 Chapter four of By Pike and Dyke, a tale of the rise of the Dutch Republic, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. By Pike and Dyke, by G. A. Henty. Chapter four. Wounded. They dropped anchor a short distance off the port, and then lit some torches and waved to them. "'The firing is sure to have been heard,' Peters said, and they will be sending off to know what is going on, otherwise there would have been small chance of getting in to-night.' As the mate anticipated, the sound of oars was soon heard, and a large boat rode out towards them. It stopped at a distance of a hundred yards, and there was a shout of, "'What ship is that?' The English Brig good venture. We pray you to allow us to bring our captain, who has been sorely wounded by the Spaniards on shore. What has been the firing we have heard? We could see the flashes across the water. We have been twice engaged,' Peters shouted, first with two Spanish galleys, and then with a large ship of war which we beat off with heavy loss. "'Well done, Englishman,' the voice exclaimed, and the boat at once rode out to the brig. "'You cannot come in to-night,' the Dutch official said, for the chain is up across the harbour, and the rule is imperative and without exception, but I will gladly take your captain on shore, and he shall have, I promise you, the best surgical aid the town can give him. Is he the only one hurt?' One of the men has been injured with a splinter, but he needs but bandaging and laying up for a few days. We have had a shot or two through our bulwarks, and the sails are riddled. The captain's son is below with him. He acts as second mate, and will tell you all about this affair into which we were forced. "'Very well. We will take him ashore with us, then. There is quite an excitement there. The news that a sea-fight was going on brought all the citizens to the walls. The mattress upon which Captain Martin was lying was brought out and lowered carefully into the stern of the boat. Ned took his seat beside it, and the boat pushed off. Having passed the forts, they entered the port and rode to the landing-place. A number of citizens, many of them carrying torches, were assembled here. "'What is the news?' a voice asked as the boat approached. "'It is an English ship, burgamaster. She has been hotly engaged, first with Spanish galleys, and then with a warship, which was doubtless to one seen beating up this afternoon. She sank one of the galleys and beat off the ship, allowed cheer brick from the crowd. When it subsided, the official went on. "'I have the English captain and his son on board. The captain is sorely wounded, and I have promised him the best medical aid the town can give him. "'Dot he shall have,' the burgamaster said. "'Let him be carried to my house at once. On's lay part. Do you hurry on and tell my wife to get a chamber prepared instantly. You have heard who it is and why he is coming, and I warrant me she will do her best to make the brave Englishman comfortable. Do two others of you run to Dr. Zobel and Haring, and pray them to hasten to my house. Let a stretcher be fetched instantly from the town hall.' As soon as the stretcher was brought the mattress was placed on it, and six of the sailors carried it on shore. The crowd had by this time greatly increased, for the news had rapidly spread. Every head was bared in token of sympathy and respect as the litter was brought up. The crowd fell back and formed a lane, and led by the burgamaster the sailors carried the wounded man into the town. He was taken upstairs to the room prepared for him, and the surgeons were speedily in attendance. Medicine in those days was but a primitive science, but the surgery, though rough and rude, was far ahead of the sister art. Wars were of such constant occurrence that surgeons had ample opportunity for practice, and simple operations, such as the amputation of limbs, were matters of very common occurrence. It needed but a very short examination by the two surgeons to enable them to declare that the leg must at once be amputated. The bone appears to be completely smashed, one of them said, doubtless the ball was fired at a very short distance. A groan burst from Ned when he heard the decision. I knew that it would be so, Ned, his father said. I never doubted it for a moment. It is well that I have been able to obtain aid so speedily. Better a limb than life, my boy. I did not wince when I was hit, and with God's help I can stand the pain now. Do you go away and tell the burgomaster how it all came about and leave me with these gentlemen? As soon as Ned had left the room, sobbing in spite of his efforts to appear manly, the captain said, Now gentlemen, since this must be done, I pray you to do it without loss of time. I will bear it as best I can, I promise you, and as three or four and twenty years at sea makes a man pretty hard and accustomed to rough usage, I expect I shall stand it as well as another. The surgeons agreed that there was no advantage in delay, and indeed that it was far better to amputate it before fever set in. They therefore returned home at once for their instruments, the knives and saws, the irons that were to be heated white hot to stop the bleeding, and the other appliances in use at the time. Had Ned been aware that the operation would have taken place so soon, he would have been unable to satisfy the curiosity of the burgomaster and citizens to know how it had happened that an English trader had come to blows with the Spaniards, but he had no idea that it would take place that night, and thought that probably some days would elapse before the surgeons finally decided that it was necessary to amputate it. One of the surgeons had, at the captain's request, called the burgomaster aside as he left the house, and begged him to keep the lad engaged in conversation until he heard from him that all was over. This the burgomaster willingly promised to do, and as many of the leading citizens were assembled in the parlor to hear the news, there was no chance of Ned's slipping away. Before you begin to tell us your story, young sir, we should be glad to know how it is that you speak our language so well, for indeed we could not tell by your accent that you are not a native of these parts, which is of course impossible, seeing that your father is an Englishman and captain of the ship lying off there. My mother comes from near here, Ned said. She is the daughter of Meniere Plomart, who lived at Vordwick, two miles from Amsterdam. She went over to England when she married my father, but when he was away on his voyages she always spoke her own language to us children, so that we grew to speak it naturally as we did English. Ned then related the news that met them on their arrival at his grandfather's home, and the exclamation of fury on the part of his father. It is a common enough story with us here, the burgomaster said, for few of us but have lost friends or relatives at the hands of these murderous tyrants of ours, but to you living in a free land, truly it must have been a dreadful shock, and I wonder not that your father's indignation betrayed him into words which, if overheard, might well cost a man his life in this country. They were overheard and reported, Ned said, and then proceeded to relate the warning they had received, the measures they had taken to get off unperceived, the accidental meeting with the guard-boat and the way in which it had been sunk, the pursuit by the galleys and the fight with them, and then the encounter with the Spanish ship of war. And you say your father never relaxed his hold of the tiller when struck, the burgomaster said in surprise, I should have thought he must needs have fallen headlong to the ground. He told me, Ned replied, that at the moment he was hit he was pushing over the tiller, and had his weight partly on that and partly on his other leg, had it been otherwise he would of course have gone down, for he said that for a moment he thought his leg had been shot off. When Ned finished his narrative the burgomaster and magistrates were loud in their exclamations of admiration at the manner in which the little trader had both fought and deceived her powerful opponent. It was gallantly done indeed, the burgomaster said. Truly it seems marvellous that a little ship with but twenty hands should have fought and got safely away from the Don Pedro, for that was the ship we saw past this afternoon. We know her well, for she has often been in port here before we declared for the Prince of Orange a month ago. The beggars of the sea themselves could not have done better, could they, my friends, though we Dutchmen and zealenders believe that there are no sailors that can match our own. The story had taken nearly an hour to tell, and Ned now said, with your permission sir I will now go up to my father again. You had best not go for the present, the burgomaster said. The doctor asked me to keep you with me for a while, for that he wished his patient to be entirely undisturbed. He is by his bedside now, and will let me know at once if your father wishes to have you with him. A quarter of an hour later a servant called the burgomaster out. The surgeon was waiting outside. It is finished, he said, and he has borne it well. Skelso-Grown escaped him even when we applied the hot irons, but he is utterly exhausted now, and we have given him an opiate, and hope that he will soon drop off to sleep. My colleague will remain with him for four hours, and then I will return and take his place. You had best say nothing to the lad about it. He would naturally want to see his father. We would much rather that he should not. Therefore tell him please that his father is dropping off to sleep, and must not on any account be disturbed, and that we are sitting up with him by turns, and will let him know at once should there be any occasion for his presence. Ned was glad to hear that his father was likely to get off to sleep, and although he would gladly have sat up with him, he knew that it was much better that he should have the surgeon beside him. The burgomaster's wife, a kind and motherly woman, took him aside into a little parlor where a table was laid with a cold capon, some manchettes of bread, and a flask of the burgomaster's best wine. As Ned had eaten nothing since the afternoon, and it was now past midnight, he was by no means sorry to partake of some refreshment. When he had finished he was conducted to a comfortable little chamber that had been prepared for him, and in spite of his anxiety about his father, it was not long before he fell asleep. The son was high before he awoke. He dressed himself quickly, and went downstairs, for he feared to go straight to his father's room lest he might be sleeping. You have slept well, the burgomaster's wife said with a smile, and no wonder after your fatigues. The surgeon has just gone, and I was about to send up to wake you, for he told me to tell you that your father had passed a good night, and that you can now see him. Ned ran upstairs, and turning the handle of the door very quietly, entered his father's room. Captain Martin was looking very pale, but Ned thought that his face had not the drawn look that had marked it the evening before. How are you, my dear father? I am going on well, Ned, at least so the doctors say. I feel I shall be but a battered old hook when I get about again, but your mother will not mind that, I know. And do the doctors still think that they must take the leg off? Ned asked, hesitatingly. That was their opinion last night, Ned, and it was my opinion too, and so the matter was done off hand, and there is an end of it. Done off hand, Ned repeated. Do you mean—and he hesitated. Do I mean that they have taken it off? Certainly I do, Ned. They took it off last night when you were downstairs in the Burgamasters Parlor, but I thought it would be much better for you not to know anything about it until this morning. Yes, my boy, thank God it is all over. I don't say that it wasn't pretty hard to bear, but it had to be done, you know, and the sooner it was over the better. There is nothing worse than lying, thinking about a thing. Ned was too affected to speak, but with tears streaming down his cheeks, lent over and kissed his father. The news had come as a shock to him, but it seemed to have lifted a weight from his mind. The worst was over now, and although it was terrible to think that his father had lost his leg, still this seemed a minor evil after the fear that perhaps his life might be sacrificed. Knowing that his father should not be excited, or even talk more than was absolutely necessary, Ned stayed but a few minutes with him, and then hurried off to the ship, where, however, he found that the news that the captain's leg had been amputated, and that the doctors hoped he would go on well, had been known some hours before, as Peters had come on shore with the first dawn of daylight for news, and heard from the burgo-master's servant that the amputation had taken place the evening before, and an hour later had learned from the lips of the doctor who had been watching by the captain's bedside, that he had passed a fairly good night, and might so far be considered to be doing well. What do you think we had better do, Master Ned? Of course it will be for the captain to decide, but in these matters it is always best to take counsel beforehand. For although it is, of course, what he thinks in the matter will be done, still it may be that we might direct his thoughts, and the less thinking he does in his presence state the better. What do you mean as to what is to be done, Peters? Well, your father is like to be here many weeks. Indeed, if I said many months, I don't suppose it would be far from the truth. Things never go on quite smooth. There are sure to be inflammations, and fever keeps on coming and going, and if the doctor says three months, like enough it is six. Of course I shall stay here and nurse him, Peters. Well, Master Ned, that would be one of the points for the captain to settle. I do not suppose he will want the good venture to be lying idle all the time he has laid up, and though I can sail a ship, the trading business is altogether out of my line. You know all the merchants he does business with, going ashore, as you most always do with him. I doubt not that you could fill his place and deal with them just the same as if he was here. But I cannot leave him at present. No, no, Master Ned, no one would think of it. Now what I have been turning over in my mind is that the best thing for the captain and for you and your good mother is that I should set sail in the venture without the loss of a day and fetch her over. If the wind is reasonable and we have good luck, we may be back in ten days or so. By that time the captain may be well enough to think where we had better go for a cargo, and what course had best be taken about things in general. I think that would certainly be the best plan, Peters, and I will suggest it to my father at once. He is much more likely to go on well if my mother is with him, and she would be worrying sadly at home where she'd not by his side. Besides it will be well for her to have something to occupy her, for the news of what has befallen her father and brothers will be a terrible blow to her. If I put it in that way to him I doubt not that he will agree to the plan, otherwise he might fear to bring her out here in