The center of the port of entry lined exactly with Telegraph Hill. By this means a message could be sent from Hanabusa’s quarters to Mount Olympus and Lone Mountain direct, and thence to the port of entry and Telegraph Hill, thus making it easy to command the entire situation.
The horsemen’s camp lay close to Iaqua, west of the Observatory, while the spearsmen’s grounds were east. From these points were trained catapults, loaded with highly explosive lead cylinders filled with sharp spikes. Mixed with the spikes were balls containing a stifling, overpowering, deadly smell, which were exploded in the air, to shower the inhabitants, barracks and forts.
Setos saw with the eye of a military genius the advantage to himself of a sudden attack, and as a politician he felt the danger of remaining inactive in such treacherous times. With a long, hissing screech, four rockets shot into the sky from the signal-stations, electrifying some, but prostrating the spirits of those who loved law and order.
Instantly, the warriors rushed pell-mell into the streets and confusion seized the populace, who ran about aimlessly, and looked into each other’s faces with half-averted eyes, like members of a family who are determined to punish one another, but not too severely.
Around what is now known as Potrero Point came a fleet of thirty balsas, with the blades of the rowers flashing in the sunlight as they rocked and glided over the choppy waves of the bay.
Rowing swiftly to the Rincon Hill fort, they embarked a strong force of spearsmen who were still loyal to Yermah.
Ponderous mangonels capable of throwing darts twenty feet long, shod with bronze points and securely lashed to the shaft with strips of bull’s-hide, surmounted each fort. This formidable weapon carried a distance of several hundred feet with sufficient force to penetrate the side of a stoutly built balsa.
On the poop of the foremost galley stood Hanabusa, in full armor, with a black plume in his helmet, while beside him was Ben Hu Barabe. They were both tall and powerful men, and the grim, determined expression on their faces augured ill for the insurgents. Soon their balsas were gliding over the smooth waters of the semicircular entrance to the canal and making directly for it.
“Beware of the bolt!” shouted Ben Hu Barabe, and every man threw himself under the stout oaken seats of the oarsmen, as a murderous missile rose high in the air and fell with a crash on the stone coping of the canal, sending a shower of splinters over the men.