The First of the English: A Novel
battle flags are waving! There you may win rank high enough and glory
great enough to claim my hand.”
“Don’t doubt me, I’ll be where the fighting is,” mutters Chester
grimly, “and it’ll be you I fight for, though perhaps Alva will not
appreciate my efforts.”
“My father always rewards bravery and conduct, remember that, Major
Guido Amati de Medina—bravery and conduct. You may have the courage of
a Paladin, but it will not give you promotion without brains. You have
plenty of both, I think,” she laughs, smoothing away the curls from
Guy’s determined forehead, then cries excitedly: “Why, you have the
head of a chess player!”
“Yes, the game in which the knight takes the queen,” whispers Guy.
“Then he must be very gallant and tender and discreet to the captured
lady,” cries the girl, blushing, though there is languor in her
drooping eyes. For the knight at his word has taken possession of the
queen of his soul in a mad, delirious kind of way, as into his mind for
one brief second has come the thought of carrying her off instanter by
some wild coup.
A moment’s consideration shows Guy that now he has no time to press his
suit or make arrangements to that effect, or even to persuade Hermoine,
for he would not take her unwillingly or bring discredit on the name of
her he honors most upon this earth, and the Burgomaster is now rapping
at the door.
“Remember—”
They both speak this same word at once, and each one’s lips prevent the
other’s uttering more. It is their last lingering, torturing, farewell
embrace.
Then, with the decision of the man of war and the man of affairs,
Chester throws open the door and Niklaas enters, followed by Juffrouw
Wilhelmina, who is in piteous plight and dressed hastily as daughter of
a middle-class burgher, with none of her old-time finery about her.
There are traces of tears upon her cheeks that have grown very pale,
but her eyes flash with nervous terror and excitement that give a
strange, pathetic beauty to her face.
“Hurry! there’s a carriage at the door for you,” mutters the
Burgomaster. “I’ve sent what little luggage could be gathered up in
haste to the vessel. A maid servant goes with you.”
But this is broken in upon by Mina. She strides up to Hermoine de Alva,
who is gazing at her sadly, and mutters brokenly: “Tell me of him!”
“Him—whom?”
“My Oliver. Is he safe?”
“For the present, yes.”
“Thank God!”
“Yes, the traitor Oliver fled from Brussels late last night. This
morning word was brought us that with eight men he had captured Mons.”
“Eight men! Ah! That was a gallant deed. Eight men capture a garrison.
But Louis of Nassau is doubtless hurrying in his men-at-arms from
France into the city. Your hero is safe now, little Mina!” cries Guy,
forgetting his rôle of Spanish officer, in enthusiasm for his friend’s
valor and glory.
“Yes, he’s safe, for the present,” murmurs Hermoine. “He is a gallant
man and a great painter. I will look after his altar piece. But, oh
misericordia!” she puts her eyes up to heaven and says piteously: “I
pray God my father may never capture him alive.” Then turning to Mina
she says very solemnly: “If you ever have word with your lover again,
pray him as he fears the pangs of Hades, not to be captured alive! It
is a pity so gallant a spirit ate my father’s bread and yet betrayed
him. Still, Major Guido Amati, I charge you, by your word of honor as a
gentleman, to save this poor girl from my father’s wrath.”
“Quick, put her in the carriage,” mutters Guy to Bodé Volcker.
And the Burgomaster, taking his daughter out, Hermoine de Alva
whispers: “See, I have faith in you. How little I believe that you are
libertine and roué. This girl is beautiful. I have placed her in your
hands, for I believe in you as maiden did in knight of old.”
“By Saint George and the Dragon! you may trust me.” Then Chester,
bending his knee, puts his lips upon the lips held up to him, for he
hears Bodé Volcker’s crying: “Haste!”
Passing out, the last look that Chester receives from the beautiful
eyes of the lady of his heart is one of ineffable trust, and he knows
that through good report and evil report Hermoine de Alva will believe
in Major Guido Amati de Medina, of Romero’s foot, as her knight and
champion.
At the carriage door the Burgomaster presses the Englishman’s hand and
whispers: “Every arrangement has been made, drive straight to the
ship,” then falters, “You have her in your hands. As you do by my Mina
may God do by you. Quick! the tide is now just on the first ebb.”
Driving hastily to the Esperanza Guy, boarding the vessel, finds Olins
ready with the clearance papers of the ship. Then exhibiting his
charter to a custom house officer in waiting, and it being approved,
the vessel casts off hastily from the dock and spreading every sail to
the breeze, for time is very precious now, the ebb tide bears them down
the Schelde.
About an hour and a half after this the Esperanza has put the Fort of
Lillo behind her and is making for the open ocean, upon which the
sailors of Holland claim dominion over the mercenaries of Alva.
As he gazes over his quarter at the grinning bombards and culverins of
the Spaniard, Chester draws a long breath of relief. He has escaped
again from Antwerp; the treasure of the Duke is yet unscathed—though he
has gained a hundred kisses—for every one of which he would have risked
his life a hundred times. But his men have had no kisses, and guessing
they have also gained no treasure, are disposed to grumble.
Soon after this to Chester comes the daughter of the merchant, and
whispers: “God bless you, for saving me from degradation and the
scourge.”
“You have perfect confidence in me, I hope?” murmurs the Englishman,
looking at the beautiful girl, the fresh sea breeze having brought the
roses back to Mina’s cheek.
