"Grant me your pardon for my doubts. I fear nothing now but that my father may return too soon, and they seize him."
Philip left the room again, to make his reconnaissance. The robbers did not appear to have made up their mindthe strength of the door defied their utmost efforts, so they attempted stratagem. They knocked, and as there was no reply, they continued to knock louder and louder: not meeting with success they held another consultation, and the muzzle of a carbine was then put to the keyhole, and the piece discharged. The lock of the door was blown off, but the iron bars which crossed the door within, above and below, still held it fast.
Although Philip would have been justified in firing upon the robbers when he first perceived them in consultation at the door, still there is that feeling in a generous mind which prevents the taking away of life, except from stern necessity; and this feeling made him withhold his fire until hostilities had actually commenced. He now levelled one of the carbines at the head of the robber nearest to the door, who was busy examining the effect which the discharge of the piece had made, and what further obstacles intervened. The aim was true, and the man fell dead, while the others started back with surprise at the unexpected retaliation. But in a second or two a pistol was discharged at Philip, who still remained leaning out of the casement, fortunately without effect; and the next moment he felt himself drawn away, so as to be protected from their fire. It was Amine, who, unknown to Philip, had been standing by his side.
"You must not expose yourself, Philip," said she, in a low tone.
She called me Philip, thought he, but made no reply.
"They will be watching for you at the casement now," said Amine. "Take the other carbine, and go below in the passage. If the lock of the door is blown off, they may put their arms in perhaps, and remove the bars. I do not think they can, but I'm not sure; at all events, it is there you should now be, as there they will not expect you."
"You are right," replied Philip, going down.
"But you must not fire more than once there; if another fall, there will be but two to deal with, and they cannot watch the casement and force admittance to. GoI will reload the carbine."
Philip descended softly and without a light. He went up to the door and perceived that one of the miscreants, with his arms through the hole where the lock was blown off, was working at the upper iron bar, which he could just reach. He presented his carbine, and was about to fire the whole charge into the body of the man under his raised arm, when there was a report of fire-arms from the robbers outside.
"Amine has exposed herself," thought Philip, "and may be hurt."
The desire of vengeance prompted him first to fire his piece through the man's body, and then he flew up the stairs to ascertain the state of Amine. She was not at the casement; he darted into the inner room, and found her deliberately loading the carbine.
"My God! how you frightened me, Amine. I thought by their firing that you had shown yourself at the window."
"Indeed I did not; but I thought that when you fired through the door they might return your fire, and you be hurt; so I went to the side of the casement and pushed out on a stick some of my father's clothes, and they who were watching for you fired immediately."
"Indeed, Amine! who could have expected such courage and such coolness in one so young and beautiful?" exclaimed Philip, with surprise.
"Are none but ill-favoured people brave, then?" replied Amine, smiling.
"I did not mean that, Aminebut I am losing time. I must to the door again. Give me that carbine, and reload this."
Philip crept downstairs that he might reconnoitre, but before he had gained the door he heard at a distance the voice of Mynheer Poots. Amine, who also heard it, was in a moment at his side with a loaded pistol in each hand.
"Fear not, Amine," said Philip, as he unbarred the door, "there are but two, and your father shall be saved."
The door was opened, and Philip, seizing his carbine, rushed out; he found Mynheer Poots on the ground between the two men, one of whom had raised his knife to plunge it into his body, when the ball of the carbine whizzed through his head. The last of the robbers closed with Philip, and a desperate struggle ensued; it was, however, soon decided by Amine stepping forward and firing one of the pistols through the robber's body.
We must here inform our readers that Mynheer Poots, when coming home, had heard the report of fire-arms in the direction of his own house. The recollection of his daughter and of his moneyfor to do him justice he did love her besthad lent him wings; he forgot that he was a feeble old man and without arms; all he thought of was to gain his habitation. On he came, reckless, frantic, and shouting, and rushed into the arms of the two robbers, who seized and would have despatched him, had not Philip so opportunely come to his assistance.
As soon as the last robber fell, Philip disengaged himself and went to the assistance of Mynheer Poots, whom he raised up in his arms, and carried into the house as if he were an infant. The old man was still in a state of delirium from fear and previous excitement.
In a few minutes Mynheer Poots was more coherent.
"My daughter!" exclaimed he"my daughter! where is she?"
