this assailant, the galley found herself close to the Dutch admiral in the Half-moon, who, with all sail set, bore straight down upon her, struck her amidships with a mighty crash, carrying off her mainmast and her poop, and then, extricating himself with difficulty from the wreck, sent a tremendous volley of cannon-shot and lesser missiles straight into the waist where sat the chain-gang.  A howl of pain and terror rang through the air, while oars and benches, arms, legs, and mutilated bodies, chained inexorably together, floated on the moonlit waves.  An instant later, and another galleot bore down to complete the work, striking with her iron prow the doomed St. Philip so straightly and surely that she went down like a stone, carrying with her galley slaves, sailors, and soldiers, besides all the treasure brought by Spinola for the use of his fleet.

The Morning Star was the next galley attacked, Captain Sael, in a stout galleot, driving at her under full sail, with the same accuracy and solidity of shock as had been displayed in the encounter with the St. Philip and with the same result.  The miserable, top-heavy monster galley was struck between mainmast and stern, with a blow which carried away the assailant’s own bowsprit and fore-bulwarks, but which—­completely demolished the stem of the galley, and crushed out of existence the greater portion of the live machinery sitting chained and rowing on the benches.  And again, as the first enemy hauled off from its victim, Admiral pant came up once more in the Half-moon, steered straight at the floundering galley, and sent her with one crash to the bottom.  It was not very scientific practice perhaps.  It was but simple butting, plain sailing, good steering, and the firing of cannon at short pistol-shot.  But after all, the work of those unsophisticated Dutch skippers was done very thoroughly, without flinching, and, as usual, at great odds of men and guns.  Two more of the Spanish galleys were chased into the shallows near Gravelines, where they went to pieces.  Another was wrecked near Calais.  The galley which bore Frederic Spinola himself and his fortunes succeeded in reaching Dunkirk, whence he made his way discomfited, to tell the tale of his disaster to the archduke at Brussels.  During the fight the Dutch admiral’s boats had been active in picking up such of the drowning crews, whether galley-slaves or soldiers, as it was possible to save.  But not more than two hundred were thus rescued, while by far the greater proportion of those on board, probably three thousand in number, perished, and the whole fleet, by which so much injury was to have been inflicted on Dutch commerce, was, save one damaged galley, destroyed.  Yet scarcely any lives were lost by the Hollanders, and it is certain that the whole force in their fleet did not equal the crew of a single one of the enemy’s ships.  Neither Spinola nor the archduke seemed likely to make much out of the contract.  Meantime, the Genoese volunteer kept quiet in Sluy’s, brooding over schemes to repair his losses and to renew his forays on the indomitable Zeelanders.