When the dwarf was gone, Lord Orford paced up and down the room, muttering between his teeth:
"Gone to Holland! How am I to get at her there? The fool was mad to imagine such a thing. If it leaks out that I have had a hand in this business, it will be to my discredit, unless, as the fool advises, I say I did it out of my great love for her, to save her from the plague; but it will cost me a hundred pounds and more, perhaps, for hush-money. However, matters must take their course now. They'll not land in Holland at present, for no barge from London will be allowed to put into port; in the meantime I can consider what is to be done." And with the natural carelessness which belonged to the habitués of Charles II's court, he strove to forget the matter altogether.
Weeks went by and he was surprised at having no news from his factotum.
It was not until his return to London with the court that he learnt that the man had died of the plague.
So as far as he was concerned the matter ended. Later, seeing the course events took, he was too wise a man to rake up ugly stories. The dwarf dead, there was only the bargeman to reckon with, and he was ignorant even of the existence of my Lord Orford. So the bubble burst, and he had to look about for another bride to pay his debts! Besides, Reginald Newbolt was now Prince Rupert's friend, and it was therefore unlikely he would be dispossessed of his estates even for Lady Agnes De Lisle. The wheel of fortune had turned.
CHAPTER XIX
On the Track
Pestilence on land, battle on the seas! The jealousy between the English merchants and the Dutch was a matter of long standing, and on both sides there had been a clamouring for war. It came in due time.
On the third of June, just when the plague was at its height, the Duke of York encountered the Dutch fleet off Lowestoft. A terrible battle took place. It is said that eight or ten thousand men were killed and eighteen ships blown up--this was on the Dutch side; but on the English side also there were many disabled ships and many wounded men cast ashore. Had the English admiral chosen, he might have followed the Dutch up in their flight, and the war would have come to a speedy end, but instead an order came from the Duke of York to slacken sail, and so the Dutch escaped to Texel. The neglect and misery of the seamen of the royal navy, who were cast ashore to go where they would, without money, food, or clothing, was piteous. A great number found their way to London, thinking that there, at least, they would get their pay from the admiralty, but there was no money to be had for the arrears of payment. The Commons had voted the king a large sum for war expenses, and he had squandered the whole of it on his own pleasures.
The result was that these men, to whom England owed her safety, lay about the streets and in hovels, and many of them died of the plague.