THE GREAT FIGHT ON BOARD THE REVENGE
"Now will I do for thee at last!" cried Philip Oglander savagely between his teeth, speaking in English. He held his sword in air for a moment as if in deliberation where to strike. In that moment his weapon hand was struck a tremendous blow by a pistol flung at it by Red Bob, and Red Bob himself sprang forward, crying "Traitorous hound! I know ye!" and clutched him round the body in a wrestling embrace. The two swayed to and fro for an instant, and then Red Bob dropped on the deck with Philip Oglander's dagger in his heart.
When Gilbert rose to his feet to continue the duel with his cousin he saw Philip climbing back over the bulwark in haste to regain the galleon's boat. Others of the Spaniards occupied Gilbert now, and Ambrose Pennington and one of the yeomen of the sheets coming up to help, they were soon overpowered or driven over the side. Some fell into the sea; five-and-twenty of them had been slain; and the boat returned to Don Alonzo's ship with but seven out of the fortymen who had set out in her, less than half an hour earlier.
Darkness had now spread across the sea, the stars peeped out through the overhanging mist of smoke, and in a wide ring about the Revenge the galleons stood, ceaselessly firing upon her. Their guns flashed out their fire into the black night. Many of the shots flew wide; some passed over the low-lying wreck and struck the galleons lying beyond, yet many thundered against the sides of the English ship, burying themselves in her stout timbers or rebounding with a hiss into the sea. Hour after hour throughout the night the battle continued, and if not many of Sir Richard Grenville's men were killed or wounded it was because so few remained alive to be wounded or killed. An hour before midnight there were but a dozen men and boys at Sir Richard's side upon his decks, and these were all so weary and bruised and hungry that they scarce could stand. Yet they hovered about their chief, seldom speaking, but only exchanging strange glances one with another, binding up each other's hurts, or gazing about them at the flashing of the cannon. At times one would take up a musket, and, if he could find powder and shot wherewith to load it, would fire into a crowd of soldiers upon one of the Spaniard's decks.
Sir Richard strode to and fro, sword in hand, with a staggering gait, now pausing behind the shelter of some yet unbroken piece of bulwark and watching the movements of the enemy. And once he caught at Gilbert Oglander's arm, gripping it tightly as though to support himself.
"I pray thee tell me, Sir Richard," cried the lad. "Art wounded? Wilt go below to the cabin?"
"Nay, nay," returned Grenville quickly, breathing hard nevertheless, "I would but ask thee to hasten below and discover wherefore our guns be silent. Od's life, boy, must we lie here and not give them shot for shot! Go, bid the gunners maintain their firing!"
And Gilbert obeyed, coming back some minutes afterwards, saying:
"Good my master, the last barrel of powder hath been broached, and there is scarce enough for another round."
Then Sir Richard took off the casque from his head and wiped his brow, answering: