"He's right. This war has a curse on it. For fourteen years now the Spanish flag has flown yet again on these walls and on the walls and the towers of Antwerp, but are we for all that one step nearer in our conquest of this heroic stiff-necked people? How many men have fought and bled for this tiny flooded lump of clay! How many men have struggled to possess this wilderness! Like dazzling stars shining through the mists of time the names appear of both friends and foes, names like Alexander Farnese, Mansfeld, Mondragone, Johannes Pettin of Utrecht, Aldegonde, Gianibelli, Giovanni Baptista Plato, Barrai, Capisucchi, Olivera, Paz, La Motta, Delmonte and a hundred others. But thousands of nameless fighters lie buried under the sand and under the waves--how many more will sink there without leaving a trace?" The garrison had long since disappeared from the walls, and all there was to hear from the top of Fort Liefkenhoek were the calls and the tread of the night watch and the roar of the waves and the once again gathering storm. The colonel circled his walls one more time and encouraged the twice as numerous as usual night watch to keep a good lookout; then he went down to his quarters where his officers, in response to his invitation, had all come together. Only Captain Jeronimo was missing, as was his wont when his comrades-in-arms gathered socially. They left him to his own devices, were sorry that he wasn't there and laughed and joked about his prophecies. The captain had indeed been right! His Catholic Majesty and Federigo Spinola of Genoa had lost a valiant ship during that stormy night. The next morning charred remnants of the Immaculate Conception were washed up on the dunes of South Beveland at the feet of heretics, and the evening tide carried more than one mutilated body in Spanish uniform down to the walls of Fort Bats. Captain Jeronimo's grim prediction had been proved true--the sea beggars had emerged victorious from the previous night's skirmish. II. On Board the Andrea Doria. Fishermen brought the news of the night's happenings to the town of Antwerp and, depending on where one's political sympathies lay, there was secret rejoicing or gnashing of teeth among the town's inhabitants. The name of the Black Galley promptly spread among the populace and was linked with varying degrees of certitude to the unfortunate events that had just taken place. Who, during such a night of storms as the previous night had been, could have carried out such an action if it were not the crew of the black galley? In town squares, in back streets, in workshops, in churches, in the town hall and in the citadel the rumour was heard. On the warships and the merchant ships that lay at anchor at the quayside, next to the houses and walls of the town, the rumour also circulated. Everywhere, as already mentioned, consternation or masked jubilation were visible on people's faces. "The black galley! The black galley!"