Die schwarze Galeere. English Page 11
you beggars, take up your weapons, whoever among you stillhas the use of his hands and his feet.
Beggars' luck! Beggars' luck!
All was in readiness in Fort Liefkenhoek, for the commander ofthe fort had had time enough to give out his orders well inadvance. Captain Jeronimo had woken him at two o'clock in themorning.
"Well, what is it?" the colonel had asked, and the old veteranhad shrugged his shoulders and said: "It may be a mutiny atFort Callao, it may be an uprising in Antwerp, but I'd like youto come to the battlements anyway, sir." Reluctantly thecommander had appeared on the south-eastern bastion of his fortand listened for a long time. A quarter of an hour later thedrummer had once again summoned the garrison to the walls, andan hour later the captain had said: "If I were you, sir, I'dhave all of tonight's sentries shot."
How long had the cannon fire lasted along the Scheldt? It wasno wonder that everything for the reception of the black galleyhad been best prepared at Fort Liefkenhoek!
Captain Jeronimo paced darkly up and down before his company and,as the firing came nearer, he glowered all the more as was hiswont. He had played the game so long that he had grown weary ofit--no, not weary!--, it had become as indifferent to him asbreathing. So Captain Jeronimo had merely shrugged his shoulderswhen a messenger on horseback had ridden overland from Fort Pearlbringing the first detailed account of what had happened on theriver near Antwerp. How grimly his comrades had borne themselves,but the old soldier who had served under the Dukes of Alba,Requesens and Farnese had merely turned his back on the messengerand walked back to his company.
"And do they still think they can force this people into compliancewith them?" he mumbled to himself. "How long already have theybeen burying the cream of Spain's youth, the core of its strengthin this muddy ground? I pity my poor fatherland."
The cannon in front of Kruisschanze had interrupted his monologue.In the morning mist it was starting to softly snow. It was now nolonger possible to see three feet ahead of one.
"Yes, yes," the old soldier mumbled to himself, "fire blindly atthem! Listen. There it is again, that damned tune, the funeraldirge for the might and land of Spain. Save your powder. You'llnot destroy them with it. Yes, that's right, shoot. Their songsounds all the clearer for it! We all of us know it off by heartnow."
Through the cannon fire and the blare of Dutch trumpets CaptainJeronimo hummed to himself:
I am a prince of Orange,Unharmed up until now,Who has the king of SpainAlways allowed his due.
He had not got to the end of this ditty when a cannonball landedin the midst of his company right next to him and six men werekilled by it or knocked to the ground wounded. This cannonballhad come from the Andrea Doria. Jan Norris had opened fire ashe sailed past Fort Liefkenhoek. The fort's cannon answeredimmediately in the most uncompromising fashion without, however,causing the beggars any significant harm.
On the deck of the Andrea Doria Myga van Bergen stood next to herbetrothed. Her eyes were sparkling. What did Spanish cannonballsmatter to her? Above the couple's heads the beggars' flag flutteredvictoriously and Spinola's standard lay torn under their feet.
"Another broadside, lads, that's the way! Fire, fire, fire inhonour of my Myga!" shouted Jan Norris, waving his hat. "Theregoes the top gallant mast overboard! Never mind, Myga, my sweet!Clear water! Clear water! Listen to how the black galley issurging ahead before Fort Lillo! Sultan before Pope! Clear water!Empty sea! Sweetest Myga, fair and lovely bride, how much I loveyou!"
"Oh Jan, Jan, never was a bride won so proudly! What great thingsyou have done for me!"
"What things?" laughed Jan Norris. "I merely struck down a foreignship's officer and bundled overboard the body of a foreign captain.The black galley rescued both of us. Long live the black galley!"
"Long live the black galley!" cheered the crew of the Andrea Doriaand, further on to starboard, the black ship itself thundered ariposte, sailing on under the walls of Fort Lillo.
"Leave me be," said Captain Jeronimo to his comrades, who wantedto take him below from the ramparts. "Let me die in the open air.I'll die happier. God be with you, comrades. God be with you all.Look after yourselves. All I can see are young and youthful facesaround me. Comrades, I wish you more luck than was granted toSpain's former army here. We did our duty. Dig for us on thebattlefield of Jemmingen, in Mockerheide, near Gembloers andAntwerp. It is not to our dishonour that we still occupy thesame piece of ground. God be with you, comrades. The old armyis going to its grave. God be with you and with Spain forever.Poor Spain!"
Captain Jeronimo was dead, and the officers and soldiers of FortLiefkenhoek's garrison surrounded him in silence.
The noise of cannon fire had died away. All the Dutch ships hadgone by the enemy Spanish forts with their sea-borne prize. Inthe distance the strains of a battle hymn from 1568 were stillaudible:
Before God I will witness,And all His angel host,That I at all times haveThe King of Spain despised,Because I have Our Lord,Who dwells in majesty,Obeyed without demurAs righteousness decreed.
Towards the open sea these strains continued unabated while theproud sea beggar squadron sailed on with its prize and its bloodywounds and glory slid downstream in a fog that was becoming everthicker.