CHAPTER IX. I SEE MORE OF MY FRIEND
After waiting for about an hour in the schooner, I was sent
ashore with a bottle-basket, with very precise instructions in
what I was to do. I was to follow the road towards Haarlem, till
I came to the inn near the turning of the Egmont highway. There I
was to leave my bottle-basket, asking (or, rather, handing over a
written request) for it to be filled with bottles of the very
best gin. After paying for this, I was to direct it to be sent
aboard the schooner by the ostler (who was waiting at the door
with a horse) the last of those ordered by the captain. I was
then to walk the horse along the Egmont road, till I saw or heard
an open carriage coming behind. Then I was to trot, keeping ahead
of the carriage, but not far from it, till I was past the third
tavern. After that, if I was not recalled by those in the
carriage, I was free to quicken up my pace. I was then to ride
straight ahead, till I got to Egmont, a twenty mile ride to the
north. There I was to deliver up my horse at the Zwolle-Haus inn,
before enquiring for M. Stendhal, the East India merchant. To him
I was to give a letter, which for safety was rolled into a blank
cartridge in my little pistol cartridge box. After that, I was to
stay at M. Stendhal's house, keeping out of harm's way, till I
received further orders from my masters.
You may be sure that I thought myself a fine figure of gallantry
as I stepped out with my bottle-basket. I was a King's secret
agent. I had a King's letter hidden about my person. I was armed
with fine weapons, which I longed to be using. I had been under
fire for my King's sake. I was also still tingling with my King's
praise. It was a warm, sunny April day; that was another thing to
fill me with gladness. Soon I should be mounted on a nag, riding
out in a strange land, on a secret mission, with a pocket full of
special service money. Whatever I had felt in the few days of the
sea-passage was all forgotten now. I did not even worry about not
knowing the language. It would keep me from loitering to chatter.
My schoolboy French would probably be enough for all purposes if
I vent astray. I was "to avoid chance acquaintances, particularly
if they spoke English." That was my last order. Repeating it to
myself I walked on briskly.
I had not gone more than three hundred yards upon my way, when a
lady, very richly dressed, cantered slowly past me on a fine bay
mare. She was followed by a gentleman in scarlet, riding on a
little black Arab. They had not gone a hundred yards past me when
the Arab picked up a stone. The man dismounted to pick it out,
while the lady rode back to hold the horse, which was a ticklish
job, since he was as fresh as a colt. He went squirming about
like an eel. The man had no hook to pick the stone with; nor
could he get it out by his fingers. I could hear him growling
under his breath in some strange language, while the horse sidled
about as wicked as he could be.
As I approached, the horse grew so troublesome that the man
decided to take him back to the town, to have the stone pulled
there. He was just starting to lead him back when I came up with
them. He asked me some question in a tongue which I did not know.
He probably asked me if I had a hook. I shook my head. The lady
said something to him in French, which made him laugh. Then he
began to lead back the horse towards the town. The lady, after
waving her hand to him, started to ride slowly forward in front
of me. Like most ladies at that time she wore a little black
velvet domino mask over her eyes. All people could ride in those
days; but I remember it occurred to me that this lady rode
beautifully. So many women look like meal-sacks in the saddle.
This one rode as though she were a part of the horse.
She kept about twenty yards ahead of me till I sighted the inn,
where an ostler was walking the little nag which I was to ride.
She halted at the inn-door, looking back towards the town for her
companion. Then, without calling to anybody, she dismounted,
flinging her mare's reins over a hook in the wall. She went into
the inn boldly, drawing her whip through her left hand. When I
entered the inn-door a moment later, she was talking in Dutch to
the landlord, who was bowing to her as though she were a great
lady.
I handed over my bottle-basket, with the letter, to a woman who
served the customers at the drinking bar. Then, as I was going
out to take my horse, the lady spoke to me in broken English.
"Walk my horse, so he not take cold," she said. It was in the
twilight of the passage from the door, so that I could not see
her very clearly, but the voice was certainly like the voice of
the woman who had fired at me in the courtyard. Or was I right?
That voice was on my nerves. It seemed to be the voice of all the
strangers in the town. I looked up at her quickly. She was
masked; yet the grey eyes seemed to gleam beyond the velvet, much
as that woman's eyes had gleamed. Her mouth; her chin; the
general poise of her body, all convinced me. She was the woman
who had carried away the book from Longshore Jack. I was quite
sure of it. I pretended not to understand her. I dropped my eyes,
without stopping; she flicked me lightly with her whip to draw my
attention.
"Walk my horse," she said again, with a little petulance in her
voice. I saw no way out of it. If I refused, she would guess (if
she did not know already) that I was not there only for bottles
of gin. "Oui, mademoiselle," I said. "Oui. Merci." So out I went
to where the mare stood. She followed me to the door to see me
take the mare. There was no escape; she was going to delay me at
the door till the man returned. I patted the lovely creature's
neck. I was very well used to horses, for in the Broad Country a
man must ride almost as much as he must row. But I was not so
taken up with this mare that I did not take good stock of the
lady, who, for her part, watched me pretty narrowly, as though
she meant never to forget me. I began to walk the beast in the
road in front of the inn, wondering how in the world I was to get
out of the difficulty before the Duke's carriage arrived. There
was the woman watching me, with a satirical smile. She was
evidently enjoying the sight of my crestfallen face.