such troubled times, for there is no saying when the Spaniards will gather their army to recover the revolted cities or against which they will first make their attempts. I will go back at once, and if he be awake I will tell him that you and I agree that it would be best for you to sail without loss of an hour to fetch my mother over, and that we can then put off talking about other matters until the ship returns. Ned at once went back to his father's bedroom. He found the captain had just awoke from a short sleep. Father, I do not want to trouble you to think at present, but will tell you what Master Peters and I, who have been laying our heads together, concluded is best to be done. You are likely to be laid up here for some time, and it will be far the best plan for the good venture to sail over and fetch mother to nurse you. I shall get on well enough, Ned. There are kindly people here, and regarding our fight with the Spaniards as a sign of our friendship and good will towards them, they will do all in their power for me. Yes, Father, I hope indeed that you will go on well, and I am sure that the good people here will do their best in all ways for you, and of course I will nurse you to the best of my power, though indeed this is new work for me, but it was not so much you as mother that we were thinking of. It will be terrible for her when the news comes that her father and brothers are all killed, and that you are lying here sorely wounded. It will be well nigh enough to drive her distraught, but if she were to come over here at once she would, while busying about you, have less time to brood over her griefs, and indeed I see not why she should not be told what has happened at Boardwick until she is here with you, and you can break it to her. It will come better from your lips, and for your sake she will restrain her grief. There is a great deal in what you say, Ned, and indeed I long greatly to have her with me, but Holland is no place at present to bring a woman to, and I suppose also that she would bring the girls, for she could not well leave them in a house alone. There are plenty of friends there who would be glad to take them in, but that she could decide upon herself. However, as she is a native here she will probably consider she may well run the same risks as the rest of her countrywomen. They remain with their fathers and husbands and endure what perils there may be, and she will see no reason why she should not do the same. What we propose is that the venture should set sail at once and fetch my mother over, and the girls, if she sees fit to bring them. I shall of course stay here with you until the brig returns, and by that time you will, I hope, be strong enough to talk over what had best be done regarding the ship and business generally. Well, have your way, Ned. At present I cannot think over things and see what is best, so I will leave the matter in your hands, and truly I should be glad indeed to have your mother here with me. Well, content to have obtained the permission, Ned hurried from the room. As the burgrimaster returned, he asked when he reached the lower story. He has just come in, and I was coming up to tell you that dinner is served. Is it eleven o'clock already? Ned exclaimed. I had no idea it was so late. He entered the room and bowed to the burgrimaster and his wife. Worshipful sir, he said, I have just obtained leave from my father to send our ship off to London to fetch hither my mother to come to nurse him. I trust that by the time she arrives he will be able to be moved, and then they will take lodgings elsewhere, so as not to trespass longer upon your great kindness and hospitality. I think that it is well that your mother should come over, the burgrimaster said, for a man who has had the greater part of his leg taken off cannot be expected to get round quickly. Besides, after what you told us last night about the misfortune that has befallen her family, it were best that she should be busied about her husband, and so have little time to brood over the matter. As to hospitality it would be strange indeed if we should not do all that we could for a brave man who has been injured in fighting our common enemy. Send word to your mother that she will be as welcome as he is, and that we shall be ready in all respects to arrange whatever she may think most convenient and comfortable. And now you at best sit down and have your meal with us. As soon as it is over I will go down with you to the wharf, and will do what I can to hasten the sailing of your ship. I don't think, he went on when they had taken their seats at table, that there is much chance of her meeting another Spaniard on her way out to sea, for we have news this morning that some ships of the beggars have been seen cruising off the entrance, and the Spaniards will be getting under shelter of their batteries at Amsterdam. I hear they are expecting a fleet from Spain to arrive soon, to aid in their operations against our ports. However I have little fear that they will do much by sea against us. I would we could hold our own as well on the land as we can on the water. Ned found the meal extremely long and tedious, for he was fretting to be off to hasten the preparations on board the good venture, and he was delighted when at last the burgo-master said, Now my young friend we will go down to the wharf together. But although somewhat deliberate, the burgo-master proved a valuable assistant. When he had told Ned that he would do what he could to expedite the sailing of the ship, the lad had regarded it as a mere form of words, for he did not see how he could in any way expedite her sailing. As soon, however, as they had gone on board, and Ned had told Peters that the captain had given his consent to his sailing at once, the burgo-master said, You can scarce set sail before the tide turns, Master Peters, for the wind is so light that you would make but little progress if you did. From what Master Martin tells me you came off so hurriedly from Amsterdam that you had no time to get ballast on board. It would be very venturesome to start for a voyage to England unless with something in your hold. I will give orders that you shall be furnished at once with sandbags, otherwise you would have to wait your turn with the other vessels lying here, for ballast is, as you know, a rare commodity in Holland, and we do not like parting even with our sandhills. In the meantime, as you have well nigh six hours before you get under way, I will go round among my friends and see if I cannot procure you a little cargo that may pay some of the expenses of your voyage. Accordingly the burgo-master proceeded at once to visit several of the principal merchants, and, representing that it was the clear duty of the town's folk to do what they could for the men who had fought so bravely against the Spaniards, he succeeded in obtaining from them a considerable quantity of freight upon good terms, and so zealously did he push the business that in a very short time Draes began to arrive alongside the good venture, and a number of men were speedily at work in transferring the contents to her hold, and before evening she had taken on board a goodly amount of cargo. Ned wrote a letter to his mother telling her what had taken place, and saying that his father would be glad for her to come over to be with him, but that he left it to her to decide whether to bring the girls over or not. He said no word of the events at Boardwick, but merely mentioned that they had learned that a spy had denounced his father to the Spaniards as having used expressions hostile to the king and the religious persecutions, and that on this account he would have been arrested had he not at once put to sea. Peters was charged to say nothing as to what he had heard about the Plomarts unless she pressed him with questions. He was to report briefly that they were so busy with the unloading of the ship at Amsterdam that Captain Martin had only once been ashore, and leave it to be inferred that he only landed to see the merchants to whom the cargo was consigned. Of course, Peters, if my mother presses you as to whether any news has been received from Boardwick, you must tell the truth, but if it can be concealed from her it will be much the best. She will have anxiety enough concerning my father. I will see, Peters said, what can be done. Doubtless at first she will be so filled with the thought of your father's danger that she will not think much of anything else, but on the voyage she will have time to turn her thoughts in other directions, and she is well now sure to ask about her father and brothers. I shall be guided in my answers by her condition. Mistress Martin is a sensible woman, and not a girl who will fly into hysterics and rave like a madwoman. It may be too she will feel the one blow less for being so taken up with the other. However, I will do the best I can in the matter, Master Ned. Truly, your friend, the Burgamaster, is doing us right good service. I had looked to lose this voyage to England, and that the ten days I should be away would be fairly lost time. But now, although we shall not have a full hold, the freight will be ample to pay all expenses and to leave a good profit beside. As soon as the tide turned, the hatches were put on, the vessel was warped out from her berth, and a few minutes later was under sail. Ned had been busy helping to stow away the cargo as fast as it came on board, twice running up to see how his father was getting on. Each time he was told by the woman whom the Burgamaster had now engaged to act as nurse, that he was sleeping quietly. When he returned after seeing the good venture fairly under way, he found on peeping quietly into the room that Captain Martin had just woke. I have had a nice sleep, Ned, he said, as the lad went up to his bedside. I see it is already getting dark, as the brig sailed. She has just gone out of port, Father. The wind is light, and it was no use starting until tide turned, although indeed the tides are of no great account in these inland waters. Still, we had to take some ballast on board as our hold was empty, and they might meet with storms on their way home, so they had to wait for that. But indeed, after all, they took in but little ballast, for the Burgamaster bestirred himself so warmly in our favour that the merchants sent down goods as fast as we could get them on board, and short as the time was, the main hold was well nigh half full before we put on the hatches, so that her voyage home will not be without a good profit after all. That is good news, Ned, for although as far as I am concerned the money is of no great consequence one way or the other, I am but part owner, and the others might well complain at my sending the ship home empty to fetch my wife instead of attending to their interests. I am sure they would not have done that, Father, seeing how well you do for them, and what good money the venture earns, why I have heard you say she returns her value every two years, so that they might well have gone without a fortnight's earnings without murmuring. I don't suppose they would have murmured, Ned, for they are all good friends of mine, and always seem well pleased with what I do for them. Still, in matters of business, it is always well to be strict and regular, and I should have deemed it my duty to have calculated the usual earnings of the ship for the time she was away, and to have paid my partners their share, as if she had been trading as usual. It is not because the ship is half mine, and that I and my partners make good profit out of her, that I have a right to divert her from her trade for my own purposes. As you say, my partners might be well content to let me do so, but that is not the question. I should not be content myself. We should always in business work with a good conscience, being more particular about the interests of those who trust us than of our own. Indeed, on the bare ground of expediency it is best to do so. For then, if misfortune happens, trade goes bad, or your vessel is cast away, they will make good allowance for you, knowing that you are a loser as well as they, and that at all times you have thought as much of them as of yourself. Lay this always to heart, lad, it is unlikely that I shall go to see much more, and ere long you will be in command of the good venture. Always think more of the interests of those who trust you than of your own. They have put their money into the ship, relying upon their partners' skill and honesty and courage. Even at a loss to yourself, you should show them always that this confidence is not misplaced. Do your duty and a little more, lad. Most men do their duty. It is the little more that makes the difference between one man and the other. I have tried always to do a little more, and I have found my benefit from it in the confidence and trust of my partners in the ship, and of the merchants with whom I do business. However, I am right glad that the ship is not going back empty. I shall reckon how much we should have received for the freight that was promised me at Amsterdam, then you will give me on account of what is to be paid by the merchants here. The difference I shall make up, as is only right, seeing that it is entirely from my own imprudence in expressing my opinion upon affairs particular to myself and in no way connected with the ship that I was forced to leave without taking in that cargo. Ned listened in silence to his father's words and resolved to lay to heart the lessons they conveyed. He was proud of the high standing and estimation in which his father was held by all who knew him, and he now recognized fully for the first time how he had won that estimation. It was not only that he was a good sailor, but that in all things men were assured that his honor could be implicitly relied upon and that he placed the interest of his employers beyond his own. After the first day or two Ned could see but little change in his father's condition. He was very weak and low, and spoke but seldom. Doubtless his bodily condition was aggravated now by the thought that must be ever present to him, that his active career was terminated. He might indeed be able when once completely cured to go to sea again, but he would no longer be the active sailor he had been, able to set an example of energy to his men when the winds blew high and the ship was in danger. And unless fully conscious that he was equal to discharging all the duties of his position, Captain Martin was not the man to continue to hold it. Ned longed anxiously for the return of the good venture. He knew that his mother's presence would do much for his father, and that whatever her own sorrows might be she would cheer him. And Martin never expressed any impatience for her coming. But when each morning he asked Ned the first thing, which way the wind was blowing, his son knew well enough what he was thinking of. In the meantime Ned had been making inquiries, and he arranged for the hire of a comfortable house, whose inhabitants being Catholics had, when Ankh-Hausen declared for the Prince of Orange, removed to Amsterdam. For although the Prince insisted most earnestly and vigorously that religious toleration should be extended to the Catholics, and that no one should suffer for their religion, all were not so tolerant, and when the news arrived of wholesale massacres of Protestants by Alva's