On that day the Scheldt presented at Antwerp a striking spectacle. Many
ships which had been detained in the North Sea by the east wind were
approaching the city, with their various colored flags floating on the
breeze, while, far as the eye could reach, the broad expanse of water was
covered with sails, and still, in the dim horizon, mast after mast seemed
to arise from the waves as harbingers of an immense flotilla.

The sailors displayed gigantic strength in casting anchor and manoeuvring
their vessels so as to obtain an advantageous position. The crews of the
different ships vied with each other, and exerted themselves so
energetically that the heavily laden crafts trembled under the strained
cables. From each arose a song wild and harsh as the sharp creaking of the
capstan, but joyous as the triumphant shout of a victorious army. These
chants, sung in every tongue of the commercial world by robust sailors,
seemed, as they were wafted over the river to the city, like the long,
loud acclamations of a vast multitude.

The only sounds which could be heard in the midst of these confused cries
were the voices of the captains speaking through the trumpets; and when a
Portuguese gallion, coming from the West Indies, appeared before the city,
a salvo of cannon rose like the rolling of thunder above all other sounds.

The sun shone brightly upon this animated scene of human activity, and
broke and sparkled in colored light up in the rippling waves of the broad
river.