Early next morning Clive captured the battery commanding the river passage, and the three British ships ran up with the tide. The _Kent_ and _Tyger_ opened fire on the south-east and north-east bastions, and these two vessels bore the brunt of a tremendous cannonade from the fort. The French artillery was well served, doing fearful damage on board the British vessels. On the _Kent_, save the Admiral himself and one lieutenant, every officer was killed or wounded. One shot struck down Captain Speke and shattered the leg of his son, a brave boy of sixteen, who refused to allow his wound to be examined until his father had been attended to, and then bore the pain of the rough amputation of those days without a murmur. Meanwhile Clive’s men had climbed to the roofs of houses near the fort, which commanded the French batteries; and his musketeers poured in a galling fire and shot down the gunners at their work. As the walls of the barracks and fort were shattered by the guns from the ships, the sepoys crept closer and closer, awaiting the word to storm. The morning drew on. Admiral Watson began to fear that when the tide fell his big guns would be at too low a level to do further execution. There was always considerable rivalry between himself and Clive, fed by the stupid jealousy of some of the Calcutta Council. While Clive, foreseeing even more serious work later, was anxious to spare his men, Watson was equally eager to reap all possible credit for a victory over the French. As it happened, neither had to go to the last extremity, for about half-past nine a white flag was seen flying from the fort. Lieutenant Brereton of the _Kent_ and Captain Eyre Coote from the land force were sent to arrange the surrender, and a little later the articles of capitulation were signed by Admirals Watson and Pocock, and by Clive. Desmond was by no means satisfied with the part he played in the fight. In command of a company of sepoys, he was one of the first to rush the shore battery and take post under the walls of the barracks in readiness to lead a storming party. But, as he complained afterwards to his friend Captain Latham of the _Tyger_, the fleet had the honours of the day. "After all, you’re better off than I am," grumbled the captain; "how would you like to have your laurels snatched away? Admiral Pocock ought to have remained on the _Cumberland_ down the river and left the _Tyger_ to me. But he didn’t see the fun of being out of the fighting; and up he came post-haste and hoisted his flag on my ship, putting my nose badly out of joint, I can tell you. Still, one oughtn’t to grumble. It doesn’t matter much who gets the credit so long as we’ve done our job. ’Tis all in the day’s work."