Away went John Drake and Mr. Oxenham with their fifteen men, a drum, trumpet, and five of the blazing fire-pikes. We saw them disappear, yelling horribly, with much grizzly noise of their instruments, to the no little discomfort, I doubt, of those who still slept.
In like manner we took our course by the lurid glare of our fire-pikes, with an equal or greater din of trumpet, drum, and arms, being forty-four men in all. The Plaza lay towards the upper part of the town, so that on coming to the top of the street, which, being very sandy, made us short of breath with our running, our captain called a halt.
Creeping on under shelter of the houses, I got a sight within the square. In the midst was a goodly tree, and near to it a market-cross. Farther again to the right was the church, from which the great bell boomed continually. From the cross to the church I could see the glimmer of a long row of matches, by whose movement I judged there was a company of harquebusiers gathered there waiting for us, but I could see nothing of them because of the gloom that filled the place.
In the farther corner to the left, where, they told me, the road to Panama left the square, rose a house much larger than the rest. Here by the light of sundry lanterns I could see a great throng collected, with several companies of soldiers. I should think there were a hundred matches or more burning there; wherefore, having made a complete discovery of the Plaza, I crept back to inform our captain.
'Hark ye, my lads,' cried Frank, when he had heard my report. 'At the word we will advance into the square. Mr. Overy's crew with the gentlemen to the right, the rest with me to the left. Stand but for one volley, and then close! Forward now, in God's name!'
A roar of small shot greeted us as we sallied into the square, and the bullets tore up the sand amidst our feet. I saw our trumpeter fall forward in the midst of a merry blast, and heard Frank utter a sharp cry. But there was no time to see what was happening. Already our arrows and bullets were making the Spaniards sing in the left-hand corner of the square. I discharged my pistol with the rest and then sprang forward by Harry's side, rapier and dagger in hand.
Straight at the line of matches we dashed. Every moment I looked to see them belch their fire and hear a storm of hail about my ears. Ten more strides and we should be amongst them.
'Plague on the fools!' cried Harry, who was leading.
'What mountebank dispositions are these?' cried the Sergeant at his side.
Not a man was there. It was but a string of matches hung from the church to the cross to terrify us, as if we had been Cimaroons.