On Board the Andrea Doria.

Fishermen brought the news of the night's happenings to the town of Antwerp and, depending on where one's political sympathies lay, there was secret rejoicing or gnashing of teeth among the town's inhabitants.

The name of the Black Galley promptly spread among the populace and was linked with varying degrees of certitude to the unfortunate events that had just taken place.

Who, during such a night of storms as the previous night had been, could have carried out such an action if it were not the crew of the black galley?

In town squares, in back streets, in workshops, in churches, in the town hall and in the citadel the rumour was heard. On the warships and the merchant ships that lay at anchor at the quayside, next to the houses and walls of the town, the rumour also circulated. Everywhere, as already mentioned, consternation or masked jubilation were visible on people's faces.

"The black galley! The black galley!"

That was Federigo Spinola, a noble patrician from Genoa, an enterprising son of that rich republic's most famous family, who had entered into a contract with the King of Spain, Philip the Third, to prepare a fleet for the service of His Catholic Majesty to be used against the Dutch rebels and to sail it into the North Sea. All booty and all the ships captured from the heretics became the property of Admiral Spinola and so he went with an impressive array of galleys and galleons, manned with sixteen hundred bold sailors, out of Genoa, went through the Straits of Gibraltar, rounded Cape Saint Vincent, was joined by a large number of audacious Viscayan pirates and privateers in the Bay of Biscay and later by a large number of Dunkirk freebooters and appeared on 11 September 1599 in the port of Sluys, where he dropped anchor and from where he commenced his activities in the North Sea.

The waters of the North Sea were for the first time furrowed by those Roman galleys which had only been used hitherto by those who lived on the shores of the Mediterranean. And so it came about that, at first, even the intrepid and fearless fisherfolk of Zeeland felt the fear engendered by the unfamiliar when confronted by these Italian galleys that struck the waves like the hundred-oar feet of giant water-beetles.

Thus, in the beginning, Federigo Spinola did a roaring trade and won many a richly laden merchantman and many a poor fishing boat from the Dutch until the initial shock experienced by the latter had worn off and they dared more boldly to get to grips with their new enemies. The States General sent a sizeable squadron and, in the heat of battle, not only were a large number of enemy privateers annihilated, but they even went as far as to capture one of the terrible galleys.

This remarkable vessel was brought in triumph back to Amsterdam and here something similar was built along the same lines and manned with the bravest hearts and hands. It was of a threateningly black colour and the newly painted black galley was soon scaring the Spaniards and Admiral Federigo Spinola out of their wits. The speculative venture of the Genoan bore from then on no longer such good fruit as it had done at first.

So the black galley was no ghost ship, no spectral apparition, but a thing of wood and iron, and neither was its crew a phantom crew. Beings of flesh and blood clambered aloft in the rigging, set the sails, loaded the blunderbusses and boarded enemy ships with the blood-curdling cry:

"Sultan before Pope!"

People were talking about the black galley on the squares and in the alleyways of Antwerp and everyone wanted to know more about the rumour that the splendid trireme, the Immaculate Conception, had been scuttled and blown up the previous night by men of Zeeland.

Then it gradually grew dark again; a thick fog came up from the Scheldt and came to rest over the town of Antwerp. The lights of the quayside shimmered redly through the mist and the rigging of the galleon, the Andrea Doria, dripped with condensation. The ship lay at anchor next to the harbour walls and the houses on the quayside and on its deck Captain Antonio Valani, a young man approximately thirty years old, wrapped in a thick cloak, walked backwards and forwards while the waves of the river, gently lapping the hull of his ship, washed to and fro and from the quayside and the town came the dull din of excited locals.

The captain paused in his pacing and stared up at the lights of the town shimmering over the wall just as at his side his bosun, Leone della Rota, a boon companion of his youth from la strada Giulia in Genoa, appeared and put his hand on his shoulder:

"A penny for your thoughts, Antonio."

The man to whom this was directed looked up almost startled.

"Ah, it's you, Leone. Do you bring any news from the outside world?"

"Yes, but it isn't good news by any means. It came to the admiral's notice from Fort Liefkenhoek that the story about last night was true. The Immaculate Conception has been dragged down to hell bag and baggage. Only the cabin boy came ashore alive, landing at Fort Bats clinging on to an empty water barrel. There was great jubilation among the heretics and the fishwives of Zeeland—frighteningly ugly creatures, Antonio— dried the boy off and sent him here to give their regards to His Excellency the Governor. They took the boy into the citadel. Well, we'll soon be hearing from the admiral himself."

"God grant it may be so," cried out the Andrea Doria's captain, stamping the deck with his foot in a temper. "Leone, I can't stand this enforced idleness of lying at anchor any longer!"

"Idleness?" laughed the ship's bosun. "By the fair frame of Venus, I didn't know we were being idle. I thought it might be possible to make use of this time we're lying here at anchor. Corpo di Bacco, I've made a fine conquest of a strapping wench in town in the tavern with the arms of Alcantara hanging up outside. You're invited, Antonio."

