De Ruyter sent off boats to summon the principal officers of the Fleet on board his ship, and went himself to tell Cornelius de Witt that the enemy was in view.
Thereupon the Ruard was carried on deck in a chair bearing the arms of the Republic, and placed by the mast in the position of honour and danger.
Out of the hundred men appointed by the States General to attend him, twelve halberdiers were selected now to form a guard.
Armed on back and breast, they took their places about his chair, and the early sun glittered in their steel appointments.
The Ruard was bareheaded; his bandaged legs rested on a velvet footstool; his sword lay across his knee, and his pistols were in his belt.
In his right hand he held a Bible with gold clasps.
The strong, fresh wind blew his hair across his brow and fluttered the scarlet ribbon that fastened his cravat.
Shielding his eyes with his hand from the glare of sun and water, he fixed his narrowed gaze on the barely visible line of the enemy.
De Ruyter was pacing to and fro with his straddling gait, his hands clasped behind him, and his keen eyes following the movements of the bare-footed sailors who were clearing the decks.
At five o’clock, when the water, under the slackening wind, had subsided to faint ripples that the sun, freed from the obscuring mist, gilded with dazzling light, the captains and principal officers of the Fleet came aboard The Seven Provinces.