Now in my misery a wild thought occurred to me. I began to time
my walking of the mare so that I was walking towards Sandfoort,
while the other horse-boy was walking with my nag towards Egmont
on the other side of the inn. I had read that in desperate cases
the desperate remedy is the only measure to be tried. While I was
walking away from the inn I drew the dagger, the spoils of war. I
drew it very gently as though I were merely buttoning my
waistcoat. Then with one swift cut I drew it nine-tenths through
the girth. I did nothing more for that turn, though I only bided
my time. After a turn or two more, the other horse-boy was called
up to the inn by the lady to receive a drink of beer. No doubt
she was going to question him (as he drank) about the reason for
his being there. He walked up leisurely, full of smiles at the
beer, leaving his nag fast to a hook in the wall some dozen yards
from the door. This was a better chance than I had hoped for; so
drawing my dagger, I resolved to put things to the test. I ripped
the reins off the mare close to the bit. Then with a loud shout
followed by a whack in the flank, I frightened that lovely mare
right into them, almost into the inn-door. Before they knew what
had happened I was at my own horse's head swiftly casting off the
reins from the hook. Before they had turned to pursue me, I was
in the saddle, going at a quick trot towards Egmont, while the
mare was charging down the road behind me, with her saddle under
her belly, giving her the fright of her life.
An awful thought came to me. "Supposing the lady is not the
English spy, what an awful thing I have done. Even if she be,
what right have I to cut her horse's harness? They may put me in
prison for it. Besides, what an ass I have been. If she is what I
think, she will know now that I am her enemy, engaged on very
special service." Looking back at the inn-door, I saw a party of
people gesticulating in the road. A man was shouting to me.
Others seemed to be laughing. Then, to my great joy, round the
turn of the road came an open carriage with two horses, going at
a good pace. There came my masters. All was well. I chuckled to
myself as I thought of the lady's face, when these two passed
her, leaving her without means of following them. When we were
well out of sight of the inn, I rode back to the carriage to
report, wondering how they would receive my news. They received
it with displeasure, saying that I had disobeyed my orders, not
only in acting as I had done; but in coming back to tell them.
They bade me ride on at once to Egmont, before I was arrested for
cutting the lady's harness. As for their own plans, whatever they
were, my action altered them. I do not know what they did. I know
that I turned away with a flea in my ear from the Duke's reproof.
I remember not very much of my ride to Egmont, except that I
seemed to ride most of the time among sand-dunes. I glanced back
anxiously to see if I was being pursued; but no one followed. I
rode on at the steady lope, losing sight of the carriage, passing
by dune after dune, rising windmill after windmill, to drop them
behind me as I rode. In that low country, I had the gleam of the
sea to my left hand, with the sails of ships passing by me. The
wind freshened as I rode, till at last my left cheek felt the
continual stinging of the sand grains, whirled up by the wind
from the bents. Where the sea-beach broadened, I rode on the
sands. The miles dropped past quickly enough, though I rode only
at the lope, not daring to hurry my horse. I kept this my pace
even when going through villages, where the people in their
strange Dutch clothes hurried out to stare at me as I bucketed
by. I passed by acre after acre of bulb-fields, mostly
tulip-fields, now beginning to be full of colour. Once, for ten
minutes, I rode by a broad canal, where a barge with a scarlet
transom drove along under sail, spreading the ripples, keeping
alongside me. The helmsman, who was smoking a pipe as he eyed the
luff of his sail, waved his hand to me, as I loped along beside
him. You would not believe it; but he was one of the Oulton
fishermen, a man whom I had known for years. I had seen that
tan-sailed barge many, many times, rushing up the Waveney from
Somer Leyton, with that same quiet figure at her helm. I would
have loved to have called out "Oh, Hendry. How are you? Fancy
seeing you here." But I dared not betray myself; nor did Hendry
recognize me. After the road swung away from the canal, I watched
that barge as long as she remained in sight, thinking that while
she was there I had a little bit of Oulton by me.
At last, far away I saw the church of Egmont, rising out of a
flat land (not unlike the Broad land) on which sails were passing
in a misty distance. I rose in my stirrups with a holloa; for
now, I thought, I was near my journey's end. I clapped my horse's
neck, promising him an apple for his supper. Then, glancing back,
I looked out over the land. The Oulton barge was far away now, a
patch of dark sail drawing itself slowly across the sky. Out to
sea a great ship seemed to stand still upon the skyline. But
directly behind me, perhaps a mile away, perhaps two miles,
clearly visible on the white straight ribbon of road, a clump of
gallopers advanced, quartering across the road towards me. There
may have been twenty of them all told; some of them seemed to
ride in ranks like soldiers. I made no doubt when I caught sight
of them that they were coming after me, about that matter of the
lady's harness. My first impulse was to pull up, so that Old
Blunderbore, as I had christened my horse, might get his breath.
