France -- History -- Henry III, 1574-1589 -- Fiction
At the word "monseigneur," addressed not to the Prince of Orange, the
new comer made a movement of surprise and joy, and advanced quickly to
see better who was designated by this title. He was one of those Flemish
sailors, of whom the type is so recognizable, being marked, a square
head, blue eyes, short neck, and broad shoulders; he crushed in his
large hands his woolen cap, and as he advanced he left behind him a line
of wet, for his clothes were dripping with water.
"Oh! here is a brave man who has swum back," said monseigneur, looking
at the man with his accustomed air of authority.
"Yes, monseigneur, yes; and the Scheldt is broad and rapid," said the
sailor, eagerly.
"Speak, Goes, speak," said monseigneur, knowing how a sailor would prize
being thus called by his name.
Thus from that minute Goes addressed himself to the unknown exclusively;
although, having been sent by another, it was to him that he should have
given an account of his mission.
"Monseigneur," said he, "I set out in my smallest bark and passed, by
giving the word, through all our ships, and reached those cursed French.
Ah! pardon, monseigneur."
The stranger smiled and said, "Never mind, I am but half French, so
should be but half cursed."
"Then monseigneur pardons me?"
He nodded, and Goes went on.
"While I rowed in the dark with my oars wrapped in cloth, I heard a
voice crying, 'Hola! bark, what do you want?' I thought it was to me
that the question was addressed, and was about to reply something or
other, when I heard some one cry behind me, 'Admiral's boat.'"
Monseigneur looked at the council.
"At the same moment," continued Gues, "I felt a shock; my bark was
swamped, and I fell into the water, but the waves of the Scheldt knew me
for an old acquaintance, and threw me up again. It was the admiral's
boat taking M. de Joyeuse on board, and which had passed over me; God
only knows how I was not crushed or drowned."
"Thanks, brave Goes, thanks," said the Prince of Orange, putting a purse
into his hand. However, the sailor seemed to wait for his dismissal from
the stranger, who gave him a friendly nod, which he valued more than the
prince's present.
"Well," said monseigneur to the burgomaster, "what do you say of this
report? Do you still doubt that the French are preparing, and do you
believe that it was to pass the night on board that M. de Joyeuse was
leaving the camp for his ship?"
"But you are a diviner, then, monseigneur," cried the bourgeois.
"Not more than Monseigneur the Prince of Orange, who is in all things of
my opinion, I am sure. But I, like him, was well informed, and know well
those on the other side, so that I should have been much astonished had
they not attacked to-night. Then be ready, gentlemen, for if you give
them time, the attack will be serious."
"These gentlemen will do me the justice to own," said the prince, "that
before your arrival I held exactly the same language to them that you
now do."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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