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'Pull up to them； there！' he shouted…everyone in the boat was shouting and yelling。 The men in the bows of the jolly boat faced forward and took the grapnel line and began to haul in on it； but the speed of the boat through the water made any progress difficult； and after a yard or so had been gained the difficulty became insurmountable； for the grapnel was caught in the poop rail ten or eleven feet above water； and the angle of pull became progressively steeper as the jolly boat neared the stern of the galley。 The boat's bow cocked higher out of the water than ever。
'Belay！' said Hornblower； and then； his voice rising again； 'Out pistols； lads！'
A row of four or five swarthy faces had appeared at the stern of the galley。 Muskets were pointing into the jolly boat； and there was a brief but furious exchange of shots。 One man fell groaning into the bottom of the jolly boat； but the row of faces disappeared。 Standing up precariously in the swaying sternsheets； Hornblower could still see nothing of the galley's poop deck save for the tops of two heads； belonging； it was clear； to the men at the tiller。
'Reload；' he said to his men； remembering by a miracle to give the order。 The ramrods went down the pistol barrels。
'Do that carefully if you ever want to see Pompey again；' said Hornblower。
He was shaking with excitement and mad with the fury of fighting； and it was the automatic； drilled part of him which was giving these level…headed orders。 His higher faculties were quite negatived by his lust for blood。 He was seeing things through a pink mist…that was how he remembered it when he looked back upon it later。 There was a sudden crash of glass。 Someone had thrust a musket barrel through the big stern window of the galley's after cabin。 Luckily having thrust it through he had to recover himself to take aim。 An irregular volley of pistols almost coincided with the report of the musket。 Where the Spaniard's bullet went no one knew； but the Spaniard fell back from the window。
'By God！ That's our way！' screamed Hornblower； and then； steadying himself； 'Reload。'
As the bullets were being spat into the barrels he stood up。 His unused pistols were still in his belt； his cutlass was at his side。
'e aft； here；' he said to stroke oar； the jolly boat would stand no more weight in the bows than she had already。 'And you； too。'
Hornblower poised himself on the thwarts； eyeing the grapnel line and the cabin window。
'Bring 'em after me one at a time； Jackson；' he said。
Then he braced himself and flung himself at the grapnel line。 His feet grazed the water as the line sagged； but using all his clumsy strength his arms carried him upwards。 Here was the shattered window at his side； he swung up his feet； kicked out a big remaining piece of the pane； and then shot his feet through and then the rest of himself。 He came down on the deck of the cabin with a thud； it was dark in here pared with the blinding sun outside。 As he got to his feet； he trod on something which gave out a cry of pain…the wounded Spaniard； evidently…and the hand with which he drew his cutlass was sticky with blood。 Spanish blood。 Rising； he hit his head a thunderous crash on the deck…beams above； for the little cabin was very low； hardly more than five feet； and so severe was the blow that his senses almost left him。 But before him was the cabin door and he reeled out through it； cutlass in hand。 Over his head he heard a stamping of feet； and shots were fired behind him and above him…a further exchange； he presumed； between the jolly boat and the galley's stern rail。 The cabin door opened into a low half…deck； and Hornblower reeled along it out into the sunshine again。 He was on the tiny strip of maindeck at the break of the poop。 Before him stretched the narrow gangway between the two sets of rowers； he could look down at these latter … two seas of bearded faces； mops of hair and lean sunburned bodies； swinging rhythmically back and forward to the beat of the oars。
That was all the impression he could form of them at the moment。 At the far end of the gangway at the break of the forecastle stood the overseer with his whip； he was shouting words in rhythmic succession to the slaves…Spanish numbers； perhaps； to give them the time。 There were three or four men on the forecastle； below them the half…doors through the forecastle bulkhead were hooked open； through which Hornblower could see the two big guns illuminated by the light through the port holes out of which they were run almost at the water level。 The guns' crews were standing by the guns； but numerically they were far fewer than two twenty…four pounders would demand。 'Hornblower remembered Wales' estimate of no more than thirty for a galley's crew。 The men of one gun at least had been called aft to defend the poop against the jolly boat's attack。
A step behind him made him leap with anxiety and he swung round with his cutlass ready to meet Jackson stumbling out of the half deck； cutlass in hand。
'Nigh on cracked my nut；' said Jackson。
He was speaking thickly like a drunken man； and his words were chorused by further shots fired from the poop at the level of the top of their heads。
'Oldroyd's in' next；' said Jackson。 'Franklin's dead。'
On either side of them a panion ladder mounted to the poop deck。 It seemed logical； mathematical； that they should each go up one but Hornblower thought better of it。
'e along；' he said； and headed for the starboard ladder； and； with Oldroyd putting in an appearance at that moment； he yelled to him to follow。
The handropes of the ladder were of twisted red and yellow cord…he even could notice that as he rushed up the ladder； pistol in hand and cutlass in the other。 After the first step； his eye was above deck level。 There were more than a dozen men crowded on the tiny poop； but two were lying dead； and one was groaning with his back to the rail； and two stood by the tiller。 The others were looking over the rail at the jolly boat。 Hornblower was still insane with fighting madness。 He must have leaped up the final two or three steps with a bound like a stag's； and he was screaming like a maniac as he flung himself at the Spaniards。 His pistol went off apparently without his willing it； but the face of the man a yard away dissolved into bloody ruin； and Hornblower dropped the weapon and snatched the second； his thumb going to the hammer as he whirled his cutlass down with a crash on the sword which the next Spaniard raised as a feeble guard。 He struck and struck and struck with a lunatic's strength。 Here was Jackson beside him shouting hoarsely and striking out right and left。
'Kill 'em！ Kill 'em！' shouted Jackson。
Hornblower saw Jackson's cutlass flash down on the head of the defenceless man at the tiller。 Then out of the tail of his eye he saw another sword threaten him as he battered with his cutlass at the man before him； but his pistol saved him as he fired automatically again。 Another pistol went off beside him…Oldroyd's； he supposed…and then the fight on the poop was over。 By what miracle of ineptitude the Spaniards had allowed the attack to take them by surprise Hornblower never could discover。 Perhaps they were ignorant of the wo