A RESCUE

At twelve o'clock on the following day Ned went to the town hall, and on stating that he was the bearer of an order from the Council, was at once shown into the chamber in which three of the magistrates were sitting.

"I am the bearer of an order from the Council for the delivery to me of the persons of the Countess Von Harp, her daughter, and the woman arrested in company with them for conveyance to Brussels, there to answer the charges against them. This is the order of the Council with their seal, ordering all magistrates to render assistance to me as one of their servants. This is the special order for the handing over to me of the prisoners named."

The magistrates took the first order, glanced at it and at the seal, and perfectly satisfied with this gave a casual glance at that for the transferring of the prisoners.

"I think you were about a year since with Councillor Von Aert?" one of the magistrates said. Ned bowed. "By the way, did I not hear that you were missing, or that some misfortune had befallen you some months since? I have a vague recollection of doing so."

"Yes. I was sorely maltreated by a band of robber peasants who left me for dead, but as you see I am now completely recovered."

"I suppose you have some men with you to escort the prisoners?" one of the magistrates asked.

"Assuredly," Ned replied. "I have with me three men, behind whom the women will ride."

The magistrates countersigned the order upon the governor of the prison to hand over the three prisoners, and gave it with the letter of the Council to Ned. He bowed and retired.

"I should not have remembered him again," the magistrate who had been the chief speaker said after he had left the room, "had it not been for that villainous cast in his eyes. I remember noticing it when he was here last time, and wondered that Von Aert should like to have a man whose eyes were so crossways about him; otherwise I do not recall the face at all, which is not surprising seeing that I only saw him for a minute or two, and noticed nothing but that abominable squint of his."

Ned walked back to his inn, ordered his horse to be saddled at two o'clock, and partook of a hearty meal. Then paying his reckoning he went out and mounted his horse. As he did so three men in green doublets and red hose rode up and took their places behind him. On arriving at the prison he dismounted, and handing his horse to one of his followers entered.

"I have an order from the Council, countersigned by the magistrates here, for the delivery to me of three prisoners."

The warder showed him into a room.

"The governor is ill," he said, "and confined to his bed; but I will take the order to him."

Ned was pleased with the news, for he thought it likely that Genet might have been there before on similar errands, and his person be known to the governor. In ten minutes the warder returned.

"The prisoners are without," he said, "and ready to depart."

Pulling his bonnet well down over his eyes, Ned went out into the courtyard.

"You are to accompany me to Brussels, countess," he said gruffly. "Horses are waiting for you without."

The countess did not even glance at the official who had thus come to convey her to what was in all probability death, but followed through the gate into the street. The men backed their horses up to the block of stone used for mounting. Ned assisted the females to the pillions, and when they were seated mounted his own horse and led the way down the street. Many of the people as they passed along groaned or hooted, for the feeling in Maastricht was strongly in favour of the patriot side, a feeling for which they were some years later to be punished by almost total destruction of the city, and the slaughter of the greater portion of its inhabitants.

Ned paid no attention to these demonstrations, but quickening his horse into a trot rode along the street and out of the gate of the city. As the road was a frequented one, he maintained his place at the head of the party until they had left the city nearly two miles behind them. On arriving at a small crossroad one of the men said: "This is the way, sir; it is up this road that the cart is waiting." Ned now reined back his horse to the side of that on which the countess was riding.

"Countess," he said, "have you forgotten the English lad you aided a year ago in Brussels?"

The countess started.

"I recognize you now, sir," she said coldly; "and little did I think at that time that I should next see you as an officer of the Council of Blood."

Ned smiled.

"Your mistake is a natural one, countess; but in point of fact I am still in the service of the Prince of Orange, and have only assumed this garb as a means of getting you and your daughter out of the hands of those murderers. I am happy to say that you are free to go where you will; these good fellows are like myself disguised, and are at your service. In a few minutes we shall come to a cart which will take you wheresoever you like to go, and there are disguises similar to those with which you once fitted me out in readiness for you there."

The surprise of the countess for a moment kept her silent; but Gertrude, who had overheard what was said, burst into exclamations of delight.

"Pardon me for having doubted you," the countess exclaimed, much affected.

"No pardon is required, countess. Seeing that the prison authorities handed you over to me, you could not but have supposed that I was as I seemed, in the service of the Council."

Just at this moment they came upon a cart drawn up by the roadside. Ned assisted the countess and her daughter to alight, and while he was rendering similar assistance to the old servant, mother and daughter threw themselves into each other's arms, and wept with delight at this unexpected delivery that had befallen them. It was some time before they were sufficiently recovered to speak.

"But how do you come here?" the countess asked Ned, "and how have you effected this miracle?"

Ned briefly related how he had heard of their captivity, and the manner in which he had been enabled to effect their escape.

"And now, countess," he said, "the day is wearing on, and it is necessary that you should at once decide upon your plans. Will you again try to make to the German frontier or to the sea coast, or remain in hiding here?"

"We cannot make for Germany without again crossing the Maas," the countess said, "and it is a long way to the sea coast. What say you, Magdalene?"

"I think," the old woman said, "that you had best carry out the advice I gave before. It is a little more than twelve miles from here to the village where, as I told you, I have relations living. We can hire a house there, and there is no chance of your being recognized. I can send a boy thence to Brussels to fetch the jewels and money you left in charge of your friend the Count Von Dort there."

