The Dutch

by Richard E. Schultz

  At midnight, on the seventh day after his arrival, the Baron led a mixed force of his own cavalry and the Clover Militia in a showdown with the thieves. The Clover militiamen were reinforced by the return of their Catholic members. All rode toward the city’s main gate. When they reached the gate, they split into five columns, pausing only to witness the hanging of the greedy merchants along with a handful of the gang’s sleepy sentinels who failed in their task to give warning. Each formation followed a different roadway, riding silently toward their assigned location. The target of each column was a “Thieves Village” which lay past the Ban-Palen posts on the five roads that led to Amsterdam. The Baron’s plan was to attack each and later move against the gang’s hideouts along the canals. A deputy magistrate rode with each column to dispense immediate judgment. Each column was ordered to apprehend every able bodied male found in each village. If the man’s name appeared on the “Scoundrels List,” he was to be hung immediately. Anyone who resisted was to be hung immediately. Those charged with the crime of “association” could be hung at the discretion of the deputy magistrate.

  The Baron led his column to the largest village on the road which led to The Hague. They blocked the exits and at first broke into the inns and taverns crowded with wild men, some too drunk to provide much resistance. The fighting was more intense in other buildings when the commotion awakened sleeping wild men, giving them time to gather weapons. In a short period of time, the Baron’s men killed any who resisted and detained the rest. The captured bandits were bound and lined along the roadway. When the captives refused to identify themselves, the deputy magistrate ordered them all hung. All five villages targeted for the assault were subdued, but many casualties were suffered at two of the villages. The element of surprise was lost when distant gunfire alerted the brigands. In those two villages, the fighting was fierce, but, even forewarned, few of the wild men escaped. Many of the men who perished were Catholic members of the Clover Militia. It would be harder to question the loyalty of all Catholic citizens to Amsterdam in the future.

  As dawn broke, the five columns reunited near the city’s main gate. To the Baron’s surprise the noble’s militia had awaited his return pledging fidelity to his commands. He allowed the nobles and the other wealthy gentlemen to take a position near the middle of his reforming column. This main body was soon reinforced by a large group of French Huguenot horsemen and many prosperous mounted merchants. The Jewish community also sent a small contingent of well-armed, mounted men. The most valuable addition to the Baron’s force was a contingent of the common militia sent by the magistrate. These unlikely horsemen were mounted on draft animals which also pulled five small artillery pieces capable of firing a three pound ball. The Baron didn’t know it at the time, but history would remember this day’s battle as the “The Flight of the Three Pound Shot.” The artillery unit was commanded by another son of the Droger Land who had never set foot on its sacred soil, Ensign Gustoff Roulfs. Farmers and the Baron’s own scouts had reported the gangs had abandoned their hideouts along all the canals and were consolidating a defensive position where the largest canal met the Zuider Zee. The site had stone buildings which the wild men were attempting to turn into fortresses. They were digging ditches and building barricades north and south of the buildings, using the canal itself as a defense barrier on the west. On the east, directly in front of the Baron’s advance, hundreds of gang members had hidden themselves in the tree line. They hoped to ambush those who attempted to cross the open field.

  The Baron led a rapid advance through orchards and cultivated fields, slowing only to manhandle the artillery through a small swamp. He halted his men at the edge of the last field where one could observe the wood line and the stone buildings. As the artillery pieces began to arrive he sent for the battery’s commander. A mere boy appeared with a confident look on his face.

  “I am Ensign Gustoff Roulfs, in command of your artillery, My Lord,” said the boy.

  The Baron couldn’t help but smile at the thought of such a young man commanding his cannons. “Well Ensign, place your guns here and fire upon the men in the woods,”

  “I am a Roulfs my Lord; you know my father Henri the shipbuilder and such a placement will do little to serve your advance.”

  “Where would you place the guns young man?” The Baron asked.

