Monk and Prince Rupert from henceforth remained close together, and when De Ruyter again put to sea with a stronger force than ever, they went out together to meet him, and drove him back in rage and despair to the Texel. Then the English scoured the Dutch coast, burned and destroyed two ships of war and one hundred and fifty merchantmen, and laid two defenceless villages in ruins.
It was in vain that some brave English officers tried to prevent this last deed of savage warfare. They could not do so; the anger of their men, their thirst for blood, was in the ascendant.
In the hope of stopping the carnage, Reginald, now commander, besought Rupert to let him land, believing that by his presence he might bring a certain amount of discipline to bear upon the excited sailors, but he accomplished little. He was standing in the midst of a group of men when he caught sight of two women, one with a child in her arms, trying to make their way along the bank of the canal towards a barge which was floating still uninjured on the water. Two half-drunken sailors were pursuing them.
To shout to them to desist Reginald knew would have been useless, so with quick strides he caught them up, seized one man by the neck and threw him to the ground, threatening the other with his sword. The men recognized their officer, and muttering an excuse kept quiet. The two women, exhausted, had sunk on the ground, unable to go a step farther. Reginald went up to encourage them; the youngest woman, a mere girl, sprang to her feet.
"Save us," she cried, "save us!"
Then she stopped short, for, notwithstanding his changed appearance, she recognized their deliverer and cried out:
"Reginald Newbolt!"
"My Lady Agnes!" he answered, and, kneeling before her, he seized her hand.
The sense of safety relaxed the tension on her nerves, and she would have fallen had he not caught her in his arms.
"How on earth did she come here?" he exclaimed, addressing himself to the woman who was with her.