The Coming Conquest of England

by August Niemann

  “His Majesty’s service!” answered Heideck, and, as the boat lay to, he threw off his cloak, so as to spring on deck more easily. Three men, in the dark, woollen smock and tarpaulined hat of coast fishermen, approached him and, in answer to his inquiry for the master, told him, in an unintelligible mixture of Dutch and German, that he had gone ashore.

  “His name?”

  “Maaning Brandelaar.”

  “What is the name of this vessel?”

  “Bressay.”

  The answers were given with hesitation and sullenly, and the three men showed such evident signs of irritation that Heideck felt they would have gladly thrown him overboard had it not been for the respect inspired by his uniform.

  “Where from?” he asked.

  “From Lerwick.”

  “Where to?”

  “We are going to sell our herrings. We are respectable people, Herr major.”

  “Where are you going to sell your herrings?”

  “Where we can. The skipper has gone to Breskens. He intended to be back soon.”

  Heideck looked round. The smack had put to in a little bay, where the water was quiet. The village of Breskens and the little watering-place, Kadzand, were both so near that the lighted windows could be seen. It was nine o’clock—rather late for the business which Maaning Brandelaar intended to transact at Breskens.

  Heideck sent the marines on deck with orders to see that no one left the ship before the captain returned. He then ordered a lantern to be lighted to examine below. It was a long time before the lantern was ready, and it burned so dully that Heideck preferred to use the electric lamp which he always carried with him as well as his revolver. He climbed down the stairs into the hold and found that the smell of pickled herrings, which he had noticed on deck, was sufficiently explained by the cargo. In the little cabin two men were sitting, drinking grog and smoking short clay pipes. Heideck greeted them courteously and took a seat near them. They spoke English with a broad Scotch accent, and used many peculiar expressions which Heideck did not understand. They declared they were natives of the island of Bressay. Heideck gathered from their conversation that the smack belonged to a shipowner of Rotterdam, whose name they appeared not to know or could not pronounce. They were very guarded and reserved in their statements generally. Heideck waited half an hour, an hour—but still no signs of the captain. He began to feel hungry, and throwing a piece of money on the table, asked whether they could give him anything to eat.

  The fishermen opened the cupboard in the wall of the cabin and brought out a large piece of ham, half a loaf of black bread, and a knife and fork. Heideck noticed two small white loaves in the cupboard amongst some glasses and bottles. “Give me some white bread,” said he. The man who had brought out the eatables murmured something unintelligible to Heideck and shut the cupboard again without complying with his request. His behaviour could not help striking Heideck as curious. He had, as a matter of fact, only asked for white bread because the black was old, dry, and uncommonly coarse; but now the suspicion forced itself upon him that there was some special meaning behind the rude and contemptuous manner in which his request had been received.

  “You don’t seem to have understood me,” he said. “I should like the white bread.”

  “It belongs to the captain,” was the reply; “we mustn’t take it.”

  “I will pay for it. Your captain will certainly have no objection.”

  The men pretended not to hear.

  Heideck repeated his request in a stern and commanding tone. The men looked at each other; then one of them went to the cupboard, took out the white bread, and set it on the table. Heideck cut it and found it very good. He ate heartily of it, wondering at the same time why the men had been so disobliging about it at first. When he took up the bread again to cut himself off a second piece, it occurred to him that it was remarkably heavy. He cut into the middle and, finding that the blade of the knife struck on something hard, he broke the loaf in two. The glitter of gold met his eyes. He investigated further and drew out, one after the other, thirty golden coins with the head of the Queen of England upon them. Thirty pounds sterling had been concealed in the loaf.

  “Very nourishing bread of yours,” said he, looking keenly at the men, who merely shrugged their shoulders.

  “What has it to do with us how the captain keeps his money?” said one of them.

  “You are quite right. What has it to do with you? We will wait till the captain comes. There, put the bread and the money back into the cupboard, and then make a nice glass of grog for my men, the poor fellows will be frozen. Here are three marks for you.”

