By this time day was dawning, the whole population, soldiers and
burghers, men, women, and children, were thronging about the little band
of marauders, and assailing them with every weapon and every missile to
be found. Schenk fought with his usual ferocity, but at last the
musketeers, in spite of his indignant commands, began rapidly to retreat
towards the quay. In vain Martin stormed and cursed, in vain with his
own hand he struck more than one of his soldiers dead. He was swept
along with the panic-stricken band, and when, shouting and gnashing his
teeth with frenzy, he reached the quay at last, he saw at a glance why
his great enterprise had failed. The few empty barges of his own party
were moored at the steps; the rest were half a mile off, contending
hopelessly against the swollen and rapid Waal. Schenk, desperately
wounded, was left almost alone upon the wharf, for his routed followers
had plunged helter skelter into the boats, several of which, overladen in
the panic, sank at once, leaving the soldiers to drown or struggle with
the waves. The game was lost. Nothing was left the freebooter but
retreat. Reluctantly turning his back on his enemies, now in full cry
close behind him, Schenk sprang into the last remaining boat just pushing
from the quay. Already overladen, it foundered with his additional
weight, and Martin Schenk, encumbered with his heavy armour, sank at once
to the bottom of the Waal.

Some of the fugitives succeeded in swimming down the stream, and were
picked up by their comrades in the barges below the town, and so made
their escape. Many were drowned with their captain. A few days
afterwards, the inhabitants of Nymegen fished up the body of the famous
partisan. He was easily recognized by his armour, and by his truculent
face, still wearing the scowl with which he had last rebuked his
followers. His head was taken off at once, and placed on one of the