Directly our prison ship was moored alongside a quay we were summoned on
deck, where an escort of soldiers was in waiting to convey us to a place
of confinement on shore.
Some of our officers immediately recognized the port as Rotterdam, which
to me appeared a city of lofty buildings beset with canals and
waterways.
It was soon evident that we were to be separated, and seeing this to be
the case I kept close to Drake and another young lieutenant, Hubert
Felgate by name, who had been slightly wounded in the right arm during
the first day's engagement. He was of a somewhat taciturn disposition,
though, when properly understood, he was a good-hearted and reliable
friend.
To our great satisfaction the three of us were taken to a magistrate's
office. As none of us could speak their language, a Dutchman was called
in to act as interpreter, but so quaint was his attempt at speaking
English that it was with the greatest difficulty that we could
understand what was required of us.
At length we discovered that if we gave our parole we should be allowed
comparative freedom within the city; if not, well--a meaning shrug of
the shoulders completed the unspoken sentence.
We were permitted to reason the proposition out among ourselves, which
we did in an undertone. Young and hot-headed, the idea of a possible
exchange of prisoners never entered our heads, but on the other hand the
excitement of an attempt at escape held out an inducement to refuse our
parole. We quickly decided on the latter course. The magistrate closed
a book in front of him in a manner that denoted a feeling of
disappointment, then, signing to our guards, he motioned us to be
removed.
We were conducted along a stone passage and down a spiral staircase, the
weapons of our guards clanking dismally as they struck the stone steps.
At the bottom of the staircase we proceeded along another passage, which
was lighted by a few feeble lamps, while water trickled through the roof
in such a manner as to suggest that we were passing under some canal.
At the end an iron door barred the way. This the sergeant of the guard
unlocked and threw open, disclosing a large room with a vaulted stone
roof, lighted only by two small grated windows some twelve feet from the
ground. The atmosphere was rank, while moisture was everywhere--on the
walls, floor, and even on the top of a massive oak table, the polish of
which was cut and scraped till it resembled a butcher's block.
As our eyes grew accustomed to the dim light we perceived that the room
was a torture chamber. In one corner stood a ponderous rack, its
rollers still glistening with a coating of oil. Other instruments of
torture were placed round the walls in an orderly manner, showing by
their brightness that they were still kept in use.
I must confess the sight turned us, though we had never yet had accounts
of prisoners of war being put to the torture. We were not left long in
suspense, for the soldiers, having carefully searched us (though they
left us our money), went out and locked and barred the door.
Left to ourselves, we began to discuss our situation. Escape from this
horrible hole was out of the question, but we began a tour of the room
to ascertain our bearings.
"I almost wish that we had given the burgomaster our parole," remarked
Felgate dolefully. "To eke out an existence for a few months, or even
weeks or days, in this den would almost drive one to madness."
"What do they mean by putting us in here?" asked Drake. "Surely they
don't mean to put us to the torture as if we were political prisoners?"
"I don't think that," I remarked, "otherwise those rascals would have
relieved us of our money."
"Well, they took my knife," grumbled Felgate. "Ah! What fools these
Dutchmen are! Look! Why should we not take some small articles that
might aid our escape?"
He pointed to the walls, where hung several small knives. We
immediately secured one each, and in addition concealed a few iron
spikes under our clothing, chuckling to ourselves at the folly of our
captors in searching us before we were left alone amid so terrible yet
useful an array of instruments.
Then, having completed our inspection, we seated ourselves on the
framework of the rack, relapsing into a silence that was broken only by
the occasional scamper of a swarm of rats across the floor, and the
rippling of a stream of water outside the thick stone walls of our
prison.
The solitude was unbearable, though we never stopped to consider what it
would have been like had we been placed in separate rooms. At length
Felgate stood up, and, seizing a hammer that was used apparently to
drive the wedges into the boot, he strode across to the door and began
to thunder a rain of blows upon it. Then he waited, but for all the
good it did he might well have saved himself the trouble. No one came
to see who was the cause of the clamour, and silence again reigned
supreme.
The hours rolled slowly by, and just as the daylight that filtered
through the narrow windows began to fade, our prison door was thrown
open and the guards reappeared. Hardly able to repress a smile that
flitted across his grim features, the sergeant deliberately walked up to
Felgate, relieved him of the knife and two spikes that he had concealed,
and replaced them. Greville and I were served in the same manner, our
crestfallen faces plainly showing our dismay. We had been watched
through some secret spy-hole during the whole time we were left, as we
had imagined, alone.
Once more we were taken into the presence of the magistrate, who,
phlegmatic as ever, merely raised one eyebrow slightly and tapped the
book in front of him with the feathered end of his pen.
