obedience to his orders, had got a powerful squadron in readiness at that place.  Late in January, 1574, d’Avila arrived in the neighbourhood of Flushing, where he awaited the arrival of Romero’s fleet.  United, the two Commanders were to make a determined attempt to reinforce the starving city of Middelburg.  At the same time, Governor Requesens made his appearance in person at Bergen op Zoom to expedite the departure of the stronger fleet, but it was not the intention of the Prince of Orange to allow this expedition to save the city.  The Spanish generals, however valiant, were to learn that their genius was not amphibious, and that the Beggars of the Sea were still invincible on their own element, even if their brethren of the land had occasionally quailed.

Admiral Boisot’s fleet had already moved up the Scheld and taken a position nearly opposite to Bergen op Zoom.  On the 20th of January the Prince of Orange, embarking from Zierick Zee, came to make them a visit before the impending action.  His galley, conspicuous for its elegant decorations, was exposed for some time to the artillery of the fort, but providentially escaped unharmed.  He assembled all the officers of his armada, and, in brief but eloquent language, reminded them how necessary it was to the salvation of the whole country that they should prevent the city of Middelburg—­the key to the whole of Zealand, already upon the point of falling into the hands of the patriots—­from being now wrested from their grasp.  On the sea, at least, the Hollanders and Zealanders were at home.  The officers and men, with one accord, rent the air with their cheers.  They swore that they would shed every drop of blood in their veins but they would sustain the Prince and the country; and they solemnly vowed not only to serve, if necessary, without wages, but to sacrifice all that they possessed in the world rather than abandon the cause of their fatherland.  Having by his presence and his language aroused their valor to so high a pitch of enthusiasm, the Prince departed for Delft, to make arrangements to drive the Spaniards from the siege of Leyden.

On the 29th of January, the fleet of Romero sailed from Bergen, disposed in three divisions, each numbering twenty-five vessels of different sizes.  As the Grand Commander stood on the dyke of Schakerloo to witness the departure, a general salute was fired by the fleet in his honor, but with most unfortunate augury.  The discharge, by some accident, set fire to the magazines of one of the ships, which blew up with a terrible explosion, every soul on board perishing.  The expedition, nevertheless, continued its way.  Opposite Romerswael, the fleet of Boisot awaited them, drawn up in battle array.  As an indication of the spirit which animated this hardy race, it may be mentioned that Schot, captain of the flag-ship, had been left on shore, dying of a pestilential fever.  Admiral Boisot had appointed a Flushinger, Klaaf Klaafzoon, in his place.  Just before the action, however, Schot, “scarcely able to blow a feather from his mouth,” staggered on board his ship, and claimed the command.