by G. A. Henty
When he reached Ghent he found that the attention of the citizens was for the time chiefly occupied with the siege of the citadel, which was held by a Spanish garrison, and he therefore proceeded to Antwerp. This was at the time probably the wealthiest city in Europe. It carried on the largest commerce in the world, its warehouses were full of the treasures of all countries, its merchants vied with princes in splendour. The proud city was dominated, however, by its citadel, which had been erected not for the purpose of external defence but to overawe the town.
The governor of the garrison, D'Avila, had been all along recognized as one of the leaders of the mutiny. The town itself was garrisoned by Germans who still held aloof from the mutiny, but who had been tampered with by him. The governor of the city, Champagny, although a sincere Catholic, hated the Spaniards, and had entered into negotiations with the prince. The citizens thought at present but little of the common cause, their thoughts being absorbed by fears of their own safety, threatened by the mutinous Spanish troops who had already captured and sacked Alost, and were now assembling with the evident intention of gathering for themselves the rich booty contained within the walls of Antwerp.
As they approached the town, a force of 5000 Walloon infantry and 1200 cavalry were despatched from Brussels to the aid of its sister city. No sooner, however, did this force enter the town than it broke into a mutiny, which was only repressed with the greatest difficulty by Champagny. It was at this moment that Ned entered the city. He at once communicated with the governor, and delivered to him some messages with which he had been charged by the Prince of Orange, whom he had visited on his way.
“Had you arrived three days since I could have discussed these matters with you,” the governor said; “but as it is we are hourly expecting attack, and can think of nothing but preparations for defence. I shall be glad if you can assist me in that direction. Half the German garrison are traitors, the Walloons who have just entered are in no way to be relied upon, and it is the burghers themselves upon whom the defence of the town must really fall. They are now engaged in raising a rampart facing the citadel. I am at once proceeding thither to superintend the work.”
Ned accompanied the governor to the spot and found twelve thousand men and women labouring earnestly to erect a rampart, constructed of bales of goods, casks of earth, upturned wagons, and other bulky objects. The guns of the fortress opened upon the workers, and so impeded them that night fell before the fortifications were nearly completed. Unfortunately it was bright moonlight, and the artillerymen continued their fire with such accuracy that the work was at last abandoned, and the citizens retired to their homes. Champagny did all that was possible. Aided by some burghers and his own servants, he planted what few cannon there were at the weakest points; but his general directions were all neglected, and not even scouts were posted.
In the morning a heavy mist hung over the city, and concealed the arrival of the Spanish troops from all the towns and fortresses in the neighbourhood. As soon as it was fairly daylight the defenders mustered. The Marquis of Havre claimed for the Walloons the post of honour in defence of the lines facing the citadel; and 6000 men were disposed here, while the bulk of the German garrison were stationed in the principal squares.
At ten o'clock the mutineers from Alost marched into the citadel, raising the force there to 5000 veteran infantry and 600 cavalry.
Ned had been all night at work assisting the governor. He had now laid aside his ordinary attire, and was clad in complete armour. He was not there to fight; but there was clearly nothing else to do, unless indeed he made his escape at once to the fleet of the Prince of Orange, which was lying in the river. This he did not like doing until it was clear that all was lost. He had seen the Dutch burghers beat back the most desperate assaults of the Spanish troops, and assuredly the Walloons and Germans, who, without counting the burghers, considerably exceeded the force of the enemy, ought to be able to do the same.
Just before daybreak he made his way down to the quays, ascertained the exact position of the fleet, and determined how he had best get on board. He chose a small boat from among those lying at the quay, and removed it to the foot of some stairs by a bridge. He fastened the head rope to a ring and pushed the boat off, so that it lay under the bridge, concealed from the sight of any who might pass along the wharves. Having thus prepared for his own safety, he was making his way to rejoin the governor when a woman came out from a house in a quiet street. As she met him he started.
“Why, Magdalene!” he exclaimed, “is it you? What are you doing in Antwerp? Is the countess here?”
The woman looked at him in surprise.
“Don't you remember me, Magdalene? the boy you dressed up as a girl at Brussels, and whom you last saw at Maastricht?”
“Bless me!” the old servant exclaimed, “is it you, sir? I should never have known you again.”
“Three years make a great deal of difference,” Ned laughed; “and it is more than that now since we last met.”
“Please to come in, sir; the countess will be right glad to see you, and so will Miss Gertrude. They have talked of you hundreds of times, and wondered what had become of you.” She opened the door again with the great key, and led the way into the house.
“Mistress,” she said, showing the way into the parlour, “here is a visitor for you.” The countess and her daughter had, like every one else in Antwerp, been up all night, and rose from her seat by the fire as the young officer entered. He took off his helmet and bowed deeply.
“What is your business with me?” the countess asked, seeing that he did not speak.
“I have not come exactly upon business, countess,” he replied, “but to thank you for past kindnesses.”
“Mother, it is the English boy!” exclaimed the young lady sitting upon the side of the fire, rising from her seat. “Surely, sir, you are Master Edward Martin?”
“Your eyes are not in fault, Fraulein. I am Edward Martin.”
