This information was of no little importance, and threw light upon what should be done. On the twenty-first of July our commander, considering that it was now time for the ship "San Luis," which was expected from Nueva España, to have made port in some one of the many harbors that these islands contain, decided to set sail at dawn on the twenty-fifth, the day of the glorious apostle Santiago [i.e., St. James], to cannonade the enemy in the midst of his fleet, and to challenge him to battle. In order to do this without the enemy knowing his intention beforehand, he gave orders two days previously that the anchors should be gradually raised, so that on the eve of St. James's day each galleon should remain held by one anchor only. These arrangements having been made, the enemy, who also must have thought that it was getting late, fired a salute on the same day of St. James's eve--the flagship firing five cannon, and the almiranta, and the vice-admiral's ship, each two guns. The squadron weighed anchor and took the route for Manila. Our commander was much grieved that his plans should be frustrated by the enemy, and gallantly set out in pursuit of them, determined to force them to fight, wherever he might encounter them. He regarded himself as fortunate when, on the twenty-eighth of July, he sighted two of the seven [Dutch] vessels above mentioned. When they recognized our galleons, like cowards they backed toward the land, in search of the five ships which were out of sight. During the rest of the day, and all night, our ships continued to approach them; and at daybreak on the twenty-ninth we discovered all seven of their ships together, who were coming from the windward side to look for us. At midday they halted, and again they tacked in another direction, until five o'clock in the afternoon--when our commander, unable to endure such delay, challenged them to battle by firing a cannon.