The fight was done, but the massacre was at its beginning.  The trumpeter, of Captain Kleinsorg clambered like a monkey up the mast of the St. Augustine, hauled down the admiral’s flag, the last which was still waving, and gained the hundred florins.  The ship was full of dead and dying; but a brutal, infamous butchery now took place.  Some Netherland prisoners were found in the hold, who related that two messengers had been successively despatched to take their lives, as they lay there in chains, and that each had been shot, as he made his way towards the execution of the orders.

This information did not chill the ardour of their victorious countrymen.  No quarter was given.  Such of the victims as succeeded in throwing themselves overboard, out of the St. Augustine, or any of the burning or sinking ships, were pursued by the Netherlanders, who rowed about among them in boats, shooting, stabbing, and drowning their victims by hundreds.  It was a sickening spectacle.  The bay, said those who were there, seemed sown with corpses.  Probably two or three thousand were thus put to death, or had met their fate before.  Had the chivalrous Heemskerk lived, it is possible that he might have stopped the massacre.  But the thought of the grief which would fill the commonwealth when the news should arrive of his death—­thus turning the joy of the great triumph into lamentations—­increased the animosity of his comrades.  Moreover, in ransacking the Spanish admiral’s ship, all his papers had been found, among them many secret instructions from Government signed “the King;” ordering most inhuman persecutions, not only of the Netherlanders, but of all who should in any way assist them, at sea or ashore.  Recent examples of the thorough manner in which the royal admirals could carry out these bloody instructions had been furnished by the hangings, burnings, and drownings of Fazardo.  But the barbarous ferocity of the Dutch on this occasion might have taught a lesson even to the comrades of Alva.

The fleet of Avila was entirely destroyed.  The hulk of the St. Augustine drifted ashore, having been abandoned by the victors, and was set on fire by a few Spaniards who had concealed themselves on board, lest she might fall again into the enemy’s hands.

The battle had lasted from half-past three until sunset.  The Dutch vessels remained all the next day on the scene of their triumph.  The townspeople were discerned, packing up their goods, and speeding panic-struck into the interior.  Had Heemskerk survived he would doubtless have taken Gibraltar—­fortress and town—­and perhaps Cadiz, such was the consternation along the whole coast.

But his gallant spirit no longer directed the fleet.  Bent rather upon plunder than glory, the ships now dispersed in search of prizes towards the Azores, the Canaries, or along the Portuguese coast; having first made a brief visit to Tetuan, where they were rapturously received by the Bey.