"That will certainly be the best way, Magdalene. We can wait there until either there is some change in the state of affairs, or until we can find some safe way of escape. It is fortunate, indeed, that I left my jewels in Brussels, instead of taking them with me as I had at first intended.

"It will hardly be necessary, will it," she asked Ned, "to put on the disguises, for nothing in the world can be simpler than our dresses at present?"

"You had certainly best put the peasant cloaks and caps on. Inquiries are sure to be made all through the country when they find at Maastricht how they have been tricked. Three peasant women in a cart will attract no attention whatever, even in passing through villages; but, dressed as you are now, some one might notice you and recall it if inquiries were made."

The three men who had aided in the scheme had ridden off as soon as the cart was reached, and Ned, being anxious that the party should be upon their way, and desirous, too, of avoiding the expressions of gratitude of the three women, hurried them into the cart. It was not necessary for them to change their garments, as the peasant's cloaks completely enveloped them, and the high headdresses quite changed their appearance.

"Do not forget, countess, I hope some day to see you in England," Ned said as they took their seats.

"I will not forget," the countess said; "and only wish that at present I was on my way thither."

After a warm farewell, and seeing the cart fairly on its way, Ned mounted his horse and rode northwest. He slept that night at Heerenthals, and on the following night at Bois le Duc. Here he sold his horse for a few crowns, and taking boat proceeded down the Dommel into the Maas, and then on to Rotterdam. On his arrival at Delft he was heartily welcomed by the prince; who was greatly pleased to hear that he had, without any accident or hitch, carried out successfully the plan he had proposed to himself. Three weeks later the prince heard from his correspondent at Maastricht. The letter was cautiously worded, as were all those interchanged, lest it should fall into the hands of the Spanish.

"There has been some excitement here. A week since a messenger arrived from Brussels with orders that three female prisoners confined here should be sent at once to Brussels; but curiously enough it was found that the three prisoners in question had been handed over upon the receipt of a previous order. This is now pronounced to be a forgery, and it is evident that the authorities have been tricked. There has been much search and inquiry, but no clue whatever has been obtained as to the direction taken by the fugitives, or concerning those engaged in this impudent adventure."

Alva's reign of terror and cruelty was now drawing to an end. His successor was on his way out, and the last days of his administration were embittered by his failure of his plans, the retreat of his army from before Alkmaar, and the naval defeat from the Zuider Zee. But he continued his cruelties to the end. Massacres on a grand scale were soon carried on, and a nobleman named Uitenhoove, who had been taken prisoner, was condemned to be roasted to death before a slow fire, and was accordingly fastened by a chain to a stake, around which a huge fire was kindled; he suffered in slow torture a long time until despatched by the executioner with a spear, a piece of humanity that greatly angered the duke.

Alva had contracted an enormous amount of debt, both public and private, in Amsterdam, and now caused a proclamation to be issued that all persons having demands upon him were to present their claims on a certain day. On the previous night he and his train noiselessly took their departure. The heavy debts remained unpaid, and many opulent families were reduced to beggary. Such was the result of the confidence of the people of Amsterdam in the honour of their tyrant.

On the 17th of November Don Louis de Requesens, Grand Commander of St. Jago, Alva's successor, arrived in Brussels; and on the 18th of December the Duke of Alva left. He is said to have boasted, on his way home, that he had caused 18,000 inhabitants of the provinces to be executed during the period of his government. This was, however, a mere nothing to the number who had perished in battle, siege, starvation, and massacre. After the departure of their tyrant the people of the Netherlands breathed more freely, for they hoped that under their new governor, there would be a remission in the terrible agony they had suffered; and for a time his proclamations were of a conciliatory nature. But it was soon seen that there was no change in policy. Peace was to be given only on the condition of all Protestants recanting or leaving their country.

The first military effort of the new governor was to endeavour to relieve the city of Middleburg, the capital of the Island of Walcheren, which had long been besieged by the Protestants. Mondragon the governor was sorely pressed by famine, and could hold out but little longer, unless rescue came. The importance of the city was felt by both parties. Requesens himself went to Bergen op Zoom, where seventy-five ships were collected under the command, nominally, of Admiral de Glines, but really under that of Julian Romero, while another fleet of thirty ships was assembled at Antwerp, under D'Avila, and moved down towards Flushing, there to await the arrival of that of Romero. Upon the other hand, the Prince of Orange collected a powerful fleet under the command of Admiral Boisot, and himself paid a visit to the ships, and assembling the officers roused them to enthusiasm by a stirring address.

On the 20th of January the Good Venture again entered the port of Delft; and hearing that a battle was expected in a few days, Captain Martin determined to take part in it. As soon as he had unloaded his cargo he called the crew together and informed them of his determination, but said that as this was no quarrel of theirs, any who chose could remain on shore until his return.

But Englishmen felt that the cause of Holland was their own, and not a single man on board availed himself of this permission. Ned informed the Prince of Orange of his father's intention, and asked leave to accompany him.

"Assuredly you may go if you please," the prince said; "but I fear that, sooner or later, the fortune of war will deprive me of you, and I should miss you much. Moreover, almost every sailor in port is already in one or other of Boisot's ships; and I fear that, with your weak crew, you would have little chance if engaged with one of these Spanish ships full of men."

"We have enough to work our cannon, sir," Ned said; "besides, I think we may be able to beat up some volunteers. There are many English ships in port waiting for cargoes, which come in but slowly, and I doubt not that some of them will gladly strike a blow against the Spaniards."

