We ran swiftly into the Coso, where we saw that innumerable bombs were being hurled upon the unhappy city. Everybody ran as fast as possible to the various positions of defence,—some to Las Tenerias, some to the Portillo, some to Santa Engracia or to the Trinitarios. As we arrived at the arch of Cineja, we stumbled upon Don José de Montoria, who, followed by some of his friends, was running towards the Almudi. In the same moment a terrible crash behind us proclaimed that one of the enemy's projectiles had fallen upon a neighboring residence. Augustine, hearing this, turned back, longing to return to the place from whence we came.
"Where are you going, porra!" cried his father, detaining him. "To the Tenerias! Make haste! To the Tenerias!"
The people who were coming and going knew the place of the disaster, and we heard them saying,—
"Three bombs have fallen close to the house of Candiola."
"The angels of heaven certainly aimed those guns," laughed Don José de Montoria, noisily. "We shall see how the Mallorcan Jew keeps them off, if he is still alive till he puts his money in a place of safety."
"Let us run and rescue those unfortunate beings!" cried Augustine, with emotion.
"To the lines, cowards!" said his father, holding him with an iron hand. "That is the work of women; men must die in the breach."
It was necessary to make haste to our places, and we went, or rather we were carried by the impetuous surge of the people running to defend the suburb of Las Tenerias.