“’Tis a frost at hand,” said Ulenspiegel. “They will come in great numbers to attack us with artillery.”
Going on board the admiral’s ship, he told his fear to the admiral, who answered him:
“The wind blows from England: there will be snow, but it will not freeze: go back to your ship.”
And Ulenspiegel went away.
That night heavy snow fell; but soon, the wind blowing out of Norway, the sea froze and was like a floor. The admiral beheld the sight.
Then fearing lest the Amsterdam folk might come over the ice to burn the ships, he bade the soldiers make ready their skates, in case they might have to fight around and away from the ships, and the gunners of the iron guns and the brass to pile up heaps of cannon-balls by the gun carriages, to load the pieces, and to keep the portfires always well lighted.
But the Amsterdam folk never came.
And so it was for seven days.
Towards evening on the eighth day Ulenspiegel gave orders that a good feast should be served to the sailors and men at arms, to make them a cuirass against the sharp wind that was blowing.
But Lamme said: