“Bodé Volcker is as grand a buccaneer as ever walked the plank,” whispers that mariner as he makes report to Chester. “He would fight to the death for the gold bags. He’s already given Jamaica twice to old Mother Sebastian, and it’ll be the devil looking after his own if she doesn’t die of rum before we get the last sack out of the house. Bodé’s got cords to tie her with if the worst comes to the worst; her being without squeal makes the thing neat and easy. No need of gags, just simply bind her to the bed-posts and she’s fixed.” All that day the gold comes steadily on board and by the evening, for the men work very hard, Chester finds he has beneath the cabin floor of the Esperanza one hundred and seventy-nine bags of gold sealed with Alva’s arms; and calculating them at twenty thousand crowns each, he finds he has three million five hundred and eighty thousand crowns. This tallies exactly with Corker’s counting of the sacks. Then leaving the men under Niklaas to get out the silver and the chest of unknown valuables, Martin Corker being kept in charge of the ship, as the Esperanza with the gold on board is very precious now, Chester takes boat and passing down the Schelde again arrives at Sandvliet, eagerly impatient for sight of sweetheart. In this respect Doña Hermoine seems equally anxious. Apparently on the lookout for the boat, she runs down with happy eyes to meet Guy at the landing, crying, with joyous voice: “Good news! Good news!” “What news?” Chester asks anxiously—almost any news is bad news to him now. “Papa is coming—he will be here soon. Then you shall ask him in person.” “When will my lord duke be here?” “In three or four days his letter said.” “A—ah!” This is a big sigh of relief, for Guy now knows the next night will settle his business one way or the other with this fair being, who clings to his arm as he strides up the path to the house, her little feet making two steps to his one. He has determined that the succeeding night will settle whether she shall be his wife and joy during all his life, or it will be the last of her. This thought makes his manner very tender to her, for come what may he knows she loves him. Then tête-à-tête in the oriel window over the Schelde, they have pleasant converse together, though he tells her his time with her must be short. “Short? Why?” she pouts to this suggestion. “Because I am making arrangements about my fortune; you know, to make proper showing to your father.” “Oh yes, I’ve heard that before! My lord of Alva has always been to me loving and indulgent. As such he will not refuse my request. I have heard him speak of you, my Guido, as the bravest man in the army of Spain; that means a great deal where so many men are brave. That march you made will make him love you as it does me.”