“We are lacking her through and through every shot,” said he.  “Leave the small ordnance alone yet awhile, and we shall sink her without them.”

“Whing, whing,” went the Spaniard’s shot, like so many humming-tops, through the rigging far above their heads; for the ill-constructed ports of those days prevented the guns from hulling an enemy who was to windward, unless close alongside.

“Blow, jolly breeze,” cried one, “and lay the Don over all thou canst.—­What the murrain is gone, aloft there?”

Alas! a crack, a flap, a rattle; and blank dismay!  An unlucky shot had cut the foremast (already wounded) in two, and all forward was a mass of dangling wreck.

“Forward, and cut away the wreck!” said Amyas, unmoved.  “Small arm men, be ready.  He will be aboard of us in five minutes!”

It was true.  The Rose, unmanageable from the loss of her head-sail, lay at the mercy of the Spaniard; and the archers and musqueteers had hardly time to range themselves to leeward, when the Madre Dolorosa’s chains were grinding against the Rose’s, and grapples tossed on board from stem to stern.

“Don’t cut them loose!” roared Amyas.  “Let them stay and see the fun!  Now, dogs of Devon, show your teeth, and hurrah for God and the Queen!”

And then began a fight most fierce and fell:  the Spaniards, according to their fashion, attempted to board:  the English, amid fierce shouts of “God and the Queen!” “God and St. George for England!” sweeping them back by showers of arrows and musquet balls, thrusting them down with pikes, hurling grenades and stink-pots from the tops; while the swivels on both sides poured their grape, and bar, and chain, and the great main-deck guns, thundering muzzle to muzzle, made both ships quiver and recoil, as they smashed the round shot through and through each other.

So they roared and flashed, fast clenched to each other in that devil’s wedlock, under a cloud of smoke beneath the cloudless tropic sky; while all around, the dolphins gamboled, and the flying-fish shot on from swell to swell, and the rainbow-hued jellies opened and shut their cups of living crystal to the sun.

So it raged for an hour or more, till all arms were weary, and all tongues clove to the mouth.  And sick men, rotting with scurvy, scrambled up on deck, and fought with the strength of madness:  and tiny powder-boys, handing up cartridges from the hold, laughed and cheered as the shots ran past their ears; and old Salvation Yeo, a text upon his lips, and a fury in his heart as of Joshua or Elijah in old time, worked on, calm and grim, but with the energy of a boy at play.  And now and then an opening in the smoke showed the Spanish captain, in his suit of black steel armor, standing cool and proud, guiding and pointing, careless of the iron hail, but too lofty a gentleman to soil his glove with aught but a knightly sword-hilt:  while Amyas and Will, after the fashion of the English