The commander paused, then stepped back and cursed his prostrate militiamen. Finally, with a look of infinite humiliation, he slowly slipped the sword back into its scabbard.
A cheer went up from the seamen, and several turned to head for the inner chambers of the fortress, to start the search for booty. Now the second wave of the attack force was pouring through the corridor.
"Katy, it's over." Winston beckoned her to him and and boxed ceremoniously. "Jamaica is . . ."
The yard erupted as the copestone of the turret at the corner exploded, raining chips of hard limestone around them.
"Great God, we're taking fire from down below." He stood a moment in disbelief. Around him startled seamen began to scurry for cover.
Even as he spoke, another round of cannon shot slammed into the front of the breastwork, shaking the flagstone under their feet.
"Who the hell's in charge down there? There were no orders to fire on the fort ..."
Another round of cannon shot crashed into the stone facing above them.
"Masters, take cover. There'll be hell to pay for this, I promise you." He suddenly recalled that Mewes had been left in command down below. "If John's ordered the ships into the bay and opened fire, I'll skin him alive."
"Aye, and with this commotion, I'll wager their damned cavalry lancers will be on their way soon enough to give us a welcome." Bartholomew was standing alongside him. "I'd say we'd best secure that door back there and make ready to stand them off."