History of the United Netherlands, 1585 part 2 | Page 6

with
some inevitable and unimportant discrepancies, agree with each other.
The most copious details are to be found in Strada and in Bor.]
It had been agreed that Admiral Jacobzoon should, immediately after
the explosion of the fire-ships, send an eight-oared barge to ascertain
the amount of damage. If a breach had been effected, and a passage up
to the city opened, he was to fire a rocket. At this signal, the fleet
stationed at Lillo, carrying a heavy armament, laden with provisions
enough to relieve Antwerp from all anxiety, and ready to sail on the

instant, was at once to force its way up the river.
The deed was done. A breach, two hundred feet in width was made.
Had the most skilful pilot in Zeeland held the helm of the 'Hope,' with a
choice crew obedient to his orders, he could not have guided her more
carefully than she had been directed by wind and tide. Avoiding the raft
which lay in her way, she had, as it were, with the intelligence of a
living creature, fulfilled the wishes of the daring genius that had created
her; and laid herself alongside the bridge, exactly at the most telling
point. She had then destroyed herself, precisely at the right moment.
All the effects, and more than all, that had been predicted by the
Mantuan wizard had come to pass. The famous bridge was cleft
through and through, and a thousand picked men--Parma's very
"daintiest"--were blown out of existence. The Governor-General
himself was lying stark and stiff upon the bridge which he said should
be his triumphal monument or his tomb. His most distinguished
officers were dead, and all the survivors were dumb and blind with
astonishment at the unheard of, convulsion. The passage was open for
the fleet, and the fleet, lay below with sails spread, and oars in the
rowlocks, only waiting for the signal to bear up at once to the scene of
action, to smite out of existence all that remained of the splendid
structure, and to carry relief and triumph into Antwerp.
Not a soul slept in the city. The explosion had shook its walls, and
thousands of people thronged the streets, their hearts beating high with
expectation. It was a moment of exquisite triumph. The 'Hope,' word of
happy augury, had not been relied upon in vain, and Parma's seven
months of patient labour had been annihilated in a moment. Sainte
Aldegonde and Gianibelli stood in the 'Boors' Sconce' on the edge of
the river. They had felt and heard the explosion, and they were now
straining their eyes through the darkness to mark the flight of the
welcome rocket.
That rocket never rose. And it is enough, even after the lapse of three
centuries, to cause a pang in every heart that beats for human liberty to
think of the bitter disappointment which crushed these great and
legitimate hopes. The cause lay in the incompetency and cowardice of
the man who had been so unfortunately entrusted with a share in a
noble enterprise.
Admiral Jacobzoon, paralyzed by the explosion, which announced his

own triumph, sent off the barge, but did not wait for its return. The
boatmen, too, appalled by the sights and sounds which they had
witnessed, and by the murky darkness which encompassed them, did
not venture near the scene of action, but, after rowing for a short
interval hither and thither, came back with the lying report that nothing
had been accomplished, and that the bridge remained unbroken. Sainte
Aldegonde and Gianibelli were beside themselves with rage, as they
surmised the imbecility of the Admiral, and devoted him in their hearts
to the gallows, which he certainly deserved. The wrath of the keen
Italian may be conceived, now that his ingenious and entirely
successful scheme was thus rendered fruitless by the blunders of the
incompetent Fleming.
On the other side, there was a man whom no danger could appall.
Alexander had been thought dead, and the dismay among his followers
was universal. He was known to have been standing an instant before
the explosion on the very block-house where the 'Hope' had struck.
After the first terrible moments had passed, his soldiers found their
general lying, as if in a trance, on the threshold of St. Mary's Fort, his
drawn sword in his hand, with Cessis embracing his knees, and
Gaetano extended at his side, stunned with a blow upon the head.
Recovering from his swoon, Parma was the first to spring to his feet.
Sword in hand, he rushed at once upon the bridge to mark the extent of
the disaster. The admirable structure, the result of so much patient and
intelligent energy, was fearfully shattered; the bridge, the river, and the
shore, strewed with the mangled bodies of his soldiers.