Truly it has been said that Leyden was sublime in its despair. Day
after day went by and yet no relief came, but the wind, which had long
blown steadily from the cast, suddenly changed to the westward. At
length Albert and Berthold, who had regularly visited Jaqueline's tower,
discovered the fourth pigeon. They eagerly examined its wing, beneath
it was a letter which came from the admiral. The fleet had reached
North Aa, and in a few days at furthest he expected to reach the gates
of the city. The burgomaster read the letter as before in the
market-place, and the bells rang out a joyous peal. Once more, however,
the wind shifted, and the hopes of the garrison of Leyden sank to the
lowest ebb.
We must now return to the evening when Jaqueline, having sent her
attendant Margaret to obtain provisions for the suffering family,
accompanied the woman who had supplicated her. Suddenly, as she was
passing close to a canal, she found herself lifted from her feet, while
a thick cloak was thrown over her. In vain she attempted to shriek for
help, in another instant she heard the splash of oars.
"Do not fear, you are in the safe keeping of one who desires to save you
from horrible suffering and death," whispered a voice in her ear.
Notwithstanding these assurances, Jaqueline entreated that she might be
placed on shore, and endeavoured by her cries to attract the attention
of any who might be passing. Vain were her efforts, the thick folds of
the cloak prevented her voice being heard, while a heavy mist, together
with the shades of night, shrouded the canal as the boat glided forward.
Jaqueline knew that the canal extended out beneath the city walls, and
she hoped that the boat would be challenged as it passed under them and
be compelled to put to shore. Keeping silent, she resolved to take the
opportunity of making another effort to escape from her captors; as the
spot was approached, however, she felt a hand pressed on her mouth. In
vain she struggled to free herself, she heard the sign and counter-sign
given, and the boat impelled by four sturdy rowers soon left the city
walls behind. Strange as it might seem, thinking more of the safety of
her townsmen than of herself, the idea occurred to her that if persons
could thus, undiscovered, leave the city, an armed force might be
introduced by the gates, and disastrous might be the consequences. She
was, she had reason to fear, being carried to the Spanish camp, but who
could have been guilty of so treacherous an act? She was not left long
in doubt, the person who had before addressed her in a subdued tone now
raised his voice, and she recognised it as that of Van Arenberg. For
some time she could not sufficiently command herself to speak, at
length, however, she said in a calm tone, "I will not pretend to be
ignorant that it is you who have committed this unwarrantable act of
violence, and I insist that you carry me back to the city and restore me
to my father, his mental anxiety already so overwhelming, when he finds
that I am lost, may bring him to the grave."
"I have but acted, my beloved Jaqueline, as you would secretly wish, to
save you from that destruction which must, ere many days have passed,
descend on the city. My object is to carry you to a place of safety,
all I ask being your hand and love."
"The former I will not give, the other I cannot bestow," answered
Jaqueline, firmly. "Had I before been willing in obedience to my
father's wishes to try and love you, the outrage you have committed
would have changed my sentiments, and I again insist that you return
with me to the city."
"To do so is utterly impossible," answered Van Arenberg. "The sentries,
as we passed beneath the fortress of Zoeterwoude, nearly detected the
boat, and we should certainly be captured were we to make the attempt.
We will now, therefore, proceed towards Delft, where you will be among
friends, and safe from the foes you dread."
Jaqueline greatly doubted that the baron spoke the truth. Again and
again she insisted, notwithstanding all the risks they might run, that
they should return to the city. She saw at length that all
expostulation was useless, the darkness of night prevented her from
observing the direction they were taking. Suddenly the sound of heavy
guns broke on her ear, followed by the rattle of musketry. Looking
southward she saw bright flashes glancing over the water in rapid
succession; she thought, too, that she could even hear the shouts of the
combatants, the clashing of swords and battle-axes. It was evident that
a fierce fight was raging in that direction. The rowers, who had
hitherto been exerting themselves to the utmost, paused, and exchanged a
few hurried words. It appeared to her that they had lost their way, for
many new channels, deepened by the inflowing waters, branched off on
every hand.
Van Arenberg ordered them to row on.