“Yes! You are the friend of Oliver; you would not betray him. You
are”—here Miss Wilhelmina stammers, but smiles—“the—the sweetheart of
one to whom no one could be untrue.”
“Par Dios! who is she?” says Guy, biting his lip.
“Doña Hermoine de Alva. Dost remember the bargains I gave to her
duenna, Major Guido Amati de Medina?” And the girl laughs quite
merrily, though not being accustomed to the sea, laughing is just now
becoming a hard matter to her.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
A few hours after this Chester is at Flushing, now held very strongly
by ’t Zeraerts for the Prince of Orange.
Finding that the Dover Lass has not returned from Ireland, after some
little trouble with the authorities, who would make a prize of the
Esperanza, did not Chester prove himself “The First of the English” and
a brother Gueux, he very shortly leaves this port.
Anxious to acquit himself of his promise to Doña Hermoine and deliver
his charge at Haarlem, Guy, hoisting the flag of Orange, anchors in the
course of the next day at Zandvoort. Landing by boat upon the beach
near that little Dutch fishing village, Chester, accompanied by ten of
his tars as escort, makes a pleasant journey of five miles through the
wooded dunes to the river Spaarne, upon which stream lies the pretty
city of Haarlem, basking in the sunshine, its streets filled with
bustling burghers, the bells of its great church pealing triumphantly
Protestant devotion, the women laughing, the children playing about its
neat Dutch homes and gaily colored pentices.
Coming in to the place by St. Jan’s Gate, which is held strongly by
burgher guard armed with arquebuses and cross bows, Chester is
conducted to Captain Wybout Ripperda, commander of the city, and giving
his name and business, he finds that the “First of the English” is very
well known by reputation in this city of Holland as a friend of the
cause. So very shortly thereafter Guy is permitted to conduct Juffrouw
Bodé Volcker to her relatives, the family of her uncle, one Pieter
Kies, who has made a fortune by his bleaching fields.
After spending the evening with the prosperous and hospitable
Hollander, he leaves the fair Mina happy and contented, though very
solicitous about the man she loves.
“If word comes to you of Oliver, you’ll try to let me know,” she
pleads, then says, a tremble in her voice: “God bless you for taking
care of the helpless. Oliver will thank you for it himself if he lives
to meet you,” next smiles: “You are not what you seem to be. You are
not the Spanish captain, you are a patriot, like my bachelor, and
still,” here her eyes open, “you are the bachelor of Alva’s daughter!”
Then seeing consternation on Guy’s face, she adds impulsively: “Trust
me, I’ll keep your secret, for I know every kiss of Doña Hermoine is at
risk of your life.”
Not altogether satisfied that another has his secret, Chester makes his
way to the pretty little inn of the Swan. There he spends a very
comfortable night between clean sheets (for the Holland hostelries were
very much better than those of Antwerp) mine host being a young,
resolute looking Fleming named Hasselaer. He and his mother, a widow of
about forty, keep the Swan in very good order.
The next morning, after a pleasant meal, the Englishman repairs to
Captain Ripperda and demands passport for himself and his ten
followers.
“Certainly,” replies the stout Dutch commander, “I am only happy to be
of assistance to one who is such a friend to our cause. May you return
to us in a happier day.”
“What could be happier than this?” answers Guy, looking at the pretty
scene of bustling trade and thrifty commerce about him.
“Drommelsch! it is pleasant enough now,” says the Dutchman, “but God
knows what may come of this war. We are quiet at present, but it is the
quiet before the storm. Every town in Holland save Amsterdam is up in
arms against Alva, and with this attack in his rear by Oliver at Mons,
the news of which has just been brought to us, and with assistance from
French Huguenots, as Condé and Coligny promise us, perchance when the
cloud breaks it will not contain so much thunder and lightning—but God
knows!”
And God does know what Ripperda does not, for had that stout Dutchman
guessed what was coming to him and his, how they shall soon be eating
the grass in the streets to try to keep their souls in their bodies,
and then only saving themselves ultimately for Alva’s torturers and
executioners, he and every man, woman and child that throng the streets
of happy Haarlem would fly from it, leaving behind their household
goods and their beloved homes as if they were accursed by God.
But everything is very bright and pleasant now, as Chester makes his
exit through the St. Jan’s Gate and returns to Zandvoort, where,
signaling his vessel, a boat is sent to him and he is soon on board the
Esperanza again, and returning to Flushing there meets the Dover Lass.
“You left every Spaniard of them safe in Ireland?” Guy says to Dalton.
“Yes, every mother’s Don of them is safe with the O’Toole. They can
speak Irish by this time,” answers his first officer.
Chester is greeted with three ringing cheers by the Dover Lasses—cheers
of joy and delight, for their commander has come back with his
life—doubtless he has come back with the gold.
“Now for the treasure!” cries Dalton, heartily, but his weather-beaten
face grows gloomy as Guy exclaims: “No treasure for the present!”
Likewise the men are disappointed also, for each of them, when he saw
his captain alive, expected instantly the twenty promised doubloons in
hand.
Failure makes trouble for Guy, who is compelled to sail to England to
obtain money to pay his crew and to have the keys made.
In London, though he gets the keys of the Viceroy’s treasure house
manufactured by three very cunning locksmiths and has them carefully
put away in his strong box on the Dover Lass, the treasure house of his