Die schwarze Galeere. English Page 9
Antonio, poor friend, between now and fiveyou've time enough to die. Don't sit up. Lie down. Your wounds arebleeding again. Lie down. What business of yours is the girl?"
"Leone, Leone, look after the ship! Beware the black galley. Lookafter the ship!" the dying man screamed in his delirium.
"Who cares about the black galley?" muttered Leone della Rota. "Thechase will only begin at five o'clock. Calm down, Antonio, calm down.Everything is as it should be on board. No worries. Sleep. Go tosleep."
Once again the captain sank back and closed his eyes. The last wildburst of excitement was followed immediately by the final moments ofexhaustion. The life of Antonio Valani, captain of the Andrea Doria,was drawing to a close.
The lieutenant was all too well aware of it. He sighed and shook hishead: "Poor Antonio! Poor friend! Must you set sail so soon? Ah,what good does it do to moan about it, and yet--I wish that day wasdawning. I wish this long night were over! Once we're out at sea,once the corpse is overboard, only then will I feel better. I reallydo wish that morning were here already!"
He paced up and down in the narrow cabin. More than once he brushedagainst the unfortunate Myga and each time she jerked her arms togetherand pushed herself nearer to the wall.
"If only I could die," whispered Myga van Bergen. "If only deathwould come to save me. Let death embrace me as it embraced Jan."
The oil lamp was threatening to go out. Leone della Rota called foranother light, more wine. He needed both in this dark night. Hissoul seemed a wild and desolate place.
VI.The Black Galley.
On Fort Liefkenhoek the banner embroidered with the lion of Leonand the towers of Castile flutters proudly. The same banner fliesover Fort Lillo and all the other forts staring into the jaws ofhell on both banks of the Scheldt right up as far as the mightywalls of the citadel in Antwerp.
Sharp eyes keep watch over all these ramparts and walls, and thecalls and the answering calls of the sentries never stop by day orby night.
The enemy is also close by and vigilant. He can appear at anymoment. Who knows the hour at which he will come?
All around Zeeland's coastline the North Sea surges. It is here,on Tholen, on Schouwen, on North and South Beveland, on Walcheren,that the fearsome men of iron live who were first to swear anoath that they would rather be Turks than Papists and who wear asilver half-moon on their hats and carry in their hearts an allconsuming, unquenchable hatred for Spaniards. What childrenmothers give birth to on these sea-sprayed sand dunes! Protectthis land, you towers of Castile, keep good watch over the bastionof Flanders, you lion of Leon. "Better a country spoilt than acountry lost" was the opinion of Zeeland sailors who, from thedefeated Spaniards of Veere and Leyden, tore the hearts from theirchests, bit into them and threw them to their dogs to eat.
"Eat this, bitter though it is!"
On Fort Liefkenhoek, on Fort Lillo, on the Kruisschanze, on FortPearl and San Felipe, on Forts Maria, Ferdinand and Isabella the crygoes out:
"Keep good watch! Keep good watch!"
The cannons on the Brabant side of the Scheldt and the cannons onthe Flemish side are ready to spit out death and destruction ontoany venturesome vessel that dares to make its way upstream in thedirection of Antwerp.
"Keep good watch! Keep good watch!"
But the night is dark and neither moonlight nor starlight make itany brighter. It is hard to keep watch well on such a night.
How still and warm it is! Only the roaring of the great riversounds on and on against the background of the warning cries ofthe soldiers on the walls:
"Keep good watch! Keep good watch!"
What is coming from South Beveland towards the western arm of theScheldt where river and sea meet up with each other and can nolonger be told apart? What is gliding over the waves under coverof darkness? It is propelled by a hundred strange arms, flyingswift as an arrow just like the ghost ship, the Flying Dutchman.A ship's mighty form cuts through the waves and others come afterit, less powerful ones.
What do the men of Zeeland care about darkness? They can findtheir way over these waters for these waters are their nativeland. One dark shadow comes after another; they sail on in astraight line--no noise is heard on board, even the rudder runsnoiselessly through the waves. Words of command go from mouthto mouth in whispers. Each one on board knows what his duty is,each one is bound by the most solemn of oaths to stick a knifethrough his neighbour's jaw if his neighbour, by making a noiseor by crying out thoughtlessly, jeopardizes the success of theenterprise.
