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Literature Post > Masefield, John > Martin Hyde the Duke's Messenger > Chapter 8

Martin Hyde the Duke's Messenger by Masefield, John - Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII. I MEET MY FRIEND

"Give it me," I said. "Give it me, Longshore Jack. Before they
catch us." To my horror, I saw that the creature was a woman in a
man's clothes. She took me for one of her gang. She was too much
frightened to think things out. "I thought you were one of the
other lot," she gasped, as she handed me a pocketbook.

"Didn't he get the letters, too?" I asked at a venture. "No," she
said, sitting up, now, panting, to take a good look at me. I
stared at her for a moment. I, myself, was out of breath.

"They're going," I said, hearing the noise of the pursuit passing
away in the check. "I'll just spy out the land." I opened the
door till it was an inch or two ajar, so that I could see what
was going on outside. "They're gone," I said again, still keeping
up the pretence of being on her side. As I said it, I glanced
back to fix her features on my memory. She had a pale, resolute
face with fierce eyes, which seemed fierce from pain, not from
any cruelty of nature. It was a pleasant face, as far as one
could judge of a face made up to resemble a dirty pedlar's face.

Seeing my look, she seemed to watch me curiously, raising herself
up, till she stood unsteadily by the wall. "When did you come
in?" she said, meaning, I suppose, when did I join the gang.

"Last week," I answered, swinging the door a little further open.
Footsteps were coming rapidly along the road. I heard excited
voices, I made sure that it was the search party going back to
the schooner.

"Digame, muchacho," she said in Spanish. It must have been some
sort of pass-word among them. Seeing by my face that I did not
understand she repeated the words softly. Then at that very
instant she was on me like a tigress with a knife. I slipped to
one side instinctively. I suppose I half saw her as the knife
went home. She grabbed at the pocket-book, which I swung away
from her hand. The knife went deep into the door, with a drive
which must have jarred her to the shoulder. "Give it me," she
gasped, snatching at me like a fury. I dodged to one side, up the
court, horribly scared. She followed, raving like a mad thing,
quite ghastly white under her paint, wholly forgetful that she
was acting a man's part. When once we were dodging I grew calmer.
I led her to the end of the court, then ducked. She charged in,
blindly, against the wall, while I raced to the door, very
pleased with my success. I did not hear her follow me, so, when I
got to the door, I looked back. Just at that instant, there came
a smart report. The creature had fired at me with a pistol; the
bullet sent a dozen chips of brick into my face. I went through
the door just as the shot from the second barrel thudded into the
lintel. Going through hurriedly I ran into Mr. Jermyn, as he came
round the corner with the captain. "I've got it," I said. "Look
out. She's in there."

"Who?" they said. "The thief? A woman?" They did not stay, but
thrust through the door.

Mr. Jermyn dragged me through with them. "You say you've got it,
Martin?"

"Yes," I answered, handing him the book. "Here it is."

"That's a mercy," he said. "Now then, where's the thief?"

I had been out of the court, I suppose thirty seconds; it cannot
have been more. Yet, when I went back with those two men, the
woman had gone, as though she had never been there. "She's over
the wall," cried the captain, running up the court. But when we
looked over the wall there was no trace of her, except some
slight scratches upon the brick, where her toes had rested. On
the other side of the wall was a tulip bed full of rows of late
flowering tulips, not yet out. There was no footmark on the
earth. Plainly she had not jumped down on the other side.
"Check," said captain. "Is she in one of the houses?"

But the houses on the left side of the court (on the other side
the court had no houses, only brick walls seven feet high) were
all old, barred in, deserted mansions, with padlocks on the
doors. She could not possibly have entered one of those.

"They're old plague-houses," said Mr. Jermyn.

"They've been deserted twenty years now, since the great
sickness."

"Yes?" said the captain, carelessly. "But where can she have got
to?"

"Well. It beats me," Mr. Jermyn replied. "But perhaps she ran
along the wall to the end, then jumped down into the lane. That's
the only thing she could have done. By the way, boy, you were
shot at. Were you hit?"

"No," I answered. "But I got jolly near it. The bullet went just
by me."

"Ah," he said. "Take this. You'll have to be armed in future."

He handed me a beautiful little double-barrelled pocket pistol.
"Be careful," he said. "It's loaded. Put it in your pocket. You
musn't be seen carrying arms here. That would never do."

