“Our ground is great and our men not so many,” wrote Roger Williams to his sovereign, “but we trust in God and our valour to defend it . . . . . . .  We mean, with God’s help, to make their downs red and black, and to let out every acre of our ground for a thousand of their lives, besides our own.”

The Welshman was no braggart, and had proved often enough that he was more given to performances than promises.  “We doubt not your Majesty will succour us,” he said, “for our honest mind and plain dealing toward your royal person and dear country;” adding, as a bit of timely advice, “Royal Majesty, believe not over much your peacemakers.  Had they their mind, they will not only undo your friend’s abroad, but, in the end, your royal estate.”

Certainly it was from no want of wholesome warning from wise statesmen and blunt soldiers that the Queen was venturing into that labyrinth of negotiation which might prove so treacherous.  Never had been so inopportune a moment for that princess to listen to the voice of him who was charming her so wisely, while he was at the same moment battering the place, which was to be the basis of his operations against her realm.  Her delay in sending forth Leicester, with at least a moderate contingent, to the rescue, was most pernicious.  The States—­ignorant of the Queen’s exact relations with Spain, and exaggerating her disingenuousness into absolute perfidy became on their own part exceedingly to blame.  There is no doubt whatever that both Hollanders and English men were playing into the hands of Parma as adroitly as if he had actually directed their movements.  Deep were the denunciations of Leicester and his partisans by the States’ party, and incessant the complaints of the English and Dutch troops shut up in Sluys against the inactivity or treachery of Maurice and Hohenlo.

“If Count Maurice and his base brother, the Admiral (Justinus de Nassau), be too young to govern, must Holland and Zeeland lose their countries and towns to make them expert men of war?” asked Roger Williams.’  A pregnant question certainly, but the answer was, that by suspicion and jealousy, rather than by youth and inexperience, the arms were paralyzed which should have saved the garrison.  “If these base fellows (the States) will make Count Hollock their instrument,” continued the Welshman; “to cover and maintain their folly and lewd dealing, is it necessary for her royal Majesty to suffer it?  These are too great matters to be rehearsed by me; but because I am in the town, and do resolve to, sign with my blood my duty in serving my sovereign and country, I trust her Majesty will pardon me.”  Certainly the gallant adventurer on whom devolved at least half the work of directing the defence of the city, had a right to express his opinions.  Had he known the whole truth, however, those opinions would have been modified.  And he wrote amid the smoke and turmoil of daily and nightly battle.