“I want you,” he says, while Guy’s hand quietly seeks the dirk in his bosom. “I want you to take one of the state barges down to Sandvliet to-night.”
“Ah!”
“Yes, I was unable to obtain leave to remain out of [[106]]barracks to-night at the provost marshal’s office, and went to the Citadel to get it. While there I was summoned to Doña de Alva. She remarked to me that Captain Amati, who had brought her barge up so successfully last night, was just the man to take it down this evening. It goes on some errand of the young lady. She charged me to give this note to you, and to conduct you through the Citadel to the place of landing the night before, where the rowers and a new crew will be ready—I believe the Beggars of the Sea killed the last.”
With this he presents a sealed letter to the Englishman in the handwriting that he loves.
Breaking the seal of Alva, Guy hastily reads:
My Dearest Guido.
I can’t help calling you that. It is, perhaps, rash, but that is how I think of you.
It is just now known to me that the gates of the city are closed to egress to-night, information of some daring pirate or outlaw being concealed in Antwerp having reached headquarters. Knowing the necessity of an officer absent without leave reaching Middelburg before his commission, I am despatching my galley to my country house at Sandvliet to bring up some articles left behind in the hasty retreat of last night. Will you not be kind enough to steer the boat down the Schelde as successfully as you steered it up?
Ensign de Busaco will pass you through the Citadel.
Praying that God will watch over you and bring you back to me with as much love in your heart as I have for you in mine, I am, as I ever shall be, your
Hermoine.
“You look happy,” laughs De Busaco, “at an order for a long night boat journey?”
“I am always at the orders of Doña de Alva,” remarks Guy. “Come!”
“Quick,” replies the little Ensign. “I’ve got my leave to stay out of barracks this night. The sooner we get through with this the sooner I am free for my affair.”
So, Guy hastily settling his score, the three leave the Painted Inn and making their way to Beguin street, stride rapidly along that thoroughfare to the Esplanade, where Oliver, in low tones, and with hearty grasp, says: “Good-bye.”