At that they laughed, and bade me say my prayers, for my hour was come, and they had other work on hands. "God save her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, and curse the King of Spain!" cried I. Then one or two of them stared round, and cursed me for a Jesuit. "I am no Jesuit, but a London 'prentice lad," said I, "and have broken heads better than yours for my Queen before now, as I will prove to any two of you that like, even here." This pleased them better, and they bade me, as I loved my Queen, take a musket and slay them the first Spaniard I could spy on the enemy's deck. "Give me the gun," said I, with a laugh, "and bullets enough for every dog of them." At that moment the smoke below me drifted, so that I could just espy, as in a frame of cloud, a little spot on the deck of the _Rata_, where stood a man. He was tall like a giant. The tawny hair waved carelessly in the wind. He carried no weapon, but leaned with both hands heavily on the rail, like a man wounded, and his face, when he turned it, was pale. There was a grim smile on his lips as he watched the panic- stricken sailors hauling off their ship; and once he turned and looked up, not at me, but at where I had been. "Fire!" shouted the men at my side, "or we strike." I dropped the gun into the waves below, and with a mighty lump in my throat, whipped out my knife and waited for what should follow. They fell back amazed at my madness, and, while they consulted what to do with me, I took my chance to grip the first of them by the throat and swing him off his perch. At that moment a shrill whistle came up from below. "You are wanted on deck, comrade," said I; "will you go down by the mast, or a shorter way?" "The mast," he gasped. So I had my way, and we all went below together. The English captain--one Admiral Winter--swore roundly when he saw me; and, when he heard my story, said he had bellies enough to fill without a great hulk of a fellow like me to eat more. And he promised me, if he caught me idle at my work, he would trip me by the heels himself. Whereat I thanked him and went forward. But I was in doleful dumps. For I had lost my friend--perhaps for ever. "Come, haul away, land lubber that thou art," cried a voice at my side. Looking round, whom should I see but that same Will Peake, the mercer's man of London Bridge, with whom I had had so many a merry bout in times past. He was too busy just then to do aught but grin in my face and bid me haul away. For the other Spanish ship had fared worse than the _Rata_, and was already heeling over on her side. "Haul away, you hulking lubber," yelled Will, "or she'll be on her beam- ends before we are clear." So, for five minutes, we and a parcel of other fellows worked might and main to cut away tackle and clear ourselves of the doomed galleon, which settled over farther and farther, showing her whole broadside from gunwale to keel, and blazing despairingly heavenward with her guns.