"Just that! just that!" cried her brother. "Is it not wonderful? The Prince is calling the ocean to his aid, since he cannot raise an army. The Spaniards will drown like rats in a tank!" Jacqueline looked doubtful, and not quite convinced.
"But the land!" she said. "It will ruin all the farms and crops between here and the ocean. And think of all the labor that has been spent on the dykes to shut out the sea. When will they ever be able to rebuild these barriers and shut out the waters?"
"That will all come in good time," he replied. "First, it is most important to get rid of this Spanish pest. Did I not hear Mynheer Van der Werf himself mutter, 'Better a drowned land than a lost one!' It was this exclamation that put me on the track."
"Dost say that the Prince sends word that the scheme is already begun?" asked Jacqueline.
"Yes, and I think I know what he has done. Mynheer Buys was telling me that he has but lately been to Kappelle and Schiedam. I will wager that they have pierced the dykes all the way from here to Rotterdam, and even as far as Kappelle. But the tide does not rise high at this time of the year, and there is only an east wind, so that the water flows in slowly. But see! see!" and he pointed far off in the sky, where a tiny speck floated,—a mere golden moat in the sunshine. "I feel certain that is one of our pigeons, Jacqueline. He flies like 'William of Orange.'"
"Thou hast good eyes, Gysbert! I can see nothing but a faint speck. Let us watch it, though." Together they waited in breathless suspense, while the speck drew nearer and assumed more definite shape.
"Look how the left wing droops a trifle. I know that is 'William of Orange'!" cried Gysbert. In an incredibly short time the bird had passed the limits of the city wall, had drawn closer and closer, and at last passed directly over their heads.
So close to the summit of the Hill was its flight that they could faintly hear the whir of its wings. When it was close above them, all doubt as to its identity vanished, and besides, it was making straight in the direction of Belfry Lane. Without waiting a moment they rushed down the hill, their bodies refreshed by their meal of none too well cooked rabbit meat, their courage restored by the hope of speedy deliverance for the city.
They found when they reached the house that the pigeon had been long before them, Vrouw Voorhaas declaring that she had let it in some half an hour previously. Up to the dove-cote they clambered, breathless and excited, to behold "William of Orange" strutting about proudly, preening his ruffled feathers, and cooing plaintively to be fed. Gysbert found a message tied about the bird's leg. As fast as his feet would carry him, he flew to the statehouse to deliver the precious bit of paper into the hands of Adrian Van der Werf. But Jacqueline with a handful of corn coaxed the weary messenger to alight on her arm. When he had eaten his fill, she cuddled his head under her soft chin, and stroked his brilliant plumage.