The other ships left most of the 'save life' business to the picket-boat, and steamed off, firing wildly all the time, though as we who were near could not see those two shore guns, _they_ certainly couldn't, and hadn't a chance of hitting them.
The whole flotilla steamed very slowly along the opposite shore, waiting there a little while for their boats, but those two guns soon picked up the range again, and quickened their retreat, actually having the cheek to fire once or twice at them when the _Hector_ was in the direct line of fire, the shells going right over my ship.
The cruisers and transports got out of range presently, and again waited for those of their boats which were still pulling desperately after them.
One wretched boat, crowded with soldiers, had taken a short cut past the town, and as it came towards us, we saw that it was under a heavy rifle-fire from the shore, bullet splashes jumping up all round it.
The men were pulling frantically, ran the boat under our side--the side away from the town--where they were safe--and stopped to take breath. I recognised the officer standing in the stern-sheets--the smart chap who had put old 'Spats' and myself into our seats in Santa Cruz Cathedral. He recognised me too, and, taking off his hat, sung out, '_Permis--sion, Yuesencia_, to stay.'
'Tut! tut! boy! Stay as long as you like,' I called down, and pointed to the gangway. 'Come on board and have a drink.'
He got his boat alongside, and was up the ladder in a twinkling. I took him down below. He was very excited, and kept shrugging his shoulders and spreading out his hands.
'_Nous sommes trahis--trahis_! Before that we depart from Los Angelos, ze guns of ze forts make _plusieurs coups_--bang!--bang!--bang! We all up jump--we ask _pourquoi_ they do so? They tell us General Zorilla has won _une grande bataille--los insurrectos sont vaincus complètement--allez!--allez!--San Fernando est le votre. Nous sommes trahis--trahis! Nous arrivons à El Castellar_--what we find? _El General? Oui! Mais l'armée?_--where is it? _L'artillerie_--all gone--_peuf_! We are brave--we advance--_et quoi_!' he shrugged his shoulders till I thought he'd dislocate them. 'You see what arrive--and they leave me en arrière--behind. _Peuf! Nous sommes trahis!_'