Mr. Van de Werve ordered his people to await him at the gate of the
dock-yard, and passed on, saluting those whom he met, to the place where
the Portuguese flag indicated the gondola of Lopez de Galle, which was
prepared to receive him. They threw a carpet across the plank upon which
Mary was to step in passing into the gondola. Mary, her father, and
Geronimo entered the boat; the six oars dipped simultaneously into the
water, and, pushed by the strong arms of the Portuguese sailors, the
gondola sped rapidly through the waves. Swift as a fish and light as a
swan, it skimmed the surface of the Scheldt, and made many a turn through
the numerous vessels until it had succeeded in finding an open way down
the river. Then the sailors exerted all their strength, as if to show the
beautiful young girl what they were capable of in their trade. The
gondola, obeying the impulse given it by the oarsmen, bounded forward
under each stroke of the oars, and gracefully poised itself on the waves
caused by its rapid passage.
Complete silence reigned in the gondola; the sailors looked with timid
admiration upon the beautiful countenance of the young girl. Mary, with
downcast eyes, was persuading herself that Geronimo's uncle would
undoubtedly consent to their union. The young man was absorbed in thought,
and yielded by turns to joy, hope, and fear. Mr. Van de Werve contemplated
the city, and seemed to enjoy the magnificent spectacle presented by
Antwerp when seen at a distance, and which, with its lofty towers and
splendid edifices, rose from the river like another Venice.
Suddenly Geronimo rose and pointed in the distance, exclaiming, joyously,
"See, the Il Salvatore!"
Mary, glancing around, eagerly asked: "Where? Is it the vessel bearing a
red cross on its flag?"
"No, Mary, it is behind the ships of war; it is that large vessel with
three masts--on its flag is a picture of the Saviour: Il Salvatore."
While the gondola rapidly sped on its way, the eyes of all were fixed upon
the galley, in order, if possible, to distinguish the features of those
who stood on deck.
Suddenly Geronimo clapped his hands, exclaiming, "God be praised! I see my
uncle."
"Which is he?" inquired Mr. Van de Werve.
The young man replied, joyously: "Do you not see standing on the
forecastle five or six passengers who wear parti-colored dresses, with
plumed hats? In the midst of them is a man of lofty stature, completely
enveloped in a brown cloak. He has long white hair, and his silvery beard
looks like snow-flakes resting on his dark mantle. That is my old uncle,
Signor Deodati."