On that day the Scheldt presented at Antwerp a striking spectacle. Many ships which had been detained in the North Sea by the east wind were approaching the city, with their various colored flags floating on the breeze, while, far as the eye could reach, the broad expanse of water was covered with sails, and still, in the dim horizon, mast after mast seemed to arise from the waves as harbingers of an immense flotilla.
The sailors displayed gigantic strength in casting anchor and manoeuvring their vessels so as to obtain an advantageous position. The crews of the different ships vied with each other, and exerted themselves so energetically that the heavily laden crafts trembled under the strained cables. From each arose a song wild and harsh as the sharp creaking of the capstan, but joyous as the triumphant shout of a victorious army. These chants, sung in every tongue of the commercial world by robust sailors, seemed, as they were wafted over the river to the city, like the long, loud acclamations of a vast multitude.
The only sounds which could be heard in the midst of these confused cries were the voices of the captains speaking through the trumpets; and when a Portuguese gallion, coming from the West Indies, appeared before the city, a salvo of cannon rose like the rolling of thunder above all other sounds.
The sun shone brightly upon this animated scene of human activity, and broke and sparkled in colored light up in the rippling waves of the broad river.
Hundreds of flags floated in the air; gondolas and longboats furrowed the waters; from boat and wharf joyous greetings of friends mingled with the song of the sailors. Even the wagoners from beyond the Rhine, who had ranged their strongly-built wagons near the cemetery of Burg, in order to load them with spices for Cologne, could not resist the influence of the beautiful May-day and the general hilarity; they collected near the gate of the dock-yard, and entoned in their German tongue a song so harmonious and sweet, and yet so manly, that every other sound in their vicinity was hushed.
At this moment an elegant vehicle passed the gate of the dock-yard, and stopped near the German wagoners as the last strain of their song died upon the air.
A young man, and after him an old man and a young girl richly attired, alighted from the carriage.
Those immediately around, merchants as well as workmen, stepped respectfully aside and saluted Mr. Van de Werve, whilst glancing admiringly at his daughter. Some Italians of lower rank murmured loud enough to reach Mary's ears: "Ecco la bionda maraviglia."
Mr. Van de Werve ordered his people to await him at the gate of the dock-yard, and passed on, saluting those whom he met, to the place where the Portuguese flag indicated the gondola of Lopez de Galle, which was prepared to receive him. They threw a carpet across the plank upon which Mary was to step in passing into the gondola. Mary, her father, and Geronimo entered the boat; the six oars dipped simultaneously into the water, and, pushed by the strong arms of the Portuguese sailors, the gondola sped rapidly through the waves. Swift as a fish and light as a swan, it skimmed the surface of the Scheldt, and made many a turn through the numerous vessels until it had succeeded in finding an open way down the river. Then the sailors exerted all their strength, as if to show the beautiful young girl what they were capable of in their trade. The gondola, obeying the impulse given it by the oarsmen, bounded forward under each stroke of the oars, and gracefully poised itself on the waves caused by its rapid passage.
Complete silence reigned in the gondola; the sailors looked with timid admiration upon the beautiful countenance of the young girl. Mary, with downcast eyes, was persuading herself that Geronimo's uncle would undoubtedly consent to their union. The young man was absorbed in thought, and yielded by turns to joy, hope, and fear. Mr. Van de Werve contemplated the city, and seemed to enjoy the magnificent spectacle presented by Antwerp when seen at a distance, and which, with its lofty towers and splendid edifices, rose from the river like another Venice.