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 ships 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.

The Hollanders were evidently making preparations to celebrate their victory, for garlands and decorated masts were being displayed. This served to increase our bitterness at heart, and, curiously enough, our guards became particularly lax in their duties. In fact, but for the purpose of supplying us with food, we were practically ignored.

We soon discovered that the bars of one of the windows could easily be wrenched from their fastenings, and with these removed only a ten-foot drop lay between us and freedom.

Carefully setting apart a portion of our rations, we soon secured enough food to last us for a couple of days, and one evening, directly the guards had visited us for the last time that night, Greville climbed on Felgate's shoulders and attacked the crumbling mortar that kept the bars in position.

In less than an hour we succeeded, by dint of plenty of hard work, in removing the bars, and all was ready for our flight.

The night was dark, the stars being constantly hidden by dense masses of drifting clouds, while the wind howled mournfully amid the trees that lined the roadway within the ramparts.

The steady tramp of a sentry showed the necessity of extreme caution, and the clocks chimed ten ere the man was visited by the rounds. Half an hour later he left his post and disappeared--in all probability to enjoy a quiet sleep.

"Now is our time," whispered Drake, and squeezing his body through the aperture he dropped lightly upon the pavement. His example was quickly and cautiously followed, and in less time than we expected we were creeping along in the darkest shadows towards the open country.

Instinct took us towards the sea, from which blew a stinging, salt-laden breeze that caused a sensation of freedom, and when at length we gained the summit of the last rush-grown dyke, we could see the waves lashing the beach in so violent a manner as to make an attempt to escape by boat an absolute impossibility.

However, the hours of darkness were fleeting fast, so we pressed on along the shore, peering through the darkness to try and secure a safe shelter. Soon we came upon a small hamlet, of which every house was in darkness, though the occasional barking of dogs warned us that the place was to be avoided. A short distance beyond was a small haven, wherein we could see several boats of all sizes riding easily at anchor.

The wind had now veered more to the north-'ard, and with it a heavy rain came on. This decided us, and, trusting that the downpour would deaden the force of the wind, we launched a small boat and pulled off to a galliot of about twenty tons burthen.

We approached her cautiously, for fear that she might have someone sleeping on board. On coming alongside we fended off our frail cockle shell, while Felgate climbed softly up her sides and gained the deck. She was open amidships, but had a cuddy for'ard and a small cabin under her poop.

Felgate made his way aft, and we saw him disappear under the shadow of the poop. A moment later and he reappeared, glided across the deck, and explored the cuddy. Everything appeared satisfactory, so we joined him, sending the dinghy adrift.

The galliot carried two masts, the after one only being set up. The foremast was housed in a tabernacle and lay on the deck. We manned a windlass, and with a dismal creaking, that alarmed us mightily, the mast slowly rose to an upright position. Then it was an easy matter to spread the great tanned sail, and having slipped the cable we stood westwards towards England and freedom.

Once clear of the haven we felt the lift of the ocean as the vessel heeled to the breeze. Drake and I stood by the tiller, while Felgate went for'ard to keep a bright lookout.

There was no longer need for silence, and our tongues wagged merrily at the thought of our escape. The galliot was, like all Dutch craft, of great beam, with bluff bows and an ugly square stern. She would, we had little doubt, prove a good sea boat, but sluggish in a light wind. As it was, the steady breeze was just strong enough to make her lively, and it was with satisfaction that we saw the dim outline of the low-lying coast get fainter and fainter.

Suddenly a massive post, crowned by a triangle, loomed out on our starboard bow.

"Steady there!" shouted Felgate; "there's a beacon ahead."

"Which side shall we make for?" asked Greville.

"Quick, Aubrey, try a cast!" said Felgate, and I picked up a heavy piece of metal which happened to be lying near, fastened a line to it, and threw it overboard. Less than three fathoms! Again I tried, and touched the bottom in little more than two.

"'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!"

Van der Wycke bowed in well-feigned gravity.

"Pardon, Mynheer," he replied, "but you yourselves haf put to much trouble for nothing. You are now free!"

And to our astonishment we learned how that peace had been proclaimed at Breda on the previous day, and that our futile attempt might well not have taken place.

Needless to say, our further stay in the Low Countries was hurried as quickly as possible, and next day a stout little brig conveyed us from Rotterdam to London. The joys of seeing our native land once more were somewhat damped by the pitiful sight of the blackened hulls of our men-of-war that had been sunk off the mouth of the Thames.