After the terrible repulse inflicted upon the storming party, Don Frederick perceived that the task before him was not to be accomplished with the ease and rapidity he had anticipated, and that these hitherto despised Dutch heretics had at last been driven by despair to fight with desperate determination that was altogether new to the Spaniards. He therefore abandoned the idea of carrying the place by assault, and determined to take it by the slower and surer process of a regular siege. In a week his pioneers would be able to drive mines beneath the walls; an explosion would then open a way for his troops. Accordingly the work began, but the besieged no sooner perceived what was being done than the thousand men who had devoted themselves to this work at once began to drive counter mines.
Both parties worked with energy, and it was not long before the galleries met, and a desperate struggle commenced under ground. Here the drill and discipline of the Spaniards availed them but little. It was a conflict of man to man in narrow passages, with such light only as a few torches could give. Here the strength and fearlessness of death of the sturdy Dutch burghers and fishermen more than compensated for any superiority of the Spaniards in the management of their weapons. The air was so heavy and thick with powder that the torches gave but a feeble light, and the combatants were well nigh stifled by the fumes of sulphur, yet in the galleries which met men fought night and day without intermission. The places of those who retired exhausted, or fell dead, were filled by others impatiently waiting their turn to take part in the struggle. While the fighting continued the work went on also. Fresh galleries were continually being driven on both sides, and occasionally tremendous explosions took place as one party or the other sprung their mines; the shock sometimes bringing down the earth in passages far removed from the explosions, and burying the combatants beneath them; while yawning pits were formed where the explosions took place, and fragments of bodies cast high in the air. Many of the galleries were so narrow and low that no arms save daggers could be used, and men fought like wild beasts, grappling and rolling on the ground, while comrades with lanterns or torches stood behind waiting to spring upon each other as soon as the struggle terminated one way or the other.
For a fortnight this underground struggle continued, and then Don Frederick--finding that no ground was gained, and that the loss was so great that even his bravest soldiers were beginning to dread their turn to enter upon a conflict in which their military training went for nothing, and where so many hundreds of their comrades had perished--abandoned all hopes of springing a mine under the walls, and drew off his troops. A month had already elapsed since the repulse of the attack on the breach; and while the fight had been going on underground a steady fire had been kept up against a work called a ravelin, protecting the gate of the Cross. During this time letters had from time to time been brought into the town by carrier pigeons, the prince urging the citizens to persevere, and holding out hope of relief.
These promises were to some extent fulfilled on the 28th of January, when 400 veteran soldiers, bringing with them 170 sledges laden with powder and bread, crossed the frozen lake and succeeded in making their way into the city. The time was now at hand when the besieged foresaw that the ravelin of the Cross gate could not much longer be defended. But they had been making preparations for this contingency. All through the long nights of January the noncombatants, old men, women, and children, aided by such of the fighting men as were not worn out by their work on the walls or underground, laboured to construct a wall in the form of a half moon on the inside of the threatened point. None who were able to work were exempt, and none wished to be exempted, for the heroic spirit burned brightly in every heart in Haarlem.
Nightly Ned went down with his aunt and cousins and worked side by side with them. The houses near the new work were all levelled in order that the materials should be utilized for the construction of the wall, which was built of solid masonry. The small stones were carried by the children and younger girls in baskets, the heavier ones dragged on hand sledges by the men and women. Although constitutionally adverse to exertion, Frau Plomaert worked sturdily, and Ned was often surprised at her strength; for she dragged along without difficulty loaded sledges, which he was unable to move, throwing her weight on to the ropes that passed over her shoulders, and toiling backwards and forwards to and from the wall for hours, slowly but unflinchingly.
It seemed to Ned that under these exertions she visibly decreased in weight from day to day, and indeed the scanty supply of food upon which the work had to be done was ill calculated to support the strength of those engaged upon such fatiguing labour. For from the commencement of the siege the whole population had been rationed, all the provisions in the town had been handed over to the authorities for equal division, and every house, rich and poor, had been rigorously searched to see that none were holding back supplies for their private consumption. Many of the cattle and horses had been killed and salted down, and a daily distribution of food was made to each household according to the number of mouths it contained.
