race. The ditch, choked up with the _debris_ of the rampart and the
fascines that had been thrown into it, was speedily crossed; and while
some sprang fearlessly into the breach, others endeavored to scale the
walls. But everywhere they were met by men as fresh for action as
themselves, and possessed of a spirit as intrepid. The battle raged
along the parapet, and in the breach, where the struggle was deadliest.
It was the old battle, so often fought, of the Crescent and the Cross,
the fiery African and the cool, indomitable European. Arquebuse and
pike, sabre and scymitar, clashed fearfully against each other; while
high above the din rose the war-cries of "Allah!" and "St. Jago!"
showing the creeds and countries of the combatants.

At one time it seemed as if the enthusiasm of the Moslems would prevail;
and twice the standard of the Crescent was planted on the walls. But it
was speedily torn down by the garrison, and the bold adventurers who had
planted it thrown headlong into the moat.

Meanwhile an incessant fire of musketry was kept up from the ramparts;
and hand-grenades, mingled with barrels of burning pitch, were hurled
down on the heads of the assailants, whose confusion was increased, as
their sight was blinded by the clouds of smoke which rose from the
fascines that had taken fire in the ditch. But although their efforts
began to slacken, they were soon encouraged by fresh detachments sent to
their support by Hassem, and the fight was renewed with redoubled fury.
These efforts, however, proved equally ineffectual. The Moors were
driven back on all points; and, giving way before the invincible courage
of the Spaniards, they withdrew in such disorder across the fosse, now
bridged over with the bodies of the slain, that, if the garrison had
been strong enough in numbers, they might have followed the foe to his
trenches, and inflicted such a blow as would at once have terminated the
siege. As it was, the loss of the enemy was fearful; while that of the
Spaniards, screened by their defences, was comparatively light. Yet a
hundred lives of the former, so overwhelming were their numbers, were of
less account than a single life among the latter. The heads of fifty
Turks, who had fallen in the breach or in the ditch, were cut off, as we
are told, by the garrison, and sent, as the grisly trophies of their
victory, to Oran;[1280] showing the feelings of bitter hatred--perhaps
of fear--with which this people was regarded