Here and there they found a man, only half-awake, confusedly running to ascertain what might be the origin of the uproar, and him they cut down at once. From room to room they went, giving no quarter--knowing that they themselves would receive none,--and one by one the unhappy Spaniards were killed. There was no organised resistance; it was every man for himself, for they had been taken most completely by surprise. Roger, with Harry and a few more, ran at once up aloft and came out upon the battlements, where with mallet and spike they industriously proceeded to render the guns useless. Into the touch-hole of every gun a spike nail was driven as far as it would go, thus effectually preventing the possibility of the weapon being fired until the spike was drilled out, which would necessitate the expenditure of at least an hour of hard work. In a very short time every gun was effectually spiked, and, the capture of the fort being by this time completely accomplished, the men formed up again outside, and descended at the double to the town, which was now thoroughly awakened and alarmed. The cathedral was to be the next place of call, the object being to remove the gold and silver plate with which it was known to be furnished. Meanwhile the tocsins were being sounded. The brazen voices of the church bells pealed out high above all the other clamour. To add to the confusion and terror, the English halted, and, fixing their arquebuses, fired a volley into a square where some troops seemed to be mustering. Immediately upon the crash of the volley came cries and screams from the terrified populace, bearing eloquent witness to the execution wrought by the flying bullets. Then, picking up their weapons, the English flew like fiends through the town, cutting down all who had the temerity to oppose them. The cathedral was soon reached, and they entered it. Lights were glimmering far up the aisles, just lit by the trembling priests, who had come in by ones and twos to find out what all the uproar was about. But the English pressed on, undeterred by their presence, and, moving up the long chancel, reached the altar. Two or three seamen made their way to the belfry, and, loosing the bell-ropes, in the madness of their excitement began to ring the bells in the steeple; and presently, clang, clang, clang, came from the tower as they hauled on the ropes. Rushing from one bell-rope to another, they started every bell in the steeple ringing, with an effect that was appalling and terrible. As the bells gained momentum, and swung on their beams, so did the ropes attached to them fly up and down through their appointed holes in the belfry roof, with ever-increasing velocity. Now they began to twine round each other like living, twisting serpents, and the sailors pulling them had to spring quickly aside to avoid being caught by the flying and coiling ends.