Each one on board will abide by his oath, even were it to meanthat he was thus obliged to stab his own brother, father or son.
A light comes up on the left--Fort Lillo!
A light comes up on the right--Fort Liefkenhoek!
The cries of the Spanish sentries fall clearly and audibly onevery ear on board the black galley and its accompanying convoy.
Each knife, each grappling hook is kept in readiness. Theconcealed fuses glimmer near the weapons. The hearts of thesedaring men are beating strongly.
"Keep good watch! Keep good watch!" can be heard echoing intothe distance. A great danger lies behind these bold seamen now.Long live the luck of the sea beggars!
What's that shimmering on the right?
The lights of Dorf and Fort Callao.
What is flickering on the Brabant side of the river?
The lights of the village of Ordam.
How still it is now in this frightful place where the bridgeof Alexander Farnese once stood, the engineering wonder of thecentury! What genius once shone here! What blood once flowedhere!
On this spot Giovanni Baptista Plato and Barocci once worked.On this spot Gianibelli's fireship wreaked havoc and filled theair, the water and the surrounding countryside with ruins andmutilated bodies.
Even now, after so many years, many a citizen of Antwerp withrepublican sympathies, wakes from sleep at night and thinks hehas been woken up by the crack of a great explosion that mighthave been the town's salvation and wasn't.
Soundlessly the black galley glides on over these balefulwaters with its shadowy convoy in tow.
"Keep watch! Keep good watch!" goes the cry from the earthworksof San Pedro and Santa Barbara.
Behold the lights of Predigerhof, the lights of Fort Maria, thelights of Fort Ferdinand! A bell, muffled and solemn, chimesin the darkness--the bell in the tower of Our Lady's church inAntwerp.
Two o'clock!
The captain of the black galley is at his post, drawn sword inhand, but another is taking the ship through the darkness ofthis night.
Were the slightest beam of light to fall on the face of thissteersman, you would be startled when you saw his face.
Jan Norris, Myga's betrothed, Myga who is still a prisoner onthe Andrea Doria, Jan Norris who has left his love in the powerof his deadliest enemy, Jan Norris who did not jump to his deathfrom the deck of that Genoese galleon, Jan Norris is steeringthe black galley tonight!
The eyes of Jan Norris scan the night, bore through the darknessas if it were broad daylight.
Jan to the rescue! Jan's revenge!
Watch out, Leone della Rota, the night has mischief in store foryou. Be careful, Leone della Rota, now is not the time to succumbto the love of a woman and the strong wine of Sicily! Look outfor your ship, Leone della Rota, watch out--watch out for theblack galley!
On board the Andrea Doria all commands had been issued and carriedout. In another three hours the galleon would make its way to therendezvous point with the four galleys that had already sailed atBiervliet and then the chase in pursuit of the black galley wouldbegin. The crew were using the short respite that had been affordedthem to sleep, even the watch on deck were sleeping and the lanternof the man on the gangplank had gone out like all the other lightson board. Was the ship not safe at anchor under the city walls andthe walls of the citadel?
Suspended from the mainmast the ship's lantern throws an unsteadyand flickering light over the
deck. From the windows of the cabina dim light falls on the dark waters of the Scheldt, which arestreaming past it.
In the cabin Leone della Rota stands up at Antonio Valani's bedside.
"It's over," he says. "He's dead. Can you hear me, bella Fiaminga,dead and Leone della Rota is captain on this ship. Can you hear me,my sweet? I'm coming into my own--you too belong to me. With myfriend's last breath you became mine."
Once again Leone filled the tumbler with wine.
"Why do you turn away and tremble, beautiful Myga? He's dead. Hisheart has beat its last. But my heart beats like a hammer, out ofcontrol. He was my friend in life. Now, by loving you, I avengehis death."
He lifted the tumbler and emptied it in one.
"A toast, my poor Antonio--you will have on the high seas the graveof a noble sailor. They won't be burying you on land in a hurry.You'll sleep instead below the joyful