  The men did as they were asked. One of them went upstairs with the smoking jug, bringing it back empty some time afterwards, with the thanks of the Herr major’s men.

  A few minutes later one of the soldiers appeared at the cabin door and announced that two men were approaching from land. “Good,” said Heideck; “keep quiet, till they are on deck; then don’t let them go down again, but tell them to come here.”

  Almost immediately steps and voices were heard above, and in a few minutes two men entered the cabin. The first, who wore the dress of a skipper, was of unusually powerful build, broad-shouldered, bull-necked, with a square weather-beaten face, from which two crafty little eyes twinkled. The second, considerably younger, was dressed rather foppishly, and wore a beard trimmed in the most modern style.

  “Mynheer Brandelaar?” queried Heideck.

  “That’s me,” replied the man with the broad shoulders, in a brusque, almost threatening tone.

  “Very glad to see you, mynheer. I want to speak to you on a matter of business; I have been waiting for you more than an hour. May I ask you to introduce me to this gentleman?”

  The Dutchman was slow in answering. It was evident that he was in a very bad temper and did not quite know what to do. The officer’s quiet, somewhat mocking tone obviously disconcerted him.

  He signed to the two sailors to withdraw, then turned to Heideck.

  “This gentleman is a business friend. And I should like to know what I and my affairs have got to do with you at all. I am here to sell my herrings. I suppose that isn’t forbidden?”

  “Certainly not. But if you have your business, mynheer, I have mine. And I think it would be pleasantest for both of us if we could settle the matter here at once without having to row over to the Gefion.”

  “To the Gefion? What’s the meaning of that? What right have you to use force with me? My papers are in order; I can show them to you.”

  “I should like to see them. But won’t you be kind enough to tell me this gentleman’s name? It is really of interest to me to make your business friend’s acquaintance.”

  The second visitor now thought it advisable to introduce himself.

  “My name is Camille Penurot,” said he; “I am a grocer in Breskens. Maaning Brandelaar has offered to sell me his cargo, and I have come with him to inspect the goods.”

  “And no doubt night is the best time for that,” rejoined Heideck in a sarcastic tone, but with an imperturbably serious air. “Now let me see your papers, Mynheer Brandelaar.”

  Just as he had expected, the papers were in perfect order. The fishing smack Bressay, owner Maximilian van Spranekhuizen of Rotterdam, sailing with a cargo of pickled herrings from Lerwick. Captain, Maaning Brandelaar. Attested by the English harbour officials at Lerwick. Everything perfectly correct.

  “Very good,” said Heideck. “Rear-Admiral Sir Frederick Hollway of Dover has not endorsed them, but that was not necessary at all.”

  These words, uttered with perfect calmness, had an astounding effect upon the two men. Penurot’s pale face turned almost green; Brandelaar’s hard features were frightfully distorted in a grimace of rage. Half choking in the effort to keep down a furious curse, he drew a deep breath, and said—

  “I don’t know any Admiral Hollway, and I have never been in Dover in my life.”

  “Well, well! Let us talk ab
out your business—or yours, M. Penurot. Of course the cargo of herrings which you want to buy is not meant to be sold at Breskens, but to some business friend at Antwerp? isn’t it so?”

  No answer was given. Heideck, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, turned to the cupboard and, before the others had grasped his intention, took out the second white loaf and broke it in two. This time a folded paper came to light. Heideck spread it out and saw that it was covered with a long list of questions written in English.

