Before throwing off the warps from the shore the captain gave each man his orders. Two were to stand with fenders, in case the boat drifted either against another craft or against the wall. Two were to take the long poles used for punting. An old sail had been torn up into strips and wrapped round these, with a pad of old rope at the end, so that they could push off from the wall without noise. Not a word was to be spoken in case of their being hailed, nor was there to be the slightest movement on board unless the use of the fenders or poles were required. Lastly, all took off their boots.  
It was half an hour after the turn of the tide when the warps were thrown off. The tide in the inner port was so sluggish that it was absolutely necessary to pole the boat along until she got out into what was known as the Old Haven, which was the cut leading down from the town to the river.
 
The work was noiselessly done; and Ned, standing at the bow beside the skipper, scarce heard the slightest sound. The night was fortunately very dark, and looking intently he could hardly make out the outline of the shore on either side. In a quarter of an hour they emerged from the inner port. On their left hand the wall of the fortifications connecting the town with the north fort at the mouth of the haven rose high above them, but its outline could be seen against the sky. The captain had told the men poling to take her sharp round the corner, and keep her along as close as possible to the foot of the wall, as she was far less likely to be observed by any sentry who might be there than she would be if kept out in the centre of the cut.
 
Very slowly the boat drifted along her course, assisted occasionally by the men pushing with their poles against the foot of the wall that rose a few feet from them, while those with the fender stood in readiness to place them in position should the ship approach so close to the wall as to render contact probable. The captain was now at the tiller, the way given her by the poles being sufficient to enable him to keep her on her course close to the wall. Another quarter of an hour and they were at the end of the wall, for the forts at the entrance were detached. They were now approaching the most dangerous portion of the passage; they were no longer sheltered in the shadow, but must go along openly. It was, however, improbable that there would be sentries on the face of the fort looking towards the town, and Ned, accustomed as he was to keep watch on deck at night, could scarce make out the low shore a few yards away, and felt pretty confident that the eyes of the sleepy sentries would not be able to pierce the gloom.
 
The men had ceased poling now, only giving an occasional push to keep her head straight and prevent her from swinging round. Presently a sailor standing next to Ned touched his arm and pointed to the right, and straining his eyes he could dimly make out a dark mass looming in that direction.
 
Unlike the wall they had left, the forts stood at a little distance back from the water, and Ned was sure that as he could scarce make out the outline of the one nearest to them, no one upon its wall could distinguish the tracery of the masts and rigging of the boat. The mist had thickened since they had started, and coming on heavier just at this point the fort was presently entirely obscured.
 
Another twenty minutes passed. They must be now, Ned knew, in the course of the river; and he began to think that the danger was over, when a dark object suddenly appeared from the mist, close at hand. In another moment there was a shock, and then a long grinding motion as the boat swept along by the side of a large ship. Following the shock came a sharp challenge from the darkness above, followed by other shouts. Obedient to orders they had received, no sound was heard from the smack. Each man stooped low under the bulwarks. Two or three shots rang out from the ship, and there was a hail in Dutch--"Stop, or we will sink you."
 
Ned knew that this was an idle threat. The vessel was lying head to the tide, and only a small gun or two in the stern could be brought to bear, and already the ship was lost to sight in the mist. There was much shouting and noise heard astern, and then the creaking of blocks. Ned made his way aft.
 
"The game is up," the skipper said. "They will be alongside in a few minutes. Dark as it is they cannot miss us. They will know that we must have drifted straight down. We must take to the boats and row for it."
 
"I should say, captain," Ned said, "we had best take to the boat and row off for a short distance, and then wait. As likely as not they may think when they board her that she has simply drifted out from the town, having been carelessly moored. In that case they may let drop her anchor and return to their ship."
 
"That is a happy thought," the captain said; and running forward he told the crew to take the boat at once.
 
"I have another idea, captain," Ned said, just as they were about to push off. "As we saw when we were passing the ship we are drifting stern foremost. If we can fasten a long line to her stern we can hang on to it. They will not be able to see us if we are twenty fathoms astern. Then, if they anchor, and, as is likely enough, leave two or three men on board, we can haul ourselves noiselessly up with the rope and board her."
 