Ned and Peters accordingly went round among the English vessels, and in the course of two hours had collected a hundred volunteers. In those days every Englishman regarded a Spaniard as a natural enemy. Drake and Hawkins, and other valiant captains, were warring fiercely against them in the Indian seas, and officers and men in the ships in Delft were alike eager to join in the forthcoming struggle against them.

The Good Venture had, flying the Dutch flag, joined Boisot's fleet at Romerswael, a few miles below Bergen, on the 27th of January; and when the Hollanders became aware of the nationality of the vessel which had just joined them, they welcomed them with tremendous cheers. Two days later the fleet of Romero were seen coming down the river in three divisions. When the first of the Spanish ships came near they delivered a broadside, which did considerable execution among the Dutch fleet. There was no time for further cannonading. A few minutes later the fleets met in the narrow channel, and the ships grappling with each other, a hand to hand struggle began.

The fighting was of the most desperate character; no quarter was asked or given on either side, and men fought with fury hand to hand upon decks slippery with blood. But the combat did not last long. The Spaniards had little confidence in themselves on board ship. Their discipline was now of little advantage to them, and the savage fury with which the Zeelanders fought shook their courage. Fifteen ships were speedily captured and 1200 Spaniards slain, and the remainder of the fleet, which, on account of the narrowness of the passage had not been able to come into action, retreated to Bergen.

Romero himself, whose ship had grounded, sprang out of a porthole and swam ashore, and landed at the very feet of the Grand Commander, who had been standing all day upon the dyke in the midst of a pouring rain, only to be a witness of the total defeat of his fleet. Mondragon now capitulated, receiving honourable conditions. The troops were allowed to leave the place with their arms, ammunition, and personal property, and Mondragon engaged himself to procure the release of Sainte Aldegonde and four other prisoners of rank, or to return and give himself up as a prisoner of war.

Requesens, however, neither granted the release of the prisoners, nor permitted Mondragon to return. It was well for these prisoners, that Bossu was in the hands of the prince. Had it not been for this they would have all been put to death.

With the fall of Middleburg the Dutch and Zeelanders remained masters of the entire line of sea coast, but on land the situation was still perilous. Leyden was closely invested, and all communications by land between the various cities suspended. The sole hope that remained was in the army raised by Count Louis.

He had raised 3000 cavalry and 6000 infantry, and, accompanied by the prince's other two brothers, crossed the Rhine in a snowstorm and marched towards Maastricht. The Prince of Orange had on his part with the greatest difficulty raised 6000 infantry, and wrote to Count Louis to move to join him in the Isle of Bommel after he had reduced Maastricht. But the expedition, like those before it, was destined to failure. A thousand men deserted, seven hundred more were killed in a night surprise, and the rest were mutinous for their pay. Finally, Count Louis found himself confronted by a force somewhat inferior in numbers to his own.

But the Spanish infantry were well disciplined and obedient, those of Louis were mercenaries and discontented; and although at first his cavalry gained an advantage, it was a short one, and after a fierce action his army was entirely defeated. Count Louis, finding that the day was lost, gathered a little band of troopers, and with his brother, Count Henry, and Christopher, son of the Elector Palatine, charged into the midst of the enemy. They were never heard of more. The battle terminated in a horrible butchery. At least 4000 men were either killed in the field, suffocated in the marshes, drowned in the river, or burned in the farmhouses in which they had taken refuge. Count Louis, and his brother and friend, probably fell on the field, but stripped of their clothing, disfigured by wounds and the trampling of horses, their bodies were never recognized.

The defeat of the army and the death of his two brave brothers was a terrible blow to the Prince of Orange. He was indeed paying dear for his devotion to his country. His splendid fortune had been entirely spent, his life had been one of incessant toil and anxiety, his life had been several times threatened with assassination, he had seen his every plan thwarted. Save on the sandy slip of coast by the ocean, the whole of the Netherlands was still prostrate beneath the foot of the Spaniard; and now he had lost two of his brothers. England and France had alternately encouraged and stood aloof from him, and after all these efforts and sacrifices the prospects of ultimate success were gloomy in the extreme.

Fortunately the Spaniards were not able to take full advantage of their victory over the army of Count Louis. They differed from the German mercenaries inasmuch that while the latter mutinied before they fought, the Spaniards fought first and mutinied afterwards. Having won a great battle, they now proceeded to defy their generals. Three years' pay were due to them, and they took the steps that they always adopted upon these occasions. A commander called the "Eletto" was chosen by acclamation, a board of councillors was appointed to assist and control him, while the councillors were narrowly watched by the soldiers. They crossed the Maas and marched to Antwerp.

The Grand Commander hastened there to meet them, and when they arrived in perfect military order he appeared before them on horseback and made them an oration, promising that their demands should be satisfied. The soldiers simply replied, "We want money, not words." Requesens consulted the City Council and demanded 400,000 crowns to satisfy the troops. The citizens hesitated at providing so enormous an amount, knowing by past experience that it would never be repaid. The soldiers, however, employed their usual methods. They quartered themselves upon the houses of the citizens, and insisted upon being supplied with rich food, wine, and luxuries of all kinds; and in a week or two the burghers saw that they must either pay or be ruined.

