By Pike and Dyke: a Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic

by G. A. Henty

Every living creature that could be used as food was slain and eaten. Grass and herbage of all kinds were gathered and cooked for food, and under cover of darkness parties sallied out from the gates to gather grass in the fields. The sufferings of the besieged were terrible. So much were they reduced by weakness that they could scarce drag themselves along the streets, and numbers died from famine.

During the time that the supply of bread was served out Ned had persuaded his aunt and the girls to put by a morsel of their food each day.

"It will be the only resource when the city surrenders," he said. "For four or five days at least the girls must remain concealed, and during that time they must be fed. If they take in with them a jar of water and a supply of those crusts which they can eat soaked in the water, they can maintain life."

And so each day, as long as the bread lasted, a small piece was put aside until a sufficient store was accumulated to last the two girls for a week. Soon after the daily issue ceased. Frau Plomaert placed the bag of crusts into Ned's hands.

"Take it away and hide it somewhere," she said; "and do not let me know where you have put it, or we shall assuredly break into it and use it before the time comes. I do not think now that, however great the pressure, we would touch those crusts; but there is no saying what we may do when we are gnawed by hunger. It is better, anyhow, to put ourselves out of the way of temptation."

During the long weeks of June Ned found it hard to keep the precious store untouched. His aunt's figure had shrunk to a shadow of her former self, and she was scarce able to cross the room. The girls' cheeks were hollow and bloodless with famine, and although none of them ever asked him to break in upon the store, their faces pleaded more powerfully than any words could have done; and yet they were better off than many, for every night Ned either went out from the gates or let himself down by a rope from the wall and returned with a supply of grass and herbage.

It was fortunate for the girls that there was no necessity to go out of doors, for the sights there would have shaken the strongest. Men, women, and children fell dead by scores in the streets, and the survivors had neither strength nor heart to carry them away and bury them. On the 1st of July the burghers hung out a flag of truce, and deputies went out to confer with Don Frederick. The latter, however, would grant no terms whatever, and they returned to the city. Two days later a tremendous cannonade was opened upon the town, and the walls broken down in several places, but the Spaniards did not advance to the assault, knowing that the town could not hold out many days longer.

Two more parleys were held, but without result, and the black flag was hoisted upon the cathedral tower as a signal of despair; but soon afterwards a pigeon flew into the town with a letter from the prince, begging them to hold out for two days longer, as succour was approaching. The prince had indeed done all that was possible. He assembled the citizens of Delft in the marketplace, and said that if any troops could be gathered he would march in person at their head to the relief of the city. There were no soldiers to be obtained; but 4000 armed volunteers from the various Dutch cities assembled, and 600 mounted troops. The prince placed himself at their head, but the magistrates and burghers of the towns would not allow him to hazard a life so indispensable to the existence of Holland, and the troops themselves refused to march unless he abandoned his intention. He at last reluctantly consented, and handed over the command of the expedition to Baron Batenburg.

On the 8th of July at dusk the expedition set out from Sassenheim, taking with them four hundred wagon loads of provisions and seven cannon. They halted in the woods, and remained till midnight. Then they again marched forward, hoping to be able to surprise the Spaniards and make their way through before these could assemble in force. The agreement had been made that signal fires should be lighted, and that the citizens should sally out to assist the relieving force as it approached. Unfortunately two pigeons with letters giving the details of the intended expedition had been shot while passing over the Spanish camp, and the besiegers were perfectly aware of what was going to be done. Opposite the point at which the besieged were to sally out the Spaniards collected a great mass of green branches, pitch, and straw. Five thousand troops were stationed behind it, while an overwhelming force was stationed to attack the relieving army.

When night fell the pile of combustibles was lighted, and gave out so dense a smoke that the signal fires lighted by Batenburg were hidden from the townspeople. As soon as the column advanced from the wood they were attacked by an overwhelming force of the enemy. Batenburg was killed and his troops utterly routed, with the loss, according to the Dutch accounts, of from five to six hundred, but of many more according to Spanish statements. The besieged, ranged under arms, heard the sound of the distant conflict, but as they had seen no signal fires believed that it was only a device of the Spaniards to tempt them into making a sally, and it was not until morning, when Don Frederick sent in a prisoner with his nose and ears cut off to announce the news, that they knew that the last effort to save them had failed.