  “Look here,” said he, “the gentleman who had this paper baked with your breakfast bread must be confoundedly curious. ‘How strong is the garrison of Antwerp? What regiments? What batteries? Who are the commanders of the outer fort? What is the exact plan of the flooded district? How is the population disposed towards the German troops? How many German men-of-war are there in the harbour and in the Schelde? How are they distributed? Exact information as to the number of cannon and crews of all the men-of-war. How many and which ships of the German navigation companies are allotted to the German fleet? How many troops are there on the island of Walcheren? How many in the neighbourhood of Antwerp? How are the troops distributed on both banks of the Schelde? Are troops ready to be put on board the men-of-war and transports? Has a date been settled for that? Is there a plan for employing the German fleet? What is said about the German fleet joining the French?’ That is only a small portion of the long list; but it is quite enough for anyone to guess at the nature of the rest of the questions. What the deuce! Admiral Hollway would like to learn everything for his paltry thirty pounds! or were they only a little on account? I cannot believe, M. Penurot, that your Antwerp correspondent would be willing to sell so much for thirty pounds.”

  The two men were clearly overwhelmed by the weight of the unexpected blow. For a moment, when Heideck drew the paper out of the bread, it looked as if Brandelaar would have thrown himself upon him and attempted to tear it from him by force. But the thought of the soldiers probably restrained him opportunely from such an act of folly. He stood where he was with tightly compressed lips and spitefully glistening eyes.

  “I don’t understand you, Herr major,” exclaimed Penurot with a visible effort. “I know nothing whatever about this paper. I am an honest business man.”

  “And of course, Herr Brandelaar, you had no suspicion of the important stuffing in your white bread? Now, I am not called upon to investigate the matter further. It will be for the court-martial to throw light on the affair.”

  The grocer turned as pale as death, and lifted up his hands imploringly.

  “Mercy, Herr major, mercy! As true as I live, I am innocent.”

  Heideck pretended not to have heard his assertion.

  “Further, I must tell you, gentlemen, that you are confoundedly bad men of business, to risk your lives for a miserable thirty pounds. That was an inexcusable folly. If ever you wanted to make money in that way, really you would have done better to work for us. We would pay a man five times as much without haggling, if he would furnish us with really trustworthy information of this kind about the English fleet and army.”

  At these words, spoken almost in a jovial tone, a gleam of hope showed itself in the countenance of the two men. The grocer had opened his mouth to reply, when Heideck signed to him to be silent.

  “Be so good as to go on deck for a while, Penurot,” said he. “I will call you when I want to continue the conversation. You shall give me your company first, Brandelaar. I should like a few words with you in private.”

  The man with the fashionably pointed beard obeyed. Then Heideck turned to the Dutchman—

  “This Penurot is the guilty party, isn’t he? As a skipper you have probably never troubled yourself much about politics during your lifetime: you scarcely had a correct idea of the risk you were running. If the court-martial condemns you, you will only have your friend Penurot to thank for it.”

  “What you say is quite true, sir,” replied Brandelaar with well-acted simplicity. “I have my cargo to sell for the firm of Van Spranekhuizen, and I don’t care a damn for war or spying. I beg the Herr major to put in a good word for me. I had no suspicion of what was inside the bread.”

  “So this Penurot has drawn you into the affair without your knowing it. Did he intend to go with you to Antwerp?”

  “I will tell you the whole truth, Herr major! Admiral Hollway at Dover, who is in control of the intelligence department for the Channel and the coast from Cuxhaven to Brest, gave me the two loaves for Camille Penurot. That is all I know of the matter.”

  “Was it the first time you had to carry out such commissions for Admiral Hollway?”

  “So help me God, the first time!”

  “But Penurot was not meant to keep these peculiar loaves for himself? He, like yourself, is only an agent? If you want me to speak for you, you must tell me unreservedly everything you know about it.”

  “Penurot has a business friend in Antwerp, as the Herr major has rightly guessed.”

  “His name?”

  “Eberhard Amelungen.”

  “What is he?”

  “A wholesale merchant. My cargo is intended for him.”

  “And how is he connected with Penurot?”

  “I don’t know. Penurot is an agent who does all kinds of business.”