"Boy," said the captain. "D'ye think you could shin up that
water-spout, so as to look over the parapet there, on to the
leads of the houses?"

"Yes," I said. "I think I could, from the top of the wall."

"Why," Mr. Jermyn said. "She couldn't have got up there."

"An active woman might," the captain said. "You see, the
water-spout is only six feet long from the wall to the eaves.
There's good footing on the brackets. It's three quick steps.
Then one vigorous heave over the parapet. There you are, snug as
a purser's billet, out of sight."

"No woman could have done it," Mr. Jermyn said. "Besides, look
here. We can't go further in the matter. We've recovered the
book. We must get back to the ship."

So the scheme of climbing up the water pipe came to nothing. We
walked off together wondering where the woman had got to. Long
afterwards I learned that she heard all that we said by the wall
there. While we talked, she was busy reloading her pistol,
waiting. At the door of the court we paused to pull out her knife
from where it stuck. It was a not very large dagger-knife, with a
small woman's grip, inlaid with silver, but bound at the guard
with gold clasps. The end of the handle was also bound with gold.
The edge of the broad, cutting blade curved to a long sharp
point. The back was straight. On the blade was an inscription in
Spanish, "Veneer o Morir" ("To conquer or die"), with the maker's
name, Luis Socartes, Toledo, surrounded by a little twirligig. I
have it in my hand as I write. I value it more than anything in
my possession. It serves to remind me of a very remarkable woman.

"There, Martin," said Mr. Jermyn. "There's a curiosity for you.
Get one of the seamen to make a sheath for it. Then you can wear
it at your back on your belt like a sailor."

As we walked back to the ship, I told Mr. Jermyn all that I had
seen of the morning's adventure. He said that the whole, as far
as he could make it out, had been a carefully laid plot of some
of James the Second's spies. He treated me as an equal now. He
seemed to think that I had saved the Duke from a very dreadful
danger. The horsey man, he said, was evidently a trusted secret
agent, who must have made friends with the carpenter on some
earlier visit of the schooner. He had planned his raid on the
Duke's papers very cleverly. He had arrived on board when no one
was about. He had bribed the carpenter (so we conjectured,
piecing the evidence together) to shout fire, when we were busy
at breakfast. Then, when all was ready, this woman, whoever she
was, had gone forward to the bo'sun's locker, where she had set
fire to half a dozen of those fumigating chemical candles which
she had brought in her box. The candles at once sputtered out
immense volumes of evil smelling smoke. The carpenter, watching
his time, raised the alarm of fire, while the horsey man, hidden
below, waited till all were on deck to force the spring-locks on
the Duke's cabin-door. When once he had got inside the cabin, he
had worked with feverish speed, emptying all the drawers, ripping
up the mattress, even upsetting the books from the bookshelf, all
in about two minutes. Luckily the Duke kept nearly all his secret
papers about his person. The pocket-book was the only important
exception. This, a very secret list of all the Western gentry
ready to rise, was locked in a casket in a locked drawer.

"It shows you," said Mr. Jermyn, "how well worked, that he did
all this in so little time. If you hadn't fallen on the nail,
Martin, our friends in the West would have fared badly. It was
very clever of you to bring us out of the danger." When we got
back aboard the schooner, we found, as we had expected, that the
men in league with the horsey man had deserted. Neither carpenter
nor boatswain was to be found. Both had bolted off in pursuit of
the horsey man at the moment of alarm, leaving their chests
behind them. I suppose they thought that the plot had succeeded.
I dare say, too, that the horsey man, who was evidently well
known to them both, had given them orders to desert in the
confusion, so that he might suck their brains at leisure
elsewhere. Altogether, the morning's work from breakfast time
till ten was as full of moving incident as a quiet person's life.
I have never had a more exciting two hours. When I sat down to my
own breakfast (which I ate in the cabin among the gentlemen) I
seemed to have grown five years older. All three men made much of
me. They brought out all sorts of sweetmeats for me, saying I had
saved them from disaster. The Duke was especially kind. "Why,
Jermyn," he said, "we thought we'd found a clever messenger; but
we've found a guardian angel." He gave me a belt made of green
Spanish leather, with a wonderfully wrought steel clasp. "Here,"
he said. "Wear this, Martin. Here's a holster on it for your
pistol. These pouches hold cartridges. Then this sheath at the
back will hold your dagger, the spoils of war."

