CHAPTER III.
"Lo! now in yonder deep and gloomy cave Th' unholy hags their spells of mischief weave— Raise the infernal chant; while at the sound Dread Spirits seem to dance the caldron round, And fiends of awful shape from earth and hell With direful portents aid the magic spell."
C. Donald McLeod.
When Robert Lester, now Kyd the pirate, left the presence of Kate Bellamont, without seeking the stone steps that descended to the lawn, he leaped from the low balcony to the ground, and strode, at a pace made quick and firm by the strength of his feelings, towards a gate that opened into the lane in which the inn of Jost Stoll was situated. Avoiding the narrow street, though it was silent and deserted, he turned his footsteps aside towards the beach, and, winding round a ledge of rocks wildly piled together, with a few shrubs and a dwarf cedar or two clinging in the clefts, he came to the mouth of the canal, where his boat lay half hidden in the shadow of a huge overhanging rock.
"Who comes," challenged one of several men that were standing around.
He was too much wrapped in his own dark thoughts to hear or give reply, and was only roused to a consciousness of his position by the cocking of pistols and the repetition of the challenge in a sharper tone.
"The Silver Arrow!" he answered, briefly.
"The captain! Advance!" was the reply.
"Ho, Lawrence, you are alert. Yet it should be so, for we are surrounded by enemies. You must learn, nevertheless, to challenge lower under the guns of a fort. By the moving of lights and show of bustle on the ramparts, we have already drawn the attention of the honest Dutch warriors whom our English governors have seen fit to retain to man their works."
"It's to save linstocks, by making them touch off the pieces with their pipes," said Lawrence; "their powder always smells more of tobacco than sulphur."
"A truce to this. Man your oars and put off," said Kyd, in a stern tone.