The Sea Beggars Read Online Free

“I’ll set Jan to steal that nest this winter, if I must give him money to do it.”
    â€œOh, Mother.”
    â€œWell, why should van der Heghe have a stork and not Mies van Cleef?” Her mother straightened, swished at the windowsill with her dustrag, and sniffed. “They haven’t got a penny to part their hair with, I’ll tell you that. All pretense and show it is with them.” She sniffed again. “They don’t deserve a stork.” She marched out of the room, batting at the furniture with the dustrag, although not a visible fleck of dust ever lay long on the van Cleefs’ household.
    Hanneke turned back to the window, suddenly near tears. Storks and dust, that was all her mother cared about—all she could care about; and that way lay Hanneke’s life too, a house like this one, except probably not as nice, and envy for the neighbors and gossip and never going out. That presumed she married; if she did not, things would be even worse. She pressed her face to the sour-smelling glass, feeling sorry for herself.
    In the street below a boy ran, shouting and waving a sheet of paper over his head.
    The window kept his voice out. Hanneke watched him hurry past, his paper like a banner overhead. Little boys could run the streets at will, like dogs, and she thought it very unfair that she could not leave the house without her mother, who never wanted to go out at all. Across the way, van der Heghe’s door opened, and the cook came out onto the walk between the rose beds, looking after the boy with his broadside.
    Hanneke’s gaze sharpened. The boy was coming back; the cook had a coin out and was buying his broadside. Turning her thumb ring around, Hanneke rapped on the glass, trying to get the cook’s attention.
    â€œMarta—”
    The cook read the broadside and yelled. With a flutter of her white apron, she dropped the paper into the street and ran back up the brick walk to her front door.
    â€œMarta!” Hanneke shouted, and rapped on the glass. “What is it?”
    Van der Heghe’s door slammed. The boy ran away; the broadside lay in the street, blowing over in the breeze from the canal. Hanneke leapt up out of her chair and bolted from the room.
    Her mother was in the back room, putting flowers in a vase. As Hanneke raced by her door, she called, “Johanna! Walk, like a proper Christian woman!”
    Hanneke ran down the stairs and to the heavy front door. Her mother’s shrill voice followed her, demanding to know what she did. The door was heavy, a barrier, a bulwark against the world. Hanneke pulled it open and went down the walk to the wrought iron gate.
    The broadside still lay in the street, halfway between her gate and van der Heghe’s. From the other end of the street came the shouts and screams of children playing. Hanneke gripped the wrought iron spikes of the gate, wondering if she could coax one of the children to bring her the broadside; but they were far away. She pulled the heavy spring latch backward, pushed the gate wide, and ran out into the street.
    â€œHanneke!” her mother cried, behind her.
    She snatched the broadside up out of the dust and whirled and ran back to her own yard. Until she had the gate shut again, she did not stop to read it.
    The title shouted at her: WORD FROM THE KING! She leaned against the gate and scanned the lines of print below that. A low cry burst from her. She read it again, to make sure she understood.
    â€œHanneke!” Her mother stood in the doorway. “Get in here this moment!”
    â€œMother,” Hanneke said, and went toward her, both hands out, the broadside gripped in one fist. “Mother, we’re lost—the King has refused the petition.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe King has refused the petition! They will bring the Inquisition here—”
    Hanneke went by her mother into the downstairs hallway, turned, and faced her. “Mother, they are