And still their enemies were climbing like cats up the hull of the Andrea Doria. The merchant ships at anchor next to her and small warships seemed to be in the process of being captured for from them were coming battle cries and shots and numerous torches were visible.
In desperation Leone della Rota hurled himself at his nearest enemy, encouraging his men to resistance with words and actions. In the sentry box on the quayside a drum came to life and beat out the Spanish call to arms.
"The sea beggars! The sea beggars! The sea beggars at the gates of Antwerp! Treachery! Treachery! The sea beggars in the town itself!"
Torches were seen along the banks of the river and lights soon appeared in the houses behind the city walls.
"Sultan before Pope! Victory! Victory! The black galley! The black galley! Victory! Victory!" Such were the shouts of the beggars on the Andrea Doria carrying all before them. There was no quarter given. What was not struck or hewn down was thrown overboard. The very words black galley filled the hearts of the Italians with terror and broke their courage more than anything. Some of them fled to dry land, even more of them were hacked down in the first attack. Around the mainmast, in the circle of light radiating from the ship's lantern, a group of men were desperately continuing to fight. Here Leone della Rota stood side by side with the bravest of his crew and the whole of what was happening was finally concentrated in this area. The deck was already slippery with blood and littered with corpses. Many a wild sea beggar fell to Leone's sword.
"Courage! Courage, brave comrades! To me! Help is coming from dry land! Courage! Courage!" shouted Leone, striking down a man from Zeeland, but, where the latter had fallen, a new adversary appeared, stepping over the fallen one.
"Forward! Forward, you sea beggars! Down with foreign tyrants! Down with their flag of shame! Take it down from the mast! Do you know me, you foreign devil, you cowardly abductor of women?"
"Diavolo!" cried Leone, stiff with fright and astonishment, but he composed himself immediately. "You're not drunk then, you beggar? So much the better. Feed on this cold steel then. There!"
"A hit! Myga! Myga! Salvation! Vengeance! Take that, you dog, to hell with you and greet your comrade-in-arms from me, Jan Norris, the sea beggar!"
Leone della Rota from Genoa sank to the floor, drenched in his own blood, and Jan Norris placed his foot on his fallen foe's chest and shouted in his face: