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A True Hero: A Story of the Days of William Penn, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 10 |
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_ CHAPTER TEN. Almost exhausted, pale as death, the blood flowing from his wound opened by the exertions he had made, Wenlock Christison dropped down on the deck of the stranger, not knowing whether he was to find himself on board an English or Dutch ship. The condition of the ship showed that she had been hotly engaged, for numbers of dead men lay about her blood-stained decks. From their appearance, as the light of the lanterns occasionally glanced on them, Wenlock at once saw that they were Dutch. Dutch was among the languages with which he was acquainted, having met many Hollanders in America. "Who are you?" said an officer, who saw him come over the side. "An Englishman, and one of the few survivors of the ill-fated ship which blew up just now," he answered. "Well-nigh a thousand men who walked her decks in health and strength this morning are now in eternity." "You are indeed fortunate in escaping then," said the Dutch officer, "and though we must consider you a prisoner, you will be treated with due courtesy on board this ship. I see that you are wounded, and badly it seems to me, so that you must be forthwith put under the surgeon's care." Wenlock thanked him, and supported by a couple of men was carried below. After this he knew nothing of what happened to him, for scarcely had he been placed on a bed than he fainted. When he came to consciousness he found the surgeon ready to administer some medicine, soon after which he fell asleep, nor did he awake again till daylight. He inquired eagerly what had occurred. "You must not talk much," said the surgeon; "but this I will tell you, that we have had a very fierce engagement, and lost three of our stoutest ships; while, if the truth is known, you English have not been less sufferers. Depend on it, altogether between us, four or five thousand people have been killed: a sensible employment for human beings. Heu! while we,--a free Protestant people,--were fighting for liberty, you English were beguiled by your own traitorous sovereign, bribed by the King of France, to attack us." The surgeon, Nicholas Van Erk, notwithstanding his remarks, treated Wenlock with the greatest kindness. They however gave him ample material for thought. In a short time the Dutch fleet arrived off the coast of Holland, and the injured ships proceeded to the chief naval ports to undergo repair. The _Marten Harptez_, the ship on board which Wenlock had found refuge, proceeded to Rotterdam. "You are a prisoner, but I have got leave to receive you at my house," said Mynheer Van Erk; "and as I have a good many sick men to look after, I do not purpose again going to sea. In truth, fighting may be a very satisfactory amusement to people without brains; but I am a philosopher, and have seen enough of it to be satisfied that it is a most detestable occupation." Wenlock found himself conveyed to a comfortable mansion in Rotterdam overlooking a canal; indeed, what houses do not overlook canals in that city? He was very weak, for his wound had been severe,--more severe than he had supposed; and he was surprised that he should have been enabled to undergo so much exertion as he had done. Van Erk, indeed, told him that had he remained much longer in the water, he would probably have fainted from loss of blood, and been drowned. "As you may become a wise man and enjoy life, being young, that would have been a pity," observed the philosopher; "but it depends how you spend the future whether you should or should not be justly congratulated on your escape." The doctor's wife and only daughter,--the fair Frowline Gretchen,-- formed the only members of the surgeon's household, with their serving maid Barbara. They, fortunately for Wenlock, were not philosophers, but turned their attention to household affairs, and watched over him with the greatest care. He, poor fellow, felt very sad and forlorn. For many days he could only think with deep grief of the untimely loss of his brave father. In time, however, he began to meditate a little also about himself. All his prospects appeared blighted. The friends who might have spoken of his brave conduct in the fight were dead. He had hoped to obtain wealth, and to return and marry Mary Mead. He had not a groat remaining in the world. Never in his life before had he been so downhearted Gretchen observed his melancholy. "You should not thus grieve for being a prisoner," she observed; "many brave men have been so, and the time will come when you will be set at liberty." Wenlock then told her how he had lost his father, and how his own hopes of advancement had been blighted. "Have you no one then who cares for you?" she asked, in a tone of sympathy; "no one in your native land to whom you desire to return?" "Yes," said Wenlock; and he then told her of his engagement to the fair Quakeress. "Ah! I am not surprised at that," observed the Dutch girl, with a sigh. After this, though as kind as usual, Wenlock observed that she was somewhat more distant in her manner to him than she had been at first. Considering that he was a prisoner, his time passed very pleasantly. Having given his word to the authorities and to his host that he would not attempt to escape, he was allowed to go about that picturesque town as much as he pleased. Month after month the war continued, and he remained a prisoner. His affection, however, for Mary Mead had rather increased by absence than diminished; and fearing that she might forget him, he at length wrote her a letter, entreating her to remain faithful, and promising, as soon as he should be able, to return to England and follow any course she might advise. In vain he waited for an answer to this letter; week after week passed by, and none came. "She has forgotten you," said Gretchen one day, observing him look very sad. Wenlock started! He was thinking the same thing. "I know not," he answered; "I have heard that women are fickle." "I did not say that," observed Gretchen; "but if you chose to disregard the wishes of one you professed to love, I am not surprised that she should at length have dismissed you from her thoughts. I do not say she has, but it is possible." Wenlock had for some time felt ashamed of being idle; for though his host might have received payment for his support from the government, yet that, he was sure, could not be sufficient to cover the expense to which he was put. He expressed his wishes to his kind host. "A very sensible remark," observed the surgeon, "and as you have now recovered from your wound, and regained your strength, it is proper that you should be employed. I have a brother, a merchant, trading with Surinam. He may possibly give you employment. You speak several languages, and write a good hand. You will, I doubt not, soon be ranked among his principal clerks, if you have a good knowledge of accounts." "If he will try me, I will do my best," answered Wenlock. The next day he was installed as a clerk in the office of Peter Van Erk, one of the principal merchants in the city. Wenlock had an aptitude for business of which he had not been aware. He took a positive pleasure in his work, and soon attracted the observation of his quick-sighted employer. The kind surgeon was highly pleased. "You do credit to my recommendation, Christison," he observed; "you will soon win the confidence of my brother, and will then be on the fair way to making your fortune." Time passed by. Wenlock made himself so useful that in a short time his employer agreed to pay him a handsome salary. When peace was declared, therefore, he felt that it would be folly to return to England, where he had no home and no one from whom he had a right to demand assistance. He had forfeited William Mead's regard by acting contrary to his advice, while from Lord Ossory he might possibly fail to receive further patronage. He had heard enough of the fickleness of those in authority, and he did not expect to be better treated than others. He therefore continued to work away steadily as a merchant's clerk in the house of Van Erk and Company, of Rotterdam. _ |
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