The attack is sudden and unexpected. The Spanish patrols, taken by surprise, are easily driven off, and Sonoy, cutting the dyke, strongly entrenches himself upon the narrow causeway, thinks the deed is done, and goes off smilingly to Edam for reinforcements.
As for Oliver, joy is in his soul. He can see the spire of the Haarlem Groote Kerk not twenty miles away, and thinks he and his love will soon press lips again. [[187]]
But this cutting off of his supplies makes the Spanish governor at Amsterdam desperate. He forthwith despatches a great force of arquebusiers and pikemen together with two hand-drawn cannon along the causeway, and the Seigneur de Billy, a tried veteran of many campaigns, commander at Muyden, sends four hundred Walloon infantry to attack upon the other side.
These, together with a force of Spanish armed galleys and bateaux, unfortunately make the assault during Sonoy’s absence. His troops, though brave, are without supreme commander. They are composed chiefly of the crews of the Gueux vessels, the commander of each one wishing to dominate the others. Thus disputing among themselves, they resist the attack without discipline and mutual support.
The consequence is that when the cannon open upon them they are not charged and captured as they must be, and soon solid shot smash the hastily thrown up defenses of the Dutch. Already some of the Gueux have abandoned the dyke and taken to their bateaux and flat-bottomed boats to defend them against the Spanish galleys, as well as to be ready to escape.
“We must charge the guns,” cries Chester. And he and Oliver, followed by some fifty desperate men, make the effort. Getting over their breastwork they plunge into the Spanish spearmen, and with push of pike cut their way to one gun, and, were they supported, would be, perchance, successful, though every step costs a life. But they are not reinforced, and are finally driven back, losing a man at every foot of dyke, the Spaniards butchering the wounded.
From this melée Guy Chester drags out, stricken unto death, his friend the painter. Struggling to the entrenchment, he finds it deserted; all the men who should defend it having fled to near-by boats—save one, John Haring, from the town of Horn. Hero-like, he has planted himself in the narrowest part of the causeway before the coming foe and holds the place armed only with sword and shield, against a thousand veterans of Alva’s army. Fortunately these can only get at him one or two at a time, as the dyke is very narrow and the deep water of the Diemer Lake is on [[188]]one side of it, and the rapid waters of the Y flow on the other.
Haring’s defense gives Guy breathing time.
Bending over his friend, he mutters between clenched teeth: “Don’t fear! These dogs of Spaniards shan’t get you alive.” Then he brushes the death sweat from his comrade’s brow, and with great sighs looks upon the face he loves growing ashen and its lips becoming blue.
These open now in gasping, broken speech: “Save yourself.”