  “My Lord, I would place the canons but a whisper out of musket range in the field itself. From that distance, when my balls strike the trees, they will shatter the wood, sending thousands of splinters upon the enemy. I promise you my lord, after five or six volleys, the thieves will be forced to attack my battery or withdraw,” he replied.

  “Ensign Roulfs, place the guns where you think best; I will come to your assistance if the need arises; keep yourself safe, your father and I fought brigands like these when I was younger than you.”

  Gustoff set his battery far closer to the woods than the Baron anticipated, but the psoriatic musket shots of the enemy seem to be falling short of the artillerymen. As the cannons were loaded, the boy could be seen walking calmly from one gun to the next, aiming each individually, before he gave the command to fire them together. After the first volley, an audible groan came from the trees. The young ensign had an eye for distance and had not straddled his guns, nor did he seem to use a gunner’s ruler between volleys. Yet his fire was right on target, and after only four volleys, not five, a very bloody and bewildered mob of wild men left the shelter of the trees and recklessly charged the battery that had splintered them and their position.

  The Baron, as promised, quickly reinforced the battery with a rapid deployment of the Clover Militia around the guns. Their small arm fire slowed the attackers while the Baron’s cavalry and the remaining forces of nobles, merchants, Huguenots, and Jews simultaneously struck both flanks of the emerging men with pistols and swords. The slaughter of the wild men ended with one last volley from the cannons that Gustoff had loaded, this time with pieces of chain and iron nails. When the smoke cleared the ground was covered mostly with brigands. A great pile of bodies lay within yards of the five small field guns. There had been no quarter given. The carnage was witnessed by the surviving gang members around the stone buildings.

  The Baron led an immediate cavalry charge through the trees. He rode within a stone’s throw of the stone houses filled with gang members too stunned to fire their weapons. The charge quickly routed a large group of thieves positioned to defend the canal. The speed of the attack allowed only a few wild men the opportunity to escape by swimming to temporary safety on the other bank on the canal. The stone houses, still filled with wild men, were taken more slowly. There was fierce hand-to-hand combat after a few of Gustoff’s well-placed cannon shots shattered a shuttered window or a locked door. Inside each stone building, the bandit’s cries of “parlay” were always answered by the sound of a three-pound cannon ball in flight. No quarter was given that day. The power of the gangs had been broken. The remaining wild men met their final fate alone or in small groups at the hands of the enraged rural population they terrorized. Groups of farmers and fishermen, armed with the magistrate’s approval, relentlessly hunted the survivors attempting to escape justice. Following the battle, the Baron sent men to each “Thieves village or hideout.” They were carefully searched and after “requisitioning” anything of value, each was set afire. An immense treasure of gold, silver, and precious gems were unearthed. It was equally distributed to the soldiers and militiamen who participated in the fighting and a double share was given to the families of those men killed. The Baron had anything else of value distributed among the poor.

  A week later, after the fallen heroes were properly buried, a holiday was declared in their honor and a celebration prepared for Amsterdam. The highlight was a military procession led by the Baron Clifford van Weir. At his side rode the lowly Ensign of Artillery, Gustoff Roulfs. He was mounted on a great grey war horse purchased for him by grateful Jewish
merchants. Tucked into Gustoff’s waist band were two silver plated matchlock pistols, a gift from the Lord of the Droger Land, who was given the same pistols a week earlier by the city. The Baron Clifford van Weir turned to the young man:

  “Our families have faced danger together many times in the past.”

  “I have been told that by my father, my Lord.”

  “Gustoff let me tell you something that my father, Lord Willem, told yours after another battle.”

  “That was My Lord?”

  “You fought well, very well; your ancestors have always fought bravely, for hundreds of generations, and always at the side of my blood. The ancient gods of the Droger Land bound our families together when time began. The old gods meant such ties should never be broken.”

  “Aye my Lord,” was Gustoff’s only comment.

  Chapter Nine

  The Zuider Zee 1582 A.D.

