By Pike and Dyke: A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic

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By Pike and Dyke: A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic
by G. A. Henty
This etext was produced by Martin Robb (MartinRobb@ieee.org)

PREFACE.

MY DEAR LADS,

In all the pages of history there is no record of a struggle so
unequal, so obstinately maintained, and so long contested as that
by which the men of Holland and Zeeland won their right to worship
God in their own way, and also -- although this was but a secondary
consideration with them -- shook off the yoke of Spain and achieved
their independence. The incidents of the contest were of a singularly
dramatic character. Upon one side was the greatest power of the
time, set in motion by a ruthless bigot, who was determined either
to force his religion upon the people of the Netherlands, or
to utterly exterminate them. Upon the other were a scanty people,
fishermen, sailors, and agriculturalists, broken up into communities
with but little bond of sympathy, and no communication, standing
only on the defensive, and relying solely upon the justice of their
cause, their own stout hearts, their noble prince, and their one
ally, the ocean. Cruelty, persecution, and massacre had converted
this race of peace loving workers into heroes capable of the most
sublime self sacrifices. Women and children were imbued with a
spirit equal to that of the men, fought as stoutly on the walls,
and died as uncomplainingly from famine in the beleaguered towns.
The struggle was such a long one that I have found it impossible
to recount all the leading events in the space of a single volume;
and, moreover, before the close, my hero, who began as a lad, would
have grown into middle age, and it is an established canon in books
for boys that the hero must himself be young. I have therefore
terminated the story at the murder of William of Orange, and hope
in another volume to continue the history, and to recount the
progress of the war, when England, after years of hesitation, threw
herself into the fray, and joined Holland in its struggle against
the power that overshadowed all Europe, alike by its ambition and
its bigotry. There has been no need to consult many authorities.
Motley in his great work has exhausted the subject, and for all
the historical facts I have relied solely upon him.

Yours very sincerely, G. A. HENTY

CHAPTER I

THE "GOOD VENTURE"

Rotherhithe in the year of 1572 differed very widely from the
Rotherhithe of today. It was then a scattered village, inhabited
chiefly by a seafaring population. It was here that the captains
of many of the ships that sailed from the port of London had their
abode. Snug cottages with trim gardens lay thickly along the banks
of the river, where their owners could sit and watch the vessels
passing up and down or moored in the stream, and discourse with
each other over the hedges as to the way in which they were handled,
the smartness of their equipage, whence they had come, or where
they were going. For the trade of London was comparatively small
in those days, and the skippers as they chatted together could form
a shrewd guess from the size and appearance of each ship as to the
country with which she traded, or whether she was a coaster working
the eastern or southern ports.

Most of the vessels, indeed, would be recognized and the captains
known, and hats would be waved and welcomes or adieus shouted as
the vessels passed. There was something that savoured of Holland
in the appearance of Rotherhithe; for it was with the Low Countries
that the chief trade of England was carried on; and the mariners
who spent their lives in journeying to and fro between London and
the ports of Zeeland, Friesland, and Flanders, who for the most part
picked up the language of the country, and sometimes even brought
home wives from across the sea, naturally learned something from
their neighbours. Nowhere, perhaps, in and about London were the
houses so clean and bright, and the gardens so trimly and neatly
kept, as in the village of Rotherhithe, and in all Rotherhithe not
one was brighter and more comfortable than the abode of Captain
William Martin.

It was low and solid in appearance; the wooden framework was
unusually massive, and there was much quaint carving on the beams.
The furniture was heavy and solid, and polished with beeswax until
it shone. The fireplaces were lined with Dutch tiles; the flooring
was of oak, polished as brightly as the furniture. The appointments
from roof to floor were Dutch; and no wonder that this was so, for
every inch of wood in its framework and beams, floor and furniture,
and had been brought across from Friesland by William Martin in
his ship, the Good Venture. It had been the dowry he received with
his pretty young wife, Sophie Plomaert.

