zens, "as well can the Prince of Orange
pluck the stars from the sky as bring the ocean to the walls of Leyden
for your relief."

On the 28th of September, a dove flew into the city, bringing a letter
from Admiral Boisot. In this despatch, the position of the fleet at North
Aa was described in encouraging terms, and the inhabitants were assured
that, in a very few days at furthest, the long-expected relief would
enter their gates. The letter was read publicly upon the market-place,
and the bells were rung for joy. Nevertheless, on the morrow, the vanes
pointed to the east, the waters, so far from rising, continued to sink,
and Admiral Boisot was almost in despair. He wrote to the Prince, that if
the spring-tide, now to be expected, should not, together with a strong
and favorable wind, come immediately to their relief, it would be in pain
to attempt anything further, and that the expedition would, of necessity,
be abandoned. The tempest came to their relief. A violent equinoctial
gale, on the night of the 1st and 2nd of October, came storming from the
north-west, shifting after a few hours full eight points, and then
blowing still more violently from the south-west. The waters of the North
Sea were piled in vast masses upon the southern coast of Holland, and
then dashed furiously landward, the ocean rising over the earth, and
sweeping with unrestrained power across the ruined dykes.

In the course of twenty-four hours, the fleet at North Aa, instead of
nine inches, had more than two feet of water. No time was lost. The
Kirk-way, which had been broken through according to the Prince's
instructions, was now completely overflowed, and the fleet sailed at
midnight, in the midst of the storm and darkness. A few sentinel vessels
of the enemy challenged them as they steadily rowed towards Zoeterwoude.
The answer was a flash from Boisot's cannon; lighting up the black waste
of waters. There was a fierce naval midnight battle; a strange spectacle
among the branches of those quiet orchards, and with the chimney stacks
of half-submerged farmhouses rising around the contending vessels. The
neighboring village of Zoeterwoude shook with the discharges of the
Zealanders' cannon, and the Spaniards assembled in that fortress knew
that the rebel Admiral was at last, afloat and on his course. The enemy's
vessels were soon sunk, their crews hurled into the waves. On went the
fleet, sweeping over the broad waters which lay between Zoeterwou