The gesture was impressive with its silent enquiry, but with the
obstinacy of our race we again refused to give any pledge that would
debar us from making any attempt at escape. A sign, and we were hurried
from the burgomaster's presence, and, with a file of pikemen surrounding
us, we were taken, not to that loathsome dungeon, but into the open air.
Through crowds of silent spectators we were marched, along a broad
street planted with tall trees, the light of the buildings on the far
side being reflected in the placid waters of a canal. Then we crossed a
drawbridge, and a hundred yards farther our guards halted outside a
building the entrance to which was gained by a double flight of broad
stone steps.
A challenge and a password were exchanged, and we were handed over to
another armed guard, who escorted us to a small room, which, though
roughly furnished, was a surprisingly comfortable prison. Some bundles
of straw were thrown on the floor, a plain though ample meal was
provided, and we were left to ourselves once more.
It was now late, but for several hours we tossed uneasily on our straw
couches, till, worn out with the excitement and fatigue, we fell asleep,
to be awakened only too soon by the entry of our jailers.
By signs they informed us that we were to start on a long journey, and
providing us with blankets and klompen, or wooden shoes similar to the
sabots of the French, they left us to enjoy another meal of porridge,
rusk bread, and cheese.
An hour later they returned, and rolling our blankets they fastened them
bandolier fashion across one shoulder and under the other. Our shoes,
though admirable for wear on board ship, were useless on a rough road,
so these were slung round our necks and the klompen were placed upon our
feet. Our captors were of a mind to treat us kindly, but I must admit
that walking in these clumsy wooden shoes occasioned us no little
discomfort.
Where our destination was we could not discover. Our guards would not,
or could not, understand the enquiries we made in dumb-show, but when
clear of the city our route lay to the north.
For miles we marched between the files of our escort of pikemen, and we
had ample opportunities of studying the nature of the land, which in no
small measure well deserves the name of the Low Countries. The road was
bordered with an avenue of trees that served to break the monotony that
the broad expanse of flat country affords. There were scores of
windmills all busily engaged, not in grinding wheat, but in pumping
water from the drains and throwing it over the dykes.
These dykes, which were cut by the Hollanders to such good purpose
during their desperate resistance against the might of Spain, were
massive embankments planted with sedge and reeds, and faced in places
with straw so as to resist the sea better. As we progressed we saw
nothing of the ocean, though it was said that the place where we were
walking was well below the sea level.
We passed through numerous villages, the inhabitants of which flocked
out to see us, though they behaved courteously, and refrained from
insulting us, a contrast to the behaviour of our own countrymen to their
Dutch prisoners.
After marching for over two hours we arrived at a town called Delft,
where the curiosity caused by our progress was somewhat alienated by a
sight that greatly astonished us. A crowd of townspeople was
approaching us, and in the centre walked a portly _vrouw_, wearing a
weighty vessel not unlike a butter churn, her head appearing through a
hole, the rest of her being hidden inside the wooden barrel. Her
miserable plight made her the butt of the crowd. But for what reason
she was undergoing this punishment we could not discover, though I doubt
not that she was a scold, such as we in England place in the ducking
stool.
We halted for an hour at Delft, the pikemen refreshing themselves by
taking enormous quantities of ale, while we were fain to be content with
a loaf of bread, cheese, and a pitcher of water. A woman, taking
compassion on us, however, sent a little girl to us with a jug brimming
with fresh milk.
We talked freely, none of the soldiers apparently understanding our
conversation, and discussed the possibility of making our escape.
"Could we but once slip between the men, I think we should be
swift-footed enough to shake them off," remarked Felgate. "What with
their breastplates and headpieces their running would be like to that of
Goliath of Gath."
"True!" replied Drake. "But with these wretched wooden shoes----" and
he pointed meaningly at his feet.
"We can make out that they gall our heels, and take them off for a
while; then at the favourable moment--you, Drake, can give the
word--we'll make a dash for freedom."
"And after----?" I enquired.
"That remains to be seen," rejoined Felgate.
While we conversed I could not help noticing that the sergeant eyed us
sharply more than once; and whether it was merely fancy or not, I could
not help thinking that I had seen him before. But as very few Dutchmen
had made my acquaintance (and these only as enemies) I dismissed the
idea from my mind.
The man was short, thick-set, with a heavy beard that concealed most of
his features, but the look in his eyes betokened that he was no infant
in the art of war, and could, if occasion served, prove a harsh
taskmaster.
At length the order was given to proceed. At a mile from Delft, Felgate
began to limp. His example was quickly followed by Drake, and shortly
after I adopted the same ruse, though in reality I had good cause to do
so, the unaccustomed nature of my footgear beginning to have an ill
effect.
