ard, swifter and
swifter--the end was come, then!

"Back! in God's name back, men! She is sinking by the head!" And with
much ado some were dragged back, some leaped back--all but old Michael
Heard.

With hair and beard floating in the wind, the bronzed naked figure,
like some weird old Indian fakir, still climbed on steadfastly up the
mizzen-chains of the Spaniard, hatchet in hand.

"Come back, Michael! Leap while you may!" shouted a dozen voices.
Michael turned--

"And what should I come back for, then, to go home where no one knoweth
me? I'll die like an Englishman this day, or I'll know the reason
why!" and turning, he sprang in over the bulwarks, as the huge ship
rolled up more and more, like a dying whale, exposing all her long
black hulk almost down to the keel, and one of her lower-deck guns as
if in defiance exploded upright into the air, hurling the ball to the
very heavens.

In an instant it was answered from the _Rose_ by a column of smoke, and
the eighteen-pound ball crashed through the bottom of the defenseless
Spaniard.

"Who fired! Shame to fire on a sinking ship!"

"Gunner Yeo, sir," shouted a voice from the maindeck. "He's like a
madman down here."

"Tell him if he fires again, I'll put him in irons, if he were my own
brother. Cut away the grapples aloft, men. Don't you see how she
drags us over? Cut away, or we shall sink with her."

They cut away, and the _Rose_, released from the strain, shook her
feathers on the wave-crest like a freed sea-gull, while all men held
their breaths.

Suddenly the glorious creature righted herself, and rose again, as if
in noble shame, for one last struggle with her doom. Her bows were
deep in the water, but her after-deck still dry. Righted: but only for
a moment, long enough to let her crew come pouring wildly up on deck,
with cries and prayers, and rush aft to the poop, where, under the flag
of Spain, stood the tall captain, his left hand on the standard-staff,
his sword pointed in his right.

"Back men!" they heard him cry, "and die like valiant mariners."

Some of them ran to the bulwarks, and shouted "Mercy! We surrender!"
and the English broke into a cheer and called to them to run her
alongside.

"Silence!" shouted Amyas. "I take no surrender from mutineers.
Senor," cried he to the captain, springing into the rigging and taking
off his hat, "for the love of God and these men, strike! and surrender
_a buena guerra_."

The Spaniar