troops, the lower class were apt to rise in riot and to retaliate by the destruction of the property of the Catholics in their towns. Ned had therefore no difficulty in obtaining the use of the house on extremely moderate terms from the agent in whose hands its owner had placed his affairs at Ankh-Hausen. The burgomaster's wife had at his request engaged two female servants, and the nurse would of course accompany her patient. The burgomaster and his wife had both protested against any move being made, but Ned, although thanking them earnestly for their hospitable offer, pointed out that it might be a long time before his father could be about, that it was good for his mother to have the occupation of seeing to the affairs of the house to divert her thoughts from the sick bed, and, as it was by no means improbable that she would bring his sisters with her, it would be better in all respects that they should have a house of their own. The doctors, having been consulted, agreed that it would be better for the wounded man to be among his own people, and that no harm would come of removing him carefully to another house. A change, even a slight one, is often a benefit, they agreed, and more than counterbalances any slight risk that there may be in a patient's removal from one place to another, providing that it be gently and carefully managed. Therefore it was arranged that as soon as the good venture was seen approaching, Captain Martin should be carried to his new load, where everything was kept prepared for him, and that his wife should go direct to him there. CHAPTER V. NED'S RESOLVE On the ninth morning after the departure of the brig, Ned was up as soon as daylight appeared, and made his way to the walls. The watchman there, with whom he had had several talks during the last two days, said, There is a brig hold down seaward, and I should say that she is about the size of the one you are looking for. She looks too as if she were heading for this port. I think that it is she, Ned said, gazing intently at the distant vessel. It seems to me that I can make out that her jib is lighter in color than the rest of her canvas. If that is so, I have no doubt about its being the good venture, for we blew our jib away in a storm off Ostend, and had a new one about four months ago. That is her then, young master, the watchman said, shading his eyes and looking intently at the brig, her jib is surely of lighter color than the rest of her canvas. With this confirmation, Ned at once ran round to the house he had taken, and told the servants to have fires lighted, and everything in readiness for the reception of the party. My father, he said, will be brought here in the course of an hour or so, my mother will arrive a little later. Ned then went round to the doctor, who had promised that he would personally super-intend the removing of his patient, and would bring four careful men and a litter for his conveyance. He said that he would be round at the burgo-masters in half an hour. Ned then went back to his father. Captain Martin looked round eagerly as he entered. Yes, father, Ned said, answering the look, there is a brig in sight, which is, I am pretty sure, the good venture. She will be in port in the course of a couple of hours. I have just been round to Dr. Harang, and he will be here in half an hour with the litter to take you over to the new house. Captain Martin gave an exclamation of deep thankfulness, and then lay for some time with his eyes closed, and spoke but little until the arrival of the doctor and the men with the litter. You must first of all drink this broth that has just been sent up for you, the surgeon said, and then take a spoonful of cordial. It will be a fatigue, you know, however well we manage it, and you must be looking as bright and well as you can by the time your good wife arrives, else she will have a very bad opinion of the doctors of Ankausen. Captain Martin did as he was ordered. The men then carefully raised the mattress with him upon it, and placed it upon the litter. I think we will cover you up all together, the doctor said, as we go along through the streets. The morning air is a good deal keener than the atmosphere of this room, and you won't want to look about. The litter was therefore completely covered with a blanket, and was then lifted and taken carefully down the broad staircase and through the streets. The burgomaster's wife had herself gone on before to see that everything was comfortably prepared, and when the bed was laid down on the bedstead, and the blanket turned back, Captain Martin saw a bright room with a fire burning on the hearth, and the burgomaster's wife and nurse beside him, while Ned and the doctor were at the foot of the bed. You have not suffered, I hope, in the moving, Captain Martin? The burgomaster's wife asked. Not at all, he said. I felt somewhat faint at first, but the movement has been so easy that it soon passed off. I was glad my head was covered, for I do not think that I could have stood the sight of the passing objects. Now you must drink another spoonful of cordial, the doctor said, and then lie quiet. I shall not let you see your wife when she arrives, if your pulse is beating too rapidly. So far you have been going on fairly, and we must not have you thrown back. I shall not be excited, Captain Martin replied. Now that I know the vessel is in sight, I am contented enough, but I have been fearing lest the brig might fall in with a spanyard as she came through the islands, and there would be small mercy for any on board had she been detected and captured. Now that I know she is coming to port safely, I can wait quietly enough. Now Ned, you can be off down to the port. The doctor went out with Ned and charged him strictly to impress upon his mother the necessity for self-restraint and quiet when she saw her husband. I am not oversatisfied with his state, he said, and much will depend on this meeting. If it passes off well, and he is none the worse for it tomorrow, I shall look to see him mend rapidly. But if, on the other hand, he is agitated and excited, fever may set in at once, and in that case, weak as he is, his state will be very serious. I understand, sir, and will impress it upon my mother, but I do not think you need fear for her. Whatever she feels she will, I am sure, carry out your instructions. Ned went down to the port. He found that the brig was but a quarter of a mile away. He could make out female figures on board and knew that, as he had rather expected would be the case, his mother had brought his sisters with her. Going into a boat he was rode off to the vessel, and climbing the side was at once in his mother's arms. Already he had answered the question that Peter said shouted before he was half way from the shore, and had replied that his father was going on as well as could be expected. Thus when Ned leapt on board, his mother and the girls were in tears at the relief to the anxiety that had oppressed them during the voyage, lest they should at its end find they had arrived too late. And is he really better? Or Mrs. Martin's first words as she released Ned from her embrace? I don't know that he is better, mother, but he is no worse. He is terribly weak, but the doctor tells me that if no harm comes to him from his agitation in meeting you, he expects to see him mend rapidly. He has been rather fretting about your safety, and I think that the knowledge that you are at hand has already done him good. His voice was stronger when he spoke just before I started than it has been for some days. Only above all things the doctor says you must restrain your feelings and be calm and quiet when you first meet him. And now, girls, how are you both? he asked, turning to them. Not very well, I suppose, for I know you have always shown yourselves bad sailors when you have come over with mother. The sea has not been very rough, Janet said, and except when we first got out to sea we have not been ill. What are you going to do about the girls? Mrs. Martin asked. Of course I must go where your father is, but I cannot presume upon the kindness of strangers so far as to quarter the girls upon them. That is all arranged, mother. Father agreed with me that it would not be pleasant for any of you being with strangers, and I have therefore taken a house, and he has just been moved there, so you will have him all to yourself. That is indeed good news, Mrs. Martin said. However kind people are, one is never so comfortable as at home. One is afraid of giving trouble, and altogether it is different. I have heard all the news, my boy. Master Peters tried his best to conceal it from me, but I was sure by his manner that there was something wrong. It was better that I should know at once, she went on wiping her eyes. Terrible as it all is, I have scarce time to think about it now when my mind is taken up with your father's danger. And it hardly came upon me even as a surprise, for I have long felt that some evil must have befallen them or they would have assuredly managed to send me word of themselves before now. By this time the good venture had entered the port and had drawn up close beside one of the wharves. As soon as the sails were lowered and the warps made fast, Peters directed three of the seamen to bring up the boxes from the cabin and to follow him. Ned then led the way to the new house. I will go up first, mother, and tell them that you have come. Mrs. Martin quietly removed her hat and cloak, followed Ned upstairs, and entered her husband's room with a calm and composed face. Well, my dear husband, she said almost cheerfully, I have come to nurse you. You see when you get into trouble it is us women that you men fall back upon after all. The doctor, who had retired into the next room when he heard that Mrs. Martin had arrived, nodded his head with a satisfied air. She will do, he said, I have not much fear for my patient now. Ned, knowing that he would not be wanted upstairs for some time, went out with Peters after the baggage had been set down in the lower room. So you had a fine voyage of it, Peters. We should have been better for a little more wind both coming and going, the mate said, but there was nothing much to complain of. You could not have been long in the river then, Peters. We were six and thirty hours in port. We got in at the top of Tide on Monday morning, and went down with the airbond Tuesday evening. First as in duty bound I went to see our good dame and give her your letter, and answer her questions. It was a hard business that, and I would as leaf have gone before the queen herself to give her an account of things as to have gone to your mother. Of course I hoisted the flag as we passed up the river. I knew that some of them were sure to be on watch at Rotherhithe, and that they would run in and tell her that the good venture was in port again. I had rather hoped that our coming back so soon might lead her to think that something was wrong, for she would have known that we could scarce have gone to Amsterdam and discharged, loaded up again, and then back here, especially as the wind had been light ever since she sailed. And sure enough the thought had struck her, for when I caught sight of the garden gate, one of your sisters was there on the lookout, and directly she saw me. She ran away in. I hurried on as fast as I could go then, for I knew that Mistress Martin would be sorely frightened when she heard that it was neither your father nor you. As I got there your mother was standing at the door. She was just as white as death. Cheer up, Mistress, I said, as cheery as I could speak. I have bad news for you, but it might have been a deal worse. The captain's got a hurt, and Master Ned is stopping to nurse him. She looked at me as if she would read me through. That's the truth as I am a Christian man, Mistress, I said. It has been a bad business, but it might have been a deal worse. The doctor said that he was doing well. Then your mother gave a deep sigh, and I thought for a moment she was going to faint, and ran forward to catch her, but she seemed to make an effort, and straighten herself up, just as I have seen the brig do when a heavy sea has flooded her decks and swept all before it. Thanks be to the good God that he has not taken from me, she said. Now I can bear anything. Now, Peters, tell me all about it. I ain't good at telling a story, Mistress Martin, I said, here is Master Ned's letter. When you have read that, maybe I can answer questions as to matters of which he may not have written. I will stand off and on in the garden, ma'am, and then you can read it comfortable like indoors, and hail me when you have got to the bottom of it. It was not many minutes before one of your sisters called me in. They had all been crying, and I felt more uncomfortable than I did when those Spanish rascals gave us a broadside as I went in. For I was afraid she would so rake me with questions that she would get out of me that other sad business, and it could hardly be expected that even the stoutest ship should weather two such storms one after the other. I don't understand it all, Master Peters, she said, for my son gives no good reason why the Spaniards should thus have attacked an English ship, but we can talk of that afterwards. All that matters at present is that my husband has been wounded and has lost his leg and lies in some danger. For although Ned clearly makes the best of it, no man can suffer a hurt like that without great risk of life. He wishes me to go over at once. As to the girls, he says I can take them with me or leave them with a friend here, but they wish as is natural greatly to go, and it were better for all reasons that they did so. Were they left here, they would be in anxiety about their father's state, and as it may be long before he can be moved I should not like to leave them in other charge than my own. When will you be ready to sail again? I shall be ready by tomorrow evening, Tide, Mistress Martin. I said, I have cargo on board that I must discharge and must have carpenters and sailmakers on board to repair some of the damages we suffered in this action. I do not think I can possibly be ready to drop down the river before high water tomorrow, which will be about six o'clock. I will send a boat to the stairs here at half-past five to take you and your trunks on board. We shall be ready, she said, as Ned says that my husband is well cared for in the house of the burglary master, and as every comfort and attention there is nothing I need take over for him. I said that I was sure that he had all he could require, and that she need take no trouble on that score, and then said that with her permission I would go straight back on board again, seeing there was much to do, and that it all came on my shoulders just at present. I had left the bosson in charge and told him to get the hatches off and begin to get up the cargo as soon as he had stowed the sails and made all tidy, for I had not waited for that, but had rode ashore as soon as the anchor was dropped. So without going back to the bridge I crossed the river and landed by the steps at the bridge, and took the letters to the merchants for whom I had goods, and prayed them to send off boats immediately, as it was urgent for me to discharge as soon as possible, then I went to the merchants whose names you had given me, and who shipped goods with us regularly, to tell them that