“Then you think Antwerp will rise?”
“No, neither Antwerp nor Brussels, their Spanish garrisons are too strong, but they are weakening them day by day. By the by, I saw our little friend De Busaco march out this afternoon with his company for the north.”
“Then some day Antwerp may have a chance.” [[145]]
“Pish! Antwerp thinks of nothing but trade. Trade destroys patriotism. All the burghers want is to be let alone with their commerce. But take my word for it, this place will suffer more than any other town in the Netherlands. Antwerp will be the man on the fence, and the man on the fence is always shot at from both sides. But I must go to Bodé Volcker’s.”
“Ah! The fair Wilhelmina!” laughs Guy. “I would go with you, but the debonnaire officer Guido Amati appearing as Andrea Blanco, captain of trading vessel, would make old Niklaas open his eyes. But you are anxious to visit him. So good night and—good bye.”
“Yes, I must have word with Mina. God knows what may happen to me in Brussels.” Then the painter adds suddenly: “But I must also take care of you. Promise me, Guido,” his tone is very anxious, “if you cannot sleep here, that you will at least come every night and every morning and see if carrier pigeon has brought message from me. I shall take six birds with me. You know how the little bell rings as they enter the cote. They may be of infinite importance to your safety—to your life, for God knows when Alva’s suspicion may fall upon me.”
So these two men wring hands together.
The next morning the painter leaves for Brussels, taking Achille with him, carrying six pigeons, and Guy goes to unloading his vessel as rapidly as possible.
This he does for three days, taking every precaution. No man leaves his ship at night. No liquor is drunk, for the men know their lives depend upon circumspection, and the hardiest of them shudders as he thinks of Alva’s death. Even Corker himself, tough old mariner that he is, tells his captain that he is nervous and cannot sleep nights.
“It seems,” says the old salt, “so much like havin’ a grip on your windpipe. Sometimes I feels as if I was chokin’, an’ Bill Chucksin scared us last night screechin’: ‘For God’s sake, don’t burn me alive!’ It’s had a bad effect on the men.”