  Abraham’s Youngest Son

  The dedication of Amsterdam’s first warship should have been a time of rejoicing for its proud citizens. Such a ship would be sending a message to the world that this powerful city planned to aggressively defend the Zuider Zee and guarantee freedom of the seas for the northern provinces of the new Republic. Instead, the insensitive methods use by Clifford van Weir to acquire the ship had left Amsterdam’s citizens enraged and the message muted. The entire city was growing tired of the Baron’s well-meaning but pretentious rule. The City Estate had petitioned many times to The Hague for his recall as Military Commander. The population would always be grateful for the decisive role the Baron played in eliminating the bandit gangs and all appreciated the wise economic decisions that followed. The improvements he ordered had provided the infrastructure that was now fueling the rapid growth of the ever-expanding city. His tolerant policy toward immigration provided a robust growing population filled with skilled entrepreneurs. His leadership made Amsterdam the most prosperous and talked about city in Europe. However the independent-minded citizens felt the time had come for the Baron to return control to local officials. His procrastination-strained relationships with his closest allies, such as the Magistrate and the High Sheriff, and the controversy over the new warship became a symbol of that city’s discontent. The Baron, foolishly naming the ship “Abraham’s Youngest Son,” had callously inflamed religious passions. The ship’s name was considered a heretical misnomer by the faithful who knew that God had given the Prophet Abraham only one son. The name shocked the majority of the people who were now fervent Protestants who prided themselves on reading the scriptures each day. The ship’s name even created consternation among Catholics and Jews who had previously been firm supporters of Clifford van Weir. A clarification issued by the Baron stating that the ship had been named in honor of his first Dutch ancestor, the Roman General Claudius Abraham Weir, did little to reduce the turmoil. It only reinforced the idea that the Lord of the Droger Land had a not-very-well hidden desire to become the Great Lord of Amsterdam.

  While a warship would be helpful in defending the Zuider Zee, the inland lake leading to Amsterdam, there were sound reasons to refrain from prematurely building such a ship. The Dutch Sea Beggar Fleet was already doing a good job of protecting the Zuider Zee and keeping open important sea lanes for trade. Many politicians felt the construction of warships would force Spain to attack the seven Northern Provinces sooner, opening a new front within Holland itself. The ruling Dutch Estate, with its representatives from all the rebellious provinces, were already planning new defenses for the sea lanes. Most delegates felt all available funds must be allocated to build a stronger army to shore up the crumbling fortunes of the Dutch forces fighting in the south.

  When the Baron first initiated the proposal for the warship’s construction, the request received little support from the members of the City Estate who requested guidance from The Hague on the idea of constructing such a ship. Without awaiting a reply, the Baron made a unilateral decision to push ahead immediately, for he deemed he knew what was best for Amsterdam. He used his authority as military governor to authorize the construction without any further consultation with local politicians. In his haste, he then made a series of questionable judgments which inflamed powerful groups within the city. He chose the shipbuilder Henri Roulfs, an old friend and associate to build the warship. By selecting the prominent Rotterdam shipbuilder, no matter how innovative the final design might be, he embarrassed the shipwrights of Amsterdam. Many felt Henri Roulf’s experience in building a few gunboats, did not elevate him to the status of a great architect of warships. The fact that the ship was being built at the designer’s boat yard in Rotterdam, angered every guild member in Amsterdam. The budding armament industry, desperately needed to supply munitions for the war, felt unappreciated when the ship’s main armament, ten bronze cannons, were cast in Germany. The Barons former supporters within the proud maritime community looked on with disbelief when a ship built to defend Amsterdam interests was constructed in Rotterdam and armed in Germany.

