Steadily the well-drilled negroes marched to the corner, wheeled into the street not 120 yards from the British guns, and then with a loud yell charged straight upon them. Round-shot and grape answered their shout of defiance, and swept them from the centre of the street, but, spread along the side-walks, they still advanced, firing upon the artillerymen. The infantry drawn up in front of the church advanced to the support of the artillery, red-coated soldiers poured from the houses of the block beyond, of which the invaders had taken possession. The advance of the negroes was stopped, but the roar of the cannon had given the signal, men sprang to their feet on every azotea round about, on every side militia marched into the open streets. The red-coated soldiery, facing in every direction, kept their foes at bay with a steady fire of musketry, one gun was wheeled round, and a shower of grape drove back the Arribeños, who came by the cross street from the north straight upon the church. Again Asneiros formed up the negro corps. Don Roderigo himself led them on, waving his hat, and calling upon them to trust to the bayonet. The negroes answered him with shouts, and rushed on. Again a shower of grape tore through them. A dozen men fell. The first to fall was Don Roderigo. Several of the negroes, throwing down their muskets, ran to him, and, raising him in their arms, carried him to the shelter of the next street. Evaristo had seen his father fall, and ran up to him. "Tata! Tata!" he cried; "speak to me! speak to me, Tata!" "I am not dead yet, my son," said Don Roderigo, "I think my leg is broken--a small matter. Run and tell Asneiros----" "Yet there is one Ponce de Leon to finish these," said Evaristo, running off. In front of the church of San Miguel, the second house from the corner had a peaked roof, covered with large red tiles. This house, by breaking the line of the azotea, had been a great protection to the English formed in the street below. The adjacent azotea was crowded with armed citizens, who saw with consternation the second repulse of the negroes. "Cost what it may, we must stop the fire of that gun," shouted a young officer of the Spanish navy who was among them. "Follow me, boys!" So saying he clambered up on to the roof of the tiled house, and tearing up one of the tiles from the coping threw it at the gunner, who at that moment held the linstock in his hand. The tile struck him on the side of the head, down he fell, and the burning tow dropped under the gun instead of firing it. The citizens gave a loud shout as they saw him fall. Laying down their firelocks, scores of them followed the young officer, showering heavy tiles upon the artillerymen as fast as they could tear them from the roof. "Ah! Morenitos! are you afraid of a cannon?" said Venceslao Viana to the negroes, as they clustered at the street corner: "follow me, and I will show you how cannon are taken!"