It was our friends' misfortune to meet them on the way.
There were no means of hiding—indeed, the hostile squads discovered each other at about the same moment.
What made it the more aggravating was the fact that the soldiers were directly between them and the bay—just a little beyond could be seen the dimpled water, flashing in the glorious light of the moon.
What was to be done?
Retreat had been rendered impossible, for Roderic was so confused by the several turns taken that he would not have known how to reach his boat.
To surrender meant ignominious death.
An Anglo-Saxon could not dream of submitting to such disgrace while one door yet remained open.
That door was a gallant charge.
Beven knew his nation was not at war with Spain, but his sympathies were wholly with those who spoke the same tongue—blood is thicker than water, and with prophetic wisdom he like many of his race, saw signs in the air to indicate that the time was coming when Great Britain and her colonies would stand fast with the great Republic against the rest of the world—for peace!