Sophie was the daughter of a well-to-do worker in wood near
Amsterdam. She was his only daughter, and although he had nothing
to say against the English sailor who had won her heart, and who
was chief owner of the ship he commanded, he grieved much that
she should leave her native land; and he and her three brothers
determined that she should always bear her former home in her
recollection. They therefore prepared as her wedding gift a facsimile
of the home in which she had been born and bred. The furniture
and framework were similar in every particular, and it needed only
the insertion of the brickwork and plaster when it arrived. Two of
her brothers made the voyage in the Good Venture, and themselves
put the framework, beams, and flooring together, and saw to the
completion of the house on the strip of ground that William Martin
had purchased on the bank of the river.

Even a large summer house that stood at the end of the garden was a
reproduction of that upon the bank of the canal at home; and when
all was completed and William Martin brought over his bride she
could almost fancy that she was still at home near Amsterdam. Ever
since, she had once a year sailed over in her husband's ship, and
spent a few weeks with her kinsfolk. When at home from sea the great
summer house was a general rendezvous of William Martin's friends
in Rotherhithe, all skippers like himself, some still on active
service, others, who had retired on their savings; not all, however,
were fortunate enough to have houses on the river bank; and the
summer house was therefore useful not only as a place of meeting
but as a lookout at passing ships.

It was a solidly built structure, inclosed on the land side but open
towards the river, where, however, there were folding shutters, so
that in cold weather it could be partially closed up, though still
affording a sight of the stream. A great Dutch stove stood in one
corner, and in this in winter a roaring fire was kept up. There
were few men in Rotherhithe so well endowed with this world's goods
as Captain Martin. His father had been a trader in the city, but
William's tastes lay towards the sea rather than the shop, and as
he was the youngest of three brothers he had his way in the matter.
When he reached the age of twenty-three his father died, and with
his portion of the savings William purchased the principal share
of the Good Venture, which ship he had a few months before come to
command.

When he married he had received not only his house but a round sum
of money as Sophie's portion. With this he could had he liked have
purchased the other shares of the Good Venture; but being, though
a sailor, a prudent man, he did not like to put all his eggs into
one basket, and accordingly bought with it a share in another ship.
Three children had been born to William and Sophie Martin -- a boy
and two girls. Edward, who was the eldest, was at the time this
story begins nearly sixteen. He was an active well built young
fellow, and had for five years sailed with his father in the Good
Venture. That vessel was now lying in the stream a quarter of
a mile higher up, having returned from a trip to Holland upon the
previous day. The first evening there had been no callers, for it
was an understood thing at Rotherhithe that a captain on his return
wanted the first evening at home alone with his wife and family; but
on the evening of the second day, when William Martin had finished
his work of seeing to the unloading of his ship, the visitors
began to drop in fast, and the summer house was well nigh as full
as it could hold. Mistress Martin, who was now a comely matron
of six-and-thirty, busied herself in seeing that the maid and her
daughters, Constance and Janet, supplied the visitors with horns
of home brewed beer, or with strong waters brought from Holland
for those who preferred them.

"You have been longer away than usual, Captain Martin," one of the
visitors remarked.

"Yes," the skipper replied. "Trade is but dull, and though the Good
Venture bears a good repute for speed and safety, and is seldom
kept lying at the wharves for a cargo, we were a week before she
was chartered. I know not what will be the end of it all. I verily
believe that no people have ever been so cruelly treated for their
conscience' sake since the world began; for you know it is not against
the King of Spain but against the Inquisition that the opposition
has been made. The people of the Low Countries know well enough
it would be madness to contend against the power of the greatest
country in Europe, and to this day they have borne, and are bearing,
the cruelty to which they are exposed in quiet despair, and without
a thought of resistance to save their lives. There may have been
tumults in some of the towns, as in Antwerp, where the lowest part
of the mob went into the cathedrals and churches and destroyed the
shrines and images; but as to armed resistance to the Spaniards,
there has been none.

