now hotly besieged in the mansion, and at last driven
forth into the streets.

By this time day was dawning, the whole population, soldiers and
burghers, men, women, and children, were thronging about the little band
of marauders, and assailing them with every weapon and every missile to
be found. Schenk fought with his usual ferocity, but at last the
musketeers, in spite of his indignant commands, began rapidly to retreat
towards the quay. In vain Martin stormed and cursed, in vain with his own
hand he struck more than one of his soldiers dead. He was swept along
with the panic-stricken band, and when, shouting and gnashing his teeth
with frenzy, he reached the quay at last, he saw at a glance why his
great enterprise had failed. The few empty barges of his own party were
moored at the steps; the rest were half a mile off, contending hopelessly
against the swollen and rapid Waal. Schenk, desperately wounded, was left
almost alone upon the wharf, for his routed followers had plunged helter
skelter into the boats, several of which, overladen in the panic, sank at
once, leaving the soldiers to drown or struggle with the waves. The game
was lost. Nothing was left the freebooter but retreat. Reluctantly
turning his back on his enemies, now in full cry close behind him, Schenk
sprang into the last remaining boat just pushing from the quay. Already
overladen, it foundered with his additional weight, and Martin Schenk,
encumbered with his heavy armour, sank at once to the bottom of the Waal.

Some of the fugitives succeeded in swimming down the stream, and were
picked up by their comrades in the barges below the town, and so made
their escape. Many were drowned with their captain. A few days
afterwards, the inhabitants of Nymegen fished up the body of the famous
partisan. He was easily recognized by his armour, and by his truculent
face, still wearing the scowl with which he had last rebuked his
followers. His head was taken off at once, and placed on one of the
turrets of the town, and his body, divided in four, was made to adorn
other portions of the battlements; so that the burghers were enabled to
feast their eyes on the remnants of the man at whose name the whole
country had so often trembled.

This was the end of Sir Martin Schenk of Niddegem, knight, colonel, and
brigand; save that ultimately his dissevered limbs were packed in a
chest, and kept in a church tower, until Maurice of Nassau, in course of
time becoming ma