The place formerly occupied by the prisoner at the main mast was empty. The sentry stood there with a smoking musket, casting around him confused glances, besieged by the questions and the oaths of both officers and crew.
"There he is, there! Man overboard!" went up the hoarse cry from the chest of the dumbfounded man.
"Where? Where? Where?"
Everyone rushed to the side of the ship.
"Down with the boats! Quickly! Quickly!" rapped the lieutenant's commanding voice.
It was lively on the Scheldt where lights were shining through the night, but the nights are dark in November. A corpse heading downstream was fished out of the water, but it was not that of Jan Norris. Going downriver, on both banks, alarm signals were flying, but the efforts of all the ships' boats sent out from Antwerp were in vain.
Had Jan Norris been rescued? Had he been killed by the waves?
Who could say?
But how Myga van Bergen sat up in her corner listening when she heard that her beloved had burst free from his bonds and jumped over the side.
Morning broke, but it brought no news of the sea beggar who had escaped.