"Capital!" the captain replied. "I was wondering how we should find her again in the dark. That would be the very thing."
 
He sprang on board again, fastened a light line to the rudder, and dropped down into the boat again.
 
"Now, back her astern, lads, very gently. I can hear their oars."
 
In a minute the captain gave orders to cease rowing, for the line had tightened. The Spanish ship was showing a bright light in her stern. This acted as a guide to the boats, and in two or three minutes after the crew had left the smack two large boats full of soldiers came alongside. Those in the little boat, lying but fifty or sixty yards away, could hear every word that was spoken. First came a volley of angry exclamations of disappointment as the Spaniards found that they had been called from their beds only to capture an empty little coaster. As Ned had expected, they speedily came to the conclusion that having been carelessly fastened up alongside the wharves, without any one being left in charge, she had drifted out with the tide.
 
"It would serve them right if we were to set her alight," one of the officers said.
 
"We had best not to do that," another replied. "It might cause an alarm in the town; and, besides, boats are wanted. We had better drop her anchor, and leave four men on board to take care of her. In the morning the knaves to whom she belongs will come out to claim her; and I warrant you the captain will punish them sharply for the trouble they have given us."
 
This opinion prevailed. A minute latter a splash was heard in the water, and in a very short time the line connecting the boat with the smack tightened, and those on board knew that she had been brought up by her anchor. There was a good deal of noise and trampling of feet as the Spaniards took their place in the boats again, and then the heavy splashing of many oars as they started to row back against the tide to their own vessel.
 
The captain wrung Ned's hand.
 
"You have saved the boat for us, young sir, for we should never have found her again; and if we had, those on board would have heard us rowing up to them, and would have given the alarm. Now we have only to wait for a bit, and then haul ourselves up and overpower the Spaniards."
 
"I doubt if we could do that without noise," Ned replied. "At any rate it would be very dangerous while their ship is lying so close. I should say the best plan will be to wait, as you say, till the Spaniards have settled themselves comfortably, then to haul up to her and push the boat along by her side, fending her off carefully so as to make no noise until we reach the bow, then we can cut the cable and let her drift. The tide is running strong now, and in half an hour she will be over a mile down the river, and there will be no fear of a shout being heard on board the ship, and we can then board her and tackle the Spaniards."
 
"That will certainly be the best way," the captain agreed. "Nothing could be better. Well, we will give them half an hour to settle themselves in the cabin. They will not stay on deck many minutes in the wet."
 
The sound of voices on board the smack soon ceased. After waiting half an hour to give the Spaniards time if not to go to sleep to become drowsy, the captain and one of his men began to pull upon the line. Presently the dark mass could be seen ahead, and they were soon up to her.
 
Very carefully they passed the boat alongside, taking pains to prevent her touching. When they reached the bow the captain grasped the cable, and with two or three cuts with the knife severed it. Then the boat was pushed off from the ship and gently paddled away to the full length of the line. Another half hour and they again drew alongside, and noiselessly climbed on to the deck. The men armed themselves with belaying pins, and Ned took his pistols from the belt beneath his jacket. Then they quietly approached the door. There was a light burning within.
 
The cabin was astern, and built upon the deck, and was used by the skipper himself and by any passengers he might be carrying, the crew living in the forecastle. The doors, which opened outwards, were noiselessly closed, for two of the Spaniards were sitting up playing cards, and there was no chance of taking the party so much by surprise as to capture them without noise. The instant the doors were closed a heavy coil of rope was thrown against them. There was a loud exclamation in the cabin, and a moment later a rush to the door. This, however, did not yield. Then a window in the side was thrown open and a head was thrust out, and there was a loud shout of "Treachery! Help!"
 
A moment later a heavy belaying pin fell on the head, and it disappeared. Then there was a loud explosion as an arquebus was fired, the bullet crashing through the door.
 
"It is a good thing we are well on our way," the skipper said. "We must be two miles from the Spanish ship now; and even if they hear the report they will not think it has anything to do with us. Besides, if they did, they could never find us."
 
