Ravelin in a point very near the counterscarp, was doing its duty.
Being, as usual, anxious to reconnoitre with his own eyes, he jumped upon
the rampart. But there were sharp-shooters in the enemy's trenches, and
they were familiar with the governor's rusty old doublet and haggard old
face. Hardly had he climbed upon the breastwork when a ball pierced his
heart, and he fell dead without a groan. There was a shout of triumph
from the outside, while the tidings soon spread sadness through the
garrison, for all loved and venerated the man. Philip Fleming, so soon
as he learned the heavy news, lost no time in unavailing regrets, but
instantly sent a courier to Prince Maurice; meantime summoning a council
of superior officers, by whom Colonel John van Loon was provisionally
appointed commandant.

A stately, handsome man, a good officer, but without extensive
experience, he felt himself hardly equal to the immense responsibility of
the post, but yielding to the persuasions of his comrades, proceeded to
do his best. His first care was to secure the all-important Porcupine,
towards which the enemy had been slowly crawling with his galleries and
trenches. Four days after he had accepted the command he was anxiously
surveying that fortification, and endeavouring to obtain a view of the
enemy's works, when a cannon-ball struck him on the right leg, so that he
died the next day. Plainly the post of commandant of Ostend was no
sinecure. He was temporarily succeeded by Sergeant-Major Jacques de
Bievry, but the tumults and confusion incident upon this perpetual change
of head were becoming alarming. The enemy gave the garrison no rest
night nor day, and it had long become evident that the young volunteer,
whose name was so potent on the Genoa Exchange, was not a man of straw
nor a dawdler, however the superseded veterans might grumble. At any
rate the troops on either side were like to have their fill of work.