“Abajo. Vete al carajo, hijo de la gran puta. Cabron! Mierda!” The words came out of the smoke like shots. The roar of the battle seemed to be all about him. He backed, staggering, to get out of the smoke. A half-tamed horse’s teeth ripped the sleeve from his hurt arm, knocking them both down again. Some one jabbed him with a lance in the shoulder. He struck the horse as he rose half choked, still clutching Ed. The horse leaped with a scream. The smoke lifted. It was all bright for a moment. A mad horse; a trooper swearing; Ed’s body like a sack with blood on it; a smoke full of fiery tongues. There was the boat though. Then the smoke cloaked it. Bullets splashed water in his face. The butt of a flung lance banged him on the side of the head. The horse reared above him, screaming, floundering in foam, then falling heavily. He was almost out of his depth now, half swimming, half dead, lugging a nether millstone. Blood was in his eyes, his sword dangled from his wrist, his free hand tried to swim. He clutched at the boat, missed, went under, gulping salt. He clutched again as the white side slid away. His fingers caught upon the gunwale, near the stroke’s thwart. He made the boat sway to one side a little. “Trim her,” said Tucket, as he hauled, face forward, on the warp. He did not look round; merely trimmed her mechanically, flinging the warp’s fakes aft. “Away-hay-hay-i-oh,” he sang. “Lively, Jude,” said another. “If you fire like you load, your bullets has moss on them.” Two of them were firing sharply, lying behind the backboard. “Cut,” cried Tucket. There was a shock of chopping on the gunwale. A hand sculled way upon her with the steering-oar as the sail filled. The midship oars were manned. “Give me a hand here, please,” said Margaret weakly. “Catch Ed.” “Lord. I thought you were in,” said Tucket. “Up with him. Ed’s gone. Don’t capsize the ship, you. I’d forgot you two.” Margaret managed to scramble in, helped by the boatmen. Then he collapsed in the bottom of the boat over Ed. He had had a moving time. He came-to quickly, with the taste of rum in his mouth and a feeling of intense cold. His teeth chattered; he was weak and sick. “Land and bring off Stukeley,” he said. “I can’t leave Stukeley.” “We’ll be in the sloop in a minute,” said one of the men. “We’ll shift him there. He got a prod in the shoulder.” “How is it, Ed?” said another voice. “You’re all right.” “What’s wrong with Ed?” said one of the rowers. “Got a bat with a stone, I guess. I can’t see no shot hole. Hold up, Ed. You ain’t dead yet.” “I’m all right,” said Ed weakly. “That Margaret fellow fell all across me and knocked me down.” “He pulled you quit of the mix,” said Tucket. “Don’t you forget it.” “He did, hell,” said Ed. Margaret rose up in the boat. “I can’t leave Stukeley,” he said. “Pull in, Captain Tucket, and bring him off.” “You lie down, sir, and stay quiet,” said Captain Tucket. “We’ll be there directly.”