Furious at the successful manner in which the party had entered the town on the 28th of January, Don Frederick kept up for the next few days a terrible cannonade against the gates of the Cross and of St. John, and the wall connecting them. At the end of that time the wall was greatly shattered, part of St. John's gate was in ruins, and an assault was ordered to take place at midnight. So certain was he of success that Don Frederick ordered the whole of his forces to be under arms opposite all the gates of the city, to prevent the population making their escape. A chosen body of troops were to lead the assault, and at midnight these advanced silently against the breach. The besieged had no suspicion that an attack was intended, and there were but some forty men, posted rather as sentries than guards, at the breach.
These, however, when the Spaniards advanced, gave the alarm, the watchers in the churches sounded the tocsins, and the sleeping citizens sprang from their beds, seized their arms, and ran towards the threatened point. Unawed by the overwhelming force advancing against them the sentries took their places at the top of the breach, and defended it with such desperation that they kept their assailants at bay until assistance arrived, when the struggle assumed a more equal character. The citizens defended themselves by the same means that had before proved successful, boiling oil and pitch, stones, flaming hoops, torches, and missiles of all kinds were hurled down by them upon the Spaniards, while the garrison defended the breach with sword and pike.
Until daylight the struggle continued, and Philip then ordered the whole of his force to advance to the assistance of the storming party. A tremendous attack was made upon the ravelin in front of the gate of the Cross. It was successful, and the Spaniards rushed exulting into the work, believing that the city was now at their mercy. Then, to their astonishment, they saw that they were confronted by the new wall, whose existence they had not even suspected. While they were hesitating a tremendous explosion took place. The citizens had undermined the ravelin and placed a store of powder there; and this was now fired, and the work flew into the air, with all the soldiers who had entered.
The retreat was sounded at once, and the Spaniards fell back to their camp, and thus a second time the burghers of Haarlem repulsed an assault by an overwhelming force under the best generals of Spain. The effect of these failures was so great that Don Frederick resolved not to risk another defeat, but to abandon his efforts to capture the city by sap or assault, and to resort to the slow but sure process of famine. He was well aware that the stock of food in the city was but small and the inhabitants were already suffering severely, and he thought that they could not hold out much longer.
But greatly as the inhabitants suffered, the misery of the army besieging them more than equalled their own. The intense cold rendered it next to impossible to supply so large a force with food; and small as were the rations of the inhabitants, they were at least as large and more regularly delivered than those of the troops. Moreover, the citizens who were not on duty could retire to their comfortable houses; while the besiegers had but tents to shelter them from the severity of the frosts. Cold and insufficient food brought with them a train of diseases, and great numbers of the soldiers died.
The cessation of the assaults tried the besieged even more than their daily conflicts had done, for it is much harder to await death in a slow and tedious form than to face it fighting. They could not fully realize the almost hopeless prospect. Ere long the frost would break up, and with it the chance of obtaining supplies or reinforcements across the frozen lake would be at an end.
It was here alone that they could expect succour, for they knew well enough that the prince could raise no army capable of cutting its way through the great beleaguering force. In vain did they attempt to provoke or anger the Spaniards into renewing their attacks. Sorties were constantly made. The citizens gathered on the walls, and with shouts and taunts of cowardice challenged the Spaniards to come on; they even went to the length of dressing themselves in the vestments of the churches, and contemptuously carrying the sacred vessels in procession, in hopes of infuriating the Spaniards into an attack. But Don Frederick and his generals were not to be moved from their purpose.
The soldiers, suffering as much as the besiegers, would gladly have brought matters to an issue one way or the other by again assaulting the walls; but their officers restrained them, assuring them that the city could not hold out long, and that they would have an ample revenge when the time came. Life in the city was most monotonous now. There was no stir of life or business; no one bought or sold; and except the men who went to take their turn as sentries on the wall, or the women who fetched the daily ration for the family from the magazines, there was no occasion to go abroad. Fuel was getting very scarce, and families clubbed together and gathered at each others houses by turns, so that one fire did for all.
But at the end of February their sufferings from cold came to an end, for the frost suddenly broke up; in a few days the ice on the lake disappeared, and spring set in. The remaining cattle were now driven out into the fields under the walls to gather food for themselves. Strong guards went with them, and whenever the Spaniards endeavoured to come down and drive them off, the citizens flocked out and fought so desperately that the Spaniards ceased to molest them; for as one of those present wrote, each captured bullock cost the lives of at least a dozen soldiers.
