoped. Promises are
cheaper than gold, and even here in Holland, where all is at stake,
the burghers are loath to put their hands in their pockets, and
haggle over their contributions as if they were to be spent for my
pleasure instead of their own safety. It is pitiful to see men so
fond of their moneybags. The numbers of men who can be relied upon
to rise are satisfactory, and more even than I had hoped for; for
in matters like this a man must proceed cautiously, and only sound
those upon whom he feels sure beforehand he can rely. The worst of
it is, they are all waiting for each other. One will move if another
will move, but none will be first. They will move if I get a victory.
But how can I win a victory when I have no army nor money to raise
one, and when each city will fight only in its own defence, and
will not put a man under arms for the common cause?"
As the prince was evidently speaking to himself rather than to him,
Ned remained silent. "Please to write all the particulars down that
you have given me," the prince went on, "that I may think it over
at my leisure. And so you could not see the Count of Coeverden?
Was he more difficult of access than he of Sluys?"
"I do not know that he was, sir," Ned replied; "but my attire was
not such as to gain me an entrance into antechambers."
"No, I did not think of that," the prince said. "You should have
taken with you a suit of higher quality. I forgot when I agreed
that you should, for safety, travel as a country lad, that in such
dress you could hardly gain an entrance into the palaces of nobles;
and of course it would have excited surprise for one so attired to
try to purchase such clothes as would have enabled you to boldly
enter."
"I might possibly have managed as a peasant lad," Ned replied
with a smile; "but having been detected in that attire, and being
eagerly sought for by Von Aert's agents, I was at the time dressed
as a peasant woman, and could think of no possible excuse upon
which I might obtain an audience with the count."
"No, indeed," the prince said smiling. "I must hear your story with
all its details; but as it is doubtless somewhat long, I must put
it off until later. After the evening meal you shall tell us your
adventures before I betake myself to my work."
Ned retired to his own room and resumed the attire he usually wore.
After supper he was sent for by the prince, with whom he found the
chamberlain and three or four of his principal officers.
"Now, young sir, tell us your story," the prince said. "Do not
fear of its being long. It is a rest to have one's mind taken off
the affairs of state. I have already told these gentlemen what
valuable services you have rendered to the cause we all have at
heart, and they, like myself, wish to know how you fared, and how
you escaped the danger you referred to at the hands of Von Aert."
Thus requested, Ned gave a full account of his journey, and of the
adventures he had met with in Brussels and on his way back.
"What think you, sirs," the prince asked when Ned had concluded his
story. "It seems to me that this lad has shown a courage, a presence
of mind, and a quickness of decision that would be an honour to
older men. The manner in which he escaped from the hands of Von
Aert, one of the craftiest as well as of the most cruel of the
Council of Blood, was excellent; and had he then, after obtaining
his disguise, escaped at once from the city, I for one should
assuredly not have blamed him, and I consider he showed a rare
devotion in continuing to risk his life to deliver my letters.
Then, again, the quickness with which he contrives to carry out
his scheme for saying a word to the Count of Sluys was excellent;
and though he takes no credit to himself, I doubt not that the
escape of the boat, after falling foul of the Spanish ship, was
greatly due to him. I think, sirs, you will agree with me that he
has the makings of a very able man in him, and that henceforth we
can safely intrust him with the most delicate as well as the most
perilous missions."
There was a general cordial agreement.
"I am free to aver that you are right and that I am wrong, prince,"
the chamberlain said. "I know that you seldom fail in your judgment
of character, and yet it seemed to me, if you will not mind my
saying so, that it was not only rash but wrong to risk the lives
of our friends in Brussels upon the chances of the discretion of
the lad. I now see you were right, for there are few indeed who,
placed as he was, would have carried out his mission as skilfully
and well as he has done."
"By the way," the prince said, "I would beg you to seek out the
captain of the boat in which you came here, and bid him come to
me this time tomorrow evening. I would fain hear from him somewhat
further details as to how you escaped from the Spaniards, for I
observed that in this matter you were a little reticent as to your
share in it. He may be able to tell me, too, more about the strength
of the Spanish garrisons in Bergen and its neighbourhood than you
can do."
For the next fortnight Ned was employed carrying messages from the
prince to various towns and ports. Alva was at Amsterdam, and the
army under his son, Don Frederick, was marching in that direction
on their way from Zutphen. They came down upon the little town of
Naarden on the coast of the Zuider Zee. A troop of a hundred men
was sent forward to demand its surrender. The burghers answered
that they held the town for the king and the Prince of Orange, and
a shot was fired at the troopers. Having thus committed themselves,
the burghers sent for reinforcements and aid to the Dutch towns,
but none were sent them, and when the Spaniards approached on the
1st of December they sent out envoys to make terms. The army marched
forward and encamped a mile and a half from the town.
