"'Bout ship!" shouted Drake, bearing down on the long tiller, and the galliot, her sails flapping in the wind like the wings of a wounded bird, came about slowly yet surely, the breeze filled her sails as she lay on the other tack, and once more she slipped into deep water.
But the result of this manoeuvre was bewildering. The blackness that precedes the dawn is always greatest; the shore was invisible, and our sole guide as to direction was the wind, which we hoped still blew from the same quarter. All around were the short, steep, white-crested waves that are so typical of the shallow waters around the Dutch coasts, while our range of vision on all sides was limited to a space of about a hundred yards of heaving water.
"Keep the lead going!" ordered Greville, and feverishly I made cast after cast with my rough-and-ready leadline.
For some time I found no bottom with four fathoms, which was the available length of the line, and I was on the point of giving up the task with a feeling that we were clear of the shallows, when I felt the sinker touch bottom.
The boat was once more put about and the lead kept going, but still the depth remained the same, or, rather, slightly shoaling. Again we tacked, but our efforts to find deeper water were unavailing, and at last the galliot ran aground with a slight shock on a bed of soft sand.
With a falling tide our position was hopeless, and when daylight dawned and objects became visible, we found to our dismay that we were within half a mile of the shore, and in full view of the hamlet from which we had taken the galliot. As we had been sailing for over two hours, we must have doubled backwards and forwards for want of keeping a proper course, our numerous tacks having completely bewildered us.
The inhabitants of the town of Haarlem were abroad early, and it was evident that our ignominious situation had come to their knowledge, for crowds lined the shore looking steadfastly in our direction.
At about six in the morning the tide had left us high and dry, and the boundless expanse of sandbanks showed us how hopeless was our task on a dark night. Thoroughly disheartened and ashamed, we withdrew to the cabin, where we awaited the arrival of the soldiers who were to take us back to captivity.
"Ah, goot-morning, Mynheer!" was the greeting of the governor, as he made his way across the sloping deck of the galliot, his usually grave visage puckered with a thousand wrinkles, while his eyes twinkled with grim humour.
"Take us and do whatever you will," replied Felgate savagely, "but for any sake taunt us not!"