the venture was in port, but would sail again tomorrow evening, and would take what cargo they could get on board for Ankelzen or any of the Seawood ports, but not for Amsterdam or other places still in the hands of the Spaniards. Then I went to the Lord Mayor and swore on information before him to lay before the Queen and the Council that the Spaniards had wantonly, and without offence given, attacked the good venture and inflicted much damage upon her, and badly wounded her captain, and would have sunk her had we not stoutly defended ourselves and beat them off. I was glad when all that was over, Master Ned, for as you know, I know not about writing. My business is to sail the ship under your father's orders, but as to talking with the merchants who press you with questions and seem to think that you have not to do but to stand and gossip, that is not in my way, and I wished sorely that you had been with me and could have taken all this business into your hands. Then I went down to the wharves and soon got some carpenters at work to mend the bulwarks and put some fresh planks on the deck where the shot had plowed it up. Luckily enough, I heard of a man who had some sails that he had bought from the owners of a ship which was cast away down near the mouth of the river. They were a little large for the venture, but I made a bargain with him in your father's name, and got them on board and set half a dozen sail-makers to work upon them, and they were ready by the next afternoon. The others will do again when they have got some new cloths in and a few patches, but if we had gone out with a dozen holes in them, the first Spaniard who saw us and who had heard of our fight with the dawn Pedro would have known us at once. I was thankful, I can tell you, when I got on board again. Just as I did so, some lighters came out, and we were hard at work till dusk getting out the cargo. The next morning at daylight, fresh cargo began to come out to us, and things went on well and would have gone better had not people come on board pestering me with questions about our fight with the Spaniards, and just at noon two of the Queen's officers came down and must needs have the whole story from beginning to end, and they had brought a clerk with them to write it down from my lips. They said we had done right gallantly, and that no doubt I should be wanted the next day at the Royal Council to answer other questions touching the affair. You may be sure I said no word about the fact that in six hours we should be dropping down the river, for like enough if I had they would have ordered me not to go, and as I should have gone whether they had or not, seeing that Captain Martin was looking for his wife and that the mistress was anxious to be off, it might have led to trouble when I got back again. By the afternoon we had got some 30 tons of goods on board, and although that is but a third of what she would carry, I was well content that we had done so much. After the new sales had come on board I had put a gang to work to bend them, and had already and the anchor up just as the tide turned. We had not dropped down many hundred yards when the boat with Mistress Martin and your sisters came alongside, and thankful I was when it came on dark and we were slipping down the river with a light southwesterly wind, for I had been on thorns all the afternoon lest some messenger might arrive from the council with orders for me to attend there. I did not speak much to your mother that evening, for it needs all a man's attention to work down the river at night. The next morning I had my breakfast brought up on deck instead of going down, for as you may guess I did not want to have your mother questioning me, but presently your sister came up with a message to me that Mistress Martin would be glad to have a quarter of an hour's conversation with me as soon as duty would permit me to leave deck. So after a while I braced myself up and went below, but I tell you that I would rather have gone into action again with the dawn Pedro. She began at once without parley or courtesies by firing a broadside right end to me. I don't think, Master Peters, that you have told me yet all there is to be told. That took me between wind and water, you see. However, I made a shift to bear up. Well, Mistress Martin says I. I don't say as I have given you all particulars. I don't know as I mentioned to you as Joe Wiggins was struck down by a splinter from the longboat and was dazed for four two hours, but he came round again all right and was fit for duty next day. Mrs. Martin heard me quietly and then she said, that will not do, John Peters. You know well what I mean. You need not fear to tell me the news. I have long been fearing it. My husband is not one to talk loosely in the streets and to bring upon himself the anger of the Spaniards. He must have had good cause before he said words that spoken there would place his life in peril. What has happened at Vordwick? Well, Master Ned, I stood there as once struck stupid. What was there to say? I am a truthful man, but I would have told a lie if I thought it would have been any good, but there she was looking quietly at me and I knew as she would see in a moment whether I was speaking truth or not. She waited quiet ever so long and at last I said, the matter is in this wise, Mrs. Martin. My orders was I was to hold my tongue about all business, not touching the captain or the affairs of this ship. When you see the captain, it's for you to ask him questions and for him to answer if he sees right and good to do so. She put her hand over her face and sat quiet for some time and when she looked up again, her eyes were full of tears and her cheeks wet. Then she said in a low tone, all Peters, are they all gone? Well, Master Ned, I was swabbing my own eyes for it ain't in a man's nature to see a woman suffering like that and so quiet and brave without feeling somehow as if all the manliness had gone out of him. I could not say nothing. What could I say knowing what the truth was? Then she burst out of crying and of sobbing and I steals off without a word and goes on deck and sets them in a hauling at the sheets and trimming the sails. Till I know there was not one of them but cussed me in his heart and wished that the captain was back again. Mr. Martin did not say no word about it afterwards. She came up on deck a few times and asked me more about the captain and how he looked and what he was doing when he got his wound and of course I told her all about it, full and particular and how he had made everyone else lie down and stood there at the tiller as we went under the stern of the Spaniard and that none of us knew he was hit till it was all over and how he had peppered them with our four keronades and all about it but mostly she stopped down below till we hauled our wind and headed up the Zydezi towards Encousin. Well, now it is all over Peters, Ned said. There is no doubt that it is better that she should have heard the news from you instead of my father having to tell her. I don't deny that it may be so, Master Ned, now that it is all over and done but never again will John Peters undertake a job where he has got to keep his mouth shut when a woman wants to get something out of him. Lord bless you, lad, they just see right through you and you feel that twist and turn as you will, they will get it out of you sooner or later. There, I started with my mind quite made up that orders was to be obeyed and that your mother was to be kept in the dark about it till she got here and I had considered with myself that in such a case as this it would be no great weight upon my conscience if I had to make up some kind of yarn that would satisfy her and yet in three minutes after she got me into that cabin she was at the bottom of it all. You see, she has been already very uneasy at not hearing for so long from her father and brothers, Peters, and that and the fact that my father had spoken openly against the Spanish authorities set her upon the track and enabled her to put the questions straightforwardly to you. I suppose that was it, sir, and now as the captain said anything about what is going to be done with the ship till he gets well. Nothing whatever, Peters, he has spoken very little upon any subject. I know he has been extremely anxious for my mother to arrive, though he has said but little about it. I fancy that for the last few days he has not thought that he should recover, but the doctor told me I must not be uneasy upon that ground for that he was now extremely weak and men, even the bravest and most resolute when in health are apt to take a gloomy view in utterly weak and prostrate, his opinion was that my mother's coming would probably cheer him up and enable him to rally. I think too that he has been dreading having to tell her the terrible news about her father and brothers, and now he knows that she is aware of that it will be a load off his mind. Besides, I know that for his sake she will be cheerful and bright, and with her and the girls with him he will feel as if at home. The doctor told me that the mind has a great influence over the body, and that a man with cheerful surroundings had five chances to one as against one amongst strangers and with no one to brighten him up. I have no doubt that as soon as he gets a little stronger he will arrange what is to be done with the brig, but I am sure it will be a long time before he can take the command again himself. I fear it will be, Peter's agreed. It is a pity you are not four or five years old, Master Ned. I do not say that I couldn't bring the ship into any port in Holland, for having been sailing backwards and forwards here, man and boy for over 30 years, I could do so pretty nigh-blindfold. But what is the good of bringing a ship to a port if you have not got the head to see about getting a cargo for her and cannot read the bills of lading or as much as sign your name to a customs list? No, Master Ned, I am not fit for a captain. That is quite certain. But though I would not mind serving under another till your father is fit to take charge again, I could not work on board the venture under another for good. I have got a little money saved up and would rather buy a share in a small coaster than be my own master there. After serving under your father for nigh 20 years, I know I should not get on with another skipper, know-how. Well, Peter's, it is no use talking it over now because I have no idea what my father's decision will be. I hope above all things that he will be able to take command again, but I have great doubts in my own mind whether he will ever do so. If he had lost the leg below the knee, it would not so much have mattered. But as it is with the whole leg stiff, he would have great difficulty in getting about, especially if the ship was rolling in a heavy sea. John Peter's shook his head gravely, for this was the very thing he had turned in his mind over and over again during the voyage to and from England. Your cargo is not all for this place, I suppose, Peter's? No, sir, only two or three tons which are down in the foothold together are for Ankh-Hausen, the rest of our Leiden and the Hague. I told the merchants that if they put their goods on board, I must sail past the ports and make straight on to Ankh-Hausen. For that, first of all, I must bring Mistress Motton to the captain, but that I would go round and discharge their goods as soon as I had brought her here. It was only on these terms that I agreed to take the cargo. That will do very well, Peter's. I will go on board with you at once and see to whom your goods are consigned here and warn them to receive them at once. You will get them on shore by tonight and then tomorrow I will sail with you to Leiden and the Hague and aid you in getting your cargo into the right hands there. Now that my mother and the girls are here, my father will be able to spare me. We can be back here again in four or five days and by that time I hope he will be so far recovered as to be able to think matters over and come to some decision as to the future management of the brig. Of course, if he wishes me to stay on board her, I shall obey his orders, whether you or another are the captain. Why, of course, you will remain on board, Master Ned. What else should you do? Well, Peter's, my own mind is set upon joining the Prince of Orange and fighting against the Spaniards. Before I sailed from home, I told my sisters that was what I was longing to do, for I could scarce sleep for thinking of all the cruelties and massacres that they carried out upon the people of the Netherlands, who are, by my mother's side, my kin's folk. Since then I have scarce thought of ought else. They have murdered my grandfather and uncles and one of my aunts. They have shot away my father's leg and would have taken his life had he not escaped out of their hands so that what was before a longing is now a fixed idea and if my father will but give me permission, assuredly I will carry it out. There are many English volunteers who have already crossed the sea to fight against these murderers, although unconnected by ties of blood as I am and who have been brought here to fight solely from pity and horror and because, as all know, Spain is the enemy of England as well as of the Netherlands and would put down our freedom and abolish our religion as she has done here. I know that my wishes in this, as in all other matters must give way to those of my father. Still, I hope he may be moved to consent to them. Ned thought it better to allow his father and mother to remain quietly together for some time and did not therefore return to the house until twelve o'clock when he knew that dinner would be prepared for his mother was so methodical in her ways that everything would go on just as at home directly she took charge of the affairs of the house. He went up for a few minutes before dinner and was struck with the change in the expression of his father's face. There was a peaceful and contented look in his eyes and it almost seemed to Ned that his face was less hollow and drawn than before. Ned told him that it would be necessary for the brig to go round to Leiden and the Hague and that Peters had proposed that he should go with him to see the merchants and arrange the business parts of the affair. That will do very well, Captain Martin said. You are young, Ned, to begin having dealings with the Dutch merchants, but when you tell them how it comes that I am not able to call upon them myself, they will doubtless excuse your youth. Do you wish us to take any cargo there, father, if we can get any? Captain Martin did not answer for some little time. Then he said, No, Ned, I think you had best return here in the ship. By that time I shall, I hope, be capable of thinking matters over and deciding upon my arrangements for the future. When is Peters thinking of sailing? By tomorrow morning's tide, sir. He said that he could be ready perhaps by this evening, but that unless you wished it otherwise, he would not start till tomorrow's tide as he will thereby avoid going out between the islands at night. That will be the best way, Ned, if the winds are fair, he will be at the Hague before nightfall. The day after his return, Ned took an opportunity of speaking to his mother as to his wish to take service with the Prince of Orange and to aid in the efforts that the people of the Netherlands