The Admiral hesitated no longer. Along the line the officers' whistles sounded the advance. Up from the cover afforded by the grass sprang hundreds of figures in khaki and blue. A regular clatter followed the order to fix bayonets, and at the double the gallant men raced towards their goal.
In spite of the covering fire from the British guns the Valderian troops to the right and left of the deserted fort maintained a hot fusillade. Enfiladed by the converging volleys the British suffered severely, the ground being dotted with dead and dying. Yet, undaunted, the stormers passed on, threw themselves into the dry ditch, and clambered up the steep ramp beyond. The more active of the attackers assisted those who experienced difficulty in negotiating the slippery slope. Marines and bluejackets, without any apparent semblance of order, vied with each other in the race to gain possession of the coveted position, till a ringing British cheer announced to the Admiral and his staff that Fort San Josef was in the occupation of his gallant men.
While the Union Jack was hoisted over the captured position, the bluejackets rushed to the guns to turn them upon the Valderian troops who had so severely galled the advance; but to their disappointment and rage they discovered that the breech-blocks had previously been removed.
In spite of the danger from the hostile bullets that were singing over the earthworks a signalman stood erect and semaphored for the guns to be brought up.
Two brawny bluejackets, each staggering under the weight of a Maxim, successfully crossed the danger-zone, while four man-hauled quick-firers were ordered to the fort.
At the double the guns were dragged across the open plain. Several of the men at the drag-ropes fell, but, undaunted, their comrades maintained the hot pace. The dry-ditch they made light of. In twenty seconds each gun was unlimbered and dismantled. The lighter parts, passed from hand to hand, were taken up the ramp; the heavier gear, hauled by willing hands, quickly followed.
To the tap, tap, tap of the Maxims was added the sharp bark of the quick-firers, and, swept by the hail of projectiles, the Valderian troops bolted precipitately. Outside the city they could not go, for hovering overhead was the "Meteor," and the fate of Fort Volador was still fresh in the minds of the beaten side.
At exactly three o'clock—one hour and twenty minutes from the opening of the assault—the city of Naocuanha surrendered at discretion.