0025: People You Should Know — Admiral Michiel de Ruyter (1607–1676)

  

Ferdinand Bol’s 1667 Portrait of De Ruyter

People You Should Know — Michiel de Ruyter (1607–1676)

"Bestevaer." Grandfather. That’s what the rough sailors of the Dutch fleet called him, with affection and awe.

Born plain Michiel Adriaenszoon (or "Machgyel Adriensoon" in the Zeelandic dialect of his youth) in the busy port of Vlissingen in 1607, he went to sea as a boy of eleven — not as an officer’s son, but as a boatswain’s lad. He hauled ropes, chased whales, fought Barbary corsairs, and carried cargo across dangerous waters for decades. Around age 25 or 26 (around 1632–1633), he adopted the surname De Ruyter — "The Rider" or "The Horseman" (from the Dutch ruiter). Best we know, he took it to honor a grandfather or uncle who had served as aP cavalry trooper. Some suggest it also nodded to his own bold privateering days, as the old verb ruyten meant "to raid" or "to plunder." Either way, the name suited the man who would one day raid right into the heart of England.

Year after year he proved himself the finest sailor on the seas — rising from mate to captain of his own merchant ships, whaler, and privateer. He was already wealthy and happily retired with his family when the First Anglo-Dutch War broke out in 1652. The Republic needed fighting captains to protect its trade, so De Ruyter answered the call. Though he felt others were more qualified, he took command of a Zeeland squadron under the legendary Maarten Tromp. His cool head, honest seamanship, and fearless fighting soon earned him promotion to vice admiral. By 1665, this modest merchant sailor had become the Republic’s supreme naval commander — not by birth or court favor, but by decades of hard-won skill and quiet courage.

In portraits painted by Ferdinand Bol in 1667 (when De Ruyter was at the height of his fame), he appears as a seasoned sea captain in his late fifties: three-quarter length, standing confidently with a commander’s baton in hand. He wears a black coat with gold buttons over a gold-brocaded waistcoat, a gold chain and pendant around his neck, and a practical sword belt. His face tells the story of a life at sea — a crumpled brow from years of squinting into sun and spray, ruddy cheeks weathered by wind and salt, and a piercing, steady gaze that mixes calm authority with quiet resolve. He looks every bit the "Grandfather" his men adored: no aristocratic finery, just the solid, no-nonsense presence of a man who had earned every line on his face.

And what a man he was. Deeply religious and modest to the core, De Ruyter often said he was “good for nothing but the sea.” He refused special privileges, lived frugally, and attributed every success to God’s providence rather than his own cleverness. He insisted on strict discipline aboard ship — three solid meals a day for the crew became standard under his influence — yet he encouraged his captains to speak freely in councils of war and cared for his sailors like family. That rare blend of firm leadership, personal humility, and genuine concern won him unshakable loyalty. Even in the heat of battle, he remained cautious but bold when it mattered, never seeking glory for himself.

His masterpiece came in the Raid on the Medway, June 1667, during the Second Anglo-Dutch War. To Americans this daring exploit is almost completely unknown, but in England they still teach poems about it in school — and with good reason. The proud English fleet lay bottled up in its own home waters on the River Medway, behind heavy chains and forts, believing itself perfectly safe on its own doorstep. No one dreamed the Dutch would dare sail right up the Thames estuary. Yet De Ruyter’s squadron (with the sharp end led by Willem Joseph van Ghent) did exactly that in a lightning surprise attack. They smashed through the defenses, burned or captured proud English warships — including the Royal Oak, Loyal London, and Royal James — and, in the greatest prize of all, triumphantly towed away the English flagship HMS Royal Charles like cattle rustlers cutting out the prime bull from a guarded herd and driving it home with honors. That carved stern piece still sits in Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum today, a silent witness to one of the most humiliating surprises ever dealt to the English on their own doorstep. It was as much a psychological victory for the Dutch as a physical one — a stinging blow to British pride that echoed across Europe and helped force England to the peace table on Dutch terms.

Even today, the English still remember the shame of that day. Rudyard Kipling captured it in his poem “The Dutch in the Medway,” written for a school history book. In it, neglected English sailors bitterly complain that while the court feasted and sold the very Thames for pleasure, De Ruyter’s topsails appeared off naked Chatham — and there was no fleet ready to stop him. For Americans this raid may be a forgotten footnote, but in England it remains a vivid lesson in what happens when pride and neglect replace readiness.

But it wasn’t just daring raids. In the desperate “Year of Disaster” (1672), with France invading by land and an Anglo-French fleet threatening by sea, the aging De Ruyter held the line at Solebay, the Schooneveld, and Texel. He kept invasion from the sea at bay and helped save the Dutch Republic.

Even his enemies respected him. In 1676, during the Franco-Dutch War, the nearly seventy-year-old admiral was mortally wounded by a cannonball at the Battle of Augusta off Sicily. French gunners reportedly fired salutes as his body was carried home. He received a grand state funeral in Amsterdam and lies buried in the Nieuwe Kerk.

Michiel de Ruyter rose from the deck to become one of the greatest naval commanders who ever lived — not through birth or bombast, but through quiet competence, courage, and character. In an age of kings and courtiers, he remained the honest seaman they called “Grandfather.”

A spark for us: True leadership often looks like steady hands on the tiller when the storm is fiercest — caring for your people, staying humble before God and man, and daring greatly only when it truly matters.

 

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Curtis Neil / Grok 4.0 / LibreOffice March 31th. 2026