r, Klaaf Klaafzoon, in his place. Just
before the action, however, Schot, "scarcely able to blow a feather from
his mouth," staggered on board his ship, and claimed the command.

There was no disputing a precedency which he had risen from his death-bed
to vindicate. There was, however, a short discussion, as the enemy's
fleet approached, between these rival captains regarding the manner in
which the Spaniards should be received. Klaafzoon was of opinion that
most of the men should go below till after the enemy's first discharge.
Schot insisted that all should remain on deck, ready to grapple with the
Spanish fleet, and to board them without the least delay.

The sentiment of Schot prevailed, and all hands stood on deck, ready with
boarding-pikes and grappling-irons.

The first division of Romero came nearer, and delivered its first
broadside, when Schot and Klaafzoon both fell mortally wounded. Admiral
Boisot lost an eye, and many officers and sailors in the other vessels
were killed or wounded. This was, however, the first and last of the
cannonading. As many of Romero's vessels as could be grappled within the
narrow estuary found themselves locked in close embrace with their
enemies. A murderous hand-to-hand conflict succeeded. Battle-axe,
boarding-pike, pistol, and dagger were the weapons. Every man who yielded
himself a prisoner was instantly stabbed and tossed into the sea by the
remorseless Zealanders. Fighting only to kill, and not to plunder, they
did not even stop to take the gold chains which many Spaniards wore on
their necks. It had, however, been obvious from the beginning that the
Spanish fleet were not likely to achieve that triumph over the patriots
which was necessary before they could relieve Middelburg. The battle
continued a little longer; but after fifteen ships had been taken and
twelve hundred royalists slain, the remainder of the enemy's fleet
retreated into Bergen. Romero himself, whose ship had grounded, sprang
out of a port-hole and swam ashore, followed by such of his men as were
able to imitate him. He landed at the very feet of the Grand Commander,
who, wet and cold, had been standing all day upon the dyke of Schakerloo,
in the midst of a pouring rain, only to witness the total defeat of his
armada at last.

"I told your Excellency," said Romero, coolly, as he climbed, all
dripping, on the bank, "that I was a land-fighter and not a sailor. If
you were to give me the command of a hundred