were making to free themselves from their persecutors. His mother, as he feared would be the case, expressed a strong opposition to his plan. You are all together too young, Ned, even if it were a matter that concerned you. It does concern me, mother, are you not Dutch? And though I was born in England and a subject of the Queen, it is natural I should feel warmly in the matter. Besides, we know that many English are already coming over here to help. Have not the Spanish killed my relations? And unless they are driven back, they will altogether exterminate the Protestants of the Netherlands. Have they not already been doomed to death regardless of age and sex by Philip's proclamation? And do not the Spaniards, whenever they capture a town, slay well nigh all within it? That is all true enough, his mother agreed, but proves in no way that you are a fit age to meddle in the affair. I am 16, mother, and a boy of 16 who has been years at sea as as strong as one of 18 brought up on land. You have told me yourself that I look to are three years older than I am, and me thinks I have strength to handle pike and axe. That may be perfectly true, said Mrs. Martin, but even supposing all other things were fitting, how could we spare you now when your father will be months before he can follow his trade on the sea again, even if he is ever able to do so? That is the thing, mother, that weighs with me. I know not what my father's wishes may be in that respect, and of course if he holds that I can be of use to him, I must give up my plan. But I want you at any rate to mention it to him, and I pray you not to add your objections, but to let him decide on the matter according to his will. There will be no occasion for me to add objections, Ned. I do not think your father will listen to such a mad scheme for a moment. It was not until three or four days later that Mrs. Martin, seeing that her husband was stronger and better, and was taking an interest in what passed in the house, fulfilled her promise to Ned by telling his father of his wishes. You must not be angry with him, she said when she had finished, for he spoke beautifully and expressed himself as perfectly willing to yield his wishes to yours in the matter. I told him, of course, that it was a mad-brained scheme, and not to be thought of. Still, as he was urgent I should lay it before you, I promised to do so. Captain Martin did not, as his wife expected, instantly declare that such a plan was not to be thought of even for a moment, but lay for some time apparently turning it over in his mind. I know not quite what to say, he said at length. Not know what to say, his wife repeated in surprise, why husband, you surely cannot for a moment think of allowing Ned to embark in so wild a business. There are many English volunteers coming over, some of them not much older and not so fit in bodily strength for the work as Ned. She has too the advantage of speaking the language and can pass anywhere as a native. You are surprised, Sophie, at my thinking of this for a moment. But what would you do without him, she exclaimed in astonishment. That is what I have been thinking as I lay here. I have been troubled what to do with Ned, he is too young yet to entrust with all the business of the ship, and the merchants here and at home would hesitate in doing business with a lad. Moreover, he is too young to be first mate on board the brig. Ned's is a worthy man and a good sailor, but he can neither read nor write and knows not of business, and therefore until I am able, if I ever shall be, to return to the good venture, I must have a good seaman as first mate and a supercargo to manage the business affairs of the ship. Were Ned four years older he could be at once first mate and supercargo. There you see your objection that I need him falls to the ground. As to other reasons I will think them over and speak to you another time. CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE OF ORANGE Mistress Martin was much troubled in her mind by what seemed to her the unaccountable favour with which her husband had received Ned's proposal. She did not, however, allow any trace of this feeling to escape her, nor did she mention to Ned that she had as yet spoken as to his wishes to his father. The next day Captain Martin himself renewed the subject. I told you yesterday, Sophie, why in my opinion Ned would at present be of little aid to me in the matter of the brig, and may even go further in that respect and say that I think for a time it will be just as well that he were not on board. Having no established position there would be no special duties for him to perform. Now I have made a point of telling him all about the consignments and the rates of freight, and have encouraged him always to express his opinion freely on these matters in order that his intelligence might thereby be quickened. But if he so expressed himself to the supercargo the latter might well take offence and difficulties arise. Therefore before you spoke to me I had quite resolved that it would be best he should sail no more in the good venture, until old enough to come in and take the place of second mate and supercargo, but that I would place him with some captain of my acquaintance under whom he would continue to learn his duty for the next three or four years. That is a good reason, doubtless husband, why Ned should not sail in the venture, but surely no reason at all why he should carry out this mad fancy of his. No reason I grant you, wife, but it simply shows that it happens at this moment we can well spare him. As to the main question, it is a weighty one. Other young Englishmen have come out to fight for the Netherlands with far less cause than he has to mix themselves up in its affairs. Moreover, and this principally, it is borne strongly upon my mind that it may be that this boy of ours is called upon to do good service to Holland. It seems to me, wife, he went on in answer to the look of astonishment upon his wife's face that the hand of providence is in this matter. I have always felt with you a hatred of the Spaniards and a deep horror at the cruelties they are perpetrating upon this unhappy people, and have thought that did the Queen give the order for war against them, I would gladly adventure my life and ship in such an enterprise. Further than that I have not gone. But upon that day when I heard the news of your father and brother's murder, I took a solemn oath to heaven of vengeance against their slayers, and resolved that on my return to England I would buy out my partners in the good venture, and with her join the beggars of the sea and wage war to the death against the Spaniards. It has been willed otherwise, wife, within twenty-four hours of my taking that oath I was struck down and my fighting powers were gone for ever. My oath was not accepted, I was not to be an instrument of God's vengeance upon these murderers. Now our son, without word or consultation with me, feels called upon to take up the work I cannot perform. It happens strangely that he can for the next two or three years be well spared from his life at sea, that the boy will do great feats, I do not suppose, but he is cool and courageous, for I marked his demeanor under fire the other day, and it may be that though he may do no great things in fighting he may be the means in saving some woman, some child from the fury of the Spaniards. If he saved but one, the next three years of his life will not have been misspent. But he may fall, he may be killed by the Spaniards, mistress Martin said in great agitation. If it be the will of God, wife, not otherwise, he is exposed to danger every time he goes to sea. More than once, since he first came on board, the venture has been in dire peril. Who can say that her next voyage may not be her last? However, I decide nothing now. Tomorrow I will speak to the boy myself and gather from his words whether this is a mere passing fancy, natural enough to his age and to the times, or a deep longing to venture his life in the cause of a persecuted people whose blood runs in his veins and to have a faith which is his own and ours. Mrs. Martin said no more. Her husband's will had since she married, then in all matters of importance law to her, and was more so than ever now that he lay weak and helpless. His words and manner too had much impressed her. Her whole sympathies were passionately with her countrymen, and the heavy losses she had so recently sustained had added vastly to her hatred of the Spaniards. The suggestion, too, of her husband that though Ned might do no great deeds as a soldier, he might be the means of saving some woman or child's life, appealed to her womanly feelings. She had girls of her own, and the thought that one of like age might possibly be saved from the horrors of the sack of a city by Ned's assistance appealed to her with great force. She went about the house for the rest of the day, subdued and quiet. Ned was puzzled at her demeanor, and had he not seen for himself that his father was progressing satisfactorily, he would have thought that some relapse had taken place, some unfavorable symptom appeared. But this was clearly not the reason, and he could only fancy that now his mother's anxiety as to his father's state was in some degree abating, she was beginning to feel the loss of her father and brothers all the more. That the request she had promised to make in his name to his father had anything to do with the matter did not enter his mind. Indeed he had begun to regret that he had made it, not that his intense longing to take service against the Spaniards was in any way abated, but he felt it was selfish, now that he might for the first time be of real use to his parents, for him thus to propose to embark on adventures on his own account. He had asked his mother to put the matter before his father, but he had scarce even a hope the latter would for a moment listen to the proposal. The next morning after breakfast, as he was about to start for a stroll to the wharf to have a talk with Peters, his mother said to him quietly, put aside your cap, Ned, your father wishes to speak to you. She spoke so gravely that Ned ascended the stairs in some perturbation of spirit. Doubtless she had spoken to his father, and the latter was about to rate him severely for his folly in proposing to desert his duty, and to embark in so wild an adventure as that he had proposed, he was in no way reassured by the grave tone in which his father said, Place that chair by my bedside, Ned, and sit down. My voice is not strong, and it fatigues me to speak loud. And now, he went on, when Ned with a shame-faced expression had seated himself by the bedside. This desire that your mother tells me of to fight against the Spaniards for a time in the service of the Prince of Orange, how did it first come to you? Ever since I heard the terrible story of the persecutions here, Ned replied, I said to myself then that when I came to be a man I would take revenge for these horrible murders. Since then the more I have heard of the persecutions that the people here have suffered in the cause of their religion, the more I have longed to be able to give them such aid as I could. I have spoken of it over and over again to my sisters, but I do not think that I should ever have ventured to put my desire into words had it not been for the terrible news we learned at Vordwick. Now however that they have killed my grandfather and uncles and have wounded you, I long more than ever to join the Patriots here, and of course the knowledge that many young Englishmen were coming out to brill and flushing as volunteers added to my desire. I said to myself if they who are English are ready to give their lives in the cause of the Hollanders, why should not I, who speak their language and am of their blood? You have no desire to do great deeds or to distinguish yourself, Captain Martin asked. No father I have never so much as thought of that. I could not imagine that I as a boy could be of any great service. I thought I might perhaps, being so young, be able to be of use in passing among the Spaniards and carrying messages where a man could not get through. I thought sometimes I might perhaps carry a warning in time to enable women to escape with their children from a town that was about to be beleaguered, and I hoped that if I did stand in the ranks to face the Spaniards, I should not disgrace my nation and blood. I know, Father, that it was presumptuous for me to think that I could be of any real use, and if you are against it I will, of course, as I told my mother, submit myself cheerfully to your wishes. I am glad to see, Ned, that in this matter you are actuated by right motives and not moved by any boyish idea of adventure or of doing feats of valor. This is no ordinary war, my boy. There is none of the chivalry of past times in the struggle here. It is one of life and death, grim, earnest and determined. On one side is Philip with the hosts of Spain, the greatest power in Europe, determined to crush out the life of these poor provinces, to stamp out the religion of the country, to leave not one man, woman or child alive who refuses to attend mass and to bow the knee before the papest images. On the other side you have a poor people tenenting a land snatched from the sea, and held by constant and enduring labor, equally determined that they will not abjure their religion, that they will not permit the inquisition to be established among them, and ready to give lives and homes and all in the cause of religious liberty. They have no thought of throwing off their allegiance to Spain if Spain will but be tolerant. The Prince of Orange issues his orders and proclamations as the Stadtholder and Lieutenant of the King, and declares that he is warring for Philip, and designs only to repel those who, by their persecution and cruelty, are dishonoring the royal cause. This cannot go on forever, and in time the Netherlandsers will be driven to entreat some other foreign monarch to take them under his protection. In this war there is no talk of glory, men are fighting for their religion, their homes, their wives and families. They know that the Spaniards show neither quarter nor mercy, and that it is scarce more than a question between death by the sword and death by torture and hanging. There is no mercy for prisoners, the town that yields on good conditions is sacked and destroyed as is one taken by storm, for in no case have the Spaniards observed the conditions they have made, deeming odes taken to heretics to be in no way binding on their consciences. Thus, Ned, those who embark upon this war engage in a struggle in which there is no honor nor glory, nor fame nor reward to be won, but one in which almost certain death stares them in the face, and which, so far as I can see, can end only in the annihilation of the people of this country or in the expulsion of the Spaniards. I do not say that there is no glory to be gained, but it is not personal glory. In itself, no cause was ever more glorious than that of men who struggle not to conquer territory, not to gather spoil, not to gratify ambition, but for freedom, for religion, for hearth and home, and to revenge the countless atrocities inflicted upon them by their oppressors. After what I have said, do you still wish to embark upon this struggle? I do wish it, Father, Ned said firmly. I desire it above all