  “Oh! and what does the owner, Mynheer van Spranekhuizen, say to your having anything to do with such things as the conveyance of these loaves?”

  “Mynheer van Spranekhuizen and Mynheer Amelungen are near relations.”

  “In other words, these two gentlemen have agreed to send the Bressay from the Shetlands to Dover, and from Dover to Antwerp.”

  “I know nothing about that, Herr major. I have told you everything I know. No vessel can go further up the Schelde than Ternenzen, and I can unload at Breskens just as well as at Ternenzen and send the goods by rail to Antwerp.”

  “Now, Brandelaar, go upstairs again and send M. Penurot down to me.”

  With heavy tread the skipper mounted the narrow ladder, and almost at once Penurot entered. Heideck, with a wave of his hand, invited him to sit down opposite and began to speak.

  “From what I have seen of Brandelaar I am convinced that he is an arrant rascal. It was very imprudent on your part to have anything to do with a man like that. If you are brought before a court-martial, you have him to thank for it.”

  “For God’s sake, Herr major—my life isn’t in danger? I implore you, have pity on me!”

  “It will matter little whether personally I have pity on you. You will go with me to the Gefion and be brought before a court-martial at Flushing. The fact that you have been Brandelaar’s accomplice cannot be got rid of. He has just now declared definitely that the two loaves were intended for you.”

  “For me? That is a vile lie. I have never received a penny from the English.”

  “Well—but, without special reasons, a man doesn’t amuse himself by paying a visit to a herring-smack at night. The cargo could have been delivered to Herr Eberhard Amelungen without your inspection.”

  “Eberhard Amelungen?”

  “Don’t pretend to be so ignorant. Brandelaar has already confessed so much, that you can easily admit the rest. Amelungen and Van Spranekhuizen are in a conspiracy to carry on a regular system of espionage in the interests of England. You are used as an agent, and Maaning Brandelaar is trying to get out of it by sacrificing you.”

  “So it seems, really. But I am quite innocent, Herr major. I know nothing of all that. The last time Brandelaar left the Schelde, he came to see me here in Breskens and told me that he would soon be back again and that it would be a good business for me.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Three weeks ago. I had no reason to distrust Brandelaar, since he had often supplied goods for Amelungen.”

  “But why did you come on board to-day?”

  “Brandelaar wanted it. He said I could look at the cargo and discuss whether it should be unloaded here or at Terne
nzen.”

  “Now, M. Penurot, I will tell you something. You will go with me to Antwerp, where I will call on Herr Amelungen and convince myself whether you are really as innocent as you say, and as I shall be glad to believe you are for the present.”

  The grocer appeared to be getting still more uneasy.

  “But you won’t take me before the court-martial?”

  “That remains to be seen. I can promise you nothing. Everything will depend on the information which Herr Amelungen gives me about you, and on your future behaviour. I will now have Brandelaar down again, and you will remain silent while I speak to him.”

  “Of course, I will do everything the Herr major tells me.”

  Brandelaar having been summoned to the cabin, Heideck addressed him as follows:—

  “Listen to me, Maaning Brandelaar. I know everything, and I need not tell you that it is more than enough to put your neck in danger according to martial law. But I will show you a way to save yourself. Go to-morrow to Ternenzen and wait there till you hear from me. I will make it easy for you to execute your commission; I will write the answers to Admiral Hollway’s questions myself. You can then take them to Dover to your customer. But at the same time I will give you a number of questions, to which you will bring me trustworthy answers at Flushing. If you carry out this mission to my satisfaction, I will pay you 3,000 marks on your return. As you will also have your fee from the Admiral, you will make a very good thing out of it. But beware of attempting to betray me; it would turn out an extremely bad job for you. I know where I can catch you, and you would be imprisoned as soon as you showed yourself anywhere on the Dutch coast. So you had better think it over carefully.”

  The skipper’s broad countenance had gradually brightened, and at these words a cunning grin overspread his features.