But I decided not to stop, as I knew how dangerous a thing it is
to stop a horse in his pace after he has settled down to it. had
still three miles to go to shelter. If I could manage the three
miles all would be well. But could manage them? Old Blunderbore
had taken the eighteen miles we had come together very easily.
Now I was thankful that I had not pressed him in the early part
of the ride. But Egmont seemed a long, long way from me. I dared
not begin to gallop so far from shelter. I went loping on as
before, with my heart in my mouth, feeling like one pursued in a
nightmare.
As I looked around, to see these gallopers coming on, while I was
still lollopping forward, I felt that I was tied by the legs,
unable to move. Each instant made it more difficult for me to
keep from shaking up my horse. Continual promptings flashed into
my mind, urging me to bolt down somewhere among the dunes. These
plans I set aside as worthless; for a boy would soon have been
caught among those desolate sandhills. There was no real hiding
among them. You could see any person among them from a mile away.
I kept on ahead, longing for that wonderful minute when I could
hurry my horse, in the wild rush to Egmont town, the final wild
rush, on the nag's last strength, with my pursuers, now going
their fastest, trailing away behind, as their beasts foundered.
The air came singing past. I heard behind me the patter of the
turf sent flying by Old Blunderbore's hoofs. The excitement of
the ride took vigorous hold on me. I felt on glancing back that I
should do it, that I should carry my message, that the Dutchman
should see my mettle, before they stopped me. They were coming up
fast on horses still pretty fresh. I would show them, I said to
myself, what a boy can do on a spent horse.
Old Blunderbore lollopped on. I clapped him on the neck. "Come
up, boy! Up!" I cried. "Egmont--Egmont! Come on, Old
Blunderbore!" The good old fellow shook his head up with a
whinny. He could see Egmont. He could smell the good corn
perhaps. I banged him with my cap on the shoulder. "Up, boy!" I
cried. I felt that even if I died, even if I was shot there, as I
sailed along with my King's orders, I should have tasted life in
that wild gallop.
A countryman carrying a sack put down his load to stare at me,
for now, with only a mile to go, I was going a brave gait, as
fast as Old Blunderbore could manage. I saw the man put up his
hands in pretended terror. The next instant he was far behind,
wondering no doubt why the charging squadron beyond were
galloping after a boy. Now we were rushing at our full speed,
with half a mile, a quarter of a mile, two hundred yards to the
town gates. Carts drew to one side, hearing the clatter. I
shouted to drive away the children. Poultry scattered as though
the king of the foxes was abroad. After me came the thundering
clatter of the pursuit. I could hear distant shouts. The nearest
man there was a quarter of a mile away. A man started out to
catch my rein, thinking that my horse had run away with me. I
banged him in the face with my cap as I swung past him. In
another second, as it seemed, I was pulled up inside the gates.
As far as I remember,- but it is all rather blurred now,--the
place where I pulled up was a sort of public square. I swung
myself off Old Blunderbore just outside a tavern. An ostler ran
up to me at once to hold him. So I gave him a silver piece !what
it was worth I did not know) saying firmly "Zwolle-Haus. Go on.
Zwolle-Haus."
The ostler smiled as he repeated Zwolle-Haus, pointing to the
tavern itself, which, by good luck, was the very house.
"M. Stendhal," I said. "Where is M. Stendhal? Mynheer Stendhal?
Mynheer Stendhal Haus?"
The ostler repeated, "Stendhal? Stendhal? Ah, ja. Stendhal. Da."
He pointed down a narrow street which led, as I could see, to a
canal wharf.
I thanked him in English, giving him another silver piece. Then
off I went, tottering on my toes with the strangeness of walking
after so long a ride. I was not out of the wood yet, by a long
way. At every second, as I hurried on, I expected to hear cries
of my pursuers, as they charged down the narrow street after me.
I tried to run, but my legs felt so funny, it was like running in
a dream. I just felt that I was walking on pillows, instead of
legs. Luckily that little narrow street was only fifty yards
long. It was with a great gasp of relief that I got to the end of
it. When I could turn to my right out of sight of the square I
felt that I was saved. I had been but a minute ahead of the
pursuers outside on the open. Directly after my entrance, some
cart or waggon went out of the town, filling the narrow gateway
full, so that my enemies were forced to pull up. This gave me a
fair start, without which I could hardly have won clear. If it
had not been for that lucky waggon, who knows what would have
happened?
As it was, I tottered along with drawn pistol to the door of a
great house (luckily for me the only house), which fronted the
canal. I must have seemed a queer object, coming in from my ride
like that, in a peaceful Dutch town. If I had chanced upon a
magistrate I suppose I should have been locked up; but luck was
with me on that day. I chanced only on Mynheer Stendhal as he sat
smoking among his tulips in the front of his mansion. He jumped
up with a "God bless me!" when he saw me.
"Mynheer Stendhal?" I asked.
"Yes," he said in good English. "What is it, boy?"
"Take me in quick," I said. "They're after me."
