An English
officer, admiring the courage which the Spaniards had shown, ran out
upon his bowsprit, told them that they had done all which became men,
and urged them to surrender and save their lives. For answer they
cursed the English as cowards and chickens because they refused to
close. The officer was shot. His fall brought a last broadside on them,
which finished the work. They went down, and the water closed over them.
Rather death to the soldiers of the Cross than surrender to a heretic.
The deadly hail rained on. In some ships blood was seen streaming out of
the scupper-holes. Yet there was no yielding; all ranks showed equal
heroism. The priests went up and down in the midst of the carnage,
holding the crucifix before the eyes of the dying. At midday Howard came
up to claim a second share in a victory which was no longer doubtful.
Towards the afternoon the Spanish fire slackened. Their powder was gone,
and they could make no return to the cannonade which was still
overwhelming them. They admitted freely afterwards that if the attack
had been continued but two hours more they must all have struck or gone
ashore. But the English magazines were empty also; the last cartridge
was shot away, and the battle ended from mere inability to keep it up.
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