“I am glad, indeed, to see you, sir,” the countess said. “How often my daughter and I have longed for the time when we might again meet you to tell how grateful we are for the service you did us. I wonder now that I did not recognize you; but you have changed from a lad into a man. You must remember it is more than four years since we were together at Brussels. As for the meeting near Maastricht, it was such a short one; and I was so full of joy at the thought that Gertrude and I had escaped the fearful danger hanging over us that I scarce noticed your appearance, nor had we any time to talk then. We received the letter you wrote after leaving us at Brussels, from the Hague, telling us that you had arrived there safely. But since you did us that service at Maastricht we have never heard of you.”
“I had not your address,” Ned replied. “And even had I known where you were I should not have dared to write; for there was no saying into whose hands the letter might not fall. But, countess, excuse me if I turn to other matters, for the time presses sorely. You know that the city will be attacked today.”
“So every one says,” the countess replied. “But surely you do not think that there is any danger. The Walloons and Germans should be able alone to hold the barricades, and behind them are all the citizens.”
“I put little faith in the Walloons,” Ned said shortly; “and some of the Germans we know have been bribed. I would rather that all were out of the way, and that it were left to the burghers alone to defend the barricades. I have seen how the citizens of the Netherlands can fight at Haarlem and Alkmaar. As for these Walloons, I have no faith in them. I fear, countess, that the danger is great; and if the Spaniards succeed in winning their way into the town, there is no mercy to be expected for man, woman, or child. I consider that it would be madness for you to stay here.”
“But what are we to do, sir?” the countess asked.
“The only way, madam, is to make your way on board the prince's fleet. I am known to many of the officers, and can place you on board at once. If you wait until the Spaniards enter it wil
l be too late. There will be a wild rush to the river, and the boats will be swamped. If the attack fails, and the Spaniards retire from before the city, you can if you choose return to shore, though I should say that even then it will be better by far to go to Rotterdam or Delft; unless you decide to do as you once talked about, to find a refuge for a time in England.”
“I will accept your offer gladly, sir,” the countess said. “I have long been looking for some way to leave the city. But none can go on board the ships without a pass, and I have not dared to ask for one. Not for worlds would I expose my daughter to the horrors of a sack. Can we go at once?”
“Yes, madam, I have everything in readiness, and would advise no delay.”
“I have nothing that I need mind leaving behind. I am, as you see, more comfortable here than I was at Brussels; but I am still forced to keep my concealment. In five minutes we shall be ready.”
CHAPTER XX. THE “SPANISH FURY”
In a very short time the countess and her daughter returned to the room where Ned was awaiting them. Each carried a handbag.
“We are ready now,” the countess said. “I have my jewels and purse. As for the things we leave behind, they are scarce worth the taking by the Spaniards.”
Locking the door of the house behind them the three women accompanied Ned down to the riverside. He took the first boat that came to hand and rowed them down to the fleet, which was moored a quarter of a mile below the town. He passed the first ship or two, and then rowed to one with whose captain he was acquainted.
“Captain Enkin,” he said, “I have brought on board two ladies who have long been in hiding, waiting an opportunity of being taken to Holland — the Countess Von Harp and her daughter. I fear greatly that Antwerp will fall today, and wish, therefore, to place them in safety before the fight begins. Before sunset, unless I am mistaken, you will have a crowd of fugitives on board.”
“I am very pleased, madam,” the captain said, bowing to the countess, “to receive you, and beg to hand over my cabin for your use. The name you bear is known to all Dutchmen; and even were it not so, anyone introduced to me by my good friend Captain Martin would be heartily welcome.
“Are you going to return on shore?” he asked Ned.
“Yes, I must do so,” Ned replied. “I promised the governor to stand by him to the last; and as he has scarce a soul on whom he can rely, it is clearly my duty to do so. It is not for me to shirk doing my duty as long as I can, because I fear that the day will go against us.”
“You will have difficulty in getting off again if the Spaniards once enter the city,” the captain said. “There will be such a rush to the boats that they will be swamped before they leave shore.”
“I have a boat hidden away in which I hope to bring off the governor with me,” Ned replied. “As to myself, I can swim like a fish.”
“Mind and get rid of your armour before you try it. All the swimming in the world could not save you if you jumped in with all that steel mail on you.”
“I will bear it in mind,” Ned said. “Goodbye, countess. Good-bye, Fraulein Gertrude. I trust to see you at nightfall, if not before.”
“That is a very gallant young officer,” Captain Enkin said as the two ladies sat watching Ned as he rowed to the shore.
“You addressed him as Captain Martin?” the countess said.
“Yes, he has been a captain in the prince's service fully three years,” the sailor said; “and fought nobly at Alkmaar, at the naval battle on the Zuider Zee, and in the sea fight when we drove Romero's fleet back in Bergen. He stands very high in the confidence of the prince, but I do not think he is in our service now. He is often with the prince, but I believe he comes and goes between England and Holland, and is, men say, the messenger by whom private communications between the queen of England and the prince are chiefly carried.”
“He is young to have such confidence reposed in him,” the countess said.
