A Lad of Grit: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea in Restoration Times

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XVI--I Meet an Old Enemy

  Directly our prison ship was moored alongside a quay we were summoned ondeck, where an escort of soldiers was in waiting to convey us to a placeof confinement on shore.

  Some of our officers immediately recognized the port as Rotterdam, whichto me appeared a city of lofty buildings beset with canals andwaterways.

  It was soon evident that we were to be separated, and seeing this to bethe case I kept close to Drake and another young lieutenant, HubertFelgate by name, who had been slightly wounded in the right arm duringthe first day's engagement. He was of a somewhat taciturn disposition,though, when properly understood, he was a good-hearted and reliablefriend.

  To our great satisfaction the three of us were taken to a magistrate'soffice. As none of us could speak their language, a Dutchman was calledin to act as interpreter, but so quaint was his attempt at speakingEnglish that it was with the greatest difficulty that we couldunderstand what was required of us.

  At length we discovered that if we gave our parole we should be allowedcomparative freedom within the city; if not, well--a meaning shrug ofthe shoulders completed the unspoken sentence.

  We were permitted to reason the proposition out among ourselves, whichwe did in an undertone. Young and hot-headed, the idea of a possibleexchange of prisoners never entered our heads, but on the other hand theexcitement of an attempt at escape held out an inducement to refuse ourparole. We quickly decided on the latter course. The magistrate closeda book in front of him in a manner that denoted a feeling ofdisappointment, then, signing to our guards, he motioned us to beremoved.

  We were conducted along a stone passage and down a spiral staircase, theweapons of our guards clanking dismally as they struck the stone steps.At the bottom of the staircase we proceeded along another passage, whichwas lighted by a few feeble lamps, while water trickled through the roofin such a manner as to suggest that we were passing under some canal.At the end an iron door barred the way. This the sergeant of the guardunlocked and threw open, disclosing a large room with a vaulted stoneroof, lighted only by two small grated windows some twelve feet from theground. The atmosphere was rank, while moisture was everywhere--on thewalls, floor, and even on the top of a massive oak table, the polish ofwhich was cut and scraped till it resembled a butcher's block.

  As our eyes grew accustomed to the dim light we perceived that the roomwas a torture chamber. In one corner stood a ponderous rack, itsrollers still glistening with a coating of oil. Other instruments oftorture were placed round the walls in an orderly manner, showing bytheir brightness that they were still kept in use.

  I must confess the sight turned us, though we had never yet had accountsof prisoners of war being put to the torture. We were not left long insuspense, for the soldiers, having carefully searched us (though theyleft us our money), went out and locked and barred the door.

  Left to ourselves, we began to discuss our situation. Escape from thishorrible hole was out of the question, but we began a tour of the roomto ascertain our bearings.

  "I almost wish that we had given the burgomaster our parole," remarkedFelgate dolefully. "To eke out an existence for a few months, or evenweeks or days, in this den would almost drive one to madness."

  "What do they mean by putting us in here?" asked Drake. "Surely theydon't mean to put us to the torture as if we were political prisoners?"

  "I don't think that," I remarked, "otherwise those rascals would haverelieved us of our money."

  "Well, they took my knife," grumbled Felgate. "Ah! What fools theseDutchmen are! Look! Why should we not take some small articles thatmight aid our escape?"

  He pointed to the walls, where hung several small knives. Weimmediately secured one each, and in addition concealed a few ironspikes under our clothing, chuckling to ourselves at the folly of ourcaptors in searching us before we were left alone amid so terrible yetuseful an array of instruments.

  Then, having completed our inspection, we seated ourselves on theframework of the rack, relapsing into a silence that was broken only bythe occasional scamper of a swarm of rats across the floor, and therippling of a stream of water outside the thick stone walls of ourprison.

  The solitude was unbearable, though we never stopped to consider what itwould have been like had we been placed in separate rooms. At lengthFelgate stood up, and, seizing a hammer that was used apparently todrive the wedges into the boot, he strode across to the door and beganto thunder a rain of blows upon it. Then he waited, but for all thegood it did he might well have saved himself the trouble. No one cameto see who was the cause of the clamour, and silence again reignedsupreme.

  The hours rolled slowly by, and just as the daylight that filteredthrough the narrow windows began to fade, our prison door was thrownopen and the guards reappeared. Hardly able to repress a smile thatflitted across his grim features, the sergeant deliberately walked up toFelgate, relieved him of the knife and two spikes that he had concealed,and replaced them. Greville and I were served in the same manner, ourcrestfallen faces plainly showing our dismay. We had been watchedthrough some secret spy-hole during the whole time we were left, as wehad imagined, alone.

  Once more we were taken into the presence of the magistrate, who,phlegmatic as ever, merely raised one eyebrow slightly and tapped thebook in front of him with the feathered end of his pen.