things, if you and my mother can spare me. Captain Martin then repeated to Ned the reasons that he had given his wife for consenting to his carrying out his wishes. The fact that there was no place for him at present on board the good venture, the oath of vengeance upon the Spaniards that he had taken, and his impression that although he himself could not carry out that oath, its weight had been transferred to his son, whose desire to take up the work he had intended to carry out just at this moment seemed to him to be a special design of providence. Now, Ned, he concluded, you understand the reasons that sway me in giving my consent to your desire to do what you can for the cause of religion and liberty. I do not propose that you should at present actually take up arms that I question if you are strong enough to wield. I will pray the burgomaster to give you letters of introduction to the Prince, saying you are a young Englishman ready and desirous of doing all that lies in your power for the cause, that you speak the language as a native, and will be ready to carry his messages wheresoever he may require them to be sent, that you can be relied upon to be absolutely faithful and have entered the cause in no light spirit or desire for personal credit or honor, but as one who has suffered great wrong in the loss of near relatives at the hands of the Spaniards, and is wishful only of giving such services as he can to the cause. It may be that coming with such recommendation the Prince will see some way in which he can turn your services to account. And now, leave me, my boy, I am wearied with all this talking, and although I deem that it is not my duty to withstand your wishes, it is no slight trial to see my only son embark in so terrible and perilous an adventure as this. But the cause I regard as a sacred one, and it seems to me that I have no right to keep you from entering upon it, as your mind lies that way. Ned left the room greatly impressed with his father's words. He was glad indeed that the permission he had asked for had been granted, and that he was free to devote himself to the cause so dear to most Englishmen, and doubly so to him from his relations with the country. Sailing backwards and forwards to the various ports in the Netherlands, and able to hold intercourse with all he met, he had for years been listening to tales of atrocity and horror until he had come to regard the Spaniards as human monsters, and along with all his heart and strength to be able to join the oppressed people against their tyrants. Now he had got permission to do so, but he felt more than he had done before the serious nature of the step which he was taking, and although he did not for a moment regret the choice he had made, he was conscious of its importance and of the solemn nature of the duties he took upon himself in thus engaging in the struggle between the Netherlands and Spain. He passed the room where his mother was sitting, went over and kissed her, and then taking his cap passed out into the street and mounted the ramparts where he could think undisturbed. His father's words had not shaken his determination, although they had depressed his enthusiasm, but as he paced up and down with the fresh air from the sea blowing upon his cheek, the feeling of youth and strength soon sent the blood dancing through his veins again, his cheeks flushed and his eyes brightened. There is honor and glory in the struggle, he said. Did not the people, old and young, pour out to the crusades to rest Jerusalem from the hands of the infidels? This is a more glorious task. It is to save God's followers from destruction, to sucker the oppressed, to fight for women and children as well as for men. It is a holier and nobler object than that for which the crusaders fought. They died in hundreds of thousands by heat, by famine, thirst, and the swords of the enemy. Two of those who fought ever returned home to reap glory for their deeds, but there was honor for those who fell, and in the same spirit in which even women and children left their homes, and went in crowds to die for the Holy Sepulchre, so will I venture my life for religion and freedom here. An hour later he returned home. He could see that his mother had been crying. Mother, he said, I trust you will not grieve over this. I have been thinking how the women of the early days sent their husbands and sons and lovers to fight for the Holy Sepulchre. I think that this cause is an even greater and more noble one, and feel sure that though you may be anxious, you will not grudge me to do my best for our religion and country people. Truly, I think it is a holy cause, my boy, and after what your father has said, I would not, if I could, say nay. I can only pray that heaven will bless and keep you, and one day restore you to me. But you will not be always fighting, Ned. There is no saying how long the struggle may last, and if I let you go, it is with the promise that at one and twenty at the latest you will return to us, and take your place again as your father's right hand and mine. I promise you, mother, that then, or if at any time before, that you write and say to me, come home, I will come. I am content with that, his mother said. That afternoon Ned told Peter's what had been decided, and the following morning the latter had a long talk with Captain Martin, who directed him to apply to the other owners of the ship to appoint him a naval first mate, and also to choose one of their clerks in whom they had confidence to sail in the vessel as supercargo. The doctors tell me, Peter, that in two or three months I may be able to return home and to get about on crutches, but they advise me that it will be at least another four months before I can strap on a wooden leg, and trust my weight to it. When I can do that, I shall see how I can get about. You heard from Ned last night that he is going to enter as a sort of volunteer under the Prince of Orange. Yes, he told me, Captain Martin, he is a lad of spirit, and if I were fifteen years younger I would go with him. He is young for such work yet, Captain Martin said doubtfully, he is a strong youth, Captain Martin, and can do a man's work. His training at sea has made him steady and cool, and I warrant me if he gets into danger, he will get out again if there is a chance. I only hope, Captain Martin, that the brush we have had with the Spaniards will not be our last, and that we too may be in the way of striking a blow at the Spaniards. I hope that we may, Peter, as Captain Martin said earnestly, my mind is as much bent upon it as is Ned's, and I will tell you what must at present be known only to yourself, that I have made up my mind that if I recover and can take command of the Goodventure again, I will buy up the other shares so that I can do what I like with her without accounting to any man. I need not do so much on board as I used to, but will get you a good second mate, and will myself only direct. Then we will at present trade between London and the Netherlands, but if, as is likely enough, the Spaniards and Hollanders come to blows at sea, or the Prince needs ships to carry troops to beleaguered towns, then for a time we will quit trading and will join with the Goodventure, and strike a blow at sea. That is good hearing, Captain Martin. Peter said, rubbing his hands, I warrant me you will not find one of the crew backward at that work, and for my part I should like nothing better than to tackle a Spaniard who does not carry more than two or three times our own strength. The last fellow was a good deal too big for us, but I believe if we had stuck to him we should have beaten him in the end big as he was. Perhaps we might, Peter's, but the ship was not mine to risk then, and we had cargo on board. If in the future we meet a Spaniard when the ship is mine to venture, and our hold is clear, the Goodventure shall not show him her stern, I warrant you, unless he be big enough to eat us. On the following day the Goodventure set sail for England, and the burgomaster having received a message from Captain Martin, praying him to call upon him, paid him a visit. Captain Martin unfolded his son's plans to him, and prayed him to furnish him with a letter to the Prince, sending him as one who might be trusted, and who was willing to risk his life upon any enterprise with which he might entrust him. This the burgomaster at once consented to do. Younger lads than he, he said, have fought stoutly on the walls of some of our towns against the Spaniards, and since such is his wish, I doubt not he will be able to do good service. All Holland has heard how your ship beat off the Don Pedro, and the fact that the lad is your son, and took part in the fight, will at once commend him to the Prince. All Englishmen are gladly received, not only because they come to fight as volunteers on our side, but as a pledge that the heart of England is with us, and that sooner or later she will join us in our struggle against Spain. And doubtless as you say, the fact that the lad is by his mother's side one of us, and that he can converse in both our language and yours with equal ease, is greatly in his favour. So I will finish him with letters to the Prince, and also to two or three gentlemen of my acquaintances who are in the Prince's councils. When the burgomaster had left, Captain Martin called Ned in. Now you are going as a volunteer, Ned, and for a time at any rate there must be no question of pay. You are giving your services and not selling them. In the first place you must procure proper attire, in which to present yourself to the Prince, you must also purchase a helmet, wrist, and back pieces with sword and pistols. As for money, I shall give you a purse with sufficient for your present needs, and a letter which you can present to any of the merchants in the seaports with whom we have trade, authorizing you to draw upon me, and praying them to honour your drafts. Do not stent yourself of money, and do not be extravagant. Your needs will be small, and when serving in a garrison or in the field you will, of course, draw rations like others. I need not give you a list of the merchants in the various towns, since you already know them, and have been with me at many of their places of business. In regard to your actions I say to you, do not court danger, but do not avoid it. The cause is a good one, and you are risking your life for it. But remember also that you are an only son, and there are none to fill your place if you fall. Therefore be not rash, keep always cool in danger, and if there is a prospect of escape, seize it promptly. Remember that your death can in no way benefit Holland, while your life may do so. Therefore do not, from any mistaken sense of heroism, throw away your life in vain defense, when all hope of success is over, but rather seek some means of escape by which, when all is lost, you can manage to avoid the vengeance of the Spaniards. I fear that there will be many defeats before success can be obtained, for there is no union among the various states or cities. Holland and Zeeland alone seem in earnest in the cause, though Friesland and Gelderland will perhaps join heartily, but these provinces alone are really Protestant, in the others the Catholics predominate, and I fear they will never join heartily in resistance to Spain. How this narrow strip of land by the sea is to resist all the power of Spain I cannot see, but I believe in the people and in their spirit, and am convinced that sooner than fall again into the grasp of the Inquisition they will open the sluices and let the sea in over the country, they have so hardly won from it, and will embark on board ship and seek in some other country that liberty to worship God in their own way that is denied them here. It was not necessary to purchase many articles of clothing, for the dress of the people of Holland differed little from that of the English. Ned bought a thick buff jerkin to wear under his armour, and had little difficulty in buying steel cap, breast and back piece, sword and pistols, for the people of Holland had not as yet begun to arm generally, and many of the walls were defended by burgers in their citizen dress against the male clad pikemen of Spain. Three days later Ned took a tearful farewell of his family, and set sail in a small vessel bound for Rotterdam, where the Prince of Orange at present was. The voyage was made without adventure, and upon landing Ned at once made his way to the house occupied by the Prince. There were no guards at the gate or any sign of martial pomp. The door stood open, and when Ned entered a page accosted him and asked his business. I have letters for the Prince, he said, which I pray you to hand to him when he is at leisure. In that case you would have to wait long, the page replied, for the Prince is at work from early morning until late at night. However, he is always open of access to those who desire to see him. Therefore if you will give me the name of the writer of the letter, you bear, I will inform him, and you can then deliver it yourself. A minute later Ned was shown into the presence of the man who was undoubtedly the foremost of his age. Born of a distinguished family, William of Orange had been brought up by a pious mother, and at the age of twelve had become a page in the family of the Emperor Charles. So great was the boy's ability that at fifteen he had become the intimate and almost confidential friend of the Emperor, who was a keen judge of merit. Before he reached the age of twenty-one he was named Commander-in-Chief of the Army on the French Frontier. When the Emperor Charles resigned, the Prince was appointed by Philip to negotiate a treaty with France, and had conducted these negotiations with extreme ability. The Prince and the Duke of Alva remained in France as hostages for the execution of the treaty. Alva was secretly engaged in arranging an agreement between Philip and Henry for the extirpation of Protestantism, and the general destruction of all those who held that faith. The French King, believing that the Prince of Orange was also in the secret, spoke to him one day when out hunting freely on the subject, and gave him all the details of the understanding that had been entered into for a general massacre of the Protestants throughout the dominions of France and Spain. The Prince of Orange, neither by word nor look indicated that all this was new to him, and the King remained in ignorance of how completely he had betrayed the plans of himself and Philip. It was his presence of mind and reticence, when listening to this astounding relation, that gained for the Prince of Orange the title of William the Silent. Horror struck at the plot he had discovered, the Prince from that moment threw himself into the cause of the Protestants of the Netherlands, and speedily became the head of the movement, devoting his whole property and life to the object. So far it had brought him only trials and troubles. His estate and that of his brothers had been spent in the service. He had incurred enormous debts. The armies of German mercenaries he had raised had met with defeat and ruin. The people of the Netherlands, crushed down with the apathy of despair, had not lifted a finger to assist the forces that had marched to their aid. It was only when, almost by an accident, Brill had been captured by the sea-beggars, that the spark he had for so many