“Now, you Spanish dogs,” the great man roared back at them as he shook the water from his flaming hair and beard, “go dig for Brant’s treasure and live on ducks’ eggs here till Don Frederic sends to fetch you.”

The island had melted away into a mist of other islands.  No living thing was to be seen save the wild creatures and birds of the great lake, and no sound was to be heard except their calling and the voices of the wind and water.  They were alone—­alone and safe, and there at a distance towards the skyline rose the church towers of Leyden, for which they headed.

“Jufvrouw,” said Martin presently, “there is another flagon of wine in that locker, and we should be glad of a pull at it.”

Elsa, who was steering the boat, rose and found the wine and a horn mug, which she filled and handed first to Foy.

“Here’s a health,” said Foy as he drank, “to the memory of Mother Martha, who saved us all.  Well, she died as she would have wished to die, taking a Spaniard for company, and her story will live on.”

“Amen,” said Martin.  Then a thought struck him, and, leaving his oars for a minute, for he rowed two as against Foy’s and Adrian’s one, he went forward to where Ramiro lay stricken senseless on the kegs of specie and jewels in the bows, and took from him the great sword Silence.  But he strapped the Spaniard’s legs together with his belt.

“That crack on the head keeps him quiet enough,” he said in explanation, “but he might come to and give trouble, or try to swim for it, since such cats have many lives.  Ah!  Senor Ramiro, I told you I would have my sword back before I was half an hour older, or go where I shouldn’t want one.”  Then he touched the spring in the hilt and examined the cavity.  “Why,” he said, “here’s my legacy left in it safe and sound.  No wonder my good angel made me mad to get that sword again.”

“No wonder,” echoed Foy, “especially as you got Ramiro with it,” and he glanced at Adrian, who was labouring at the bow oar, looking, now that the excitement of the fight had gone by, most downcast and wretched.  Well he might, seeing the welcome that, as he feared, awaited him in Leyden.

For a while they rowed on in silence.  All that they had gone through during the last four and twenty hours and the seven preceding months of war and privation, had broken their nerve.  Even now, although they had escaped the danger and won back the buried gold, capturing the arch-villain who had brought them so much death and misery, and their home, which, for the present moment at any rate, was a strong place of refuge, lay before them, still they could not be at ease.  Where so many had died, where the risks had been so fearful, it seemed almost incredible that they four should be living and hale, though weary, with a prospect of continuing to live for many years.