Part 5
"And do they still think they can force this people into compliance with them?" he mumbled to himself. "How long already have they been burying the cream of Spain's youth, the core of its strength in 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 no longer possible to see three feet ahead of one.
"Yes, yes," the old soldier mumbled to himself, "fire blindly at them! Listen. There it is again, that damned tune, the funeral dirge for the might and land of Spain. Save your powder. You'll not destroy them with it. Yes, that's right, shoot. Their song sounds all the clearer for it! We all of us know it off by heart now."
Through the cannon fire and the blare of Dutch trumpets Captain Jeronimo hummed to himself:
I am a prince of Orange, Unharmed up until now, Who has the king of Spain Always allowed his due.
He had not got to the end of this ditty when a cannonball landed in the midst of his company right next to him and six men were killed by it or knocked to the ground wounded. This cannonball had come from the Andrea Doria. Jan Norris had opened fire as he sailed past Fort Liefkenhoek. The fort's cannon answered immediately 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 her betrothed. Her eyes were sparkling. What did Spanish cannonballs matter to her? Above the couple's heads the beggars' flag fluttered victoriously and Spinola's standard lay torn under their feet.
"Another broadside, lads, that's the way! Fire, fire, fire in honour of my Myga!" shouted Jan Norris, waving his hat. "There goes the top gallant mast overboard! Never mind, Myga, my sweet! Clear water! Clear water! Listen to how the black galley is surging ahead before Fort Lillo! Sultan before Pope! Clear water! Empty sea! Sweetest Myga, fair and lovely bride, how much I love you!"
"Oh Jan, Jan, never was a bride won so proudly! What great things you have done for me!"
"What things?" laughed Jan Norris. "I merely struck down a foreign ship'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 Doria and, further on to starboard, the black ship itself thundered a riposte, sailing on under the walls of Fort Lillo.
"Leave me be," said Captain Jeronimo to his comrades, who wanted to 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 faces around me. Comrades, I wish you more luck than was granted to Spain's former army here. We did our duty. Dig for us on the battlefield of Jemmingen, in Mockerheide, near Gembloers and Antwerp. It is not to our dishonour that we still occupy the same piece of ground. God be with you, comrades. The old army is going to its grave. God be with you and with Spain forever. Poor Spain!"
Captain Jeronimo was dead, and the officers and soldiers of Fort Liefkenhoek's garrison surrounded him in silence.
The noise of cannon fire had died away. All the Dutch ships had gone by the enemy Spanish forts with their sea-borne prize. In the distance the strains of a battle hymn from 1568 were still audible:
Before God I will witness, And all His angel host, That I at all times have The King of Spain despised, Because I have Our Lord, Who dwells in majesty, Obeyed without demur As righteousness decreed.
Towards the open sea these strains continued unabated while the proud sea beggar squadron sailed on with its prize and its bloody wounds and glory slid downstream in a fog that was becoming ever thicker.