Soon Drake stopped, pointed to his shoes, and made signs that he could
not walk farther. The pikemen came to a halt and looked at us
sympathetically, while the sergeant talked volubly. We seized the
opportunity of pulling off the klompen and replacing our own shoes, and
the march was resumed.
The country was perfectly flat, as hitherto, but the dykes were at a
greater distance from the road. Though they shut in our range of vision
we knew that dry land lay beyond, as we could discern several windmills,
roofs of houses, and trees on the other side.
The pikemen struggled on, apparently fatigued by the heat of the day.
Drake touched my arm and whispered: "Be ready!" I was all alertness,
waiting for the signal to break away.
Suddenly Felgate staggered, as if seized with faintness, and fell on his
hands and knees. The soldier immediately behind, unable to check
himself, fell over him; then, with a loud cry of "Now!" Felgate jumped
to his feet, and, followed by us, rushed off towards the nearest dyke.
Our guards, to our surprise, did not attempt to follow us; instead, they
stood looking at us, till, at a command from the sergeant, they spread
out, some remaining still, the rest marching slowly in both directions
along the road.
Wondering at this manoeuvre we still ran, looking backwards at
intervals. When close to the dyke we saw that the pikemen had extended
over a distance of one hundred yards, and were now making their way in a
long straggling line straight for the dyke.
We redoubled our efforts, climbed up the soft sandy embankment, and
gained the top. Here we found that a broad ditch barred our progress.
"On, lads, on!" cried Felgate. "These scurvy pikemen will never dare
cross this with the weight of their accoutrements."
Carried away by his words, we dashed down the slope of the dyke, only to
find, too late, that a broad belt of liquid mud, thickly interspersed
with sedge, lay betwixt us and the water. In a moment we were all
struggling up to our waists in the impenetrable ooze.
At length, worn out by our fruitless endeavours to extricate ourselves,
we waited motionless in the slime till the grinning faces of the pikemen
appeared above the bank. By this time we had sunk nearly to our
shoulders; but by the aid of the men's pikes we were hauled on to dry
land, amid the coarse jests and laughter of our rescuers.
We were in a truly miserable plight, the mud clinging to our wet
garments like pitch, while the stench was abominable. To complete our
discomfiture, the sergeant tapped his petronel significantly and
exclaimed in perfect English: "Now, sirrahs, you will perceive that
escape is no easy matter. Another attempt and I'll warrant ye will not
fare half so lightly."
We gazed on him in amazement; then Drake exclaimed: "My man, if thou'rt
not a renegade, then may I not see England again!"
"As you will," rejoined the sergeant, and ordered the men to fall in.
Then we regained the highway and resumed our weary way.
It was late in the evening ere we arrived at our destination, which
proved to be the town of Haarlem, of which I had heard much with
reference to its stubborn defence against the Spaniards. This was to be
our prison for many dreary months.
We were placed in separate rooms, though during the day we were
permitted to take exercise together. For a long time we hardly dared
mention the possibilities of escape, with the thought of our previous
attempt fresh in our minds. We frequently discoursed on the probable
events that were occurring at home, but our guards refrained from giving
us any information on the subject, though one or two of our new
custodians spoke a few words of broken English at intervals.
Thus we knew not of the glorious victory of Albemarle over de Ruyter on
the 25th of July following our capture; but by the sullen demeanour of
the soldiers we guessed that once more the States of Holland were
suffering for their audacity in questioning our supremacy on the sea.
Autumn passed, and winter, with intense cold, drew on apace. About this
time I made an important discovery, which served to throw a little light
on the mystery that enshrouded my existence.
One day the renegade sergeant came into my apartment. He had grown
somewhat communicative of late, talking freely of the country in whose
service he was, though very reserved in matters pertaining to the land
of his birth. The feeling that I had seen him before grew apace, till
on this occasion I asked him bluntly why he took service with our
enemies.
His reply was a hideous scowl, and like a flash the truth came to my
mind--it was Increase Joyce, my father's murderer!
For a moment I could scarce refrain from throwing myself upon him; but
reflecting that little would be gained thus, and that much might be
obtained by strategy, I refrained, and, shrugging my shoulders
indifferently, I turned from him and walked to the farther part of the
room.
I saw him no more that day, but on the day following he again entered my
apartment or cell--call it which you will. Though feigning to avoid
conversation with him, I found that his moody fit had passed, and that
he was willing to talk.
Little by little I gathered his history, which, though mostly lies, gave
me an insight into his movements and plans.
He had, he said, fled the country at the Restoration for political
reasons, a price having been set upon his head. (I smiled grimly at
this, knowing only too well why his head was thus valued.) He had
served as a soldier of fortune on the Rhine and in the Low Countries,
finally joining the army of the States of Holland and rising to his
present rank; though, in justice to the Dutch be it said, he was never
allowed to take up arms against his own countrymen.