"In what direction shall we go?" asked one of the men. "We may chance
to run our noses into the lion's den. See, fires are blazing on all
sides, and friends and foes are likely to treat us in the same fashion."
Van Arenberg, anxious for Jaqueline's safety, and perhaps for his own,
urged his crew to row away from the point where the engagement appeared
to be raging most furiously. Already round shot and bullets came flying
across the water, and a stray one might chance to hit the boat. The men
appeared undecided which way to go, when one of them cried out, "There's
a boat astern! She may, perchance, be that of an enemy, and if so we
shall to a certainty be knocked on the head."
"Row then for your lives!" cried Van Arenberg, for he had equally to
fear the Hollanders and Spaniards; the latter, not aware of his
treachery, might, before he could show his pass, shoot him down or run
him through with their pikes, while his own countrymen would treat him
as a hated renegade. The crew, needing no second bidding, bent to their
oars with all the strength they possessed. Their flight was, however,
discovered by the boat they had seen, which immediately gave chase.
Jaqueline believed that their pursuers were Spaniards, and was as eager
to escape as the baron, but sturdily as the crew of the villagers whom
he had hired plied their oars, the others came on faster. The night was
so dark that it was impossible to distinguish objects ahead. At any
moment they might find themselves stranded on the shore, or stopped by
some impassable shallow. The baron now urged the men to be cautious,
now to row with might and main.
Ever and anon the glare from the burning villages, and from fires on the
dykes, showed that the boat in chase was gaining on them.
"It were far better to stop and fight," cried the chief man of the crew.
"As to escaping, there is no chance of that in the end, for the fellows
astern have a much lighter boat than ours."
"Fifty guilders if you beat them off," cried the baron. "Lady, you must
lie down at the bottom of the boat, or you may chance to be struck by a
shot, or injured by the pikes of our pursuers, should they overtake us."
"I fear less the weapons of our foes than I do your designs," answered
Jaqueline, with a tone of scorn, retaining her seat. There was little
time to hold parley on the subject. In another moment the boat was
alongside, and a voice in Dutch shouted, "Yield! inform us whither you
are bound."
"Treachery! treachery!" cried the baron. "They are Spaniards; we may
yet escape them."
But Jaqueline recognised the voice. "Karl," she exclaimed, "save me,
save me!" and she sprang towards the boat.
Van Arenberg would have prevented her reaching it, but his sword whirled
from his hand, the next instant he was driven overboard by a thrust from
a pike through his breast. A despairing cry was heard, and before the
people could clutch his clothes he was swept away by the current. In a
few words Jaqueline told of the outrage to which she had been subjected.
Captain Van der Elst accounted for the circumstance of his having so
providentially rescued her by saying that he had been sent to
reconnoitre the enemy's position, and supposing that the boat was manned
by Spaniards he had given chase. She entreated that he would proceed in
his duty.
"No harm can come to me while I am by your side," she said, scarcely
thinking of the interpretation which might be put upon the words she
uttered. He pressed her hand. Having ordered the villagers' boat to
follow at a distance, warning them of the punishment they would receive
should they attempt to escape, he continued on till he had performed the
duty on which he had been despatched. Morning was approaching when he
returned to the fleet, which had just broken through the second great
dyke and destroyed the villages of Zoetermeer and Benthuyzen, and now
borne on by the rising waters was advancing towards Leyden. Karl
conveyed Jaqueline on board the admiral's ship, manned by a
savage-looking crew, the wild Beggars of the Sea. Ferocious, however,
as they were to their foes, to her they were civil and courteous. Eight
hundred of them, mostly Zealanders, manned the fleet. The greater
number were scarred, hacked, and even maimed in the unceasing conflicts
in which their lives had been passed, while they were renowned far and
wide as much for their nautical skill as their ferocity. Their
appearance was both eccentric and terrific; they wore crescents in their
caps with the inscription, "Rather Turkish than Popish." They were
known never to give nor take quarter; they went to mortal combat only.
