The two galleys came on abreast of each other, some forty yards apart.
To out-maneuver their oars as he had done the ship's sails, Amyas knew
was impossible. To run from them was to be caught between them and the
ship.

He made up his mind, as usual, to the desperate game.

"Lay her head up in the wind, helmsman, and we will wait for them."

They were now within musket-shot, and opened fire from their bow-guns;
but, owing to the chopping sea, their aim was wild. Amyas, as usual,
withheld his fire.

The men stood at quarters with compressed lips, not knowing what was to
come next. Amyas, towering motionless on the quarter-deck, gave his
orders calmly and decisively. The men saw that he trusted himself, and
trusted him accordingly.

The Spaniards, seeing him wait for them, gave a shout of joy--was the
Englishman mad? And the two galleys converged rapidly, intending to
strike him full, one on each bow.

They were within forty yards--another minute, and the shock would come.
The Englishman's helm went up, his yards creaked round, and gathering
way, he plunged upon the larboard galley.

"A dozen gold nobles to him who brings down the steersman!" shouted
Cary, who had his cue.