An offer was accordingly made of ten months' arrears in cash, five months in silks and woolen cloths, and the rest in promises to be fulfilled within a few days. The Eletto declared that he considered the terms satisfactory, whereupon the troops at once deposed him and elected another. Carousing and merry making went on at the expense of the citizens, and after suffering for some weeks from the extortions and annoyance of the soldiers, the 400,000 crowns demanded by Requesens were paid over, and the soldiers received all their pay due either in money or goods. A great banquet was held by the whole mass of soldiery, and there was a scene of furious revelry. The soldiers arrayed themselves in costumes cut from the materials they had just received. Broadcloths, silks, satins, and gold embroidered brocades were hung in fantastic drapery over their ragged garments, and when the banquet was finished gambling began.

But when they were in the midst of their revelry the sound of cannon was heard. Boisot had sailed up the Scheldt to attack the fleet of D'Avila, which had hastened up to Antwerp for refuge after the defeat of Romero. There was a short and sharp action, and fourteen of the Spanish ships were burnt or sunk. The soldiers swarmed down to the dyke and opened a fire of musketry upon the Dutch. They were, however, too far off to effect any damage, and Boisot, with a few parting broadsides, sailed triumphantly down the river, having again struck a heavy blow at the naval power of Spain.

The siege of Leyden had been raised when Count Louis crossed the Rhine, the troops being called in from all parts to oppose his progress. The Prince of Orange urged upon the citizens to lose no time in preparing themselves for a second siege, to strengthen their walls, and, above all, to lay in stores of provisions. But, as ever, the Dutch burghers, although ready to fight and to suffer when the pinch came, were slow and apathetic unless in the face of necessity; and in spite of the orders and entreaties of the prince, nothing whatever was done, and the Spaniards when they returned before the city on the 26th of May, after two months' absence, found the town as unprepared for resistance as it had been at their first coming, and that the citizens had not even taken the trouble to destroy the forts that they had raised round it.

Leyden stood in the midst of broad and fruitful pastures reclaimed from the sea; around were numerous villages, with blooming gardens and rich orchards. Innumerable canals cut up the country, and entering the city formed its streets. These canals were shaded with trees, crossed by a hundred and forty-five bridges. Upon an artificial elevation in the centre of the city rose a ruined tower of great antiquity, assigned either to the Saxons before they crossed to England or with greater probability to the Romans.

The force which now appeared before the town consisted of 8000 Walloons and Germans, commanded by Valdez. They lost no time in taking possession of the Hague, and all the villages and forts round Leyden. Five hundred English volunteers under command of Colonel Chester abandoned the fort of Valkenberg which had been intrusted to them and fled towards Leyden. Not as yet had the English soldiers learnt to stand before the Spaniards, but the time was ere long to come when, having acquired confidence in themselves, they were to prove themselves more than a match for the veterans of Spain. The people of Leyden refused to open their gates to the fugitives, and they surrendered to Valdez. As at that moment a mission was on the point of starting from Requesens to Queen Elizabeth, the lives of the prisoners were spared, and they were sent back to England.

THE SIEGE OF LEYDEN

The Spaniards had no sooner appeared before Leyden than they set to work to surround it with a cordon of redoubts. No less than sixty-two, including those left standing since the last siege, were erected and garrisoned, and the town was therefore cut off from all communication from without. Its defenders were few in number, there being no troops in the town save a small corps composed of exiles from other cities, and five companies of burgher guard. The walls, however, were strong, and it was famine rather than the foe that the citizens feared. They trusted to the courage of the burghers to hold the walls, and to the energy of the Prince of Orange to relieve them.

The prince, although justly irritated by their folly in neglecting to carry out his orders, sent a message by a pigeon to them, encouraging them to hold out, and reminding them that the fate of their country depended upon the issue of this siege. He implored them to hold out for at least three months, assuring them that he would within that time devise means for their deliverance. The citizens replied, assuring the prince of their firm confidence in their own fortitude and his exertions. On the 6th of June the Grand Commander issued what was called a pardon, signed and sealed by the king. In it he invited all his erring and repentant subjects to return to his arms, and accept a full forgiveness for their past offense upon the sole condition that they should once more enter the Catholic Church. A few individuals mentioned by name were alone excluded from this amnesty. But all Holland was now Protestant, and its inhabitants were resolved that they must not only be conquered but annihilated before the Roman Church should be re-established on their soil. In the whole province but two men came forward to take advantage of the amnesty. Many Netherlanders belonging to the king's party sent letters from the camp to their acquaintances in the city exhorting them to submission, and imploring them "to take pity upon their poor old fathers, their daughters, and their wives;" but the citizens of Leyden thought the best they could do for these relatives was to keep them out of the clutches of the Spaniards.

At the commencement of the siege the citizens gathered all their food into the magazines, and at the end of June the daily allowance to each full grown man was half a pound of meat and half a pound of bread, women and children receiving less.

The prince had his headquarters at Delft and Rotterdam, and an important fortress called the Polderwaert between these two cities secured him the control of the district watered by the rivers Yssel and Maas. On the 29th of June the Spaniards attacked this fort, but were beaten off with a loss of 700 men. The prince was now occupied in endeavouring to persuade the Dutch authorities to permit the great sluices at Rotterdam, Schiedam, and Delft Haven to be opened. The damage to the country would be enormous; but there was no other course to rescue Leyden, and with it the whole of Holland, from destruction.