"She is here, father, and safe," replied Amine.
"Ah! my child is safe," said he, opening his eyes and staring. "Yes, it is even soand my moneymy moneywhere is my money?" continued he, starting up.
"Quite safe, father."
"Quite safeyou say quite safeare you sure of it?let me see."
"There it is, father, as you may perceive, quite safethanks to one whom you have not treated so well."
"Whowhat do you mean?Ah, yes, I see him now'tis Philip Vanderdeckenhe owes me three guilders and a half, and there is a phialdid he save youand my money, child?"
"He did, indeed, at the risk of his life."
"Well, well, I will forgive him the whole debtyes, the whole of it; butthe phial is of no use to himhe must return that. Give me some water."
It was some time before the old man could regain his perfect reason. Philip left him with his daughter, and, taking a brace of loaded pistols, went out to ascertain the fate of the four assailants. The moon having climbed above the banks of clouds which had obscured her, was now high in the heavens, shining bright, and he could distinguish clearly. The two men lying across the threshold of the door were quite dead. The others, who had seized upon Mynheer Poots, were still alive, but one was expiring and the other bled fast. Philip put a few questions to the latter, but he either would not or could not make any reply; he removed their weapons and returned to the house, where he found the old man attended by his daughter, in a state of comparative composure.
"I thank you, Philip VanderdeckenI thank you much. You have saved my dear child, and my moneythat is little, very littlefor I am poor. May you live long and happily!"
Philip mused; the letter and his vow were, for the first time since he fell in with the robbers, recalled to his recollection, and a shade passed over his countenance.
"Long and happilyno, no," muttered he, with an involuntary shake of the head.
"And I must thank you," said Amine, looking inquiringly in Philip's face. "O, how much have I to thank you for!and indeed I am grateful."
"Yes, yes, she is very grateful," interrupted the old man; "but we are poorvery poor. I talked about my money because I have so little, and I cannot afford to lose it; but you shall not pay me the three guilders and a halfI am content to lose that, Mr Philip."
"Why should you lose even that, Mynheer Poots?I promised to pay you, and will keep my word. I have plenty of moneythousands of guilders, and know not what to do with them."
"Youyouthousands of guilders!" exclaimed Poots. "Pooh, nonsense, that won't do."
"I repeat to you, Amine," said Philip, "that I have thousands of guilders: you know I would not tell you a falsehood."
"I believed you when you said so to my father," replied Amine.
"Then perhaps, as you have so much, and I am so very poor, Mr Vanderdecken"
But Amine put her hand upon her father's lips, and the sentence was not finished.
"Father," said Amine, "it is time that we retire. You must leave us for to-night, Philip."
"I will not," replied Philip; "nor, you may depend upon it, will I sleep. You may both to bed in safety. It is indeed time that you retiregood-night, Mynheer Poots. I will but ask a lamp, and then I leave youAmine, good-night."
"Good-night," said Amine, extending her hand, "and many, many thanks."
"Thousands of guilders!" muttered the old man, as Philip left the room and went below.
Chapter V
Philip Vanderdecken sat down at the porch of the door; he swept his hair from his forehead, which he exposed to the fanning of the breeze; for the continued excitement of the last three days had left a fever on his brain which made him restless and confused. He longed for repose, but he knew that for him there was no rest. He had his forebodingshe perceived in the vista of futurity a long-continued chain of danger and disaster, even to death; yet he beheld it without emotion and without dread. He felt as if it were only three days that he had begun to exist; he was melancholy, but not unhappy. His thoughts were constantly recurring to the fatal letterits strange supernatural disappearance seemed pointedly to establish its supernatural origin, and that the mission had been intended for him alone; and the relic in his possession more fully substantiated the fact.
It is my fate, my duty, thought Philip. Having satisfactorily made up his mind to these conclusions, his thoughts reverted to the beauty, the courage, and presence of mind shown by Amine. And, thought he, as he watched the moon soaring high in the heavens, is this fair creature's destiny to be interwoven with mine? The events of the last three days would almost warrant the supposition. Heaven only knows, and Heaven's will be done. I have vowed, and my vow is registered, that I will devote my life to the release of my unfortunate fatherbut does that prevent my loving Amine?No, no; the sailor on the Indian seas must pass months and months on shore before he can return to his duty. My search must be on the broad ocean, but how often may I return? and why am I to be debarred the solace of a smiling hearth?and yetdo I right in winning the affections of one who, if she loves, would, I am convinced, love so dearly, fondly, trulyought I to persuade her to mate herself with one whose life will be so precarious? but is not every sailor's life precarious, daring the angry waves, with but an inch of plank 'tween him and death? Besides, I am chosen to fulfil a taskand if so, what can hurt me, till in Heaven's own time it is accomplished? but then how soon, and how is it to end? in death! I wish my blood were cooler, that I might reason better.
