“Yes, I was told it was to perform a sacrament of the church, which I am here to do; and have stayed on that island to do,” he points to Beveland, “in spite of persecutions, in spite of threats, in spite of blows and outrage. Ask any Beggar of the Sea whether Father Anastasius ever faltered before them, and there is only one of them who has ever treated Catholic priests as if they were men of God. ‘The First of the English,’ though he wars against Alva, is a true son of Rome. As such I come to do his bidding.” “You know me?” mutters Guy. “Yes, that is why I came so readily.” “Then you’ll journey with me to perform a sacrament of the Church?” “I would do that for any one demanding it.” Guy knows this is so; for Father Anastasius is celebrated all over Zeeland as a priest who loves his Lord better than he loves his life, and who will do his duty to the humblest as well as to the highest, as commanded by his Church. “Put Father Anastasius in my gig with me,” Chester says shortly to Dalton. “Arm it and man it!” “It is done.” “Are the long boat and cutter ready also?” “Yes.” “How many men all told?” “Sixty.” “That leaves sixty on the Dover Lass; plenty to handle, enough almost to fight her. You will remain in charge of the vessel, Corker will command the boats. They are well armed?” “Yes, pistols, arquebuses, pikes and battle axes, everything as trim as if it were a boarding party, not a troubadour affair,” answers the lieutenant. At eight o’clock dusk has fallen on both land and sea, and calculating an hour will be sufficient to take them across to the summer house where his love is waiting for him, Chester puts off in his gig, taking the Roman Catholic priest with him, and followed by the long boat and cutter, the men giving way with sturdy muscles as they are anxious now to leave this spot, the very value of their prize making additional danger for them. Forty minutes after this, just off the dyke, where they turn up to Sandvliet, they meet a boat from Antwerp filled with Italian musicians, rebec players and mandolins, flutes and harps, and decorated as for a fête. These in the early forenoon have been engaged for this purpose in Antwerp by Achille, who still officiates as cabin boy. They are all quite merry and are singing a gay Tuscan love song. “This is my little water party,” whispers Guy to Corker, whom he has sitting by him giving him his last instructions. “The lady will think it a pleasure sail upon the river.” “Oho! Abduction!” laughs the boatswain. “Yes—to make her I love and honor—my wife,” answers Chester. Then he whispers: “She is Alva’s daughter.” To which Corker returns a prolonged whistle and muttered: “Good God!” and listens with rather awe-struck face as Guy gives him his last orders: “Take the long boat, guard the dyke between the house and Sandvliet, preventing troops coming that way if alarm is given. The gig and cutter will watch the other side of the house.”