Don Frederick himself had long since become heartily weary of the siege, in which there was no honour to be gained, and which had already cost the lives of so large a number of his best soldiers. It did not seem to him that the capture of a weak city was worth the price that had to be paid for it, and he wrote to his father urging his views, and asking permission to raise the siege. But the duke thought differently, and despatched an officer to his son with this message: "Tell Don Frederick that if he be not decided to continue the siege until the town be taken, I shall no longer consider him my son. Should he fall in the siege I will myself take the field to maintain it, and when we have both perished, the duchess, my wife, shall come from Spain to do the same."
Inflamed by this reply Don Frederick recommenced active operations, to the great satisfaction of the besieged. The batteries were reopened, and daily contests took place. One night under cover of a fog, a party of the besieged marched up to the principal Spanish battery, and attempted to spike the guns. Every one of them was killed round the battery, not one turning to fly. "The citizens," wrote Don Frederick, "do as much as the best soldiers in the world could do."
As soon as the frost broke up Count Bossu, who had been building a fleet of small vessels in Amsterdam, cut a breach through the dyke and entered the lake, thus entirely cutting off communications. The Prince of Orange on his part was building ships at the other end of the lake, and was doing all in his power for the relief of the city. He was anxiously waiting the arrival of troops from Germany or France, and doing his best with such volunteers as he could raise. These, however, were not numerous; for the Dutch, although ready to fight to the death for the defence of their own cities and families, had not yet acquired a national spirit, and all the efforts of the prince failed to induce them to combine for any general object.
His principal aim now was to cut the road along the dyke which connected Amsterdam with the country round it. Could he succeed in doing this, Amsterdam would be as completely cut off as was Haarlem, and that city, as well as the Spanish army, would speedily be starved out. Alva himself was fully aware of this danger, and wrote to the king: "Since I came into this world I have never been in such anxiety. If they should succeed in cutting off communication along the dykes we should have to raise the siege of Haarlem, to surrender, hands crossed, or to starve."
The prince, unable to gather sufficient men for this attempt, sent orders to Sonoy, who commanded the small army in the north of Holland, to attack the dyke between the Diemar Lake and the Y, to open the sluices, and break through the dyke, by which means much of the country round Haarlem would be flooded. Sonoy crossed the Y in boats, seized the dyke, opened the sluices, and began the work of cutting it through. Leaving his men so engaged, Sonoy went to Edam to fetch up reinforcements. While he was away a large force from Amsterdam came up, some marching along the causeway and some in boats.
A fierce contest took place, the contending parties fighting partly in boats, partly on the slippery causeway, that was wide enough but for two men to stand abreast, partly in the water. But the number of the assailants was too great, and the Dutch, after fighting gallantly, lost heart and retired just as Sonoy, whose volunteers from Edam had refused to follow him, arrived alone in a little boat. He tried in vain to rally them, but was swept away by the rush of fugitives, many of whom were, however, able to gain their boats and make their retreat, thanks to the valour of John Haring of Horn, who took his station on the dyke, and, armed with sword and shield, actually kept in check a thousand of the enemy for a time long enough to have enabled the Dutch to rally had they been disposed to do so. But it was too late; and they had enough of fighting. However, he held his post until many had made good their retreat, and then, plunging into the sea, swam off to the boats and effected his escape. A braver feat of arms was never accomplished.
Some hundreds of the Dutch were killed or captured. All the prisoners were taken to the gibbets in the front of Haarlem, and hung, some by the neck and some by the heels, in view of their countrymen, while the head of one of their officers was thrown into the city. As usual this act of ferocity excited the citizens to similar acts. Two of the old board of magistrates belonging to the Spanish party, with several other persons, were hung, and the wife and daughter of one of them hunted into the water and drowned.
In the words of an historian, "Every man within and without Haarlem seemed inspired by a spirit of special and personal vengeance." Many, however, of the more gentle spirits were filled with horror at these barbarities and the perpetual carnage going on. Captain Curey, for example, one of the bravest officers of the garrison, who had been driven to take up arms by the sufferings of his countrymen, although he had naturally a horror of bloodshed, was subject to fits of melancholy at the contemplation of these horrors. Brave ............