the sea-gate the street arose suddenly, and on the top of the incline Gigedo had planted cannon which cut lanes in the throng of rebels pressing through the gate. At last the battle resolved itself into a hand-to-hand fight in which the loyalists strove to beat back the rebel forces from the gate. Xuarez saw this, and signalled to The Cortes to stand in closer and drop her shells into the centre of the besieged. At once the warship did as she was commanded, and in a few moments bombs were creating fearful havoc in the ranks of the loyalists. In answer, the guns of the forts speedily opened fire on the warship, but did little damage, as the besiegers were too busily occupied in repelling the foe as they swarmed up the walls, to take careful aim.
What with the dense crowd pressing from without, the loss of men caused by the incessant bursting of the bombs in their midst, the loyalists began to fall back, and, in spite of the most desperate resistance, were thrust beyond the line of cannon at the top of the street. A horde of rebel soldiery rushed inside the gate, and proceeded to scale the ramparts in order to aid their comrades who were climbing the outer walls, and to silence the guns playing on The Cortes.
Skilfully making use of all material he found to hand, Xuarez turned the cannon taken from the loyalists on themselves. In the hurried retreat, they had been unable to spike the guns, and now these, loaded and fired by the rebels, were mowing them down in dozens. The soldiers on the ramparts were either killed or beaten back, and the whole of the sea front of Janjalla was in complete possession of Xuarez. One comfort had the loyalists, namely, that they were protected in the rear by their men defending the land-gate.
Shortly, however, a roar of rage, and the cheers of the besiegers announced that the town was captured on that side. The soldiers retreated towards the Plaza in the centre of the town, and there found their comrades who had fallen back from the sea-gate. Here there was this handful of men shut up in the square, surrounded on all sides by the victorious rebels. They could not possibly hold out long against the dense masses converging to that centre from all parts of the town, and it could be easily seen that the siege was practically over.
During the fighting night had fallen, and now the battle was going on in the dim twilight, rendered still darker by the heavily hanging clouds of smoke enwrapping the town. Jack had received a nasty cut on the shoulder; but Philip was unwounded, and in the general scrimmage they managed to keep well together. When beaten back into the Plaza, they made for the telegraph-office, where they hoped to find Tim and Peter. This was the rendezvous appointed by Tim in case the battle went in favour of the rebels, as he wished to send a final message to his paper before clearing out of the town. With a handful of men, principally those belonging to their own regiment, Philip and Jack managed to throw themselves into the telegraph-office, and shortly afterwards were joined by Tim.
“Where’s Peter?” asked Jack, as he saw the huge form of his friend dashing through the door.
“Just behind, with Don Sebastian,” gasped Tim, throwing himself into a chair. “It’s all up, boys; the Opposidores are in full possession of the land-gate.”
“And the sea-gate also,” said Philip, who was reloading his revolver. “All our men are in the Plaza, and can’t hold out much longer. Whew! there’s another bomb.”
“We’d better get out of Janjalla, and make for Centeotl,” cried Don Sebastian, entering with his sword smashed in two; “all is over!”
“Gigedo?”
“Killed! Garibay is wounded, and taken prisoner!”
“Where is Don Pedro?”
“Here I am,” cried Peter, darting into the room and closing the door. “There’s a regiment of rebels cutting their way through the crowd to take the telegraph-office. Xuarez has particularly commanded it.”
“Anyhow, I’ll have time to send another telegram, if I die for it,” said Tim, who was hastily scribbling notes. “Where’s Manuel?”
Manuel had vanished; so Tim, with a growl, sat down to work the instrument himself.
“Keep those devils out, with your men,” he said to Philip, who was barricading the windows with Jack. “I’ll send one telegram, saying Janjalla has fallen, and then we’ll go off.”
“How the devil are we to get away?” asked Philip, angrily.
“Easily. The cavalry barracks are behind here. We’ll get round by the back way and seize the horses, then cut our way out by the land-gate. Once across the river, and we are safe.”
Philip did not wait for the conclusion of this speech, but, with a few men, dashed out at the back of the house to see if the horses were still there. Jack would have followed, but Peter stopped him.
“I have my medicine-chest here. Let me bind up your shoulder.” Jack was unwilling, protesting he did not feel the wound.
“Bosh, my dear boy, you are excited. You will feel it afterwards. If we are to ride to Centeotl, you will need all the blood you have. Don Sebastian can hold the telegraph-office.”
Don Sebastian had posted his men at the windows, and was firing at the mass of rebels, now trying to take the house by storm. All this time Tim was working the instrument and wiring the news of the fall of the city to his editor. Through the yells outside, the rattle of the musketry, and the curses of Don Sebastian could be heard the incessant click, click, click of the telegraph-instrument.
A bomb exploded on the roof of the house, and a few yards of plaster fell from the ceiling. Peter had finished binding up Jack’s wound, and now they were both defending the windows and doors of the mansion.
“How long, Jack?”
“In two minutes the door will be down,” cried Jack. “Do leave that d——d instrument, Tim, and look for Philip.”
“I’ll go!” said Peter, as Tim refused to leave his post. He turned to make for the back way, when Philip came back with a radiant face.
“Here is a dozen horses just outside, all saddled and fresh as daisies! Come, Tim, quick! Jack. De Ahumada.”
“A moment,” said Tim, and went on with his clicking.
Crash! The door was down, and a number of fierce faces appeared at the door. The room was full of smoke, and the rebels were firing freely through the windows. Sebastian and his men threw themselves in front of those trying to face the door, and Philip, seizing Tim by the shoulder, dragged him away from the instrument.
“Tim, you cursed fool. Come along!”
“Just a second!”
He turned back to the instrument in spite of Philip’s protest, but had just clicked twice when Don Sebastian and his men were forced back and a crowd of the enemy rushed into the room. Philip, Jack, and Peter had already disappeared through the back, and Tim was left alone with Don Sebastian and the soldiers. The rebels threw themselves forward with yells of delight, when Tim, catching up a heavy table, flung it fair on the advancing mass, then bolted through the back door, dragging Don Sebastian after him. Two of the soldiers followed, and promptly closed the door when on the right side. At once the rebels commenced to beat it down with the butts of their rifles, but the Irishman and his friend had reached the back street.
Here they found their friends already mounted and waiting for them.
“Tim. De