  The physical characteristics of the finished ship also raised further concerns among the nautical community. It lacked the classic lines of a fighting ship. It had no forecastle and seemed small and fragile when compared to Spanish warships. Some experts questioned the wisdom of placing the main guns on a second deck near the water line. Yet even the harshest critic admitted that the narrow hull, the three tall masts and an extra long bowsprit would give the ship more speed than potential adversaries. The speed and the pure beauty of the two-decked vessel were displayed in sea trials on the lake. Despite the weight of ten medium caliber cannons, it sailed past and pulled rapidly away from every ship it encountered in various winds. The simmering citizens begrudgingly gave the ship the nickname “The Runaway Baron”. The controversies only heighten as the Baron appointed Jon van Weir, his eighteen year old son, to command the vessel. In doing so he passed over a host of eminently more qualified local captains. The Baron attempted to silence his critics by announcing that Gustoff Roulfs, the hero of the “Battle of the Flight of the Three Pound Shot,” would be appointed second in command. This did little to quiet the dissent for it was well known his father had built the ship, and Gustoff was a proponent of the German cannons.

  Prince William of Orange, the Commander of all Dutch forces, arrived unexpectedly in Amsterdam and visited with the Baron at his residency. William , soon to be the “Father of the Netherlands,” knew these were desperate times. The earlier loss of Brussels and the eminent fall of Antwerp made this a desperate hour for the Dutch Republic. William needed the Northern Provinces of Holland and Zeeland to increase their financial support for the war effort. Increased expenditures by the merchants of Amsterdam lay at the heart of that equation. He had come to resolve the conflict between his friend Clifford and the most important city inside the new Republic. Abraham’s Youngest Son gave Prince William a practical tool to placate his supporters in Holland’s richest and most energetic of the seven Provinces. He decided to send the controversial ship on a mission to re-establish trade in the east, long dormant since the break with the king. The mere thought of reviving that profitable trade should soothe the hurt feelings among Amsterdam’s merchant men. The solution began with a joint proclamation by the Estate General and the City lauding the contributions the Baron Clifford van Weir had made to Amsterdam. A holiday was proclaimed in his honor. The Baron, the good soldier, resigned his position and accepted reassignment to Prince Williams’ command. His experienced horsemen were needed, more than ever, as Prince William manipulated the small Dutch Army against the larger and more powerful foreign forces. William did not have enough soldiers to defend the free Northern Provinces and repulse the massive Spanish Army ravaging the south. At least he could now send the Baron and his cavalrymen to harass his foe, as they had done earlier in the war.

  The Prince of Orange reaffirmed Captain Jon van Weir’s command of Abraham’s Youngest Son, and gave the young captain thirty days to prepare the
ship for the secret diplomatic mission through the world’s most dangerous waters. It was ironic that the bulk of the Dutch trade in things like fish, fabrics and grain was still being carried on between the warring parties while Spain and its ally France, by their geographical location adjacent to the sea lanes leading to the east, and their influences with Italian city states, was able to exclude Dutch ships from the lucrative trade in the Mediterranean. The ship’s mission was to carry three Dutch emissaries empowered to renegotiate new trade agreements with Italian city states, particularly Venice, and if possible even with the hated Ottomans. Jon began by appointing a ship’s master with excellent navigational skills and acquiring a ship’s pilot with Mediterranean experience. A dozen crack infantrymen and a few seamen fluent in the languages spoken along the Mediterranean coast were added to the ship’s company. William convinced the Estate General to discreetly pay all outstanding bills for the ship’s construction and provide some advanced wages to the sailors and soldiers making the journey.

  Though Jon van Weir was young, he had already grown into a sophisticated young noble. After his mother’s death the Baron, his father went to war. Lord Karl, the Baron’s younger brother, was given the responsibility of raising Jon. Karl saw to it that Jon possessed the skills needed to project a style of ruling suited to the opening moments of the Dutch Golden Age. While his father was away, becoming an almost legendary military hero, his uncle, had modernized the way the family functioned in governing the Droger Land. Lord Karl had prepared his nephew for a newly evolving role when Jon became the next great Lord. In the democratic atmosphere of the day, Karl taught Jon to do more leading than commanding. His uncle saw to it that his nephew grew up without the usual class restraints of former lords like his father. Karl taught his nephew to be comfortable working with all social classes, while retaining the skills needed to command them.