"Young Glory to the rescue!"
That was the cry that came from fifty lips.
Then in a moment all saw what had happened.
Captain Moret had stripped the fore part of the ship bare of men in order to concentrate them with the rest of his forces in making one final attack on the enemy.
The quick eye of Young Glory had detected the weak spot instantly.
"Young Glory to the rescue!" shouted the blue jackets, and on they came, taking the Spaniards in the rear.
Even now the men of the Cristobal Colon had nothing to fear, for they still vastly outnumbered the Americans, but this sudden and unexpected attack in the rear caused a panic.
Young Glory's terrible sword aided to the fear that filled the breasts of the Spaniards. All within reach of him dropped to the deck.
"Forward, men!" cried Lieutenant Tyler, "the enemy weakens. Now is our chance!"
The Spaniards were a huddled and confused mass of human beings now. The last vestige of discipline had gone, and the officers who yet remained, struggled in vain with their men to inspire them with courage.