“You say the little boat sails fast, master?” queried Martin. “She sails fast, but perhaps others are as swift. Moreover, it may happen that you will find the mouth of the canal blocked by the guardship, which was sent there a week ago with orders to search every craft that passes from stem to stern. Or—you may slip past her.” “My master and I are not afraid of a few blows,” said Martin, “and we are ready to take our risks like brave men; still, Mynheer Brant, this seems to me a hazardous business, and one in which your money may well get itself lost. Now, I ask you, would it not be better to take this treasure out of the boat where you have hidden it, and bury it, and convey it away by land?” Brant shook his head. “I have thought of that,” he said, “as I have thought of everything, but it cannot now be done; also there is no time to make fresh plans.” “Why?” asked Foy. “Because day and night men are watching the boats which are known to belong to me, although they are registered in other names, and only this evening an order was signed that they must be searched within an hour of dawn. My information is good, as it should be since I pay for it dearly.” “Then,” said Foy, “there is nothing more to be said. We will try to get to the boat and try to get her away; and if we can get her away we will try to hide the treasure, and if we can’t we will try to blow her up as you direct and try to escape ourselves. Or—” and he shrugged his shoulders. Martin said nothing, only he shook his great red head, nor did the silent pilot at the table speak at all. Hendrik Brant looked at them, and his pale, careworn face began to work. “Have I the right?” he muttered to himself, and for an instant or two bent his head as though in prayer. When he lifted it again his mind seemed to be made up. “Foy van Goorl,” he said, “listen to me, and tell your father, my cousin and executor, what I say, since I have no time to write it; tell him word for word. You are wondering why I do not let this pelf take its chance without risking the lives of men to save it. It is because something in my heart pushes me to another path. It may be imagination, but I am a man standing on the edge of the grave, and to such I have known it given to see the future. I think that you will win through with the treasure, Foy, and that it will be the means of bringing some wicked ones to their doom. Yes, and more, much more, but what it is I cannot altogether see. Yet I am quite certain that thousands and tens of thousands of our folk will live to bless the gold of Hendrik Brant, and that is why I work so hard to save it from the Spaniards. Also that is why I ask you to risk your lives to-night; not for the wealth’s sake, for wealth is dross, but for what the wealth will buy in days to come.”