On the other side, there was a man whom no danger could appall.  Alexander had been thought dead, and the dismay among his followers was universal.  He was known to have been standing an instant before the explosion on the very block-house where the ‘Hope’ had struck.  After the first terrible moments had passed, his soldiers found their general lying, as if in a trance, on the threshold of St. Mary’s Fort, his drawn sword in his hand, with Cessis embracing his knees, and Gaetano extended at his side, stunned with a blow upon the head.

Recovering from his swoon, Parma was the first to spring to his feet.  Sword in hand, he rushed at once upon the bridge to mark the extent of the disaster.  The admirable structure, the result of so much patient and intelligent energy, was fearfully shattered; the bridge, the river, and the shore, strewed with the mangled bodies of his soldiers.  He expected, as a matter of certainty, that the fleet from below would instantly force its passage, destroy, the remainder of his troops-stunned as they were with the sudden catastrophe complete the demolition of the bridge, and then make its way to Antwerp, with ample reinforcements and supplies.  And Alexander saw that the expedition would be successful.  Momently expecting the attack, he maintained his courage and semblance of cheerfulness, with despair in his heart.

His winter’s work seemed annihilated, and it was probable that he should be obliged to raise the siege.  Nevertheless, he passed in person from rank to rank, from post to post, seeing that the wounded were provided for, encouraging those that remained unhurt, and endeavouring to infuse a portion of his own courage into the survivors of his panic-stricken army.

Nor was he entirely unsuccessful, as the night wore on and the expected assault was still delayed.  Without further loss of time, he employed his men to collect the drifting boats, timber, and spar-work, and to make a hasty and temporary restoration—­in semblance at least—­of the ruined portion of his bridge.  And thus he employed himself steadily all the night, although expecting every instant to hear the first broadside of the Zeeland cannon.  When morning broke, and it became obvious that the patriots were unable or unwilling to follow up their own success, the Governor-General felt as secure as ever.  He at once set about the thorough repairs of his great work, and—­before he could be again molested—­had made good the damage which it had sustained.

It was not till three days afterwards that the truth was known in Antwerp.  Hohenlo then sent down a messenger, who swam, under the bridge, ascertained the exact state of affairs, and returned, when it was too late, with the first intelligence of the triumph which had been won and lost.  The disappointment and mortification were almost intolerable.  And thus had.  Run-a-way Jacob, ‘Koppen Loppen,’ blasted the hopes of so many wiser and braver spirits than his own.