Part 10 (1/2)
His reply was a hideous scowl, and like a flash the truth came to my mind--it was Increase Joyce, my father's murderer!
For a moment I could scarce refrain from throwing myself upon him; but reflecting that little would be gained thus, and that much might be obtained by strategy, I refrained, and, shrugging my shoulders indifferently, I turned from him and walked to the farther part of the room.
I saw him no more that day, but on the day following he again entered my apartment or cell--call it which you will. Though feigning to avoid conversation with him, I found that his moody fit had pa.s.sed, and that he was willing to talk.
Little by little I gathered his history, which, though mostly lies, gave me an insight into his movements and plans.
He had, he said, fled the country at the Restoration for political reasons, a price having been set upon his head. (I smiled grimly at this, knowing only too well why his head was thus valued.) He had served as a soldier of fortune on the Rhine and in the Low Countries, finally joining the army of the States of Holland and rising to his present rank; though, in justice to the Dutch be it said, he was never allowed to take up arms against his own countrymen.
I had heard enough for once, and for the time being I resolved not to mention the matter either to Drake or to Felgate.
Of what was taking place betwixt England and Holland we learned little. Occasionally we had a visit from the governor of the fortress, a Major Van der Wycke, a courteous and honest soldier, who carefully refrained from hurting our susceptibilities with reference to the war, though he told us of the great fire that practically destroyed the best part of London. This we were told on Christmas Day, over three months after its occurrence.
Very slowly the days pa.s.sed. Winter gave place to spring, yet no sign of our being released was given us, neither did any loophole of escape present itself. One day Joyce came into my room with the news that he was leaving the service of the States of Holland, and had a good offer for his sword from the King of France. He seemed very elated, and now was the time to obtain what information I could.
”Thou art a Yorks.h.i.+reman, perchance?” I enquired offhandedly, interrupting him in the midst of a rambling statement.
”I a Yorks.h.i.+reman? Never, young sir!”
”Then from Lincolns.h.i.+re, doubtless?”
”Nor from Lincolns.h.i.+re. Why didst think so?”
”From thy manner of speech, Sergeant,” I replied, forcing a laugh. ”It savours much of the north.”
”I have travelled much, and know both those counties well.”
”Then perchance Midgley is known to you, Sergeant?”
”I cannot recall the name. Where is it?”
”It is my native village,” I a.s.serted, with a slight deviation from the truth. ”It lies betwixt Pontefract and Holwick.”
At the mention of Holwick he started, yet, retaining command over his feelings, he remarked: ”I know it not. But, beshrew me! the name of Holwick reminds me---- Dost know Holwick well?”
”Pa.s.sably,” I replied offhandedly. ”There is a market cross, a church, a score or so of stone houses, a castle more or less in ruin, and a----”
”A castle, sayest thou?” he interrupted excitedly. ”And who lives there?”
”I cannot say.”
”Ah! Now, concerning this castle,” he remarked, tapping his clay pipe on his heel with such vehemence that the stem broke in three places, ”I have heard that a goodly store of treasure lies hidden there. In fact, an old comrade of mine, who lay stricken to death on the field of Marston Moor, did bestow upon me a paper whereby the treasure should be mine. But either he was befooling himself or me, for I could find nothing.”
Here was a piece of good fortune.
”Where did you look?” I enquired disinterestedly.
”Where did I look? Now, out on me for a dolt! I delved every night for more than a fortnight, till the countryside rang with tales of the ghost of Holwick, and none would venture near o' nights, and hardly by day.”
”Were the directions fully adhered to?”
He looked fixedly at me for a moment, as if suspecting my thoughts, then from his pocket he produced the identical metal box that he had filched from my father's corse. Again I could hardly refrain from springing upon him; but discretion is ever the better part of valour.
From the box he drew a folded paper, yellow with age, and discoloured and torn with frequent usage.
”Mark you, what a jargon! 'Without ye two tall of ye thirty-two paces right dig Holwick may the treasure give full out mine whereas my----' Did ever a man have such a frail clue?”
”Then what did you do?”
”Do? I dug thirty-two paces from the castle walls on all sides save the west, for at that distance there was naught but a muddy stream. It might be thirty-two paces from the church, the cross, or what not. But I have a mind to make one more attempt ere I go to France. If that fails, then my right I'll sell to the first Jew that makes me an offer.”
”Let me see if I can make aught of it,” I said, carelessly stretching out my hand. To my delight Joyce handed it to me, and I saw the writing I knew so well.
For over an hour we talked, I, for my part, throwing out idle suggestions and listening to Joyce's explanations, trying at the same time to commit the apparently senseless words to memory.
Suddenly the door was flung open and the governor appeared. With a motion of his hand he signed for Joyce to withdraw, and the villain went out, leaving the precious doc.u.ment in my hands. Major Van der Wycke used to do the rounds in a somewhat erratic fas.h.i.+on, and for this once I thanked his eccentricity. When he went he desired the sergeant to accompany him, and for the time being I was at liberty to copy the mysterious message.
I had not quill nor crayon nor paper. I had read of men writing with their blood, but this method appeared very unsatisfactory. At length I bethought me of the fire, and taking a piece of charcoal I scrawled the words on the under side of my table. This I did, promising myself to ask for pens and paper at the first opportunity, and barely had I finished my task when the renegade reappeared.
”Where's that paper?” asked he. ”I'll venture that your wits are no sharper than mine.”
I handed it back to him with the remark that it conveyed nothing, and wished him all the luck he deserved. This double-barrelled compliment he took as favourable to himself, and after a short further conversation he left.
That night Joyce quitted Haarlem, and I was not fated to see him again for some time.
CHAPTER XVII.
--Showing that there are Two Means of Leaving a Prison.
With the lengthening days our hopes of effecting an escape increased. The vigilance of our guards had somewhat relaxed, and we were allowed to remain in one another's company for a much longer period.
Felgate and Greville discussed innumerable plans with me, but in every case a serious obstacle arose that necessitated the abandonment of that particular scheme, till one day the long-hoped-for opportunity arrived.
In the middle of the month of June--I had just celebrated my twentieth birthday in a very despondent style--Van der Wycke came to us one morning with a beaming face that showed that something very unusual had occurred to upset the stolidity of this typical Dutchman.
”Ah, Mynheer Drake,” he said in his very broken English, ”I must tell you ze goot news for us, but bad news for you. Our s.h.i.+ps have broken all ze Englischman, Chatham is burnt, and ve vill even now take London.” And in this style he told us the heartbreaking news of the never-to-be-forgotten disgrace at Chatham, of the burning or sinking of the Royal Oak, the James, the London, and several other smaller vessels. He also said that His Majesty and the Court and Parliament had removed to Bristol, though this latter information afterwards proved to be false.
For days we remained too sick at heart to attempt an escape; but early in the month of July we were informed that our prison was to be limewashed, and that for a few days at least we were to be kept in one room at the farther side of the building.
I had long before this secured a careful copy of the paper that Increase Joyce had shown me, and this I kept concealed on my person, so that in any case I should still retain what might subsequently prove a valuable piece of information.
Our new quarters overlooked the town walls, and, the windows being lower and larger than those of our former prison, we could easily observe what was going on.