“That time is coming soon.”
“Soon? Papa doesn’t even know yet.”
“Nevertheless the time is coming soon. I swear to you by this!” And Guy Chester, leaving Hermoine’s [[222]]fair cheeks very blushing and her dark eyes in grandest brunette sparkle, walks down the stairs to the landing place and gets into his gig, in his heart a great determination to make good his words.
Curiously his boat does not drive up the Schelde, but turns the other way, and after a two hours’ hard pull, the tide being against it, makes the Dover Lass, in the cabin of which Chester has long and careful converse with Dalton.
The immediate result of this is that the long boat of his vessel is put overboard fully armed and equipped, and all that night and the succeeding ones patrols the Schelde in front of Dona Hermoine’s country house, guarding the slumbers of Alva’s daughter. For Chester has not as much faith as his sweetheart in the absence of all marauding Gueux, and has made up his mind that no other pirate shall carry off his treasure.
Then aided by the tide, Guy’s boat drives up the Schelde, getting to Antwerp docks in time to give him a few hours’ sleep before daybreak. On the first rise of the sun he is up.
Giving orders to Martin Corker, who is in charge, to hasten the landing of the cargo, which is mostly light silks prepared purposely for quick discharge, Chester receives astonishment.
“We’ve got too few hands to do it very quick,” grumbles the boatswain.
“How so? You’ve thirty!”
“Thirty yesterday—but Bodé Volcker, whose directions you told me to follow, came down before sunset last night and took off twelve men with their duds and bedding to sleep in the town.”