Some more ropes had now been piled against the door, and there was no fear of its being burst open. Two men were posted at the windows on each side of the cabin with swords, for weapons had now been fetched from the forecastle.
 
"Now," the captain said, "let us get up the sails. There is but little wind, but I think there is enough to give us steerage way and prevent us from drifting on to the sandbanks."
 
"I suppose we are well beyond the guard boats now, captain?" Ned asked.
 
"Oh, yes; they are not more than half a mile below the forts. Besides, I should think they have not been out; for they would know that when the tide once turned no craft could come up from below. Yes, we are quite safe as far as they are concerned."
 
Sail was soon made; and though there was scarce wind enough to belly out the canvas, the boat began to move slowly through the water, as was shown by her answering her helm. The discharge of the arquebus in the cabin was continued from time to time.
 
"You may as well cease that noise," the captain shouted to them. "Your ship is miles away; and unless you want your throats cut you had better keep yourselves quiet. You know the beggars are not to be trifled with."
 
The soldiers ceased firing. They had, indeed, already concluded, from the fact that the boats did not come to their rescue, that the vessel must somehow have got far from their ship. The name of the terrible beggars filled them with alarm, for they knew that they showed no mercy. They had not the least idea as to the number of their captors, and gave themselves up for lost. An hour later the captain dropped the second anchor, and brought up in the stream.
 
"We must wait till morning," he said. "It is no use getting away from the Spaniards to be cast ashore; and there is no saying in what part of the river we may be at present, though we must certainly be six or seven miles below Bergen."
 
Towards morning the mist cleared off, and the wind began to freshen.
 
"I think it will blow hard before long," the captain said; "and as it is from the southwest it will soon carry us out of the river. Now, what had we better do with those fellows in the cabin?"
 
"I should say the best plan, captain, would be to bring the boat alongside, and tell them that if they will leave their arms behind them, and come out one by one, they may take to it and row ashore. That if they refuse, we shall open the door and give them no quarter."
 
"That would be the best plan," the captain agreed, and going to one of the windows offered these terms to the Spaniards. The men had prepared for the worst, and had determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible. So convinced were they that the beggars would show no quarter that they were at first incredulous.
 
"It is a trick to get us to give up our arms," one said.
 
"It is not," the captain replied. "I swear to you on the word of a sailor that we will respect the terms and allow you to depart unarmed. We don't want to throw away three or four lives merely for the pleasure of cutting your throats."
 
After a consultation between themselves the soldiers accepted the terms. Ned placed himself at one of the windows to see that the arms were laid aside before the men issued out. Then the coils of rope were removed, and the door opened, the sailors taking their place there in case the Spaniards at the last moment should catch up their arms. This, however, they had no idea of doing, and were indeed far more afraid of treachery than were their captors. One by one they issued out, passed between the line of the sailors to the bulwark, and got into the boat. It was still dark, and they could not tell that the group of men at the cabin door were all those on board. As soon as the last was in, the rope was thrown off and the boat dropped astern.
 
"It will be light enough to see the shore in half an hour," the captain said as they drifted away, "and then you can land where you like."
 
"It would be awkward if they happen to light upon some town," Ned said, "and so bring out boats to cut us off."
 
"There is no fear of that," the captain replied. "Tergoes is the only place down here in which they have a garrison, and that lies some miles away yet. Besides, we shall get under way as soon as we can make out the shore. They have only two oars on board, and are not likely to know very much about rowing; besides, we shall make out the shore from deck before they will from the boat."
 
"Of course you will not go round by Flushing now? It will be shorter for you to go straight out to sea through the islands."
 
"Yes, and less dangerous. There may be ships at Tergoes and on the east side of Walcheren, as they still hold Middleburg."
 
"The sooner we are out to sea the better, and it will of course suit you also," Ned replied. "I only wanted to put ashore at Flushing in order to take another boat there for Rotterdam, so that I shall save one day, if not two, if you sail direct."
 
In another half hour it was light enough to make out the shore. The anchor was again weighed in and the boat got under way. They were now off the end of the Island of St. Anna, and ............