By England's Aid; or, the Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-1604)Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
By England's Aid; or, the Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-1604)
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Historical fiction; Netherlands -- History -- Eighty Years' War, 1568-1648 -- Juvenile fiction
He remained quiet for some rime, thinking over what he had best do.
He was certain that were it known he was English he would at once
be stabbed and thrown overboard, for there was no hope of quarter;
but he was for some time unable to devise any plan by which, even
for a short rime, to conceal his nationality. He only knew a few
words of Spanish, and would be detected the moment he opened his
lips. He thought of leaping up suddenly and jumping overboard;
but his chance of reaching the English ships to windward would be
slight indeed. At last an idea struck him, and sitting up he opened
his eyes and looked round. Several other Spaniards who had been
picked up lay exhausted on the deck near him. A party of soldiers
and sailors close by were working a cannon. The bulwarks were
shot away in many places, dead and dying men lay scattered about,
the decks were everywhere stained with blood, and no one paid any
attention to him until presently the fire began to slacken. Shortly
afterwards a Spanish officer came up and spoke to him.
Geoffrey rose to his feet, rubbed his eyes, yawned, and burst into
an idiotic laugh. The officer spoke again but he paid no attention,
and the Spaniard turned away, believing that the lad had lost his
senses from fear and the horrors of the day.
As night came on he was several times addressed, but always with
the same result. When after dark food and wine were served out,
he seized the portion offered to him, and hurrying away crouched
under the shelter of a gun, and devoured it as if fearing it would
be taken from him again.
When he saw that the sailors were beginning to repair some of the
most necessary ropes and stays that had been shot away, he pushed
his way through them and took his share of the work, laughing
idiotically from time to time. He had, when he saw that the galleon
was sinking, taken off his doublet, the better to be able to swim,
and in his shirt and trunks there was nothing to distinguish him
from a Spaniard, and none suspected that he was other than he seemed
to be--a ship's boy, who had lost his senses from fear. When the
work was done, he threw himself on the deck with the weary sailors.
His hopes were that the battle would be renewed in the morning, and
that either the ship might be captured, or that an English vessel
might pass so close alongside that he might leap over and swim to
her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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