A large deputation was sent out and was met by General Romero, who
informed them that he was commissioned on the part of Don Frederick
to treat with them. He demanded the keys, and gave them a solemn
pledge that the lives and properties of all the inhabitants should
be respected. The gates were thrown open, and Romero with five
hundred soldiers entered. A sumptuous feast was prepared for them
by the inhabitants. After this was over the citizens were summoned by
the great bell to assemble in the church that was used as a town
hall. As soon as they assembled the soldiers attacked them and
killed them all. The town was then set on fire, and almost every
man, woman, and child killed. Don Frederick forbade that the dead
should be buried, and issued orders forbidding anyone, on pain of
death, to give shelter to the few fugitives who had got away. The
few houses which had escaped the flames were levelled to the ground,
and Naarden ceased to exist.
Great as the horrors perpetrated at Zutphen had been, they were
surpassed by the atrocities committed at Naarden. The news of the
horrible massacre, so far from frightening the Hollanders into
submission, nerved them to even more strenuous resistance. Better
death in whatsoever form it came than to live under the rule of
these foul murderers. With the fall of Naarden there remained only
the long strip of land facing the sea, and connected at but a few
points with the mainland, that remained faithful to the cause of
freedom. The rest of the Netherlands lay cowed beneath the heel of
the Spaniards. Holland alone and a few of the islands of Zeeland
remained to be conquered.
The inhabitants of Holland felt the terrible danger; and Bossu,
Alva's stadtholder, formally announced that the system pursued
at Mechlin, Zutphen, and Naarden was the deliberate policy of the
government, and that man, woman, and child would be exterminated
in every city which opposed the Spanish authority. The day after
the news arrived of the fall of Naarden Ned received a letter from
his father, saying that the Good Venture was again at Enkhuizen,
and that she would in two days start for Haarlem with a fleet of
Dutch vessels; that he himself had made great progress in the last
six weeks, and should return to England in her; and that if Ned
found that he could get away for a day or two he should be glad to
see him.
The prince at once gave Ned permission to leave, and as he had
an excellent horse at his service he started the next morning at
daybreak and arrived at Enkhuizen before nightfall. He was received
with great joy by his family, and was delighted to find his father
looking quite himself again.
"Yes, thanks to good nursing and good food, my boy, I feel almost
strong and well enough to take my post at the helm of the Good
Venture again. The doctor tells me that in another couple of months
I shall be able to have a wooden leg strapped on, and to stump
about again. That was a rare adventure you had at Brussels, Ned;
and you must give us a full account of it presently. In the morning
you must come on board the vessel, Peters and the crew will be all
glad to see you again."
Ned stayed two days with his family. On the evening of the second
day he said to his father: "I should like to make the trip to
Haarlem and back, father, in the Good Venture. It may be that the
Spaniards will sally out from Amsterdam and attack it. Last time
we had to run away, you know; but if there is a sea fight I should
like to take my part in it."
"Very well, Ned, I have no objection; but I hardly think that there
will be a fight. The Spaniards are too strong, and the fleet will
start so as to pass through the strait by night."
"Well, at any rate I should like to be on board the Good Venture
again if only for the sail down and back again," Ned said. "They
are to sail at three o'clock tomorrow, so that if the wind is fair
they will pass the strait at night and anchor under the walls of
Haarlem in the morning. I suppose they will be two days discharging
their cargo of food and grain, and one reason why I want to go is
that I may if possible persuade my aunt and the two girls to return
with me and to sail for England with you. All think that Haarlem
will be the next place besieged, and after what has taken place in
the other towns it would be madness for my aunt to stop there."
"I quite agree with you, Ned. The duke is sure to attack Haarlem
next. If he captures it he will cut Holland in two and strike a
terrible blow at the cause. Your mother shall write a letter tonight
to her sister-in-law urging her to come with us, and take up her
abode in England till these troubles are over. She can either dwell
with us, or, if she would rather, we can find her a cottage hard
by. She will be well provided with money, for I have at home a copy
of your grandfather's will signed by him leaving all his property
to such of his relatives as may survive him.
"His three sons are dead; your mother and Elizabeth are therefore
his heirs, and the money he transmitted to England is in itself
sufficient to keep two families in comfort. What proportion of it
was his and what belonged to his sons now matters not, seeing that
your mother and aunt are the sole survivors of the family. As you
say, it is madness for her to remain in Holland with her two girls.
Were I a burgher of that town I would send my family away to Leyden
or Dort and stay myself to defend the walls to the last, but I do
not believe that many will do so. Your countrymen are obstinate
people, Sophie, and I fear that few will send their families away."
Upon the following afternoon Ned started with the little fleet. The
wind was fair and light, and they reached the mouth of the strait
leading from the Zuider Zee to Haarlem. Then suddenly the wind
dropped and the vessels cast anchor. For the two or three days
previous the weather had been exceedingly cold, and with the fall
of the wind the frost seemed to increase in severity, and Ned, who
had been pacing the deck with Peters chatting over what had happened
since they last met, was glad to go into the cabin, where the new
first mate and supercargo had retired as soon as the anchor was
let go. They sat talking for a couple of hours until a sailor came
in, and said that they were hailed by the nearest ship. They all
went on deck. Ned shouted to know what was the matter.
"Do you not see the water is freezing? By morning we shall be all
frozen up hard and fast."
This was startling news indeed, for they were now in full sight of
Amsterdam, and would, if detained thus, be open to an attack across
the ice.