"The first expeditions that the Prince of Orange made into the
country were composed of German mercenaries, with a small body of
exiles. They were scarce joined by any of the country folk. Though,
as you know, they gained one little victory, they were nigh all
killed and cut to pieces. So horrible was the slaughter perpetrated
by the soldiers of the tyrannical Spanish governor Alva, that when
the Prince of Orange again marched into the country not a man joined
him, and he had to fall back without accomplishing anything. The
people seemed stunned by despair. Has not the Inquisition condemned
the whole of the inhabitants of the Netherlands -- save only a few
persons specially named -- to death as heretics? and has not Philip
confirmed the decree, and ordered it to be carried into instant
execution without regard to age or sex? Were three millions of men,
women, and children ever before sentenced to death by one stroke
of the pen, only because they refused to change their religion?
Every day there are hundreds put to death by the orders of Alva's
Blood Council, as it is called, without even the mockery of a
trial."

There was a general murmur of rage and horror from the assembled
party.

"Were I her queen's majesty," an old captain said, striking his fist
on the table, "I would declare war with Philip of Spain tomorrow,
and would send every man who could bear arms to the Netherlands to
aid the people to free themselves from their tyrants.

"Ay, and there is not a Protestant in this land but would go
willingly. To think of such cruelty makes the blood run through
my veins as if I were a lad again. Why, in Mary's time there were
two or three score burnt for their religion here in England, and we
thought that a terrible thing. But three millions of people! Why,
it is as many as we have got in all these islands! What think you
of this mates?"

"It is past understanding," another old sailor said. "It is too
awful for us to take in."

"It is said," another put in, "that the King of France has leagued
himself with Philip of Spain, and that the two have bound themselves
to exterminate the Protestants in all their dominions, and as that
includes Spain, France, Italy, the Low Countries, and most of
Germany, it stands to reason as we who are Protestants ought to
help our friends; for you may be sure, neighbours, that if Philip
succeeds in the Low Countries he will never rest until he has tried
to bring England under his rule also, and to plant the Inquisition
with its bonfires and its racks and tortures here."

An angry murmur of assent ran round the circle.

"We would fight them, you may be sure," Captain Martin said, "to
the last; but Spain is a mighty power, and all know that there are
no soldiers in Europe can stand against their pikemen. If the Low
Countries, which number as many souls as we, cannot make a stand
against them with all their advantages of rivers, and swamps, and
dykes, and fortified towns, what chance should we have who have
none of these things? What I say, comrades, is this: we have got
to fight Spain -- you know the grudge Philip bears us -- and it is
far better that we should go over and fight the Spaniards in the
Low Countries, side by side with the people there, and with all the
advantages that their rivers and dykes give, and with the comfort
that our wives and children are safe here at home, than wait till
Spain has crushed down the Netherlands and exterminated the people,
and is then able, with France as her ally, to turn her whole strength
against us. That's what I say."

"And you say right, Captain Martin. If I were the queen's majesty
I would send word to Philip tomorrow to call off his black crew
of monks and inquisitors. The people of the Netherlands have no
thought of resisting the rule of Spain, and would be, as they have
been before, Philip's obedient subjects, if he would but leave
their religion alone. It's the doings of the Inquisition that have
driven them to despair. And when one hears what you are telling us,
that the king has ordered the whole population to be exterminated
-- man, woman, and child -- no wonder they are preparing to fight
to the last; for it's better to die fighting a thousand times, than
it is to be roasted alive with your wife and children!"

"I suppose the queen and her councillors see that if she were to
meddle in this business it might cost her her kingdom, and us our
liberty," another captain said. "The Spaniards could put, they say,
seventy or eighty thousand trained soldiers in the field, while,
except the queen's own bodyguard, there is not a soldier in England;
while their navy is big enough to take the fifteen or twenty ships
the queen has, and to break them up to burn their galley fires."

"That is all true enough," Captain Martin agreed; "but our English
men have fought well on the plains of France before now, and I don't
believe we should fight worse today. We beat the French when they
were ten to one against us over and over, and what our fathers did
we can do. What you say about the navy is true also. They have a
big fleet, and we have no vessels worth speaking about, but we are
as good sailors as the Spaniards any day, and as good fighters;
and though I am not saying we could stop their fleet if it came
sailing up the Thames, I believe when they landed we should show
them that we were as good men as they. They might bring seventy
thousand soldiers, but there would be seven hundred thousand
Englishmen to meet; and if we had but sticks and stones to fight
with, they would not find that they would have an easy victory."

