The next night had been fixed for sending forth the fireships against the bridge, and for the entrance of the fleet into the harbour.  One fire-ship floated a little way towards the bridge and exploded ingloriously.  Leicester rowed in his barge about the fleet, superintending the soundings and markings of the channel, and hastening the preparations; but, as the decisive moment approached, the pilots who had promised to conduct the expedition came aboard his pinnace and positively refused to have aught to do with the enterprise, which they now declared an impossibility.  The Earl was furious with the pilots, with Maurice, with Hohenlo, with Admiral de Nassau, with the States, with all the world.  He stormed and raged and beat his breast, but all in vain.  His ferocity would have been more useful the day before, in face of the Spaniards, than now, against the Zeeland mariners:  but the invasion by the fleet alone, unsupported by a successful land-operation, was pronounced impracticable, and very soon the relieving fleet was seen by the distressed garrison sailing away from the neighbourhood, and it soon disappeared beneath the horizon.  Their fate was sealed.  They entered into treaty with Parma, who, secretly instructed, as has been seen, of their desperate intentions, in case any but the most honourable conditions were offered, granted those conditions.  The garrison were allowed to go out with colours displayed, lighted matches, bullet in mouth, and with bag and baggage.  Such burghers as chose to conform to the government of Spain and the church of Rome; were permitted to remain.  Those who preferred to depart were allowed reasonable time to make their necessary arrangements.

“We have hurt and slain very near eight hundred,” said Sir Roger Williams.  “We had not powder to fight two hours.  There was a breach of almost four hundred paces, another of three score, another of fifty, saltable for horse and men.  We had lain continually eighteen nights all on the breaches.  He gave us honourable composition.  Had the state of England lain on it, our lives could not defend the place, three hours, for half the rampires were his, neither had we any pioneers but ourselves.  We were sold by their negligence who are now angry with us.”

On the 5th August Parma entered the city.  Roger Williams with his gilt morion rather battered, and his great plume of feathers much bedraggled-was a witness to the victor’s entrance.  Alexander saluted respectfully an officer so well known to him by reputation, and with some complimentary remarks urged him to enter the Spanish service, and to take the field against the Turks.

“My sword,” replied the doughty Welshman, “belongs to her royal Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, above and before all the world.  When her Highness has no farther use for it, it is at the service of the King of Navarre.”  Considering himself sufficiently answered, the Duke then requested Sir Roger to point out Captain Baskerville—­very conspicuous by a greater plume of feathers than even that of the Welshman himself—­and embraced that officer; when presented to him, before all his staff.  “There serves no prince in Europe a braver man than this Englishman,” cried Alexander, who well knew how to appreciate high military qualities, whether in his own army or in that of his foes.