o close that
we swung there all three together, with our yards entangled, and blazing
away at one another, till I wondered if there could be a man left alive
below.

As for me, up where I was, I thanked Heaven that the smoke around me
rose in clouds and hid me. As it was, many a bullet, shot at random,
whizzed through the cords to which I clung, and once a great booming
shot tore away the streamer at the mast-head. But so busy were all down
below that no one troubled himself to look for the skulker aloft, who
sat there, as it seemed, above the clouds, not even knowing, as the day
wore on, whether the _Rata_ still belonged to the King of Spain or to
her glorious Majesty.

Suddenly, hard by, I heard a loud shout, and looking round, saw, on the
yard-arm of the Englishman's ship, a smoke-bedimmed fellow, with his
knife betwixt his lips, crawling towards where, at every lurch, the pole
on which I squatted swung across his own. I was in a sore strait when I
saw him. For how could I fight against my Queen? Yet, if I let him and
the fellows that swarmed up the tackle after him pass, what of my debt
of honour to the King of Spain?

The matter was settled for me; for, perceiving me as we swung together,
the fellow made a wild grab at me, and, slashing with his knife at the
hand by which I clung to the mast, forced me to quit my hold, and clutch
at him instead. Then, as I did so, the masts swung asunder, and, lo and
behold, I was no longer on the _Rata_, but a prisoner of my own Queen.

I made a dash to spring back to the Spanish ship, but it was too late.
The Don was already hauling off, and every moment the gap between him
and the English ship became wider. Half-a-dozen stout British hands
held me fast, and as many blades at my breast warned me that the game
was up.

"Hands-off, comrades!" I shouted; "I am an Englishman."

At that they laughed, and bade me say my prayers, for my hour was come,
and they had other work on hands.

"God save her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, and curse the King of Spain!"
cried I.

Then one or two of them stared round, and cursed me for a Jesuit.

"I am no Jesuit, but a London 'prentice lad," said I, "and have broken
heads better than yours for my Queen before now, as I will prove to any
two of you that like, even here."

This pleased them better, and they bade me, as I loved my Queen, take a
musket and slay them the first Spaniard I could spy on the enemy's deck.

"Give me the gun,"