Frederic Spinola, notwithstanding the stunning defeat sustained by him in the preceding October, had not lost heart while losing all his ships.  On the contrary, he had been busy during the winter in building other galleys.  Accordingly, one fine morning in May, Counsellor Flooswyk, being on board a war vessel convoying some empty transports from Ostend, observed signs of mischief brewing as he sailed past the Gut of Sluys; and forthwith gave notice of what he had seen to Admiral Joost de Moor, commanding the blockading squadron.  The counsellor was right.  Frederic Spinola meant mischief.  It was just before sunrise of a beautiful summer’s day.  The waves were smooth—­not a breath of wind stirring—­and De Moor, who had four little war-ships of Holland, and was supported besides by a famous vessel called the Black Galley of Zeeland, under Captain Jacob Michelzoon, soon observed a movement from Sluys.

Over the flat and glassy surface of the sea, eight galleys of the largest size were seen crawling slowly, like vast reptiles, towards his .. position.  Four lesser vessels followed in the wake of the great galleys.  The sails of the admiral’s little fleet flapped idly against the mast.  He could only placidly await the onset.  The Black Galley, however, moved forward according to her kind; and was soon vigorously attacked by two galleys of the enemy.  With all the force that five hundred rowers could impart, these two huge vessels ran straight into the Zeeland ship, and buried their iron prows in her sides.  Yet the Black Galley was made of harder stuff than were those which had gone down in the channel the previous autumn under the blows of John Kant.  Those on board her, at least, were made of tougher material than were galley-slaves and land-soldiers.  The ramming was certainly not like that of a thousand horse-power of steam, and there was no very great display of science in the encounter; yet Captain Jacob Michelzoon, with two enemy’s ships thus stuck to his sides, might well have given himself up for lost.  The disproportion of ships and men was monstrous.  Beside the chain-gang, each of Spinola’s ships was manned by two hundred soldiers, while thirty-six musketeers from the Flushing garrison were the only men-at-arms in De Moor’s whole squadron.  But those amphibious Zeelanders and Hollanders, perfectly at home in the water, expert in handling vessels, and excellent cannoneers, were more than a match for twenty times their number of landsmen.  It was a very simple-minded, unsophisticated contest.  The attempt to board the Black Galley was met with determined resistance, but the Zeeland sailors clambered like cats upon the bowsprits of the Spanish galleys, fighting with cutlass and handspike, while a broadside or two was delivered with terrible effect into the benches of the chained and wretched slaves.  Captain Michelzoon was killed, but his successor, Lieutenant Hart, although severely wounded, swore that he would blow up his ship with his own hands rather than surrender.  The decks of all the vessels ran with blood, but at last the Black Galley succeeded in beating off her assailants; the Zeelanders, by main force, breaking off the enemy’s bowsprits, so that the two ships of Spinola were glad to sheer off, leaving their stings buried in the enemy’s body.