years been trying to fan, burst into flame in the provinces of Holland and Zeeland. The Prince had been sustained through his long and hitherto fruitless struggle by a deep sense of religion. He believed that God was with him, and would eventually save the people of the Netherlands from the fate to which Philip had doomed them. And yet though an ardent Protestant, and in an age when Protestants were well nigh as bigoted as Catholics, and when the idea of religious freedom had scarce entered into the minds of men, the Prince was perfectly tolerant, and from the first it insisted that in all the provinces over which he exercised authority, the same perfect freedom of worship should be granted to the Catholics that he claimed for the Protestants in the Catholic states of the Netherlands. He had not always been a Protestant. When appointed by Philip Stadtholder of Holland, Friesland and Utrecht, he had been a moderate Catholic, but his thoughts were but little turned to religious subjects, and it was as a patriot and a man of humane nature that he had been shocked at the discovery that he had made of the determination of the kings of France and Spain to extirpate the Protestants. He used this knowledge first to secretly urge the people of the Netherlands to agitate for the removal of the Spanish troops from the country, and although he had secret instructions from Philip to enforce the edicts against all heretics with vigor, he avoided doing so as much as was in his power, and sent private warnings to many whom he knew to be in danger of arrest. As Governor of the Netherlands at the age of twenty-six, he was rich, powerful, and a sovereign rank. He exercised a splendid hospitality, and was universally beloved by the whole community for the charm of his manner and his courtesy to people of all ranks. Even at this period the property which he had inherited from his father, and that he had received with his first wife, Anne of Egmont, the richest heiress of the Netherlands, had been seriously affected by his open-handed hospitality and lavish expenditure. His intellect was acknowledged to be of the highest class. He had extraordinary adroitness and capacity for conducting state affairs. His knowledge of human nature was profound. He had studied deeply, and spoke and wrote with facility Latin, French, German, Flemish, and Spanish. The epithet silent was in no way applicable to his general character. He could be silent when speech was dangerous, but at other times he was a most cheerful and charming companion, and in public the most eloquent orator and the most brilliant controversialist of his age. Thirteen years had passed since then, thirteen years spent in incessant troubles and struggles. The brilliant governor of Philippine the Netherlands had for years been an exile, the careless Catholic had become an earnest and sincere Protestant. The wealthy noble had been harassed with the pecuniary burdens he had undertaken in order to raise troops for the rescue of his countrymen. He had seen his armies defeated, his plans overthrown, his countrymen massacred by tens of thousands, his co-religionists burnt, hung, and tortured, and it was only now that the spirit of resistance was awakening among his countrymen. But misfortune and trial had not soured his temper, his faith that sooner or later the cause would triumph had never wavered. His patience was inexhaustible, his temper beyond proof. The incapacity of many in whom he had trusted, the jealousies and religious differences which prevented anything like union between the various states, the narrowness and jealousy even of those most faithful to the cause would have driven most men to despair. Upon his shoulders alone rested the whole weight of the struggle. It was for him to plan and carry out, to negotiate with princes, to organize troops, to raise money, to compose jealousies, to rouse the lukewarm and appeal to the waverers. Every detail, great and small, had to be elaborated by him. So far it was not the Netherlands, it was William of Orange alone who opposed himself to the might of the greatest power in Europe. Such was the prince to whom Ned Martin was now introduced, and it was with a sense of the deepest reverence that he entered the chamber. He saw before him a man looking ten years older than he really was, whose hair was grizzled and thin from thought and care, whose narrow face was deeply marked by the lines of anxiety and trouble, but whose smile was as kindly, whose manner as kind and gracious as that which had distinguished it when William was the brilliant young stat holder of the Emperor Philip. CHAPTER VII I hear you have a letter for me from my good friend the burgomaster of Enghausen, the Prince of Orange said, as Ned with a deep reverence approached the table at which he was sitting, he sends me no ill news, I hope. Know your Excellency, Ned said, it is on a matter personal to myself that he has been good enough to write to you, and I crave your pardon beforehand for occupying your time for a moment with so unimportant a subject. The Prince glanced at him keenly as he was speaking, and saw that the young fellow before him was using no mere form of words, but that he really felt embarrassed at the thought that he was intruding upon his labours. He opened the letter and glanced down it. Ah, you are English, he said in surprise, I thought you a countryman of mine. My mother is from Holland, sir, Ned replied, and has brought me up to speak her language as well as my father's, and to feel that Holland is my country as much as England. And you are the son of the English captain, who, lately as I heard, being stopped in his passage down the Zidoo Zee by the Spanish ship Don Pedro, defended himself so stoutly that he inflicted great loss and damage upon the Spaniard, and brought his ship into Inkhausen without further damage than a grievous wound to himself. The burgomaster tells me that you are anxious to enter my service as a volunteer, and that you have the permission of your parents to do so. Many of your brave compatriots are already coming over, and I am glad indeed of their aid, which I regard as an omen that England will someday bestow herself on our behalf. But you look young for such rough work, young sir, I should not take you for more than eighteen. I am not yet eighteen, sir," Ned said, although he did not think it necessary to mention that he still wanted two years to that age. But even children and women have aided in the defense of their towns. �It is somewhat strange,� the Prince said, �that your parents should have countenanced your thus embarking in this matter at so young an age. The Spaniards have murdered my grandfather, three of my uncles, and an aunt, and my father would had it not been that he is disabled by the wound he received, and which has cost him the loss of a leg, have himself volunteered,� Ned replied. �But, sir, if you think me too young as yet to fight in the ranks, my father thought that you might perhaps make use of me in other ways. I have sailed up every river in the Netherlands, having been for the last five years in my father's ship trading with these ports, and know their navigation and the depth of water. If you have letters that you want carried to your friends in Flanders, and would entrust them to me, I would deliver them faithfully for you whatever the risk, and being but a boy could pass perhaps where a man would be suspected. I only ask, sir, to be put to such use as you can make of me, whatever it may be, deeming my life but of slight account in so great and good a cause. �No man can offer more,� the Prince said kindly, �I like your face young, sir, and can see at once that you can be trusted, and that you have entered upon this matter in a serious spirit. Your father has proved himself to be a brave fighter and skillful sailor, and I doubt not that you are worthy of him. Your youth is no drawback in my eyes, seeing that I myself, long before I reached your age, was mixed up in state affairs, and that the Emperor Charles, my master, did not disdain to listen to my opinions. I accept your offer of service in the name of the Netherlands, and deeming that, as you say, you may be of more service in the way of which you have spoken than were I to attach you to one of the regiments I am raising, I will for the present appoint you as a volunteer attached to my own household, and, trust me, I will not keep you long in idleness.� He touched a bell and the page entered. �Take this gentleman,� he said, �to count Nivenar, and tell him that he is to have a rank as a gentleman volunteer, and will at present remain as a member of my household, and be treated as such.� With a kindly nod he dismissed Ned, who was so affected by the kindness of manner of the Prince, that he could only murmur a word or two of thanks and assurance of devotion. One of the Burgomasters letters, of which Ned was the bearer, was to count Nivenar, the Prince's Chamberlain, and when the page introduced him to that officer with the message the Prince had given him, Ned handed to him the Burgomasters letter. The Count ran his eye down it. �My friend the Burgomaster speaks highly in your praise, young sir,� he said, �and though it needed not that since the Prince himself has been pleased to appoint you to his household, yet I am glad to receive so good a report of you. All Holland and Zeeland have been talking of the gallant fight that your father's ship made against the Spaniard, and though I hear that the Queen of England has made remonstrances to the Spanish ambassador, as to this attack upon an English ship, me thinks that it is the Spaniards who suffered most in the affair. Would you kindly instruct me, sir, in the duties that I have to perform? �There are no duties whatever,� the Count said with a smile, �there is no state or ceremony here. The Prince lives like a private citizen, and all that you have to do is to behave discreetly, to present yourself at the hours of meals, and to be in readiness to perform any service with which the Prince may entrust you. Although for what service he destines you, I own that I am in ignorance. But,� he said more gravely, �the Prince is not a man to cumber himself with persons who are useless to him, nor to keep about his person any save those upon whose fidelity he is convinced that he can rely. Therefore I doubt not that he will find work for you to do, for indeed there is but little ease and quiet for those who serve him. This afternoon I will find for you an apartment, and I may tell you that although you will have at present no duties to perform, and need not therefore keep in close attendance, it were better that you should never be very long absent, for when the Prince wants a thing done he wants it done speedily, and values most those upon whom he can rely at all times of the night and day, return here at noon, and I will then present you to the gentlemen and officers with whom you will associate.� On leaving the Chamberlain Ned walked for some time through the streets of Rotterdam. He scarcely noticed where he went, so full were his thoughts of the reception that he had met with, and the more than realization of his hopes. The charm of manner as well as the real kindness of the Prince had completely captivated him, as indeed they did all who came in contact with him, and he felt that no dangers he could run, no efforts he could make would be too great if he could but win the approbation of so kind a master. He presented himself to the Chamberlain at the hour named, and the latter took him to a large hall in which many officers and gentlemen were about to sit down to dinner, and introduced Ned to them as the son of the English captain who had so bravely beaten off the Don Pedro, and whom the Prince of Orange had received into his household in the quality of a gentleman volunteer. Ned was well received both on his own account and from the good will that was entertained towards England. Although personally the Prince of Orange kept up no state and lived most simply and quietly, he still maintained an extensive household, and extended a generous hospitality more suited to his past wealth than to his present necessities. He had the habits of a great noble, and although pressed on all sides for money, and sometimes driven to make what he considered great economies in his establishment, his house was always open to his friends and adherents. Certainly in the meal to which he sat down Ned saw little signs of economy, there was but little silver plate on the table, for the Prince's jewels and plate had been pledged years before for the payment of the German mercenaries, but there was an abundance of food of all kinds, generous wine and profusion, and the guests were served by numerous pages and attendants. On the following day the Prince rode to Harlem accompanied by his household and a hundred horsemen, for at Harlem he had summoned a meeting of the representatives of the states that still remained faithful to him. As soon as they were settled in the quarters assigned to them, Ned sallied out to make inquiries concerning the relatives with whom his aunt and cousins had taken refuge. As he knew her maiden name he had no great difficulty in learning the part of the town in which her father dwelt, and knowing that the Prince would at any rate for the rest of the day be wholly absorbed in important business, made his way thither introducing himself to the burger. Ah! the latter said, I have often heard my daughter speak of her sister-in-law who had married and settled in England, so you are her son. Well, you will find her house in the street that runs along by the city wall near the Watergate. It was well that she happened to be laid up with illness at the time Alva's ruffians seized and murdered her husband and his family. She was well nigh distraught for a time, and well she might be, though indeed her lot is but that of tens of thousands of others in this unhappy country. I would gladly have welcomed her here, but I have another married daughter who lives with me and keeps my house for me, and as she has half a dozen children the house is well nigh full. And Elizabeth longed for quiet in her sorrow, so I established her in the little house I tell you of. I have been going to write to your father, but have put it off from time to time, for one has so much to think of in these days that one has no time for private matters. She tells me that her husband and his brothers had, for seeing the evil times coming, sent money to England to his care, and that it has been invested in house it in London. I believe that is so, Ned replied, and my father, who is at present lying sorely wounded at Ankhhausen, will I am sure, now that he knows where my aunt is, communicate with her by letter on the subject. I will give you his address at Ankhhausen, and as it is but a short journey from here, you might perhaps find time to go over and see him, when he will be able to talk freely with you on the subject. Now with your permission I will go and see my aunt. Ned had no difficulty in finding the house indicated. He knocked at the door, and it was opened by his aunt herself. She looked up for a moment inquiringly, and then exclaimed, Why it is my nephew, Edward Martin! It is nearly two years since I saw you last, and so much has happened since, and she burst into tears. Ned followed her into the house, where he was warmly welcomed by his two cousins, girls