re likely to give a rough reception to
the light flotilla, but the panic; which had hitherto driven their foes
before the advancing patriots; had reached Zoeterwoude. Hardly was the
fleet in sight when the Spaniards in the early morning, poured out from
the fortress, and fled precipitately to the left, along a road which led
in a westerly direction towards the Hague. Their narrow path was rapidly
vanishing in the waves, and hundreds sank beneath the constantly
deepening and treacherous flood. The wild Zealanders, too, sprang from
their vessels upon the crumbling dyke and drove their retreating foes
into the sea. They hurled their harpoons at them, with an accuracy
acquired in many a polar chase; they plunged into the waves in the keen
pursuit, attacking them with boat-hook and dagger. The numbers who thus
fell beneath these corsairs, who neither gave nor took quarter, were
never counted, but probably not less than a thousand perished. The rest
effected their escape to the Hague.

The first fortress was thus seized, dismantled, set on fire, and passed,
and a few strokes of the oars brought the whole fleet close to Lammen.
This last obstacle rose formidable and frowning directly across their
path. Swarming as it was with soldiers, and bristling with artillery, it
seemed to defy the armada either to carry it by storm or to pass under
its guns into the city. It appeared that the enterprise was, after all,
to founder within sight of the long expecting and expected haven. Boisot
anchored his fleet within a respectful distance, and spent what remained
of the day in carefully reconnoitring the fort, which seemed only too
strong. In conjunction with Leyderdorp, the head-quarters of Valdez, a
mile and a half distant on the right, and within a mile of the city, it
seemed so insuperable an impediment that Boisot wrote in despondent tone
to the Prince of Orange. He announced his intention of carrying the fort,
if it were possible, on the following morning, but if obliged to retreat,
he observed, with something like despair, that there would be nothing for
it but to wait for another gale of wind. If the waters should rise
sufficiently to enable them to make a wide detour, it might be possible,
if, in the meantime, Leyden did not starve or surrender, to enter its
gates from the opposite side.

Meantime, the citizens had grown wild with expectation. A dove had been
despatched by Boisot, informing them of his precise position, and a
nu