The expedition sailed in the early days of April for the coast of Spain and Portugal, the admiral having full discretion to do anything that might in his judgment redound to the advantage of the republic.  Next in command was the vice-admiral of Zeeland, Laurenz Alteras.  Another famous seaman in the fleet was Captain Henry Janszoon of Amsterdam, commonly called Long Harry, while the weather-beaten and well-beloved Admiral Lambert, familiarly styled by his countrymen “Pretty Lambert,” some of whose achievements have already been recorded in these pages, was the comrade of all others upon whom Heemskerk most depended.  After the 10th April the admiral, lying off and on near the mouth of the Tagus, sent a lugger in trading disguise to reconnoitre that river.  He ascertained by his spies, sent in this and subsequently in other directions, as well as by occasional merchantmen spoken with at sea, that the Portuguese fleet for India would not be ready to sail for many weeks; that no valuable argosies were yet to be looked for from America, but that a great war-fleet, comprising many galleons of the largest size, was at that very moment cruising in the Straits of Gibraltar.  Such of the Netherland traders as were returning from the Levant, as well as those designing to enter the Mediterranean, were likely to fall prizes to this formidable enemy.  The heart of Jacob Heemskerk danced for joy.  He had come forth for glory, not for booty, and here was what he had scarcely dared to hope for—­a powerful antagonist instead of peaceful, scarcely resisting, but richly-laden merchantmen.  The accounts received were so accurate as to assure him that the Gibraltar fleet was far superior to his own in size of vessels, weight of metal, and number of combatants.  The circumstances only increased his eagerness.  The more he was over-matched, the greater would be the honour of victory, and he steered for the straits, tacking to and fro in the teeth of a strong head-wind.

On the morning of the 25th April he was in the narrowest part of the mountain-channel, and learned that the whole Spanish fleet was in the Bay of Gibraltar.

The marble pillar of Hercules rose before him.  Heemskerk was of a poetic temperament, and his imagination was inflamed by the spectacle which met his eyes.  Geographical position, splendour of natural scenery, immortal fable, and romantic history, had combined to throw a spell over that region.  It seemed marked out for perpetual illustration by human valour.  The deeds by which, many generations later, those localities were to become identified with the fame of a splendid empire—­then only the most energetic rival of the young republic, but destined under infinitely better geographical conditions to follow on her track of empire, and with far more prodigious results—­were still in the womb of futurity.  But St. Vincent, Trafalgar, Gibraltar—­words which were one day to stir the English heart, and to conjure heroic English shapes from the depths so long as history endures—­were capes and promontories already familiar to legend and romance.