The day following the assault, a fresh cannonade was opened upon the
city. Seven hundred shots having been discharged, the attack was
ordered. It was in vain: neither threats nor entreaties could induce the
Spaniards, hitherto so indomitable, to mount the breach. The place
seemed to their imagination protected by more than mortal powers;
otherwise how was it possible that a few half-starved fishermen could
already have so triumphantly overthrown the time-honored legions of
Spain. It was thought, no doubt, that the Devil, whom they worshipped,
would continue to protect his children. Neither the entreaties nor the
menaces of Don Frederic were of any avail. Several soldiers allowed
themselves to be run through the body by their own officers, rather than
advance to the walls; and the assault was accordingly postponed to an
indefinite period.

Meantime, as Governor Sonoy had opened many of the dykes, the land in the
neighbourhood of the camp was becoming plashy, although as yet the
threatened inundation had not taken place. The soldiers were already
very uncomfortable and very refractory. The carpenter-envoy had not been
idle, having, upon the 26th September, arrived at Sonoy's quarters,
bearing letters from the Prince of Orange. These despatches gave
distinct directions to Sonoy to flood the countlv at all risks; rather
than allow Alkmaar to, fall into the enemy's hands. The dykes and
sluices were to be protected by a strong guard, lest the peasants, in
order to save their crops, should repair or close them in the night-time.
The letters of Orange were copied, and, together with fresh
communications from Sonoy, delivered to the carpenter. A note on the
margin of the Prince's letter, directed the citizens to kindle four
beacon fires in specified places, as soon as it should prove necessary to
resort to extreme measures. When that moment should arrive, it was