The Boy who sailed with Blake | Page 9

endeavouring to beat out of the bay, to obtain an
offing where they could ride out the gale.
A large number of the townsmen were engaged in securing the vessels,
when sounding high above the roar of the tempest a rapid fusillade was
heard in the direction of the lines, while shot after shot from the
enemy's batteries came hurtling into the town.
"The soldiers would be at their suppers at this hour," exclaimed Martin.
"I fear me much that the place has been surprised, and if so, it will go
hard with us. Hasten to your homes, young gentlemen, and await the
issue; I must to my post."
Martin, without waiting to see what we should do, taking his musket,
which he had placed near the boat, hurried away, as did all the men
engaged in securing the vessels. We followed, eager to know what was
taking place. The sound of bursting hand-grenades, the reports of
muskets and pistols, the shouts and shrieks which reached our ears,
showed us that the fight was raging much nearer than usual.
"There's no doubt about the enemy being in the town," cried Lancelot.
"We may as well die fighting as be killed like rats in a hole. Come on,
lads!"

We dashed forward through the market square, in a street leading from
which towards the lines we could see, by the bright and rapid flashes,
that hot fighting was going on. A party from the harbour had come up
just in time to stop the entrance into the square, and with loud shouts
they pressed onwards, while from the windows of every house there
burst forth bright flashes from arquebuse, musket, and pistol. To force
our way in that direction was impossible, so, led by Lancelot, we made
a wide circuit, until we reached the neighbourhood of the lines, where
we found a furious fight was also raging.
We met on our way several wounded men supported by mourning
parties of women, who had ventured up, even to the scene of the
conflict, for the sake of succouring those who had been struck down.
Still, the fight in the centre of the town continued, and at length we
learned from one of the wounded men that a large body of Cavaliers
had forced their way into the town, when Colonel Blake, closing in on
their rear, had cut them off, but though Malignants as they were, like
gallant men they were fighting desperately.
Meanwhile another party outside were endeavouring to drive back the
garrison and rescue them. The darkness increased, the south wind
bringing up a thick fog, which prevented our assailants from seeing
their way. Often the hand-grenades they intended for us were thrown
among their own companions, while our people plied them with every
weapon which could be mustered. The bullets came pinging against the
wall above where we were standing, but in our eagerness we boys
heeded not the risk we were running.
"Let us fight too!" exclaimed Lancelot, and we made our way on to the
trenches, where not only the soldiers, the volunteers, and the townsmen
were fighting, but women, with muskets in their hands, were firing
away, encouraging their companions with shouts and cheers. Lancelot
had got hold of a musket belonging to one of the garrison who had
fallen, and had taken his powder-horn and shot-belt. Dick and I, after
hunting about, succeeded in finding a couple of horse-pistols, but
scarcely had we fired them than the din in front of us ceased, though
the report of firearms to the right and left of us still continued. We

could hear the tramp of men and the cries and groans of the wounded in
front, but the uproar towards the market-place was quelled. No shots
were heard, no clashing of swords, no shouts and shrieks.
"The enemy have retreated! The Malignants are flying!" was the cry
passed along the lines.
Still, we could scarcely believe it possible. But an hour had passed
since the attack had commenced, and our little garrison had driven back
once more the well-equipped troops of Prince Maurice.
The storm raged fiercely during the night, and many fearing that
another attack might be made, the greater portion of the garrison
remained under arms, ready for any emergency.
Not until morning was the full extent of the Cavaliers' loss discovered.
Within the lines well-nigh four hundred men lay stark and stiff where
they had fallen, struck down by the fire from the houses and the fierce
onslaught in front and rear, few prisoners having been taken.
Outside the trenches a hundred more strewed the ground, among them
many officers of distinction, including Colonel Blewett, a gallant
gentleman, greatly esteemed by Maurice. We knew this, because early
in the morning the Prince sent a herald to