I had heard enough for once, and for the time being I resolved not to
mention the matter either to Drake or to Felgate.
Of what was taking place betwixt England and Holland we learned little.
Occasionally we had a visit from the governor of the fortress, a Major
Van der Wycke, a courteous and honest soldier, who carefully refrained
from hurting our susceptibilities with reference to the war, though he
told us of the great fire that practically destroyed the best part of
London. This we were told on Christmas Day, over three months after its
occurrence.
Very slowly the days passed. Winter gave place to spring, yet no sign
of our being released was given us, neither did any loophole of escape
present itself. One day Joyce came into my room with the news that he
was leaving the service of the States of Holland, and had a good offer
for his sword from the King of France. He seemed very elated, and now
was the time to obtain what information I could.
"Thou art a Yorkshireman, perchance?" I enquired offhandedly,
interrupting him in the midst of a rambling statement.
"I a Yorkshireman? Never, young sir!"
"Then from Lincolnshire, doubtless?"
"Nor from Lincolnshire. Why didst think so?"
"From thy manner of speech, Sergeant," I replied, forcing a laugh. "It
savours much of the north."
"I have travelled much, and know both those counties well."
"Then perchance Midgley is known to you, Sergeant?"
"I cannot recall the name. Where is it?"
"It is my native village," I asserted, with a slight deviation from the
truth. "It lies betwixt Pontefract and Holwick."
At the mention of Holwick he started, yet, retaining command over his
feelings, he remarked: "I know it not. But, beshrew me! the name of
Holwick reminds me---- Dost know Holwick well?"
"Passably," I replied offhandedly. "There is a market cross, a church,
a score or so of stone houses, a castle more or less in ruin, and a----"
"A castle, sayest thou?" he interrupted excitedly. "And who lives
there?"
"I cannot say."
"Ah! Now, concerning this castle," he remarked, tapping his clay pipe
on his heel with such vehemence that the stem broke in three places, "I
have heard that a goodly store of treasure lies hidden there. In fact,
an old comrade of mine, who lay stricken to death on the field of
Marston Moor, did bestow upon me a paper whereby the treasure should be
mine. But either he was befooling himself or me, for I could find
nothing."
Here was a piece of good fortune.
"Where did you look?" I enquired disinterestedly.
"Where did I look? Now, out on me for a dolt! I delved every night for
more than a fortnight, till the countryside rang with tales of the ghost
of Holwick, and none would venture near o' nights, and hardly by day."
"Were the directions fully adhered to?"
He looked fixedly at me for a moment, as if suspecting my thoughts, then
from his pocket he produced the identical metal box that he had filched
from my father's corse. Again I could hardly refrain from springing
upon him; but discretion is ever the better part of valour.
From the box he drew a folded paper, yellow with age, and discoloured
and torn with frequent usage.
"Mark you, what a jargon! 'Without ye two tall of ye thirty-two paces
right dig Holwick may the treasure give full out mine whereas my----'
Did ever a man have such a frail clue?"
"Then what did you do?"
"Do? I dug thirty-two paces from the castle walls on all sides save the
west, for at that distance there was naught but a muddy stream. It might
be thirty-two paces from the church, the cross, or what not. But I have
a mind to make one more attempt ere I go to France. If that fails, then
my right I'll sell to the first Jew that makes me an offer."
"Let me see if I can make aught of it," I said, carelessly stretching
out my hand. To my delight Joyce handed it to me, and I saw the writing
I knew so well.
For over an hour we talked, I, for my part, throwing out idle
suggestions and listening to Joyce's explanations, trying at the same
time to commit the apparently senseless words to memory.
Suddenly the door was flung open and the governor appeared. With a
motion of his hand he signed for Joyce to withdraw, and the villain went
out, leaving the precious document in my hands. Major Van der Wycke
used to do the rounds in a somewhat erratic fashion, and for this once I
thanked his eccentricity. When he went he desired the sergeant to
accompany him, and for the time being I was at liberty to copy the
mysterious message.
I had not quill nor crayon nor paper. I had read of men writing with
their blood, but this method appeared very unsatisfactory. At length I
bethought me of the fire, and taking a piece of charcoal I scrawled the
words on the under side of my table. This I did, promising myself to
ask for pens and paper at the first opportunity, and barely had I
finished my task when the renegade reappeared.
"Where's that paper?" asked he. "I'll venture that your wits are no
sharper than mine."
I handed it back to him with the remark that it conveyed nothing, and
wished him all the luck he deserved. This double-barrelled compliment
he took as favourable to himself, and after a short further conversation
he left.
That night Joyce quitted Haarlem, and I was not fated to see him again
for some time.