ent, several miles away. Aroused by the
distant cannonading, and suspecting what had occurred, Don Juan d'Aquila,
the colonel in command, marched without a moment's delay to Mansfeld's
head-quarters, at the head of all the force he could muster--about two
hundred strong. With him came Cardona, Gonzales de Castro, Toralva, and
other distinguished officers. As they arrived, Capizucca was just setting
forth for the field. There arose a dispute for precedence between the
Italians and the Spaniards. Capizucca had first demanded the privilege of
leading what seemed a forlorn hope, and was unwilling to yield his claim
to the new comer. On the other hand, the Spaniards were not disposed to
follow where they felt entitled to lead. The quarrel was growing warm,
when Aquila, seizing his Italian rival by the hand, protested that it was
not a moment for friends to wrangle for precedence.

"Shoulder to shoulder," said he, "let us go into this business, and let
our blows rather fall on our enemies' heads than upon each other's." This
terminated the altercation. The Italians and Spaniards--in battle array
as they were--all dropped on their knees, offered a brief prayer to the
Holy Virgin, and then, in the best possible spirits, set forth along the
dyke. Next to fort Stabroek--whence they issued--was the Palisade Fort,
nearly a mile removed, which the patriots had nearly carried, and between
which and St. George, another mile farther on, their whole force was
established.

The troops under Capizucca and Aquila soon reached the Palisade, and
attacked the besiegers, while the garrison, cheered by the unexpected
relief, made a vigorous sortie. There was a brief sharp contest, in which
many were killed on both sides; but at last the patriots fell back upon
their own entrenchments, and the fort was saved. Its name was instantly
changed to Fort Victory, and the royalists then prepared to charge the
fortified camp of the rebels, in the centre of which the dyke-cutting
operations were still in progress. At the same moment, from the opposite
end of the bulwark, a cry was heard along the whole line of the dyke.
From Fort Holy Cross, at the Scheldt end, the welcome intelligence was
suddenly communicated--as if by a magnetic impulse--that Alexander was in
the field!

It was true. Having been up half the night, as usual, keeping watch along
his bridge, where he was ever expecting a fatal attack, he had retired
for a few hours' rest in his camp at