They had sworn to spare neither noble nor simple, neither King, Kaiser,
nor Pope, should they fall into their power. Each ship carried ten
guns, and was propelled, the smaller by ten, the larger by eighteen
oars, the whole fleet having on board 2,500 veterans, experienced both
on land and water. Jaqueline was conducted to the admiral's cabin; it
boasted neither of magnificence nor elegance; indeed, very little of
comfort, for the vessels had been fitted out for rough work, and no
ladies had been expected on board. The stout old admiral welcomed his
guest.
"You may rest here in security, my pretty maiden," he said; "and I trust
ere many days are over to restore you to the arms of your brave father."
Not long afterwards the order was issued for the fleet once more to
advance, and Jaqueline's heart beat high with hope, for the second dyke
was attacked. The Spaniards, scarcely stopping to encounter the enemy,
flung away their arms as they saw the dreaded sea rovers approaching.
The barrier was quickly broken, and again the fleet pushed forward over
the submerged country till it reached North Aa. Scarcely, however, had
the ships arrived there than once more the easterly wind began to blow,
driving the waters away from the city. Lower and lower they sank, until
the ships grounded, and further progress became impossible. The delay
sorely tried the patience of the eager crews, and many leaping into the
water, attempted to lift their ships over the shallows, but their
strength was unequal to the task. There they lay stranded, with
scarcely nine inches of water round them. Jaqueline's anguish of mind
was increased from knowing too well the consequences of the delay to the
starving inhabitants of the beleaguered city. Though confident of the
resolution of her father and the commandant, she was aware of the
direful effect which starvation had already produced among the
inhabitants. Would they continue to hold out? Ten thousand Spaniards
still surrounded the walls, and at any moment might break in, and
massacre and rapine would sweep over her native city. Night and day she
prayed that the dreaded catastrophe might be averted, yet day after day
passed, and the fleet lay in sight of the walls, but too far distant for
their cannon to reach the enemy. Even Admiral Boisot was in despair.
He despatched a letter to the Prince, stating his belief that if the
spring tides, soon to be expected, should not, together with the strong
south-westerly wind, come immediately to their relief, he should be
compelled to abandon the expedition. Not many hours after the letter
had been despatched a large boat was seen rowing swiftly towards the
fleet from the southward. She soon came alongside the admiral's ship.
A cry, "It is the Prince! our noble Prince," burst from the throats of
the sea rovers as they welcomed him on board, though they observed with
sorrow that his commanding figure was fearfully emaciated, his noble
face pale as death. He had, indeed, only just risen from a bed of
sickness, and few knew how near to death's door he had been, his disease
aggravated by a report which had reached him that Leyden had fallen, yet
all the time he had been directing the plans for bringing the fleet
across the land. His countenance assumed a cheerful aspect as he spoke
to the almost despairing admiral and his officers.
"I know the people of Leyden," he said, "they will hold out till you can
reach them. Ere long the sea will rise. Already the water is deeper
than when I came on board."
The Prince was right, he had observed clouds gathering in the
south-western horizon, and ere long a strong wind from that quarter
began to blow, the tide flowed in, the water swept over the dykes,
cheers rose from the throats of the seamen. Once more their ships were
afloat, sails were spread, the oars run out, and now they went gliding
on led by the "Ark of Delft," until Zoetermeer was reached. Here a
desperate effort was made by the Spaniards to stop their progress, but
that village and others in the neighbourhood were attacked, the enemy
driven out, and they were set on fire. The blaze lighted up the
midnight sky, announcing to the fainting garrison that relief was
approaching. Barrier after barrier was passed, and for many an hour in
the midst of the howling storm and pitchy darkness a fierce battle
raged. The victorious Hollanders pushed further on, but still two forts
of great strength, those of Zoeterwoude and Lammen, lay between them and
the city, garrisoned by the enemy's best troops and armed with heavy
artillery. They must be captured before the city could be gained.
