By England's Aid; Or, the Freeing of the Netherlands, 1585-1604Henty, 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 -- Fiction
He remained quiet for some time, 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
time, 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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