the top of the house," says Ringrose, "and from there fired down into
the fort, killing many of their men and wounding them at our ease and
pleasure." While they were doing this, a number of the Lima soldiers
joined the citizens, and fell, with great fury, upon the prisoners'
guards in the town. They easily beat back the few guards, and retook the
city. As soon as they had taken the town, they came swarming out to cut
off the pirates from their retreat, and to hem them in between the fort
and the sea. They were in such numbers that they were able to surround
the pirates, who now began to lose men at every volley, and to look
about them a little anxiously as they bit their cartridges. From every
street in the town came Spanish musketeers at the double, swarm after
swarm of them, perhaps a couple of thousand. The pirates left the fort,
and turned to the main army, at the same time edging away towards the
south, to the hospital, or church, where their wounded men were being
dressed. As they moved away from the battlefield, firing as they
retreated, old John Watling was shot in the liver with a bullet, and
fell dead there, to go buccaneering no more. A moment later "both our
quartermasters" fell, with half-a-dozen others, including the boatswain.
All this time the cannon of the fort were pounding over them, and the
round-shot were striking the ground all about, flinging the sand into
their faces. What with the dust and the heat and the trouble of helping
the many hurt, their condition was desperate. "So that now the enemy
rallying against us, and beating us from place to place, we were in a
very distracted condition, and in more likelihood to perish every man
than escape the bloodiness of that day. Now we found the words of
Captain Sharp to bear a true prophecy, being all very sensible that we
had had a day too hot for us, after that cruel heat in killing and
murdering in cold blood the old Mestizo Indian whom we had taken
prisoner at Yqueque." In fact they were beaten and broken, and the fear
of death was on them, and the Spaniards were ringing them round, and the
firing was roaring from every point. They were a bloody, dusty, choking
gang of desperates, "in great disorder," black with powder, their
tongues hanging out with thirst. As they stood grouped together, cursing
and firing, some of them asked Captain Sharp to take command, and get
them out of that, seeing that Watling was dead, and no one there could
give an order