"Yes, that's what you think and I think, neighbour; but, you see,
we have not got the responsibility of it. The queen has to think
for us all. Though I for one would be right glad if she gave the
word for war, she may well hesitate before she takes a step that
might bring ruin, and worse than ruin, upon all her subjects.
We must own, too, that much as we feel for the people of the Low
Countries in their distress, they have not always acted wisely.
That they should take up arms against these cruel tyrants, even
if they had no chance of beating them, is what we all agree would
be right and natural; but when the mob of Antwerp broke into the
cathedral, and destroyed the altars and carvings, and tore up the
vestments, and threw down the Manes and the saints, and then did the
same in the other churches in the town and in the country round,
they behaved worse than children, and showed themselves as intolerant
and bigoted as the Spaniards themselves. They angered Philip beyond
hope of forgiveness, and gave him something like an excuse for his
cruelties towards them."

"Ay, ay, that was a bad business," Captain Martin agreed; "a very
bad business, comrade. And although these things were done by a mere
handful of the scum of the town the respectable citizens raised no
hand to stop it, although they can turn out the town guard readily
enough to put a stop to a quarrel between the members of two of
the guilds. There were plenty of men who have banded themselves
together under the name of 'the beggars,' and swore to fight for
their religion, to have put these fellows down if they had chosen.
They did not choose, and now Philip's vengeance will fall on them
all alike."

"Well, what think you of this business, Ned?" one of the captains
said, turning to the lad who was standing in a corner, remaining, as
in duty bound, silent in the presence of his elders until addressed.

"Were I a Dutchman, and living under such a tyranny," Ned said
passionately, "I would rise and fight to the death rather than see
my family martyred. If none other would rise with me, I would take
a sword and go out and slay the first Spaniard I met, and again
another, until I was killed."

"Bravo, Ned! Well spoken, lad!" three or four of the captains said;
but his father shook his head.

"Those are the words of hot youth, Ned; and were you living there
you would do as the others -- keep quiet till the executioners
came to drag you away, seeing that did you, as you say you would,
use a knife against a Spaniard, it would give the butchers a pretext
for the slaughtering of hundreds of innocent people."

The lad looked down abashed at the reproof, then he said: "Well,
father, if I could not rise in arms or slay a Spaniard and then
be killed, I would leave my home and join the sea beggars under La
Marck."

"There is more reason in that," his father replied; "though La
Marck is a ferocious noble, and his followers make not very close
inquiry whether the ships they attack are Spanish or those of other
people. Still it is hard for a man to starve; and when time passes
and they can light upon no Spanish merchantmen, one cannot blame
them too sorely if they take what they require out of some other
passing ship. But there is reason at the bottom of what you say.
Did the men of the sea coast, seeing that their lives and those of
their families are now at the mercy of the Spaniards, take to their
ships with those dear to them and continually harass the Spaniards,
they could work them great harm, and it would need a large fleet to
overpower them, and that with great difficulty, seeing that they
know the coast and all the rivers and channels, and could take
refuge in shallows where the Spaniards could not follow them. At
present it seems to me the people are in such depths of despair,
that they have not heart for any such enterprise. But I believe that
some day or other the impulse will be given -- some more wholesale
butchery than usual will goad them to madness, or the words of some
patriot wake them into action, and then they will rise as one man
and fight until utterly destroyed, for that they can in the end
triumph over Spain is more than any human being can hope."

"Then they must be speedy about it, friend Martin," another said.
"They say that eighty thousand have been put to death one way
or another since Alva came into his government. Another ten years
and there will be scarce an able bodied man remaining in the Low
Country. By the way, you were talking of the beggars of the sea.
Their fleet is lying at present at Dover, and it is said that the
Spanish ambassador is making grave complaints to the queen on the
part of his master against giving shelter to these men, whom he
brands as not only enemies of Spain, but as pirates and robbers of
the sea."

