whole revolt might have been quelled, but a drunken loafer of the town, in return for a pot of beer, offered to fire a gun at the fleet from the ramparts.  He was allowed to do so, and without a word the fleet fell into a panic and sailed away.  The day was won.  It might almost be said that that shot—­that pot of beer—­secured the freedom of the Netherlands.  Let this be remembered when John Barleycorn is before his many judges.

A little later Brill sent help, and Flushing’s independence was secure.  Motley describes this band of assistants in a picturesque passage:—­

“The expedition seemed a fierce but whimsical masquerade.  Every man in the little fleet was attired in the gorgeous vestments of the plundered churches, in gold-embroidered cassocks, glittering mass-garments, or the more sombre cowls and robes of Capuchin friars.  So sped the early standard bearers of that ferocious liberty which had sprung from the fires in which all else for which men cherish their fatherland had been consumed.  So swept that resolute but fantastic band along the placid estuaries of Zeeland, waking the stagnant waters with their wild beggar songs and cries of vengeance.

“That vengeance found soon a distinguished object.  Pacheco, the chief engineer of Alva, who had accompanied the Duke in his march from Italy, who had since earned a world-wide reputation as the architect of the Antwerp citadel, had been just despatched in haste to Flushing to complete the fortress whose construction had been so long delayed.  Too late for his work, too soon for his safety, the ill-fated engineer had arrived almost at the same moment with Treslong and his crew.  He had stepped on shore, entirely ignorant of all which had transpired, expecting to be treated with the respect due to the chief commandant of the place, and to an officer high in the confidence of the Governor-general.  He found himself surrounded by an indignant and threatening mob.  The unfortunate Italian understood not a word of the opprobrious language addressed to him, but he easily comprehended that the authority of the Duke was overthrown.

“Observing De Ryk, a distinguished partisan officer and privateersman of Amsterdam, whose reputation for bravery and generosity was known to him, he approached him, and drawing a seal ring from his finger kissed it, and handed it to the rebel chieftain.  By this dumb-show he gave him to understand that he relied upon his honor for the treatment due to a gentleman.  De Ryk understood the appeal, and would willingly have assured him, at least, a soldier’s death, but he was powerless to do so.  He arrested him, that he might be protected from the fury of the rabble; but Treslong, who now commanded in Flushing, was especially incensed against the founder of the Antwerp citadel, and felt a ferocious desire to avenge his brother’s murder upon the body of his destroyer’s favourite.