But before they had accomplished half the distance, each party was met by a ragged volley from Don Ramon’s men, whose instructions had been carefully carried out.
This staggered the enemy for the moment, but they came on, leaping over or avoiding their wounded comrades, and gaining confidence at the silence within the hacienda, they yelled again. So far not one of the Englishmen had fired a shot, but now at a word from the skipper, a slow, steady rifle fire began, with every shot carefully aimed, and seeming to tell, so that ere they got close up to the walls of the hacienda, nearly a score had dropped, the skipper having used his rifle and then stood with the barrel of his revolver resting on the edge of a plank and picking off man after man.
In the brief space of time occupied by the advance the enemy had had little time to think, but suddenly the fighting madness died out of one of the rough-looking bravos as he saw a companion at his side throw up his arms just in front of one of the windows and fall backwards. That started the panic, for the man turned with starting eyes, uttered a yell of dismay, and dashed back.
“Look at that,” growled the carpenter. “Just like sheep. One goes for the gap in the hedge, and all the rest will follow. Ah, you may shout, old chap—Don whatever your name is. You’ll have to holloa louder than that to stop ’em now.”
For the whole of the attacking body was in retreat, racing for the shelter of the trees in a disorderly crowd whose paces were hastened by Don Ramon’s men, now re-loaded, sending another ragged volley in their rear.
Their action was very different from that of the schooner’s men, who contented themselves with re-loading and breaking out under the leadership of Winks into a hearty British cheer, in which Don Ramon’s men now joined.
“Well,” said Poole, taking out his pocket-handkerchief and carefully wiping the lock of his rifle, “what do you think of that?”
“Oh,” cried Fitz excitedly, “I wouldn’t have missed it for—eh? I don’t know, though,” he added, after breaking off short, his eyes having lit upon the fallen men who were crawling back into shelter. “It is very horrid, though, all the same.”
“Yes,” said Poole; “but we didn’t ask them to come, and it would have been twenty times as horrid if we hadn’t stood fast and they had got in here with those long knives.”
Fitz looked at him fixedly.