“By heaven! no,” roared Ramiro splashing towards him with the face of a devil.
For a second Martin stood still. Then he bent, and the sword-cut fell harmless upon his leather jerkin. Now very suddenly his great arms shot out; yes, he seized Ramiro by the thighs and lifted, and there was seen the sight of a man thrown into the air as though he were a ball tossed by a child at play, to fall headlong upon the casks of treasure in the skiff prow where he lay still.
Martin sprang forward and gripped the tiller with his outstretched hand as it glided away from him.
“Row, master, row,” he cried, and Foy rowed madly until they were clear of the last Spaniard, clear by ten yards. Even Elsa snatched a rollock, and with it struck a soldier on the hand who tried to stay them, forcing him to loose his grip; a deed of valour she boasted of with pride all her life through. Then they dragged Martin into the boat.
“Now, you Spanish dogs,” the great man roared back at them as he shook the water from his flaming hair and beard, “go dig for Brant’s treasure and live on ducks’ eggs here till Don Frederic sends to fetch you.”
The island had melted away into a mist of other islands. No living thing was to be seen save the wild creatures and birds of the great lake, and no sound was to be heard except their calling and the voices of the wind and water. They were alone—alone and safe, and there at a distance towards the skyline rose the church towers of Leyden, for which they headed.
“Jufvrouw,” said Martin presently, “there is another flagon of wine in that locker, and we should be glad of a pull at it.”
Elsa, who was steering the boat, rose and found the wine and a horn mug, which she filled and handed first to Foy.
“Here’s a health,” said Foy as he drank, “to the memory of Mother Martha, who saved us all. Well, she died as she would have wished to die, taking a Spaniard for company, and her story will live on.”
“Amen,” said Martin. Then a thought struck him, and, leaving his oars for a minute, for he rowed two as against Foy’s and Adrian’s one, he went forward to where Ramiro lay stricken senseless on the kegs of specie and jewels in the bows, and took from him the great sword Silence. But he strapped the Spaniard’s legs together with his belt.