  The gesture was impressive with its silent enquiry, but with theobstinacy of our race we again refused to give any pledge that woulddebar us from making any attempt at escape. A sign, and we were hurriedfrom the burgomaster's presence, and, with a file of pikemen surroundingus, we were taken, not to that loathsome dungeon, but into the open air.

  Through crowds of silent spectators we were marched, along a broadstreet planted with tall trees, the light of the buildings on the farside being reflected in the placid waters of a canal. Then we crossed adrawbridge, and a hundred yards farther our guards halted outside abuilding the entrance to which was gained by a double flight of broadstone steps.

  A challenge and a password were exchanged, and we were handed over toanother armed guard, who escorted us to a small room, which, thoughroughly furnished, was a surprisingly comfortable prison. Some bundlesof straw were thrown on the floor, a plain though ample meal wasprovided, and we were left to ourselves once more.

  It was now late, but for several hours we tossed uneasily on our strawcouches, till, worn out with the excitement and fatigue, we fell asleep,to be awakened only too soon by the entry of our jailers.

  By signs they informed us that we were to start on a long journey, andproviding us with blankets and klompen, or wooden shoes similar to thesabots of the French, they left us to enjoy another meal of porridge,rusk bread, and cheese.

  An hour later they returned, and rolling our blankets they fastened thembandolier fashion across one shoulder and under the other. Our shoes,though admirable for wear on board ship, were useless on a rough road,so these were slung round our necks and the klompen were placed upon ourfeet. Our captors were of a mind to treat us kindly, but I must admitthat walking in these clumsy wooden shoes occasioned us no littlediscomfort.

  Where our destination was we could not discover. Our guards would not,or could not, understand the enquiries we made in dumb-show, but whenclear of the city our route lay to the north.

  For miles we marched between the files of our escort of pikemen, and wehad ample opportunities of studying the nature of the land, which in nosmall measure well deserves the name of the Low Countries. The road wasbordered with an avenue of trees that served to break the monotony thatthe broad expanse of flat country affords. There were scores ofwindmills all busily engaged, not in grinding wheat, but in pumpingwater from the drains and throwing it over the dykes.

  These dykes, which were cut by the Hollanders to such good purposeduring their desperate resistance against the might of Spain, weremassive embankments planted with sedge and reeds, and faced in placeswith straw so as to resist the sea better. As we progr
essed we sawnothing of the ocean, though it was said that the place where we werewalking was well below the sea level.

  We passed through numerous villages, the inhabitants of which flockedout to see us, though they behaved courteously, and refrained frominsulting us, a contrast to the behaviour of our own countrymen to theirDutch prisoners.

  After marching for over two hours we arrived at a town called Delft,where the curiosity caused by our progress was somewhat alienated by asight that greatly astonished us. A crowd of townspeople wasapproaching us, and in the centre walked a portly _vrouw_, wearing aweighty vessel not unlike a butter churn, her head appearing through ahole, the rest of her being hidden inside the wooden barrel. Hermiserable plight made her the butt of the crowd. But for what reasonshe was undergoing this punishment we could not discover, though I doubtnot that she was a scold, such as we in England place in the duckingstool.

  We halted for an hour at Delft, the pikemen refreshing themselves bytaking enormous quantities of ale, while we were fain to be content witha loaf of bread, cheese, and a pitcher of water. A woman, takingcompassion on us, however, sent a little girl to us with a jug brimmingwith fresh milk.

  We talked freely, none of the soldiers apparently understanding ourconversation, and discussed the possibility of making our escape.

  "Could we but once slip between the men, I think we should beswift-footed enough to shake them off," remarked Felgate. "What withtheir breastplates and headpieces their running would be like to that ofGoliath of Gath."

  "True!" replied Drake. "But with these wretched wooden shoes----" andhe pointed meaningly at his feet.

  "We can make out that they gall our heels, and take them off for awhile; then at the favourable moment--you, Drake, can give theword--we'll make a dash for freedom."

  "And after----?" I enquired.

  "That remains to be seen," rejoined Felgate.

  While we conversed I could not help noticing that the sergeant eyed ussharply more than once; and whether it was merely fancy or not, I couldnot help thinking that I had seen him before. But as very few Dutchmenhad made my acquaintance (and these only as enemies) I dismissed theidea from my mind.

  The man was short, thick-set, with a heavy beard that concealed most ofhis features, but the look in his eyes betokened that he was no infantin the art of war, and could, if occasion served, prove a harshtaskmaster.

  At length the order was given to proceed. At a mile from Delft, Felgatebegan to limp. His example was quickly followed by Drake, and shortlyafter I adopted the same ruse, though in reality I had good cause to doso, the unaccustomed nature of my footgear beginning to have an illeffect.

