called Alhama "la seca," or "the dry."

A desperate conflict ensued on the banks of the river, the Moors
endeavoring to plant palisades in its bed to divert the stream, and
the Christians striving to prevent them. The Spanish commanders
exposed themselves to the utmost danger to animate their men, who
were repeatedly driven back into the town. The marques of Cadiz was
often up to his knees in the stream fighting hand to hand with the
Moors. The water ran red with blood, and was encumbered with dead
bodies. At length the overwhelming numbers of the Moors gave them
the advantage, and they succeeded in diverting the greater part of
the water. The Christians had to struggle severely to supply
themselves from the feeble rill which remained. They sallied to the
river by a subterraneous passage, but the Moorish crossbowmen
stationed themselves on the opposite bank, keeping up a heavy fire
upon the Christians whenever they attempted to fill their vessels
from the scanty and turbid stream. One party of the Christians had,
therefore, to fight while another drew water. At all hours of the
day and night this deadly strife was maintained, until it seemed as
if every drop of water were purchased with a drop of blood.

In the mean time the sufferings of the town became intense. None
but the soldiery and their horses were allowed the precious beverage
so dearly earned, and even that in quantities that only tantalized
their wants. The wounded, who could not sally to procure it, were
almost destitute, while the unhappy prisoners shut up in the mosques
were reduced to frightful extremities. Many perished raving mad,
fancying themselves swimming in boundless seas, yet unable to
assuage their thirst. Many of the soldiers lay parched and panting
along the battlements, no longer able to draw a bowstring or hurl