But he has not much time to think of this; he has called to the rowers and the boat is now under way and gliding through the moat that surrounds the great bastions of the Spaniard.
Five minutes after they are in the open river, and, though the tide is against them, they are en route toward Sandvliet and safety. Keeping well across by the further bank of the river they pass unchallenged, though Guy can see the lights of several guard and patrol boats moving among the shipping on the city’s edge.
“Give way, my lads,” cries the Englishman enthusiastically, “and I’ll stand a cask of wine when we reach Sandvliet.”
Thus adjured the men bend to their oars, while the cockswain of the barge gets into quite friendly chat with Chester, telling him that this place they are going to is a beautiful summer chateau used sometimes by Alva himself, but mostly by his daughter, to enjoy the fresh sea breezes blowing up the Schelde estuary during the hot months of summer.
“We came down very early this year,” he says, “the weather was so pleasant. Fortunately I was in Antwerp last night, otherwise I would have been done to death with poor Antonio and the rest by those murdering Beggars of the Sea.”
The conversation of this man whiles away the time, and in three hours, the wind aiding them a little, they are off the Fort of Lillo.
Here four guard boats are on duty, one of them stopping their barge. As the Costa Guarda comes alongside, her commander recognizing a state barge of Alva, and Guy giving him the new words of the night, which have apparently been sent hurriedly down to Lillo, the captain of the boat wishes Chester God-speed, remarking: “Take care of yourself. It is reported that the First of the English is somewhere down below. Two galleys, the Santa Cruz and the Holy Trinity, go down to see if they can capture this pirate to-morrow morning.”
“Thank you for the information,” replies Guy, as his boat dashes on its way.
At the last dyke left standing by the flood below Fort [[109]]Lillo, Guy sees three lanterns displayed in line and knows his boat is awaiting him. He suddenly says: “I’ve piloted you through the worst of the journey. You are now within a mile of the country place. What is it named?”
“Bella Vista,” replies the cockswain.