  Soon Drake stopped, pointed to his shoes, and made signs that he couldnot walk farther. The pikemen came to a halt and looked at ussympathetically, while the sergeant talked volubly. We seized theopportunity of pulling off the klompen and replacing our own shoes, andthe march was resumed.

  The country was perfectly flat, as hitherto, but the dykes were at agreater distance from the road. Though they shut in our range of visionwe knew that dry land lay beyond, as we could discern several windmills,roofs of houses, and trees on the other side.

  The pikemen struggled on, apparently fatigued by the heat of the day.Drake touched my arm and whispered: "Be ready!" I was all alertness,waiting for the signal to break away.

  Suddenly Felgate staggered, as if seized with faintness, and fell on hishands and knees. The soldier immediately behind, unable to checkhimself, fell over him; then, with a loud cry of "Now!" Felgate jumpedto his feet, and, followed by us, rushed off towards the nearest dyke.

  Our guards, to our surprise, did not attempt to follow us; instead, theystood looking at us, till, at a command from the sergeant, they spreadout, some remaining still, the rest marching slowly in both directionsalong the road.

  Wondering at this manoeuvre we still ran, looking backwards atintervals. When close to the dyke we saw that the pikemen had extendedover a distance of one hundred yards, and were now making their way in along straggling line straight for the dyke.

  We redoubled our efforts, climbed up the soft sandy embankment, andgained the top. Here we found that a broad ditch barred our progress."On, lads, on!" cried Felgate. "These scurvy pikemen will never darecross this with the weight of their accoutrements."

  Carried away by his words, we dashed down the slope of the dyke, only tofind, too late, that a broad belt of liquid mud, thickly interspersedwith sedge, lay betwixt us and the water. In a moment we were allstruggling up to our waists in the impenetrable ooze.

  At length, worn out by our fruitless endeavours to extricate ourselves,we waited motionless in the slime till the grinning faces of the pikemenappeared above the bank. By this time we had sunk nearly to ourshoulders; but by the aid of the men's pikes we were hauled on to dryland, amid the coarse jests and laughter of our rescuers.

  We were in a truly miserable plight, the mud clinging to our wetgarments like pitch, while the stench was abominable. To complete ourdiscomfiture, the sergeant tapped his petronel significantly andexclaimed in perfect English: "Now, sirrahs, you will perceive thatescape is no easy matter. Another attempt and I'll warrant ye will notfare half so lightly."

  We gazed on him in amazement; then Drake exclaimed: "My man, if thou'rtnot a renegade, then may I not see England again!"

  "As you will," rejoined the sergeant, and ordered the men to fall in.Then we regained the highway and resumed our weary way.

  It was late in the evening ere we arrived at our destination, whichproved to be the town of Haarlem, of which I had heard much withreference to its stubborn defence against the Spaniards. This was to beour prison for many dreary months.

  We were placed in separate rooms, though during the day we werepermitted to take exercise together. For a long time we hardly daredmention the possibilities of escape, with the thought of our previousattempt fresh in our minds. We frequently discoursed on the probableevents that were occurring at home, but our guards refrained from givingus any information on the subject, though one or two of our newcustodians spoke a few words of broken English at intervals.

  Thus we knew not of the glorious victory of Albemarle over de Ruyter onthe 25th of July following our capture; but by the sullen demeanour ofthe soldiers we guessed that once more the States of Holland weresuffering for their audacity in questioning our supremacy on the sea.

  Autumn passed, and winter, with intense cold, drew on apace. About thistime I made an important discovery, which served to throw a little lighton the mystery that enshrouded my existence.

  One day the renegade sergeant came into my apartment. He had grownsomewhat communicative of late, talking freely of the country in whoseservice he was, though very reserved in matters pertaining to the landof his birth. The feeling that I had seen him before grew apace, tillon this occasion I asked him bluntly why he took service with ourenemies.

  His reply was a hideous scowl, and like a flash the truth came to mymind--it was Increase Joyce, my father's murderer!

  For a moment I could scarce refrain from throwing myself upon him; butreflecting that little would be gained thus, and that much might beobtained by strategy, I refrained, and, shrugging my shouldersindifferently, I turned from him and walked to the farther part of theroom.

  I saw him no more that day, but on the day following he again entered myapartment or cell--call it which you will. Though feigning to avoidconversation with him, I found that his moody fit had passed, and thathe was willing to talk.

  Little by little I gathered his history, which, though mostly lies, gaveme an insight into his movements and plans.

  He had, he said, fled the country at the Restoration for politicalreasons, a price having been set upon his head. (I smiled grimly atthis, knowing only too well why his head was thus valued.) He hadserved as a soldier of fortune on the Rhine and in the Low Countries,finally joining the army of the States of Holland and rising to hispresent rank; though, in justice to the Dutch be it said, he
was neverallowed to take up arms against his own countrymen.

