"Oh, my friend, the name is writ all over you. A blind beggar's card is not so readable. Sighs, fits of silence, eager hearkening for means of flight—a dozen signs make it plain. And besides, what could take a wounded man, still ailing no little, across the fen to Sandtoft, of all places in the world—but Love, the strongest of the most ancient gods, venerable as Chaos and Mother Earth and the Nether Deep?"
"You speak like a votary," said I.
"Ay, of the god; not, like you, of the priestess. The deity is one; his ministrants are many."
To me this was a jangling and jarring note, but there came to my ears the sound of Dame Drury's voice in grumbling welcome of her husband, so I bade my new friend "Good day," and hurried downstairs.
I had difficulty in getting the loan of the punt. Drury had this, that, and the other to do to-morrow. There was "a plenty of fowl" about, which would fetch good prices so early in the season, and he distrusted my assurance of return that evening; and even hinted doubt of ever seeing the punt or me again, if he allowed me to take it to Sandtoft, where "the Dutchees are as mad as bees when their skep has been upset." "Would he sell it outright?" I asked, impatient of the waste of time in wrangling. No; he wouldn't do that, because the price of the punt would not cover the loss of time while a new one was being put together. "Take any price you please," said I, and at five o'clock stepped into the punt, and began to pole down stream. I could not ply two poles by reason of the weakness of my right arm, so I got forward but slowly. Several times I was compelled to use both arms to the single pole where the water was very shallow, or the weeds grew rank; and heavy work I found it, so heavy that after an hour's toil, I was taken with a kind of swimming in the head, and lay down in the bottom of the punt to rest awhile. I know not whether I fell asleep or fainted, but when I came out of slumber or swoon, the light had faded, and a gentle shower was falling. I suppose the rain on my face awoke me. I pushed on, but so feebly that darkness overtook me before I reached Sandtoft, for the thickening rainclouds cut off the twilight. When I came to the settlement I got out at the first convenient spot for landing, and, having moored the punt, walked slowly and cautiously along the bank to find the gate. Suddenly a lantern flashed in my face, and my arms were seized from behind and pinioned. My captors hurried me forward, exchanging a few words in their own language, but saying nothing to me.
Shortly, I was thrust into a bare room, lighted by a lamp slung from a hook in the planking overhead, where Vliet and three others sat, smoking, round a table, on which stood two or three square bottles, several glasses, and a pitcher of water. The closeness of the room with the reek of tobacco and odour of Schiedam was choking and sickening, and all things began to go round; but I pulled myself together by strong effort of will, for something warned me that I must have my wits about me here. While Vliet and the others talked in Dutch, one of the men loosed my bonds, and on looking down I saw my right hand was red, and then felt a slow trickling down the arm. Now I understood my faintness. My wound had broken out again, and loss of blood had weakened me.
The man who had cut the cord which tied my arms now searched me, as if he supposed I had weapons hidden under my clothing. In so doing, he stripped off my coat, and finding my shirt sleeve soaked in blood, looked in my face narrowly, and then made some remark to Vliet, which caused him to take the lantern from one of the men and poke it against my nose. He sat down after the inspection, and laughed until his face grew purple. Then he poured out a huge glassful of spirit, half of which he took down at a gulp, and laughed again. When his fit was over, I said—
"You recognise me, I believe, Mynherr Vliet?"
He could speak English, I found, though abominably, and with a drunken stutter.
"Oh yes, mister—devil take your name! I know you."