"I was talking with Master Sheepshanks," another mariner put in,
"whose ships I sailed for thirty years, and who is an alderman and
knows what is going on, and he told me that from what he hears it
is like enough that the queen will yield to the Spanish request. So
long as she chooses to remain friends with Spain openly, whatever
her thoughts and opinions may be, she can scarcely allow her ports
to be used by the enemies of Philip. It must go sorely against
her high spirit; but till she and her council resolve that England
shall brave the whole strength of Spain, she cannot disregard the
remonstrances of Philip. It is a bad business, neighbours, a bad
business; and the sooner it comes to an end the better. No one
doubts that we shall have to fight Spain one of these days, and
I say that it were better to fight while our brethren of the Low
Countries can fight by our side, than to wait till Spain, having
exterminated them, can turn her whole power against us."

There was a general chorus of assent, and then the subject changed
to the rates of freight to the northern ports. The grievous need for
the better marking of shallows and dangers, the rights of seamen,
wages, and other matters, were discussed until the assembly broke
up. Ned's sisters joined him in the garden.

"I hear, Constance," the boy said to the elder, "there has been no
news from our grandfather and uncles since we have been away."

"No word whatever, Ned. Our mother does not say much, but I know
she is greatly troubled and anxious about it."

"That she may well be, Constance, seeing that neither quiet conduct
nor feebleness nor aught else avail to protect any from the rage
of the Spaniards. You who stay at home here only hear general tales
of the cruelties done across the sea, but if you heard the tales
that we do at their ports they would drive you almost to madness.
Not that we hear much, for we have to keep on board our ships, and
may not land or mingle with the people; but we learn enough from
the merchants who come on board to see about the landing of their
goods to make our blood boil. They do right to prevent our landing;
for so fired is the sailors' blood by these tales of massacre, that
were they to go ashore they would, I am sure, be speedily embroiled
with the Spaniards.

"You see how angered these friends of our father are who are
Englishmen, and have no Dutch blood in their veins, and who feel
only because they are touched by these cruelties, and because
the people of the Low Country are Protestants; but with us it is
different, our mother is one of these persecuted people, and we
belong to them as much as to England. We have friends and relations
there who are in sore peril, and who may for aught we know have
already fallen victims to the cruelty of the Spaniards. Had I
my will I would join the beggars of the sea, or I would ship with
Drake or Cavendish and fight the Spaniards in the Indian seas. They
say that there Englishmen are proving themselves better men than
these haughty dons."

"It is very sad," Constance said; "but what can be done?"

"Something must be done soon," Ned replied gloomily. "Things cannot
go on as they are. So terrible is the state of things, so heavy the
taxation, that in many towns all trade is suspended. In Brussels,
I hear, Alva's own capital, the brewers have refused to brew, the
bakers to bake, the tapsters to draw liquors. The city swarms with
multitudes of men thrown out of employment. The Spanish soldiers
themselves have long been without pay, for Alva thinks of nothing
but bloodshed. Consequently they are insolent to their officers, care
little for order, and insult and rob the citizens in the streets.
Assuredly something must come of this ere long; and the people's
despair will become a mad fury. If they rise, Constance, and my
father does not say nay, I will assuredly join them and do my best.

"I do not believe that the queen will forbid her subjects to give
their aid to the people of the Netherlands; for she allowed many to
fight in France for Conde and the Protestants against the Guises,
and she will surely do the same now, since the sufferings of our
brothers in the Netherlands have touched the nation far more keenly
than did those of the Huguenots in France. I am sixteen now, and
my father says that in another year he will rate me as his second
mate, and methinks that there are not many men on board who can pull
more strongly a rope, or work more stoutly at the capstan when we
heave our anchor. Besides, as we all talk Dutch as well as English,
I should be of more use than men who know nought of the language
of the country."

Constance shook her head. "I do not think, Ned, that our father
would give you leave, at any rate not until you have grown up into
a man. He looks to having you with him, and to your succeeding
him some day in the command of the Good Venture, while he remains
quietly at home with our mother."

Ned agreed with a sigh. "I fear that you are right, Constance, and
that I shall have to stick to my trade of sailoring; but if the
people of the Netherlands rise against their tyrants, it would be
hard to be sailing backwards and forwards doing a peaceful trade
between London and Holland whilst our friends and relatives are
battling for their lives."

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