  I had heard enough for once, and for the time being I resolved not tomention the matter either to Drake or to Felgate.

  Of what was taking place betwixt England and Holland we learned little.Occasionally we had a visit from the governor of the fortress, a MajorVan der Wycke, a courteous and honest soldier, who carefully refrainedfrom hurting our susceptibilities with reference to the war, though hetold us of the great fire that practically destroyed the best part ofLondon. This we were told on Christmas Day, over three months after itsoccurrence.

  Very slowly the days passed. Winter gave place to spring, yet no signof our being released was given us, neither did any loophole of escapepresent itself. One day Joyce came into my room with the news that hewas leaving the service of the States of Holland, and had a good offerfor his sword from the King of France. He seemed very elated, and nowwas the time to obtain what information I could.

  "Thou art a Yorkshireman, perchance?" I enquired offhandedly,interrupting him in the midst of a rambling statement.

  "I a Yorkshireman? Never, young sir!"

  "Then from Lincolnshire, doubtless?"

  "Nor from Lincolnshire. Why didst think so?"

  "From thy manner of speech, Sergeant," I replied, forcing a laugh. "Itsavours much of the north."

  "I have travelled much, and know both those counties well."

  "Then perchance Midgley is known to you, Sergeant?"

  "I cannot recall the name. Where is it?"

  "It is my native village," I asserted, with a slight deviation from thetruth. "It lies betwixt Pontefract and Holwick."

  At the mention of Holwick he started, yet, retaining command over hisfeelings, he remarked: "I know it not. But, beshrew me! the name ofHolwick reminds me---- Dost know Holwick well?"

  "Passably," I replied offhandedly. "There is a market cross, a church,a score or so of stone houses, a castle more or less in ruin, and a----"

  "A castle, sayest thou?" he interrupted excitedly. "And who livesthere?"

  "I cannot say."

  "Ah! Now, concerning this castle," he remarked, tapping his clay pipeon his heel with such vehemence that the stem broke in three places, "Ihave heard that a goodly store of treasure lies hidden there. In fact,an old comrade of mine, who lay stricken to death on the field ofMarston Moor, did bestow upon me a paper whereby the treasure should bemine. But either he was befooling himself or me, for I could findnothing."

  Here was a piece of good fortune.

  "Where did you look?" I enquired disinterestedly.

  "Where did I look? Now, out on me for a dolt! I delved every night formore than a fortnight, till the countryside rang with tales of the ghostof Holwick, and none would venture near o' nights, and hardly by day."

  "Were the directions fully adhered to?"

  He looked fixedly at me for a moment, as if suspecting my thoughts, thenfrom his pocket he produced the identical metal box that he had filchedfrom my father's corse. Again I could hardly refrain from springingupon him; but discretion is ever the better part of valour.

  From the box he drew a folded paper, yellow with age, and discolouredand torn with frequent usage.

  "Mark you, what a jargon! 'Without ye two tall of ye thirty-two pacesright dig Holwick may the treasure give full out mine whereas my----'Did ever a man have such a frail clue?"

  "Then what did you do?"

  "Do? I dug thirty-two paces from the castle walls on all sides save thewest, for at that distance there was naught but a muddy stream. It mightbe thirty-two paces from the church, the cross, or what not. But I havea mind to make one more attempt ere I go to France. If that fails, thenmy right I'll sell to the first Jew that makes me an offer."

  "Let me see if I can make aught of it," I said, carelessly stretchingout my hand. To my delight Joyce handed it to me, and I saw the writingI knew so well.

  For over an hour we talked, I, for my part, throwing out idlesuggestions and listening to Joyce's explanations, trying at the sametime to commit the apparently senseless words to memory.

  Suddenly the door was flung open and the governor appeared. With amotion of his hand he signed for Joyce to withdraw, and the villain wentout, leaving the precious document in my hands. Major Van der Wyckeused to do the rounds in a somewhat erratic fashion, and for this once Ithanked his eccentricity. When he went he desired the sergeant toaccompany him, and for the time being I was at liberty to copy themysterious message.

  I had not quill nor crayon nor paper. I had read of men writing withtheir blood, but this method appeared very unsatisfactory. At length Ibethought me of the fire, and taking a piece of charcoal I scrawled thewords on the under side of my table. This I did, promising myself toask for pens and paper at the first opportunity, and barely had Ifinished my task when the renegade reappeared.

  "Where's that paper?" asked he. "I'll venture that your wits are nosharper than mine."

  I handed it back to him with the remark that it conveyed nothing, andwished him all the luck he deserved. This double-barrelled complimenthe took as favourable to himself, and after a short further conversationhe left.

  That night Joyce quitted Haarlem, and I was not fated to see him againfor some time.