row peninsula of North Holland was in imminent danger of being
swept away for ever. Between Amsterdam and Meyden, the great Diemer dyke
was broken through in twelve places. The Hand-bos, a bulwark formed of
oaken piles, fastened with metal clamps, moored with iron anchors, and
secured by gravel and granite, was snapped to pieces like packthread. The
"Sleeper," a dyke thus called, because it was usually left in repose by
the elements, except in great emergencies, alone held firm, and prevented
the consummation of the catastrophe. Still the ocean poured in upon the
land with terrible fury. Dort, Rotterdam, and many other cities were, for
a time, almost submerged. Along the coast, fishing vessels, and even
ships of larger size, were floated up into the country, where they
entangled themselves in groves and orchards, or beat to pieces the roofs
and walls of houses. The destruction of life and of property was enormous
throughout the maritime provinces, but in Friesland the desolation was
complete. There nearly all the dykes and sluices were dashed to
fragments; the country, far and-wide, converted into an angry sea. The
steeples and towers of inland cities became islands of the ocean.
Thousands of human beings were swept out of existence in a few hours.
Whole districts of territory, with all their villages, farms, and
churches, were rent from their places, borne along by the force of the
waves, sometimes to be lodged in another part of the country, sometimes
to be entirely engulfed. Multitudes of men, women, children, of horses,
oxen, sheep, and every domestic animal, were struggling in the waves in
every direction. Every boat, and every article which could serve as a
boat, were eagerly seized upon. Every house was inundated; even the
grave-yards gave up their dead. The living infant in his cradle, and the
long-buried corpse in his coffin, floated side by side. The ancient flood
seemed about to be renewed. Everywhere, upon the top of trees, upon the
steeples of churches, human beings were clustered, praying to God for
mercy, and to their fellow-men for assistance. As the storm at last was
subsiding, boats began to ply in every direction, saving those who were
still struggling in the water, picking fugitives from roofs and
tree-tops, and collecting the bodies of those already drowned. Colonel
Robles, Seigneur de Billy, formerly much hated for his Spanish or
Portuguese blood, made himself very active in this humane work. By his