“I go the quickest way.”
“Past the sentries of Lillo? You will be questioned! You must have a passport!” Then the merchant whispers in warning tones: “Are you going as Captain Andrea Blanco or as Colonel Guido Amati, or as—the other man?” Bodé Volcker’s face is white as he makes this last remark.
“As—My God! I must go as Colonel Guido Amati!”
“Do you think you’ll pass the fort at Lillo with a passport for Colonel Guido Amati, who has been marked dead upon the army rolls three or four months?” says Bodé Volcker, bringing the common sense of the merchant to bear upon the romance of the sailor. “A year ago you might have passed Lillo as Captain Guido Amati, but as Colonel Guido Amati, a man of mark, a man who rode at the head of his regiment, a man who has been mentioned in general orders as dead—no, no, you’ll throw away your life and not gain the girl. You’ll throw away the treasure and sacrifice my life.”
“You’re right,” says Chester moodily, “but see her I must.”
“Then go by boat, that’s your only way,” returns Niklaas.
“Very well, I’ll take the Esperanza’s gig; it is a quick pulling boat, and I’ll take every care of myself—for her sake most of all,” answers Chester. “It wouldn’t do for her to again mourn for Guido Amati. Meantime do what you can up here. I’ll meet you to-morrow morning.”
With these words Captain Andrea Blanco strides out of the counting room of the merchant Bodé Volcker and going on board the Esperanza gives himself the appearance of Colonel Guido Amati as much as he can; for his wounds have made him pale, and desperate exertions and desperate anxiety have brought lines of care upon his brow.
Notwithstanding this, as his boat, propelled by six stalwart rowers, catching the ebb tide, goes down the Schelde, there is a gleam of intense happiness and expectant joy, upon the face of the dashing young man. [[211]]
This happiness is softer and more enraptured as with jaunty step and purple mantle, in satin and silk, and rigged up as cavalier to meet his lady love, Chester steps out of his boat on the dyke about half a mile west of Sandvliet, where there is a pretty landing-stage and ornamental steps running down to the water for lady’s use and a charming walk shaded by poplars leading up to the exquisite chateau built by my lord of Alva for his daughter’s summering.