The dawn broke in a flood of yellow light on the surface of the HaarlemMere. Presently from the direction of the Spanish vessel, which wasstill burning sullenly, came a sound of beating oars. Now the threewatchers in the _Swallow_ saw two boatloads of armed men, one of themwith a small sail set, swooping down towards them. When they were withina hundred yards Martha muttered, "It is time," and Foy ran hither andthither with a candle firing the slow-matches; also to make sure he castthe candle among a few handfuls of oil-soaked shreds of canvas that layready at the bottom of the hatchway. Then with the others, without theSpaniards being able to see them, he slipped over the side of the littlevessel into the shallow water that was clothed with tall reeds, andwaded through it to the island.
Once on firm land, they ran a hundred yards or so till they reached aclump of swamp willows, and took shelter behind them. Indeed, Foy didmore, for he climbed the trunk of one of the willows high enough to seeover the reeds to the ship _Swallow_ and the lake beyond. By this timethe Spaniards were alongside the _Swallow_, for he could hear theircaptain hailing him who leant over the taffrail, and commanding all onboard to surrender under pain of being put to death. But from the man inthe stern came no answer, which was scarcely strange, seeing that it wasthe dead pilot, Hans, to whom they talked in the misty dawn, whose bodyMartin had lashed thus to deceive them. So they fired at the pilot, whotook no notice, and then began to clamber on board the ship. Presentlyall the men were out of the first boat--that with the sail set onit--except two, the steersman and the captain, whom, from his dress anddemeanour, Foy took to be the one-eyed Spaniard, Ramiro, although ofthis he was too far off to make sure. It was certain, however, that thisman did not mean to board the _Swallow_, for of a sudden he put his boatabout, and the wind catching the sail soon drew him clear of her.
"That fellow is cunning," said Foy to Martin and Martha below, "and Iwas a fool to light the tarred canvas, for he has seen the smoke drawingup the hatchway."
"And having had enough fire for one night, thinks that he will leave hismates to quench it," added Martin.
"The second boat is coming alongside," went on Foy, "and surely the mineshould spring."
"Scarcely time yet," answered Martin, "the matches were set for sixminutes."
Then followed a silence in which the three of them watched and listenedwith beating hearts. In it they heard a voice call out that thesteersman was dead, and the answering voice of the officer in the boat,whom Foy had been right in supposing to be Ramiro, warning them tobeware of treachery. Now suddenly arose a shout of "A mine! a mine!" forthey had found one of the lighted fuses.
"They are running for their boat," said Foy, "and the captain is sailingfarther off. Heavens! how they scream."
As the words passed his lips a tongue of flame shot to the very skies.The island seemed to rock, a fierce rush of air struck Foy and shook himfrom the tree. Then came a dreadful, thunderous sound, and lo! the skywas darkened with fragments of wreck, limbs of men, a grey cloud ofsalt and torn shreds of sail and cargo, which fell here, there, andeverywhere about and beyond them.
In five seconds it was over, and the three of them, shaken but unhurt,were clinging to each other on the ground. Then as the dark pall ofsmoke drifted southward Foy scrambled up his tree again. But now therewas little to be seen, for the _Swallow_ had vanished utterly, and formany yards round where she lay the wreckage-strewn water was black asink with the stirred mud. The Spaniards had gone also, nothing of themwas left, save the two men and the boat which rode unhurt at a distance.Foy stared at them. The steersman was seated and wringing his hands,while the captain, on whose armour the rays of the rising sun now shonebrightly, held to the mast like one stunned, and gazed at the placewhere, a minute before, had been a ship and a troop of living men.Presently he seemed to recover himself, for he issued an order, whereonthe boat's head went about, and she began to glide away.
"Now we had best try to catch him," said Martha, who, by standing up,could see this also.
"Nay, let him be," answered Foy, "we have sent enough men to theiraccount," and he shuddered.
"As you will, master," grumbled Martin, "but I tell you it is notwise. That man is too clever to be allowed to live, else he would haveaccompanied the others on board and perished with them."
"Oh! I am sick," replied Foy. "The wind from that powder has shaken me.Settle it as you will with Mother Martha and leave me in peace."
So Martin turned to speak with Martha, but she was not there. Chucklingto herself in the madness of her hate and the glory of this greatrevenge, she had slipped away, knife in hand, to discover whetherperchance any of the powder-blasted Spaniards still lived. Fortunatelyfor them they did not, the shock had killed them all, even those who atthe first alarm had thrown themselves into the water. At lengthMartin found her clapping her hands and crooning above a dead body, soshattered that no one could tell to what manner of man it had belonged,and led her away.
But although she was keen enough for the chase, by now it was toolate, for, travelling before the strong wind, Ramiro and his boat hadvanished.
Lysbeth, a Tale of the Dutch Page 32