It was not until the middle of July that his eloquent appeals and arguments prevailed, and the estates consented to his plan. Subscriptions were opened in all the Dutch towns for maintaining the inhabitants of the district that was to be submerged until it could be again restored, and a large sum was raised, the women contributing their plate and jewellery to the furtherance of the scheme. On the 3rd of August all was ready, and the prince himself superintended the breaking down of the dykes in sixteen places, while at the same time the sluices at Schiedam and Rotterdam were opened and the water began to pour over the land.

While waiting for the water to rise, stores of provisions were collected in all the principal towns, and 200 vessels of small draught of water gathered in readiness. Unfortunately no sooner had the work been done than the prince was attacked by a violent fever, brought on by anxiety and exertion.

On the 21st of August a letter was received from the town saying that they had now fulfilled their original promise, for they had held out two months with food and another month without food. Their bread had long been gone, and their last food, some malt cake, would last but four days. After that was gone there was nothing left but starvation.

Upon the same day they received a letter from the prince, assuring them that the dykes were all pierced and the water rising upon the great dyke that separated the city from the sea. The letter was read publicly in the marketplace, and excited the liveliest joy among the inhabitants. Bands of music played in the streets, and salvos of cannon were fired. The Spaniards became uneasy at seeing the country beyond them gradually becoming covered with water, and consulted the country people and the royalists in their camp, all of whom assured them that the enterprise of the prince was an impossibility, and that the water would never reach the walls.

The hopes of the besieged fell again, however, as day after day passed without change; and it was not until the 1st of September, when the prince began to recover from his fever, and was personally able to superintend the operations, that these began in earnest. The distance from Leyden to the outer dyke was fifteen miles; ten of these were already flooded, and the flotilla, which consisted of more than 200 vessels, manned in all with 2500 veterans, including 800 of the wild sea beggars of Zeeland, renowned as much for their ferocity as for nautical skill, started on their way, and reached without difficulty the great dyke called the Land Scheiding. Between this town and Leyden were several other dykes, all of which would have to be taken. All these, besides the 62 forts, were defended by the Spanish troops, four times the number of the relieving force.

Ned had been in close attendance upon the prince during his illness, and when the fleet was ready to start requested that he might be allowed to accompany it. This the prince at once granted, and introduced him to Admiral Boisot.

"I shall be glad if you will take Captain Martin in your own ship," he said. "Young as he is he has seen much service, and is full of resource and invention. You will, I am sure, find him of use; and he can act as messenger to convey your orders from ship to ship."

The prince had given orders that the Land Scheiding, whose top was still a foot and a half above water, should be taken possession of at all hazard, and this was accomplished by surprise on the night of the 10th. The Spaniards stationed there were either killed or driven off, and the Dutch fortified themselves upon it. At daybreak the Spaniards stationed in two large villages close by advanced to recover the important position, but the Dutch, fighting desperately, drove them back with the loss of some hundreds of men. The dyke was at once cut through and the fleet sailed through the gap.

The admiral had believed that the Land Scheiding once cut, the water would flood the country as far as Leyden, but another dyke, the Greenway, rose a foot above water three- quarters of a mile inside the Land Scheiding. As soon as the water had risen over the land sufficiently to float the ships, the fleet advanced, seized the Greenway, and cut it. But as the water extended in all directions, it grew also shallower, and the admiral found that the only way by which he could advance was by a deep canal leading to a large mere called the Fresh Water Lake.

This canal was crossed by a bridge, and its sides were occupied by 3000 Spanish soldiers. Boisot endeavoured to force the way but found it impossible to do so, and was obliged to withdraw. He was now almost despairing. He had accomplished but two miles, the water was sinking rather than rising owing to a long continued east wind, and many of his ships were already aground. On the 18th, however, the wind shifted to the northwest, and for three days blew a gale. The water rose rapidly, and at the end of the second day the ships were all afloat again.

Hearing from a peasant of a comparatively low dyke between two villages Boisot at once sailed in that direction. There was a strong Spanish force stationed here; but these were seized with a panic and fled, their courage unhinged by the constantly rising waters, the appearance of the numerous fleet, and their knowledge of the reckless daring of the wild sailors. The dyke was cut, the two villages with their fortifications burned, and the fleet moved on to North Aa. The enemy abandoned this position also, and fled to Zoetermeer, a strongly fortified village a mile and a quarter from the city walls. Gradually the Spanish army had been concentrated round the city as the water drove them back, and they were principally stationed at this village and the two strong forts of Lammen and Leyderdorp, each within a few hundred yards of the town.

At the last named post Valdez had his headquarters, and Colonel Borgia commanded at Lammen. The fleet was delayed at North Aa by another dyke, called the Kirkway. The waters, too, spreading again over a wider space, and diminished from the east wind again setting in, sank rapidly, and very soon the whole fleet was aground; for there were but nine inches of water, and they required twenty to float them. Day after day they lay motionless. The Prince of Orange, who had again been laid up with the fever, rose from his sickbed and visited the fleet. He encouraged the dispirited sailors, rebuked their impatience, and after reconnoitering the ground issued orders for immediate destruction of the Kirkway, and then returned to Delft.

All this time Leyden was suffering horribly. The burghers were aware that the fleet had set forth to their relief, but they knew better than those on board the obstacles that opposed its progress. The flames of the burning villages and the sound of artillery told them of its progress until it reached North Aa, then there was a long silence, and hope almost deserted them. They knew well that so long as the east wind continued to blow there could be no rise in the level of the water, and anxiously they looked from the walls and the old tower for signs of a change. They were literally starving, and their misery far exceeded even that of the citizens of Haarlem.