Stout as were the rovers' hearts, their vessels, though large, were
slightly built, and, except the "Ark of Delft," were incapable of
standing the heavy shot which would be hurled against them. The Spanish
vessels, hitherto kept in reserve, advanced to the fight, but were
quickly sunk, their crews miserably perishing, and ere a shot was fired
against Zoeterwoude the Spaniards were seen in full flight along the top
of the dyke leading towards the Hague. The rovers followed, leaping
from their vessels and slaying all whom they could overtake, many of the
fugitives perishing in the fast advancing waves as the dykes crumbled
beneath their feet. But yet another fort, that of Lammen, the strongest
of all, remained, held by the main body of the enemy. The fleet
approached, but the admiral dared not expose his ships to the storms of
shot hurled towards them, and therefore waited for the return of night,
resolving either to make a desperate assault--though he almost despaired
of success--or, should the waters rise, to carry his ships round by a
circuitous way to the opposite side; but this as yet the depth of water
would not allow.
That day was one of the deepest anxiety, although the rain and wind
which came from the south-west were undoubtedly causing the waters to
rise. As evening drew on the storm increased, the night became darker
and darker. Loud crashes were heard, lights were seen flitting across
the black face of the waters proceeding from the direction of the fort,
but no one could account for the cause of these sounds and appearances.
At length a fearful report ran through the fleet that the enemy had
burst into the city, and thus that all the efforts they had made were in
vain. Still the strange lights appeared and vanished in the darkness;
what they portended no one could say. At dawn the admiral issued the
order to assault the fortress; the eager crews sprang into their boats
fully expecting a desperate encounter, but no shot saluted them, all was
silent within. Had the Spaniards really then, at the last moment,
captured the city? The fleet pushed on, though it was believed that
some fearful treachery was intended and that they might suddenly be
attacked by an overwhelming force.
As soon as the ships got near enough, Captain Van der Elst, who had
undertaken to lead the assault, plunging into the waters waded towards
the fort. As he was striding on a voice from the summit hailed him and
he saw young Albert Van der Does who, having crossed from the city and
climbed to the top of the embankment, was waving his cap and loudly
cheering. Karl soon joined him, and they were in time to see the
rearguard of the Spaniards escaping towards the Hague. Albert's shouts
quickly attracted the attention of the inhabitants of Leyden and gave
them the first intimation that the enemy had fled. In a few minutes,
led by Albert, Karl was in the presence of the burgomaster, and had
assured him both of the success of their enterprise and of his
daughter's safety.
"God be praised, for He has fought for us," exclaimed the burgomaster.
"Had not the Spaniards fled when they did, what earthly powers could
have prevented them from entering our city?" And he pointed to a large
portion of the wall which had fallen during the night and left a breach
through which the foe might have poured into the streets. The fleet now
sailed up through the canals, the famishing people who lined the quays
stretching out their hands to receive the food bestowed on them by the
rough Sea Beggars, many of whom dashed aside their tears as they beheld
the emaciated forms of the citizens, the corpse-like look of the women
and children, and heard their plaintive cries for food. The first act
of the brave admiral and his crew was to repair to the great church,
accompanied by the commandant, the chief magistrate, and other citizens,
to return thanks for their success, then a hymn arose which was abruptly
terminated by the sounds of weeping though the tears were those of joy
and gratitude. Among the first to land, escorted by the brave Captain
Van der Elst, who had returned on board for the purpose of conducting
her to the shore, was the Lily of Leyden; he had the happiness of
restoring her to her father's arms. The burgomaster, who had hitherto
sternly refused to yield to the foe, melted into tears as he embraced
his daughter, then turning to Captain Van der Elst, he said--
"You have proved yourself worthy of the fairest in the land; I can no
longer refuse to bestow my daughter's hand on one who will, I am sure,
in these times of danger protect her with his life."
Thus was Leyden saved after enduring a siege of five months, having
experienced sufferings never surpassed by any recorded on the page of
history. The Prince was the first to acknowledge the deep debt of
gratitude Holland owed to the heroic fortitude of the noble burgomaster
and his fellow-citizens. The people of Holland and Zealand, to show how
much they were indebted to the citizens, established that university
which, thus founded at the darkest period of their country's struggle,
was in after times to become so celebrated. Imposing as were the
ceremonies which took place on its establishment, the following winter
they were, in the opinion of many, surpassed by the magnificence of the
entertainment given on the occasion of the marriage of Captain Van der
Elst and the fair Lily of Leyden.