“Yes, he is young,” Captain Enkin replied. “Not, I suppose, beyond seven or eight and twenty. He was a captain and high in the prince's confidence when I first knew him three years ago, so he must surely have been four or five and twenty then; and yet, indeed, now you speak of it, methinks he is greatly bigger now than he was then. I do not think he was much taller than I am, and now he tops me by nigh a head. But I must surely be mistaken as to that, for the prince would scarcely place his confidence in a mere lad.”
The countess made no reply, though she exchanged a quiet smile with her daughter. They knew that Ned could not be much more than twenty. He was, he had said, about three years older than Gertrude, and she had passed seventeen but by a few months.
Ned, on returning to shore, tied up the boat, and then proceeded to the palace of the governor. A servant was holding a horse at the door.
“The governor ordered this horse to be ready and saddled for you, sir, when you arrived, and begged you to join him at once in the marketplace, where he is telling off the troops to their various stations.”
Leaping on the horse, Ned rode to the marketplace, and at once placed himself under orders of the governor.
“There is nothing much for you to do at present,” Champagny said. “The troops are all in their places, and we are ready when they deliver the assault.”
It was not until eleven o'clock that the Spaniards advanced to the attack — 3000 of them, under their Eletto, by the street of St. Michael; the remainder with the Germans, commanded by Romero, by that of St. George. No sooner did the compact masses approach the barricades than the Walloons, who had been so loud in their boasts of valour, and had insisted upon having the post of danger, broke and fled, their commander, Havre, at their head; and the Spaniards, springing over the ramparts, poured into the streets.
“Fetch up the Germans from the exchange!” Champagny shouted to Ned; and leaping his horse over a garden wall, he himself rode to another station and brought up the troops there, and led them in person to bar the road to the enemy, trying in vain to rally the flying Walloons he met on the way. For a few minutes the two parties of Germans made a brave stand; but they were unable to resist the weight and number of the Spaniards, who bore them down by sheer force. Champagny had fought gallantly in the melee, and Ned, keeping closely beside him, had well seconded his efforts; but when the Germans were borne down they rode off, dashing through the streets and shouting to the burghers everywhere to rise in defence of their homes.
They answered to the appeal. The bodies already collected at the exchange and cattle market moved forward, and from every house the men poured out. The Spanish columns had already divided, and were pouring down the streets with savage cries. The German cavalry of Havre under Van Eude at once deserted, and joining the Spanish cavalry fell upon the townsmen. In vain the burghers and such of the German infantry as remained faithful strove to resist their assailants. Although they had been beaten off in their assaults upon breaches, the Spaniards had ever proved themselves invincible on level ground; and now, inspired alike by the fury for slaughter and the lust for gold, there was no withstanding them.
Round the exchange some of the bravest defenders made a rally, and burghers and Germans, mingled together, fought stoutly until they were all slain.
There was another long struggle round the town hall, one of the most magnificent buildings in Europe; and for a time the resistance was effective, until the Spanish cavalry and the Germans under the traitor Van Eude charged down upon the defenders. Then they took refuge in the buildings, and every house became a fortress, and from window and balcony a hot fire was poured into the square. But now a large number of camp followers who had accompanied the Spaniards came up with torches, which had been specially prepared for firing the town, and in a short time the city hall and other edifices in the square were in flames.
The fire spread rapidly from house to house and from street to street, until nearly a thousand buildings in the most splendid and wealthy portion of the city were in a blaze.
In the street be
hind the town hall a last stand was made. Here the margrave of the city, the burgomasters, senators, soldiers, and citizens fought to the last, until not one remained to wield a sword. When resistance had ceased the massacre began. Women, children, and old men were killed in vast numbers, or driven into the river to drown there.
Then the soldiers scattered on the work of plunder. The flames had already snatched treasures estimated at six millions from their grasp, but there was still abundance for all. The most horrible tortures were inflicted upon men, women, and children to force them to reveal the hiding places, where they were supposed to have concealed their wealth, and for three days a pandemonium reigned in the city. Two thousand five hundred had been slain, double that number burned and drowned. These are the lowest estimates, many placing the killed at very much higher figures.
Champagny had fought very valiantly, joining any party of soldiers or citizens he saw making a defence. At last, when the town hall was in flames and all hope over, he said to Ned, who had kept throughout the day at his side: “It is no use throwing away our lives. Let us cut our way out of the city.”
“I have a boat lying in readiness at the bridge,” Ned said. “If we can once reach the stairs we can make our way off to the fleet.”
As they approached the river they saw a Spanish column crossing the street ahead of them. Putting spurs to their horses they galloped on at full speed, and bursting into it hewed their way through and continued their course, followed, however, by a number of Spanish infantry.
“These are the steps!” Ned exclaimed, leaping from his horse.
Champagny followed his example. The Spaniards were but twenty yards behind.
“If you pull on that rope attached to the ring a boat lying under the bridge will come to you,” Ned said. “I will keep them back till you are ready.”
Ned turned and faced the Spaniards, and for two or three minutes kept them at bay. His armour was good, and though many blows struck him he was uninjured, while several of the Spaniards fell under his sweeping blows. They fell back for a moment, surprised at his strength; and at this instant the governor called out that all was ready.