A small number of cows only remained, and of these few were killed every day, and tiny morsels of meat distributed, the hides and bones being chopped up and boiled. The green leaves were stripped from the trees, and every herb gathered and eaten. The mortality was frightful, and whole families died together in their houses from famine and plague; for pestilence had now broken out, and from six to eight thousand people died from this alone. Leyden abandoned all hope, and yet they spurned the repeated summonses of Valdez to surrender. They were fully resolved to die rather than to yield to the Spaniards. From time to time, however, murmurs arose among the suffering people, and the heroic burgomaster, Adrian Van der Werf, was once surrounded by a crowd and assailed by reproaches.

He took off his hat and calmly replied to them: "I tell you I have made an oath to hold the city, and may God give me strength to keep it. I can die but once--either by your hands, the enemy's, or by the hand of God. My own fate is indifferent to me; not so that of the city intrusted to my care. I know that we shall all starve if not soon relieved; but starvation is preferable to the dishonoured death which is the only alternative. Your menaces move me not. My life is at your disposal. Here is my sword; plunge it into by breast and divide my flesh among you. Take my body to appease your hunger; but expect no surrender so long as I remain alive."

Still the east wind continued, until stout admiral Boisot himself almost despaired. But on the night of the 1st of October a violent gale burst from the northwest, and then shifting, blew more strongly from the southwest. The water was piled up high upon the southern coast of Holland, and sweeping furiously inland poured through the ruined dykes, and in twenty-four hours the fleet was afloat again. At midnight they advanced in the midst of the storm and darkness. Some Spanish vessels that had been brought up to aid the defenders were swept aside and sunk.

The fleet, sweeping on past half submerged stacks and farm houses, made its way to the fresh water mere. Some shallows checked it for a time, but the crews sprang overboard into the water, and by main strength hoisted their vessels across them. Two obstacles alone stood between them and the city--the forts of Zoeterwoude and Lammen, the one five hundred, and the other but two hundred and fifty yards from the city. Both were strong and well supplied with troops and artillery, but the panic which had seized the Spaniards extended to Zoeterwoude. Hardly was the fleet in sight in the gray light of the morning when the Spaniards poured out from the fortress, and spread along a road on the dyke leading in a westerly direction towards the Hague.

The waves, driven by the wind, were beating on the dyke, and it was crumbling rapidly away, and hundreds sank beneath the flood. The Zeelanders drove their vessels up alongside, and pierced them with their harpoons, or, plunging into the waves, attacked them with sword and dagger. The numbers killed amounted to not less than a thousand; the rest effected their escape to the Hague. Zoeterwoude was captured and set on fire, but Lammen still barred their path. Bristling with guns, it seemed to defy them either to capture or pass it on their way to the city.

Leyderdorp, where Valdez with his main force lay, was a mile and a half distant on the right, and within a mile of the city, and the guns of the two forts seemed to render it next to impossible for the fleet to pass on. Boisot, after reconnoitering the position, wrote despondently to the prince that he intended if possible on the following morning to carry the fort, but if unable to do so, he said, there would be nothing for it but to wait for another gale of wind to still further raise the water, and enable him to make a wide circuit and enter Leyden on the opposite side. A pigeon had been despatched by Boisot in the morning informing the citizens of his exact position, and at nightfall the burgomaster and a number of citizens gathered at the watchtower.

"Yonder," cried the magistrate, pointing to Lammen, "behind that fort, are bread and meat and brethren in thousands. Shall all this be destroyed by Spanish guns, or shall we rush to the aid of our friends?"

"We will tear the fortress first to fragments with our teeth and nails," was the reply; and it was resolved that a sortie should be made against Lammen at daybreak, when Boisot attacked it on the other side. A pitch dark night set in, a night full of anxiety to the Spaniards, to the fleet, and to Leyden. The sentries on the walls saw lights flitting across the waters, and in the dead of night the whole of the city wall between two of the gates fell with a loud crash. The citizens armed themselves and rushed to the breach, believing that the Spaniards were on them at last; but no foe made his appearance.

In the morning the fleet prepared for the assault. All was still and quiet in the fortress, and the dreadful suspicion that the city had been carried at night, and that all their labour was in vain, seized those on board. Suddenly a man was seen wading out from the fort, while at the same time a boy waved his cap wildly from its summit. The mystery was solved. The Spaniards had fled panic stricken in the darkness. Had they remained they could have frustrated the enterprise, and Leyden must have fallen; but the events of the two preceding days had shaken their courage. Valdez retired from Leyderdorp and ordered Colonel Borgia to evacuate Lammen.

Thus they had retreated at the very moment that the fall of the wall sapped by the flood laid bare a whole side of the city for their entrance. They heard the crash in the darkness, and it but added to their fears, for they thought that the citizens were sallying out to take some measures which would further add to the height of the flood. Their retreat was discovered by the boy, who, having noticed the procession of lights in the darkness, became convinced that the Spaniards had retired, and persuaded the magistrates to allow him to make his way out to the fort to reconnoitre. As soon as the truth was known the fleet advanced, passed the fort, and drew up alongside the quays.

