abandoned in despair.  The onset of Balen was successful:  the Spanish infantry, thus suddenly attached, were broken, and many were killed and taken.  Cecil and Vere were equally fortunate, so that the retreating English and Frisians began to hold firm again.  It was the very crisis of the battle, which up to that instant seemed wholly lost by the republic, so universal was the overthrow and the flight.  Some hundred and fifty Frisian pikemen now rallied from their sullen retreat, and drove the enemy off one hillock or dune.

Foiled in their attempt to intercept the backward movement of the States’ army and to seize this vital point and the artillery with it, the Spaniards hesitated and were somewhat discouraged.  Some Zeeland sailors, who had stuck like wax to those demi-cannon during the whole conflict, now promptly obeyed orders to open yet once more upon the victorious foe.  At the first volley the Spaniards were staggered, and the sailors with a lively shout of “Ian-fall on,” inspired the defeated army with a portion of their own cheerfulness.  Others vehemently shouted victory without any reason whatever.  At that instant Maurice ordered a last charge by those few cavalry squadrons, while the enemy was faltering under the play of the artillery.  It was a forlorn hope, yet such was the shifting fortune of that memorable day that the charge decided the battle.  The whole line of the enemy broke, the conquered became the victors, the fugitives quickly rallying and shouting victory almost before they had turned their faces to the foe, became in their turn the pursuers.  The Catholic army could no longer be brought to a stand, but fled wildly in every direction, and were shot and stabbed by the republicans as they fled.  The Admiral of Arragon fell with his hackney in this last charge.  Unwounded, but struggling to extricate himself from his horse that had been killed, he was quickly surrounded by the enemy.

Two Spaniards, Mendo and Villalobos by name, who had recently deserted to the States, came up at the moment and recognised the fallen admiral.  They had reason to recognise him, for both had been in his service, and one of them, who was once in immediate household attendance upon him, bore the mark of a wound which he had received from his insolent master.  “Admiral, look at this,” cried Villalobos, pointing to the scar on his face.  The admiral looked and knew his old servants, and gave his scarf to the one and the hanger of his sword-belt to the other, as tokens that he was their prisoner.  Thus his life was saved for heavy ransom, of which those who had actually captured him would receive a very trifling portion.  The great prisoner was carried to the rear, where he immediately asked for food and drink, and fell to with an appetite, while the pursuit and slaughter went on in all directions.