"You never take life seriously, Leone!" sighed the captain.

"Listen to me," laughed the bosun. "Trust to your instincts, my friend, and don't give me that. Don't turn away with such a miserable look on your face. Follow my finger—see, over there, that light over the city wall in that corner window. Just follow my finger—can you see it? Antonio, Antonello, captain, little captain of mine, who lives in that room? Tell me who has lit that tiny light. Is she not the sweetest child that this northern clime, or should I say this northern bog, has ever brought forth as long as there has been rain here and that must have been for a very long time, I think. Has not Antonio Valani, captain of this good ship, the Andrea Doria, fallen in love body and soul with the fair hair and the blue eyes of this beautiful Fleming? Another of your sighs? Antonio, Antonio, by our lovely lady of Cythera, you can be a pain sometimes!"

Captain Valani turned away indignantly.

"Oh, leave me alone, Leone—go to your buxom wench. I'm giving you the rest of the night off, up until the first cock crows, just to get you and your loose tongue off my ship. Go now, I beg you, go and stop torturing me with your cheerful face. I forgive you the lightness of your blood and your zest for life, but give me an hour by myself if you are truly my friend. My life seems like a wilderness at the moment."

"Antonio," said the second-in-command more seriously, "Antonio, on my honour, it was not my intention to torture you. My plump hostess at the Alcantara Arms can wait keeping an eye on the door for as long as she has a mind to. I won't go. What the devil ails you, my friend? How do things stand with you? Confide in me what it is that oppresses you. It's not last night's bad news from the Scheldt estuary, that's for sure. Confide in me. Can it really be true what I took as a joke and treated in fun? Have you really fallen for the charms of the fair-haired enchantress?"

Captain Valani sighed deeply without answering and Leone went on:

"And she's playing hard to get, hard to get with you, every woman's pin-up in the strada Balbi and in all the other streets, sidestreets and alleyways of our dear home town of Genoa. By the goddess of Paphos that calls for punishment, the most severe punishment. Oh that beautiful barbarian! I stand ready to serve you, Antonio Valani, my friend and superior, with sword, heart and head. What can we do to win you the heart of that sweet child?"

The rest of the conversation between the captain and his bosun was lost in and interrupted by the shouts of the night watch in the direction of the gangplank. A whirl of drums resounded from the quayside, torches flickered and weapons glinted. Admiral Federigo Spinola had come to see how things were aboard the Andrea Doria and on the other ships of his fleet lying at anchor under the walls of Antwerp. He was in the foulest of moods as Leone and Antonio could not help but notice when they hurried to welcome him on board. The admiral stamped about most grimly surrounded by his captains who had gathered around him on the main deck of the Andrea Doria. The unfortunate skirmish of the previous night lay heavy on his heart. If things were going to continue in this vein, his business interests were not worth the parchment contract they were written on, countersigned with the Yo el Rey of King Philip the Third of Spain.

"To sea with you!" cried Admiral Spinola as he raged at his captains. "Put out to sea and capture that accursed black galley. String up the whole of its crew from its own yardarms and the devil take their souls. Tomorrow at daybreak I want the four galleys that are lying here at anchor to weigh anchor. Do you hear me, gentlemen? The Andrea Doria will stay here and await further orders. But the galleys will make sail tomorrow good and early. The message has already been given to the ships' captains at Sluys to put out to sea with every ship available. The black galley—bring me the black galley or bring me back Satan himself."

At this the admiral stamped off, swallowing the rest of his harangue, and the captains looked at one another wryly and then turned their gaze to the admiral:

"Diavolo, Spanish sound and fury!"

"A task that's easier said than done!"

"Well, what do you think, gentlemen?"

"The black galley, eh?"

"Did you hang your cook yesterday, Francesco?"

"Yes, it's a pity!"

"Spinola sends us to Sluys!"

"To hunt the black galley!"

And so the banter on the Andrea Doria went on till eventually one captain after another went off to complete preparations for the imminent departure of their ships.

It was a long time before Antonio Valani and Leone della Rota were able to find themselves alone on deck.

"So the others are sailing and we have to stay here? Wonderful!" said Leone. "Let us go hunting on our own account, Antonio, but first to the tavern I spoke of. You can tell me everything there is to know there of your relationship with that pretty Flemish woman."

"No, Leone. Leave me alone."

"No, I won't. You should and will tell me. I'm going to cure you, dear boy. I'm a good doctor in matters like these. Many a one had learnt that and you are not going to be the exception, Tonino."

Reluctantly the captain allowed himself to be dragged away from his ship. With an air of annoyance he followed his lieutenant through the streets of Antwerp to the Alcantara Arms where the fat hostess had fallen for the jolly della Rota and the scoundrel had a free slate and free accommodation as often as it seemed agreeable to him. And it was frequently very much so and just the job for him.