These were lined by the famishing people, every man, woman, and child having strength to stand having come out to greet their deliverers. Bread was thrown from all the vessels among the crowd as they came up, and many died from too eagerly devouring the food after their long fast. Then the admiral stepped ashore, followed by the whole of those on board the ships. Magistrates and citizens, sailors and soldiers, women and children, all repaired to the great church and returned thanks to God for the deliverance of the city. The work of distributing food and relieving the sick was then undertaken. The next day the prince, in defiance of the urgent entreaties of his friends, who were afraid of the effects of the pestilential air of the city upon his constitution enfeebled by sickness, repaired to the town.

Shortly afterwards, with the advice of the States, he granted the city as a reward for its suffering a ten days' annual fair, without tolls or taxes, and it was further resolved that a university should, as a manifestation of the gratitude of the people of Holland, be established within its walls. The fiction of the authority of Philip was still maintained, and the charter granted to the university was, under the circumstances, a wonderful production. It was drawn up in the name of the king, and he was gravely made to establish the university as a reward to Leyden for rebellion against himself.

"Considering," it said, "that during these present wearisome wars within our provinces of Holland and Zeeland, all good instruction of youth in the sciences and literary arts is likely to come into entire oblivion; considering the difference of religion; considering that we are inclined to gratify our city of Leyden, with its burghers, on account of the heavy burden sustained by them during this war with such faithfulness, we have resolved--after ripely deliberating with our dear cousin William Prince of Orange, stadtholder--to erect a free public school, and university," &c. So ran the document establishing this famous university, all needful regulations for its government being intrusted by Philip to his above mentioned dear cousin of Orange.

Ned Martin was not one of those who entered Leyden with Boisot's relieving fleet. His long watching and anxiety by the bedside of the prince had told upon him, and he felt strangely unlike himself when he started with the fleet. So long as it was fighting its way forward the excitement kept him up; but the long delay near the village of Aa, and the deep despondency caused by the probable failure of their hopes of rescuing the starving city, again brought on an attack of the fever that had already seized him before starting, and when the Prince of Orange paid his visit to the fleet Boisot told him the young officer he had recommended to him was down with fever, which was, he believed, similar to that from which the prince himself was but just recovering.

The prince at once ordered him to be carried on board his own galley, and took him with him back to Delft. Here he lay for a month completely prostrated. The prince several times visited him personally, and, as soon as he became in some degree convalescent, said to him:

"I think we have taxed you too severely, and have worked you in proportion to your zeal rather than to your strength. The surgeon says that you must have rest for awhile, and that it will be well for you to get away from our marshes for a time. For two years you have done good and faithful service, and even had it not been for this fever you would have a right to rest, and I think that your native air is best for you at present. With the letters that came to me from Flushing this morning is one from your good father, asking for news of you. His ship arrived there yesterday, and he has heard from one of those who were with Boisot that you have fallen ill; therefore, if it be to your liking, I will send you in one of my galleys to Flushing."

"I thank your excellency much," Ned said. "Indeed for the last few days I have been thinking much of home and longing to be back. I fear that I shall be a long time before I shall be fit for hard work again here."

"You will feel a different man when you have been a few hours at sea," the prince said kindly. "I hope to see you with me again some day. There are many of your countrymen, who, like yourself, have volunteered in our ranks and served us well without pay or reward, but none of them have rendered better service than you have done. And now farewell. I will order a galley to be got in readiness at once. I leave myself for Leyden in half an hour. Take this, my young friend, in remembrance of the Prince of Orange; and I trust that you may live to hand it down to your descendants as a proof that I appreciated your good services on behalf of a people struggling to be free.

So saying he took off his watch and laid it on the table by Ned's bedside, pressed the lad's hand, and retired. He felt it really a sacrifice to allow this young Englishman to depart. He had for years been a lonely man, with few confidants and no domestic pleasures. He lived in an atmosphere of trouble, doubt, and suspicion. He had struggled alone against the might of Philip, the apathy of the western provinces, the coldness and often treachery of the nobles, the jealousies and niggardliness of the Estates, representing cities each of which thought rather of itself and its privileges than of the general good; and the company of this young Englishman, with his frank utterances, his readiness to work at all times, and his freedom from all ambitions or self interested designs, had been a pleasure and relief to him, and he frequently talked to him far more freely than even to his most trusted counsellors.

Ever since the relief of Alkmaar Ned had been constantly with him, save when despatched on missions to various towns, or to see that the naval preparations were being pushed on with all speed; and his illness had made a real blank in his little circle. However, the doctors had spoken strongly as to the necessity for Ned's getting away from the damp atmosphere of the half submerged land, and he at once decided to send him back to England, and seized the opportunity directly the receipt of Captain Martin's letter informed him that the ship was at Flushing.

An hour later four men entered with a litter; the servants had already packed Ned's mails, and he was carried down and placed on board one of the prince's vessels. They rowed down into the Maas, and then hoisting sail proceeded down the river, kept outside the island to Walcheren, and then up the estuary of the Scheldt to Flushing. It was early morning when they arrived in port. Ned was carried upon deck, and soon made out the Good Venture lying a quarter of a mile away. He was at once placed in the boat and rowed alongside. An exclamation from Peters, as he looked over the side and saw Ned lying in the stern of the boat, called Captain Martin out from his cabin.

"Why, Ned, my dear boy!" he exclaimed, as he looked over the side; "you seem in grievous state indeed."

"There is not much the matter with me, father. I have had fever, but am getting over it, and it will need but a day or two at sea to put me on my feet again. I have done with the war at present, and the prince has been good enough to send me in one of his own galleys to you."

