“Dost thou hear?” said Ulenspiegel to Lamme, in a voice like a whispering ghost. “Hearest thou the voices of the Amsterdammers, and the steel of their skates ringing over the ice? They come swiftly. We can hear them speak. They are saying ‘The lazy Beggars are asleep. Ours is the Lisbon treasure!’ They are lighting torches. Seest thou their ladders for the assault, their ugly faces, and the long line of their band deployed for the attack? There are a thousand of them, and more.”
“A hundred paces!” cried Messire Worst.
“A hundred paces!” cried the captains all.
And there was a great noise like thunder, and lamentable outcries upon the ice.
“Eighty guns are thundering all together!” said Ulenspiegel. “They are fleeing! Seest thou the torches vanishing away?”
“Pursue them!” said Admiral Worst.
“Pursue them!” said the captains.
But the pursuit did not last long, the fugitives having a start of a hundred paces, and the legs of frightened hares.
And on the men that were crying out and dying on the ice were found gold, jewels, and ropes for the Beggars.
And after this victory the Beggars said one to another: “Als God met ons is, wie tegen ons zal zijn. If God is with us, who shall be against us? Long live the Beggar!”