His eyes wandered for an instant.
"Look!" he shouted in alarm to his men. "An English ship to the rescue! Meet them while I finish this fellow."
I heard the shout as the Englishmen clambered over the rail behind me; and the sound of many feet as they rushed at the Spaniards. I raised my sword and lunged forward at DeNortier's breast. It would have finished him for good and all, but the Englishmen were upon me, and the sword was knocked from my hand in the mad rush.
The Spaniards dashed forward to meet their assailants. I was in the midst of a mad vortex of men, arms, swords, weapons, cries, oaths, as with a crash the two parties came together. Like a feather I was thrown from my feet, and lay upon the deck unable to rise as they fought and struggled above me; tramping and stepping on my limbs until I felt as though I were verily beaten into a jelly.
How long they fought there I do not know. It seemed long to me, as I lay under the feet of the struggling men, and heard the crash of arms as they still fought fiercely on. The noise was receding from me, evidently one side was fleeing, but which was it? Then a good old English cheer broke forth, and never had I heard a more welcome sound in my life than that hoarse cry, "Hurrah! Hurrah!" Then the hubbub ceased and the only sound was the splash of the water as the Spaniards sprang overboard.
I slowly and painfully crawled out from among some of the bodies, which lay pell-mell about me, and got on my feet. A round-faced, jovial-looking man who stood near me turned around at the sound, his red sword in his hand. I had never seen him before; around him stood a group of seamen.
"'Tis the brave fellow that we saw holding them at bay when we boarded the ship!" he cried. "Pray, sir, what is thy name?"
"Sir Thomas Winchester, of London," I answered.
A frown was on his face as he looked at me.