IV

Myriads of sea-birds, frightened by the thunder of the guns, fled
screaming; the palm-fringed shores of the bay showed through the smoke
brown and dim and far removed; hot indeed was the tropic morning in the
core of that murk and flame and ear-splitting sound. Each of the
combatants carried three tiers of ordnance; in each the guns were served
by masters at their trade. Cannons and culverins, sakers and falcons,
rent the air; then the _Cygnet_, having the wind of the Spaniard, laid
her aboard, and the harquebusiers, caliver, and crossbow-men also began
to speak. Together with the great guns they spoke to such effect that
the fight became very deadly. Twice the English strove to enter the huge
_San José_, and twice the Spaniards, thick upon her as swarming bees,
beat them back with sword and pike and blinding volleys from their
musketeers. From the tops fell upon them stones and heated pitch; the
hail-shot mowed them down; swordsmen and halberdiers thrust many from
their footing, loosening forevermore their clutching fingers, forever
stayed the hoarse shout in their throats. Many fell into the sea and
were drowned before the soul could escape through gaping wounds; others
reached their own decks to die there, or to lie writhing at the feet of
the unhurt, who might not stay for the need of any comrade. At the
second repulse there arose from the galleon a deafening cry of triumph.

Ferne, erect against the break of the _Cygnet's_ poop, drawing a cloth
tight with teeth and hand above a wound in his arm from which the blood
was streaming, smiled at the sound, knotted his tourniquet; then for the
third time sprang upon that slanting, deadly bridge of straining ropes.
His sword flashed above his head.