the sea fierce gleams of blue steel. The coasts loomed, the plain moved
in the hot air. Here the plain was arid, and there yellow flowers turned
it to a ragged Field of Cloth of Gold. The gaunt cacti stood rigid, and
the palms made no motion where they dropped against the blue. In cohorts
to and fro went the colored birds; along the sandy shores, rose pink and
scarlet and white, crowded the flamingoes. Crept on the noonday
stillness; came the slow afternoon, the sun declined, and every hour of
that day had been long, long! One would have said that it was the
longest day of the year. Throughout it, dominant upon its ascending
ground, white, impregnable, and silent as a sepulchre, rose the
fortress. Before the fortress, slumberous also, couched the long, low
fortification of stone and earthwork commanding in its turn the road
through the tunal. In the town below, alcalde and friar waited trembling
upon the English Admiral with representations that the quality of mercy
is not strained. The slight rills of gold yet hidden in Nueva Cordoba
burst forth and began to flow fast and more fast towards the English
quarters. From the churches, Dominican and Franciscan, wailed the
_miserere_, and the women and children trembled beneath the roofs which
at any moment might no longer give them sanctuary. For all the blazing
sunshine, the place began to wear a look of doom.

During the day the English dragged Mexia's conquered guns to the edge of
the town, and under their cover threw up earthworks and planted their
artillery where it might speak with effect. Spanish soldiery appeared
before the battery, and, according to the tactics of the time, began to
make thorny with abattis, poisoned stakes, and other devices the way of
the enemy across the open space which it guarded. English marksmen
picked them off, others took their place; they falling also, one great
gun from the fort bellowed defiance. Its echoes ceasing, silence again
wrapped the white ascent and all that crowned it. For days now each