“They were in fact forced to get assistance and bring up no less than six against one. The two ships that had at first sailed past now returned, and the Dreadnought came alongside of us, with not more than half a pistol-shot between her and our stern. You may imagine the fire of these six giants pouring balls and small shot into a vessel of 74 guns. But our ship seemed positively to grow bigger in proportion to the desperate bravery of her defenders. They themselves seemed to grow in strength as their courage mounted, and seeing the dismay we created in an enemy six times as strong, we could have believed ourselves something more than men.
“Churruca, meanwhile, who was the brain of us all, directed the action with gloomy calmness. Knowing that only care and skill could supply the place of strength he economized our fire, trusting entirely to careful aim, and the consequence was that each ball did terrible havoc on the foe. He saw to everything, settled everything, and the shot flew round him and over his head without his ever once changing color even. That frail and delicate man, whose beautiful and melancholy features looked so little fitted to dare such scenes of terror, inspired us all with unheard-of courage, simply by a glance of his eye.
“However, it was not the will of God that he should escape alive from that storm of fire. Seeing that no one could hit one of the enemy’s ships which was battering us with impunity, he went down himself to judge of the line of fire and succeeded in dismasting her. He was returning to the quarterdeck when a cannonball hit his right leg with such violence as almost to take it off, tearing it across the thigh in the most frightful manner. We rushed to support him and our hero sank into my arms. It was a fearful moment. I still fancy I can feel his heart beating under my hand—a heart which, even at that terrible moment, beat only for his country. He sank rapidly. I saw him make an effort to raise his head, which had fallen forward on his breast; I saw him try to force a smile while his face was as white as death, and he said, in a voice that was scarcely weaker than usual: ‘It is nothing—go on firing.’
“His spirit revolted against death and he did all he could to conceal the terrible sufferings of his mutilated frame, while his heart beat more feebly every instant. We wanted to carry him down into the cabin, but nothing would persuade him to quit the quarterdeck. At last he yielded to our entreaties and understood that he must give up the command. He called for Moyna, his lieutenant, and was told that he was dead; then he called for the officer in command of the first battery, and the latter though himself seriously wounded at once mounted the quarterdeck and assumed the command.
“But from that moment the men lost heart; from giants they shrank to pygmies; their courage was worn out and it was plain that we must surrender. The consternation that had possessed me from the instant when our hero fell into my arms had not prevented my observing the terrible effect that this disaster had produced in the minds of all. A sudden paralysis of soul and body seemed to have fallen on the crew; they all stood petrified and speechless and the grief of losing their beloved leader quite overpowered the disgrace of surrender.
“Quite half of the men were dead or wounded; most of the guns were past serving; all the masts except the mainmast were gone by the board and the rudder could not be used. Even in this deplorable plight we made an attempt to follow the Príncipe de Astúrias which had given the signal to retreat, but the Nepomuceno was mortally wounded and could not move nor steer. Even then, in spite of the wrecked state of the ship, in spite of the dismayed condition of the men, in spite of a concurrence of circumstances to render our case hopeless, not one of the six English captains attempted to board us. They respected our ship even when she was at their mercy.
“Churruca, in the midst of his agony, ordered that the flag should be nailed to the mast, for the ship should never surrender so long as he breathed. The delay alas! could be but brief, for Churruca was going rapidly, and we who supported him only wondered that a body so mangled could still breathe; it was his indomitable spirit that kept him alive added to a resolute determination to live, for he felt it his first duty. He never lost consciousness till the very end, nor complained of his sufferings, nor seemed to dread his approaching death; his sole care and anxiety was that the crew should not know how dangerous his condition was, so that no one should fail in his duty. He desired that the men should be thanked for their heroic bravery, spoke a few words to his brother-in-law, Ruiz de Apodaca, and, after sending a message to his young wife he fixed his thoughts on God, whose name we heard frequently on his parched lips, and died with the calm resignation of a just man and the fortitude of a hero; bereft of the satisfaction of victory but with no angry sense of defeat. In him duty and dignity were equally combined, and discipline was second only to religion. As a soldier he was resolute, as a
