At the moment, says Barbaro, when the defenders were rejoicing at having driven out the three hundred from the barbicans, the pagans again fired their big gun and under cover of the smoke and dust the besiegers advanced. A huge but orderly crowd of archers, slingers, and musketeers discharged their arrows and other missiles. Successive volleys were steadily fired upon the Greeks and Italians defending the whole length of the stockade, so that they could hardly show a head over the battlements without being struck. The missiles fell in numbers, says Critobulus, like rain. They darkened the sky, says Leonard. When the defenders had been thrown into some confusion by this long hail of missiles, Mahomet gave the signal for advance to his ‘fresh, vigorous, and invincible’ Janissaries. They rushed across the foss and attempted as their predecessors had done, to carry the stockade by storm. Ten thousand of these ‘grand masters and valiant men,’ says Barbaro, with admiration for a brave enemy, ‘ran to the walls, not like Turks, but like lions.’ Fighting in presence of their sovereign, says Critobulus, they never lost their dash, but fought like men possessed and as if life were of no value. They tried to tear down the stockade; to break or pull down the great barrels of earth which crowned it; to drag out the beams and thus break down or make a passage through into the Enclosure; to climb over it on the scaling-ladders which once placed against the wall were immediately crowded with assailants. Their shouts and yells, their calls upon Allah, the noise of their drums, fifes, and trumpets, the roar of the culverins and cannon once more struck terror into the affrighted citizens and were heard, says Barbaro, across the Bosporus. For a while all was mad confusion. We do not need the confirmation of Barbaro and Critobulus of the statement that the Greeks and Italians were worn out with their long defence before the attack by the Janissaries commenced. They had been hewing and hacking, throwing down stones and hurling back ladders for nearly, or perhaps quite, three hours and were unequal to contend with many times their numbers of men ardent and fresh for battle. But they knew, as indeed did every one within the city, that the crisis of the attack was at hand, and they manfully fought on. The church bells added to the din: the alarm bells on the walls were calling for every available help. Women and children, monks and nuns, were either assisting to bring stones to their friends on the walls or were on their knees praying that their great city should not fall into the hands of the pagans. Justiniani and his little band met the attack with lances, axes, pikes, and swords, and cut down the foremost of their assailants. For a short time the fight became a hard hand-to-hand encounter, neither party gaining any advantage over the other. [Sidenote: The Kerkoporta incident.]