Out of the windows of the poop, which looked on the main-deck, a galling fire had been opened, and he could not afford to lose men; for, as far as he knew, the Spaniards left on board might still far outnumber the English; so up he sprang on the poop, followed by a dozen men, and there began a very heavy fight between two parties of valiant warriors, who easily knew each other apart by the peculiar fashion of their armor.  For the Spaniards fought in their shirts, and in no other garments:  but the English in all other manner of garments, tag, rag, and bobtail; and yet had never a shirt between them.

The rest of the English made a rush, of course, to get upon the poop, seeing that the Spaniards could not shoot them through the deck; but the fire from the windows was so hot, that although they dodged behind masts, spars, and every possible shelter, one or two dropped; and Jack Brimblecombe and Yeo took on themselves to call a retreat, and with about a dozen men, got back, and held a council of war.

What was to be done?  Their arquebuses were of little use; for the Spaniards were behind a strong bulkhead.  There were cannon:  but where was powder or shot?  The boats, encouraged by the clamor on deck, were paddling alongside again.  Yeo rushed round and round, probing every gun with his sword.

“Here’s a patararo loaded!  Now for a match, lads.”

Luckily one of the English had kept his match alight during the scuffle.

“Thanks be!  Help me to unship the gun—­the mast’s in the way here.”

The patararo, or brass swivel, was unshipped.

“Steady, lads, and keep it level, or you’ll shake out the priming.  Ship it here; turn out that one, and heave it into that boat, if they come alongside.  Steady now—­so!  Rummage about, and find me a bolt or two, a marlin-spike, anything.  Quick, or the captain will be over-mastered yet.”

Missiles were found—­odds and ends—­and crammed into the swivel up to the muzzle:  and, in another minute, its “cargo of notions” was crashing into the poop-windows, silencing the fire from thence effectually enough for the time.

“Now, then, a rush forward, and right in along the deck!” shouted Yeo; and the whole party charged through the cabin-doors, which their shot had burst open, and hewed their way from room to room.

In the meanwhile, the Spaniards above had fought fiercely:  but, in spite of superior numbers, they had gradually given back before the “demoniacal possession of those blasphemous heretics, who fought, not like men, but like furies from the pit.”  And by the time that Brimblecombe and Yeo shouted from the stern-gallery below that the quarter-deck was won, few on either side but had their shrewd scratch to show.

“Yield, senor!” shouted Amyas to the commander, who had been fighting like a lion, back to back with the captain of mariners.

“Never!  You have bound me, and insulted me!  Your blood or mine must wipe out the stain!”