at, as, all history shows us, the best and bravest
will do at times. In Mousehole, the principal inhabitant was killed by
a cannon-ball, so that, deprived of their leading spirit at the critical
moment when a leader was necessary, it is no wonder that at _first_ the
fishermen were driven back by well-armed men trained to act in concert.
To fire the houses was the work of a few minutes. The Spaniards then
rushed on to Newlyn and Penzance, and fired these places also, after
which they returned to their ships, intending to land the next day and
renew their work of destruction.

"But that night was well spent by the enraged townsmen. They organised
themselves as well as they could in the circumstances, and, when day
came, attacked the Spaniards with guns and bows, and that so
effectively, that the Dons were glad to hoist their sails and run out of
the bay.

"Well, you must know there was one of the Spaniards, who, it has been
said, either from bravado, or vanity, or a desire to insult the English,
or from all three motives together, brought a guitar on shore with him
at Mousehole, and sang and played to his comrades while they were
burning the houses. This man left his guitar with those who were left
to guard the boats, and accompanied the others to Penzance. On his
return he again took his guitar, and, going up to a high point of the
cliff, so that he might be seen by his companions and heard by any of
the English who chanced to be in hiding near the place, sang several
songs of defiance at the top of his voice, and even went the length of
performing a Spanish dance, to the great amusement of his comrades
below, who were embarking in their boats.

"While the half-crazed Spaniard was going on thus he little knew that,
not three yards distant from him, a gigantic Mousehole fisherman, who
went by the name of Gurnet, lay concealed among some low bushes,
watching his proceedings with an expression of anger on his big stern
countenance. When the boats were nearly ready to start the Spaniard
descended from the rocky ledge on which he had been performing,
intending to rejoin his comrades. He had to pass round the bush where
Gurnet lay concealed, and in doing so was for a few seconds hid from his
comrades, who immediately forgot him in the bustle of departure, or, if
they thought of him at all, each boat's crew imagined, no doubt, that he
was with one of the others.

"But he never reached the boats. As he passed the bus