Brigadier Curtis, who, with his brigade, was encamped at Europa, finding that the moment had come for bringing into operation his little flotilla of twelve gunboats, each of which carried an 18 or 24-pounder in its bow, drew them up in such a manner as to take the floating batteries in flank. This cross-fire compelled the relieving boats to retire. As morning dawned, Curtis pushed forward, and captured a couple of launches loaded with men. These boats attempted to escape, but surrendered after a shot had killed and wounded several on board. The horror of the scene was now almost too great to witness. The daylight showed a piteous spectacle: in the midst of the flames appeared the unhappy Spaniards, who with loud shrieks implored compassion, or flung themselves into the waves. Some, on the point of drowning, clung with frenzied grasp to the sides of the burning ships, or to any floating spar which came within their reach, while, in the depth of their despair, they implored the compassion and succour of the victors. Moved by a sight so painful, the English, says Botta, listened to humanity alone, and ceasing their fire, occupied themselves solely with the rescue of their enemies; a proceeding the more generous on their part, as it exposed them to the most imminent hazard. Curtis, in particular, covered himself with glory, and freely risked his own life to save that of his fellow-creatures. He led his boats up to the burning, smoking hulks, to assist the poor wretches on the point of falling victims to the fire or the waves. Climbing on board the battering-ships, with his own hands he helped down the Spaniards, who loaded him with words of gratitude. While he and his men were thus generously engaged, the flames reached the magazine of one of the battering-ships to the northward, and about five o’clock it blew up, with a crash which seemed to shake the very Rock. A quarter of an hour later, another, in the centre of the line, met with a similar fate. The burning wreck of the latter was hurled in every direction, and involved the British gunboats in serious danger; one was sunk, but happily the crew were saved. A hole was forced through the bottom of the brigadier’s boat, his coxswain killed, the strokesman wounded, and for some time the crew were enveloped in a cloud of smoke. After this incident the brigadier deemed it prudent to retire under cover of the Rock, to avoid the peril arising from further explosions. On his return, however, he approached two more of the ships, and finally landed nine officers, two priests, and three hundred and thirty-four private soldiers and seamen, all Spaniards,--who, with one officer and eleven Frenchmen who had “floated in” the preceding evening, brought up the total number saved to three hundred and fifty-seven. Many of these, who were severely, and some even dreadfully wounded, were immediately removed to the hospital, and attended with the utmost carefulness.