"We will soon get you round again, never fear, Master Ned," Peters said as he jumped down into the boat to aid in hoisting him on board. "No wonder the damp airs of this country have got into your bones at last. I never can keep myself warm when we are once in these canals. If it wasn't for their schiedam I don't believe the Dutchmen could stand it themselves."

Ned was soon lifted on board, and carried into the cabin aft. The Good Venture had already discharged her cargo, and, as there was no chance of filling up again at Flushing, sail was made an hour after he was on board, and the vessel put out to sea. It was now early in November, but although the air was cold the day was fine and bright, and as soon as the vessel was under weigh Ned was wrapped up in cloaks and laid on a mattress on deck, with his head well propped up with pillows.

"One seems to breathe in fresh life here, father," he said. "It is pleasant to feel the motion and the shock of the waves after being so long on land. I feel stronger already, while so long as I was at Delft I did not seem to gain from one day to the other. I hope we sha'n't make too rapid a voyage; I don't want to come home as an invalid."

"We shall not make a fast run of it unless the wind changes, Ned. It blows steadily from the west at present, and we shall be lucky if we cast anchor under a week in the Pool."

"All the better, father. In a week I shall be on my legs again unless I am greatly mistaken."

Ned's convalescence was indeed, rapid, and by the time they entered the mouth of the Thames he was able to walk from side to side of the vessel, and as the wind still held from the west it was another four days before they dropped anchor near London Bridge. Ned would have gone ashore in his old attire; but upon putting it on the first day he was able to get about, he found he had so completely outgrown it that he was obliged to return to the garments he had worn in Holland.

He was now more than eighteen years of age, and nearly six feet in height. He had broadened out greatly, and the position he had for the last year held as an officer charged with authority by the prince had given him a manner of decision and authority altogether beyond his years. As he could not wear his sailor dress he chose one of the handsomest of those he possessed. It consisted of maroon doublet and trunks, slashed with white, with a short mantle of dark green, and hose of the same colour; his cap was maroon in colour, with small white and orange plumes, and he wore a ruff round his neck. Captain Martin saluted him with a bow of reverence as he came on deck.

"Why, Ned, they will think that I am bringing a court gallant with me. Your mother and the girls will be quite abashed at all this finery."

"I felt strange in it myself at first," Ned laughed; "but of course I am accustomed to it now. The prince is not one who cares for state himself, but as one of his officers I was obliged to be well dressed; and, indeed, this dress and the others I wear were made by his orders and presented to me. Indeed I think I am very moderate in not decking myself out with the two gold chains I have--the one a present from his highness, the other from the city of Alkmaar--to say nothing of the watch set with jewels that the prince gave me on leaving."

Ned's mother and the girls were on the lookout, for the Good Venture had been noticed as she passed. Ned had at his father's suggestion kept below in order that he might give them a surprise on his arrival.

"I verily believe they won't know you," he said as they approached the gate. "You have grown four inches since they saw you last, and your cheeks are thin and pale instead of being round and sunburnt. This, with your attire, has made such a difference that I am sure anyone would pass you in the street without knowing you."

Ned hung a little behind while his mother and the girls met his father at the gate. As soon as the embraces were over Captain Martin turned to Ned and said to his wife:

"My dear, I have to introduce an officer of the prince who has come over for his health to stay awhile with us. This is Captain Martin."

Dame Martin gave a start of astonishment, looked incredulously for a moment at Ned, and then with a cry of delight threw herself into his arms.

"It really seems impossible that this can be Ned," she said, as, after kissing his sisters, he turned to her. "Why, husband, it is a man!"

"And a very fine one too, wife. He tops me by two inches; and as to his attire, I feel that we must all smarten up to be fit companions to such a splendid bird. Why, the girls look quite awed by him!"

"But you look terribly pale, Ned, and thin," his mother said; "and you were so healthy and strong."

"I shall soon be healthy and strong again, mother. When I have got out of these fine clothes, which I only put on because I could not get into my old ones, and you have fed me up for a week on good English beef, you will see that there is no such great change in me after all."

"And now let us go inside," Captain Martin said; "there is a surprise for you there." Ned entered, and was indeed surprised at seeing his Aunt Elizabeth sitting by the fire, while his cousins were engaged upon their needlework at the window. They, too, looked for a moment doubtful as he entered; for the fifteen months since they had last seen him, when he left them at the surrender of Haarlem, had changed him much, and his dress at that time had been very different to that he now wore. It was not until he exclaimed "Well, aunt, this is indeed a surprise!" that they were sure of his identity, and they welcomed him with a warmth scarcely less than his mother and sisters had shown.

Elizabeth Plomaert was not of a demonstrative nature; but although she had said little at the time, she had felt deeply the care and devotion which Ned had exhibited to her and her daughters during the siege, and knew that had it not been for the supplies of food, scanty as they were, that he nightly brought in, she herself, and probably the girls, would have succumbed to hunger.

"When did you arrive, aunt?" Ned asked, when the greetings were over.

"Four months ago, Ned. Life was intolerable in Haarlem owing to the brutal conduct of the Spanish soldiers. I was a long time bringing myself to move. Had it not been for the girls I should never have done so. But things became intolerable; and when most of the troops were removed at the time Count Louis advanced, we managed to leave the town and make our way north. It was a terrible journey to Enkhuizen; but we accomplished it, and after being there a fortnight took passage in a ship for England, and, as you see, here we are."