of fourteen and fifteen years old. He had first to explain how it was that he had come to Harlem, and they were grieved indeed to hear what had happened to Captain Martin, who was a great favourite with them. And so you have entered the service of the Prince of Orange, his aunt said when he had finished his story. Truly I wonder that your father and mother have allowed you to embark in so hopeless an enterprise. Not hopeless, Ned said. Things look dark at present, but either England or France may come to our help. At any rate, aunt, with the Spanish army again sweeps over Holland and Zealand, surely you, with two girls, will not await its approach. You have friends in England. My father and mother will be only too glad to have you with them till you can make yourself a home close by. And there are the monies sent over that will enable you to live in comfort. It will not be like going among strangers. There is quite a colony of immigrants from the Netherlands already in London. You will find plenty who can speak your language. All my family are here, she replied. My father and brothers and sisters, I could never be happy elsewhere. Yes, aunt, I can understand that, but if the Spaniards come, how many of your family may be alive here a week afterwards. The woman threw up her hands in a gesture of despair. Well, we must hope for the best, aunt, but I would urge you most strongly if you hear that a Spanish army is approaching to fly to England if there be an opportunity open to you, or if not to leave the city and go to some town or village as far from here as possible. Harlem is strong and can stand a stout siege, the woman said confidently. I have no doubt it can, aunt, but the Spaniards are good engineers, and unless the Prince of Orange is strong enough to march to its succor, sooner or later it must fall, and you know what happens then. Why should they come here more than elsewhere? There are many other towns that lie nearer to them. That is so, aunt, but from the walls you can see the towers and spires of Amsterdam, and that city serves them as a gathering place in the heart of the country once they may strike blows all round, and therefore as you lie so close, one of the first blows may be struck here. Besides, if they take Harlem, they cut the long strip of land that almost alone remains faithful to the Prince asunder. Well, aunt, please think it over. If you doubt my words right to my mother at Ankhousen, I warrant she will tell you how gladly she will receive you in England, and how well you may make yourself a home there. I do not know how long I am to be staying here, and I have to be in close attendance on the Prince in case he may suddenly have occasion for my services, but I will come down every day for a talk with you, and I do hope that for the sake of my cousins, if not for your own, you will decide to leave this troubled land for a time, and to take refuge in England, where none will interfere with your religion, and where you can live free from the Spaniard's cruel bigotry. Ned remained for a fortnight without any particular duties. When the Prince was closeted with persons of importance, and he knew that there was no chance of his being required, he spent much of his time at his aunt's. He was beginning to feel weary of hanging about the Prince's antechamber doing nothing, when one day a page came up to him and told him that the Prince required his presence. He followed the boy to the Prince's cabinet, full of hope that he was to have an opportunity of proving that he was in earnest in his offers of service to the cause of Holland. I dare say you began to think that I had forgotten you. The Prince began when the page had retired and the curtain had fallen behind him, but it is not so, until to-day I have had no occasion for your services, but have now a mission to entrust to you. I have letters that I wish carried to Brussels and delivered to some of my friends there. You had best start at once in the disguise of a peasant boy. You must sew up your dispatches in your jerkin, and remember that if they are found upon you a cruel death will surely be your fate. If you safely carry out your mission in Brussels, return with the answers you will receive by such route as may seem best to you, for this must depend upon the movements of the Spaniards. The Chamberlain will furnish you with what money you may require. Thanks your Excellency, I am provided with sufficient means for such a journey. I need not tell you, my lad, to be careful and prudent. Remember, not only is your own life at stake, but that the interest of the country will suffer, and the lives of many will be forfeited should you fail in your mission. You will see that there are no names upon these letters, only a small private mark, differing in each case by which you can distinguish them. Here is a paper which is a key to those marks. You must, before you start, learn by heart the names of those for whom the various letters are intended. In this way, should the letters fall into the hands of the Spaniards, they will have no clue as to the names of those to whom they are addressed. This paper, on which is written, to the blue cap in the south corner of the market square of Brussels, is intended to enclose all the other letters, and when you have learned the marks Count Nivenar will fastened them up in it and seal it with my seal. The object of doing this is that should you be captured, you can state that your instructions from me are to deliver the packet to a man with a blue cap, who will meet you at the south corner of the market square at Brussels, and touching you on the shoulder, ask how blows the wind in Holland, these are the instructions I now give you. If such a man comes to you you will deliver the packet to him, if not you will open it and deliver the letters, but this last does not form part of your instructions. This device will not save your life if you are taken, but it may save you from torture and others from death, for were these unaddressed letters found upon you, you would be put to such cruel tortures that flesh and blood could not withstand them, and the names of those for whom the letters are intended would be wrong from you, but enclosed as they are to master blue cap, it may be believed that you are merely a messenger whose instructions extend no further than the handing over the parcel to a friend of mine in Brussels. Now you have no time to lose, you have your disguise to get, and these signs and the names they represent to commit to heart. A horse will be ready in two hours' time to take you to Rotterdam, whence you will proceed in a coasting-vessel to Slausau Axel. At the time named Ned was in readiness. He was dressed now as a young, flimish peasant. He had left the chest with his clothes, together with his armor and weapons, in the care of his aunt's father, for he hoped that before his return she would have left the town. He could not, however, obtain any promise that she would do so. Her argument was, if other women could stay in Harlem why should she not do the same? Her friends and family were there, and although, if the Spaniards were to besiege the town, she might decide to quit it, she could not bring herself to go into exile, unless indeed all Holland was conquered and all hope gone. Ned carried a stout stick, which was a more formidable weapon than it looked, for the knob was loaded with lead. He hesitated about taking pistols, for if at any time he were searched and such weapons found upon him the discovery might prove fatal, for a peasant boy certainly would not be carrying weapons that were at that time costly and comparatively rare. His dispatches were sewn up in the lining of his coat and his money beyond that required for the present use hidden in his big boots. A country horse with rough trappings, such as a small farmer might ride, as in readiness, and mounting this he rode to Rotterdam, some thirty-five miles distant, and there put it up at a small inn, where he had been charged to leave it. He then walked down to the river and inquired about boats sailing for the ports of Slois or Axel. He was not long in discovering one that would start the next day for the latter place, and after bargaining with the master for a passage returned to the inn. The next morning he set sail soon after daybreak. There were but three or four other passengers, and Ned was not long before he established himself on friendly terms with the master and the four men that constituted the crew. I wonder, he said presently to the master, that trade still goes on between the towns of Holland and those in the provinces that hold to Alva. The citizens of those towns are greatly divided in their opinions, the captain said. Many would gladly rise if they had the chance, but they lie too close to the Spanish power to venture to do so. Still they are friendly enough to us, and as they have need of our goods and we of theirs, no one hinders traffic or interferes with those who come and go. Most of these towns have but small Spanish garrisons, and these concern themselves not with anything that goes on beyond maintaining the place for Spain. It is the Catholic magistrates appointed by Alva who managed the affairs of the towns, and as these are themselves mostly merchants and traders, their interests lie in keeping the ports open and encouraging trade, so we come and go unquestioned. The Spaniards have enough on their hands already without causing discontent by restricting trade. Besides, the Duke affects to consider the rising in Holland and Zeeland as a trifling rebellion which he can suppress without difficulty, and it would be giving too much importance to the movement were he to close all the ports and forbid communication. Will you go outside or inside Walcorin? Outside, the captain replied, it is the longest way but the safest. The Spaniards hold Middelburg and Targuz, and have lately defeated the force from flushing that endeavored to capture Targuz. There are many of our craft and some of the Spaniards in the passages, and fighting often takes place. It is better to avoid risks of trouble, although it may be a few leagues further round by Walcorin. I am ready to take my share of the fighting when it is needful, and aid in carrying the troops across from flushing and back, but when I have goods in my hold I like to keep as well away from it as may be. They cast anchor off flushing, for the wind was now foul, but when tide turned they again got under way and beat up the channel to axle. No questions were asked as they drew up alongside the wharves. Ned at once stepped ashore and made his way to a small inn, chiefly frequented by sailors near the jetty. The shades of night were just falling as they arrived, and he thought it were better not to attempt to proceed further until the following morning. He had been several times at axle in the good venture, and was familiar with the town. The population was a mixed one, for although situated at Brabant, axle had so much communication with the opposite shores of Holland that a considerable portion of the population had imbibed something of the spirit that animated their neighbors, and would, if opportunity offered, have gladly thrown off the authority of the officials appointed by the Spaniards. Ned knew that as a stranger he should be viewed with great suspicion by the frequenters of the little inn, for the spy system was carried to such an extent that people were afraid to utter their sentiments even in the bosom of their own families. He therefore walked about until it was time to retire to rest, and in that way escaped alike the suspicions and questionings he might otherwise have encountered. He could easily have satisfied them as to the past. He had just arrived in the coastings smacked the hopeful from Rotterdam, and the master of the craft could, if questioned, corroborate his statement. But it would not be so easy to satisfy questioners as to the object of his coming. Why should a lad from Holland want to come to Brabant? Everyone knew that work was far more plentiful in the place he had come from than in the states under the Spaniards, where the cultivators scarce dare so crops sufficient for their own consumption, so extensive was the pillaging carried on by the Spanish troops. These, always greatly in arrears of pay, did not hesitate to take all they required from the unfortunate inhabitants, and the latter knew that resistance or complaint was alike useless, for the soldiers were always on the verge of mutiny, their officers had little control over them, and Alva himself was always short of money, and being unable to pay his troops was obliged to allow them to maintain themselves upon the country. As soon as the gates were open in the morning Ned made his way to that through which the road to Brussels ran. The four or five Spanish soldiers at the gate asked no questions, and Ned passed on with a brisk step. He had gone about three miles when he heard sounds of horses hoofs behind him, and presently two men came along. One was, by his appearance, a person of some importance. The other he took to be his clerk. Ned doffed his hat as the horse went past. Where are you going, lad? the elder of the two men asked. I am going, worshipful sir, to see some friends who live at the village of Deligan near Brussels. These are evil times for travelling. Your tongue shows that you come not from Brabant. No, sir, my relations lived at Boardwick, hard by Amsterdam. Amsterdam is a faithful city, although there, as elsewhere, there are men who are traitors to their king and false to their faith. You are not one of them, I hope. I do not know, Ned said, that I am bound to answer questions of any that ride by the highway, unless I know that they have right and authority to question me. I have right and authority, the man said angrily. My name is Philip Von Art, and I am one of the council charged by the viceroy to investigate into these matters. Ned again doffed his hat. I know your name, worshipful sir, as that of one who is foremost in searching out heretics. There are few in the land, even ignorant country boys like myself, who have not heard it. The councilor looked gratified. Ah, you have heard me well spoken of, he said. I have heard you spoken of, sir, well or ill, according to the sentiments of those who spoke. And why have you left Amsterdam to journey so far from home? This is a time when all men must be looked upon with suspicion, until they prove themselves to be good Catholics and faithful subjects of the king, and even a boy like you may be engaged upon treasonable business. I ask you again, why are you leaving your family at Amsterdam? Miss Fortunes have fallen upon them, Ned replied, and they can no longer maintain me. Miss Fortunes, ah, and of what kind? Their business no longer brings them in profit, Ned replied, they lived as I told your worship not in the town itself, but in a village near it, and in these troubled times trade is well nigh at a stand still, and there is want at many a man's door. I shall stop for the night at Antwerp, where I have business to do. See when you arrive there that you call upon me. I must have further talk with you for your answers do not satisfy me. Ned bowed low. Very well, see that you fail not, or it will be the worse for you. So saying Von Art put spurs to his horse, which had been walking alongside Ned as he conversed, and rode forward at a gallop.