Shovel's still more famous _Barfleur_.

The day wore to its close, the guards were posted, and the men
prepared for rest. Then there came the long-expected answer from the
Marquis de Salinas, the Governor of the fortress. It was a stout and
dignified refusal. He and his men had sworn allegiance to King Philip,
the old fellow said, and in Philip's name he held the town and Rock of
Gibraltar, and would continue to hold them as long as he could.

"That looks like business," cried George, gleefully, to a little group
of his comrades around, and the men smiled at the eager enthusiasm of
the lad. The orders were passed round that the attack should begin
with daybreak on the following morning, and the soldiers went to roost
at once, with easy minds. It was believed that the attack would be but
a harmless bit of child's-play, as it was more than suspected that the
defending force within the town was very small, though how
ridiculously small it really was none of the besiegers at the time
even guessed.

"Turn out, mate," cried one of the soldiers, shaking George vigorously
by the shoulder, and the boy sprang up to find everybody astir.

"How I do sleep in this hot country!" he yawned, to which the sergeant
replied with a laugh, "It'll be hotter still before long, my lad,
never fear."

It was a long time before the first shot was fired, however, the
disposition of the troops and the guns not being complete. At length a
movement was made. The _Dorsetshire_, with Captain Whitaker in
command, was sent to capture a French privateer with twelve guns,