Such were the meditations of Philip Vanderdecken, and long did he revolve such chances in his mind. At last the day dawned, and as he perceived the blush upon the horizon, less careful of his watch he slumbered where he sat. A slight pressure on the shoulder made him start up and draw the pistol from his bosom. He turned round and beheld Amine.
"And that pistol was intended for me," said Amine, smiling, repeating Philip's words of the night before.
"For you, Amine?yes, to defend you, if 'twere necessary, once more."
"I know it wouldhow kind of you to watch this tedious night after so much exertion and fatigue! but it is now broad day."
"Until I saw the dawn, Amine, I kept a faithful watch."
"But now retire and take some rest. My father is risenyou can lie down on his bed."
"I thank you, but I feel no wish for sleep. There is much to do. We must to the burgomaster and state the facts, and these bodies must remain where they are until the whole is known. Will your father go, Amine, or shall I?"
"My father surely is the more proper person, as the proprietor of the house. You must remain; and if you will not sleep, you must take some refreshment. I will go in and tell my father; he has already taken his morning's meal."
Amine went in, and soon returned with her father, who had consented to go to the burgomaster. He saluted Philip kindly as he came out; shuddered as he passed on one side to avoid stepping over the dead bodies, and went off at a quick pace to the adjacent town, where the burgomaster resided.
Amine desired Philip to follow her, and they went into her father's room, where, to his surprise, he found some coffee ready for himat that time a rarity, and one which Philip did not expect to find in the house of the penurious Mynheer Poots; but it was a luxury which, from his former life, the old man could not dispense with.
Philip, who had not tasted food for nearly twenty-four hours, was not sorry to avail himself of what was placed before him. Amine sat down opposite to him, and was silent during his repast.
"Amine," said Philip at last, "I have had plenty of time for reflection during this night, as I watched at the door. May I speak freely?"
"Why not?" replied Amine. "I feel assured that you will say nothing that you should not say, or should not meet a maiden's ear."
"You do me justice, Amine. My thoughts have been upon you and your father. You cannot stay in this lone habitation."
"I feel it is too lonely; that is, for his safetyperhaps for minebut you know my fatherthe very loneliness suits him, the price paid for rent is little, and he is careful of his money."
"The man who would be careful of his money should place it in securityhere it is not secure. Now hear me, Amine. I have a cottage surrounded, as you may have heard, by many others, which mutually protect each other. That cottage I am about to leaveperhaps for ever; for I intend to sail by the first ship to the Indian seas."
"The Indian seas! why so?did you not last night talk of thousands of guilders?"
"I did, and they are there; but, Amine, I must goit is my duty. Ask me no more, but listen to what I now propose. Your father must live in my cottage; he must take care of it for me in my absence; he will do me a favour by consenting; and you must persuade him. You will there be safe. He must also take care of my money for me. I want it not at presentI cannot take it with me."
"My father is not to be trusted with the money of other people."
"Why does your father hoard? He cannot take his money with him when he is called away. It must be all for youand is not then my money safe?"
"Leave it then in my charge, and it will be safe; but why need you go and risk your life upon the water, when you have such ample means?"
"Amine, ask not that question. It is my duty as a son, and more I cannot tell, at least at present."
"If it is your duty, I ask no more. It was not womanish curiosityno, noit was a better feeling, I assure you, which prompted me to put the question."
"And what was the better feeling, Amine?"
"I hardly knowmany good feelings perhaps mixed up togethergratitude, esteem, respect, confidence, good-will. Are not these sufficient?"
"Yes, indeed, Amine, and much to gain upon so short an acquaintance; but still I feel them all, and more, for you. If, then, you feel so much for me, do oblige me by persuading your father to leave this lonely house this day, and take up his abode in mine."