"There," said the captain. "Now I'll give you something else to
fit you out. I'll give you a pocket flask. What's more, I'll
teach you how to make cartridges. We'll make a stock this
morning."

While he was speaking, the mate came down to tell us how sorry he
was that it was through him that the horsey man was shown over
the ship. "He told me he'd important letters for Mr. Scott," he
said, "so I thought it was only right to show him about, while
you was dressing. The carpenter came to me. 'This gentleman's got
letters for Mr. Scott,' he said. So I was just taken in. He was
such a smooth spoken chap. After I got to know, I could 'a' bit
my head off." They spoke kindly to the man, who was evidently
distressed at his mistake. They told him to give orders for a
watchman to walk the gangway all day long in future, which to me
sounded like locking the stable door too late. After that, I
learned how to make pistol cartridges until the company prepared
to go ashore. The chests of the deserters were locked up in the
lazaret, or store cupboard, so that if the men came aboard again
they might not take away their things.

"Before we start," the Duke said, "I must just say this. We know,
from this morning's work, that the spies of the English court
know much more than we supposed. We may count it as certain that
this ship is being watched at this moment. Now, we must put them
off the scent, because I must see Argyle without their knowledge.
It is not much good putting to sea again, as a blind, for they
can't help knowing that we are here to see Argyle. They have only
to watch Argyle's house to see us enter, sooner or later. I
suggest this as a blind. We ought to ride far out into the
country to Zaandam, say, by way of Amsterdam. That's about twenty
miles. Meanwhile Argyle shall come aboard here. The schooner
shall take him up to Egmont; he'll get there this afternoon. He
must come aboard disguised though. At Zaandam, we three will
separate, Jermyn will personate me, remaining in Zaandam. The boy
shall carry letters in a hurry to Hoorn; dummy letters, of
course. While I shall creep off to meet Argyle--somewhere else.
If we start in a hurry they won't have time to organize a
pursuit. There are probably only a few secret agents waiting for
us here. What do you say?"

"Yes," said Mr. Jermyn. "I myself should say this. Send the boy
on at once to Egmont with a note to Stendhal the merchant there.
They won't suspect the boy. They won't bother to follow him,
probably. Tell Stendhal to send Out a galliot to take Argyle off
the schooner while at sea. The galliot can land Argyle somewhere
on the coast. That would puzzle them rarely. She can then ply to
England, or elsewhere, so that her men won't have a chance of
talking. As for the schooner, she can proceed north to anchor at
the Texel till further orders. At the same time, we could ride
south to Noordwyk; find a barge there going north. Hide in her
cabin till she arrives, say, at Alkmaar. Meet Argyle somewhere
near there. Then remain hidden till it is time to move. We can
set all the balls moving, by sticking up a few bills in the
towns." I did not know what he meant by this. Afterwards I
learned that the conspirators took their instructions from
advertisements for servants, or of things lost, which were stuck
up in public places. To the initiated, these bills, seemingly
innocent, gave warning of the Duke's plan. Very few people in
Holland (not more than thirty I believe) were in the secret of
his expedition. Most of these thirty knew other loyalists, to
whom, when the time came, they gave the word. When the time came
we were only about eighty men all told. That is not a large
force, is it, for the invasion of a populous kingdom?

They talked it out for a little while, making improvements on Mr.
Jermyn's plan. They had a map by them during some of the time.
Before they made their decision, they turned me out of the cabin,
so that I know not to this day what the Duke did during the next
few days. I know only this, that he disappeared from his enemies,
so completely that the spies were baffled. Not only James's
spies, that is nothing: but the spies of William of Orange were
baffled. They knew no more of his whereabouts than I knew. They
had to write home that he had gone, they could not guess where;
but possibly to Scotland to sound the clans. All that I know of
his doings during the next week is this. After about half an hour
of debate, the captain went ashore to one of the famous inns in
the town. From this inn, :he despatched, one by one, at brief
intervals, three horses, each to a different inn along the Egmont
highway. He gave instructions to the ostlers who rode them to
wait outside the inns named till the gentlemen called for them.
He got the third horse off, in this quiet way, at the end of
about an hour. I believe that he then sent a printed book (with
certain words in it underlined, so as to form a message) by the
hand of a little girl, to the Duke of Argyle's lodging. I have
heard that it was a book on the training of horses to do tricks.
There was probably some cipher message in it, as well as the
underlined message. Whatever it was, it gave the Duke his
instructions.