Sir Richard strode to and fro, sword in hand, with a staggering gait, now pausing behind the shelter of some yet unbroken piece of bulwark and watching the movements of the enemy. And once he caught at Gilbert Oglander's arm, gripping it tightly as though to support himself.
"I pray thee tell me, Sir Richard," cried the lad. "Art wounded? Wilt go below to the cabin?"
"Nay, nay," returned Grenville quickly, breathing hard nevertheless, "I would but ask thee to hasten below and discover wherefore our guns be silent. Od's life, boy, must we lie here and not give them shot for shot! Go, bid the gunners maintain their firing!"
And Gilbert obeyed, coming back some minutes afterwards, saying:
"Good my master, the last barrel of powder hath been broached, and there is scarce enough for another round."
Then Sir Richard took off the casque from his head and wiped his brow, answering:
"Go below yet again and bid them sweep up the boards of the magazine, and scrape out a handful of powder wheresoever it may be found. And you, boy," he added to young Robin Redfern, who stood trembling near him under the light of one of the deck lanterns, "hie you to one of the water-butts and bring me a drink of water."
His voice was weak, and Ambrose Pennington, who had seated himself on the thick end of a dismounted cannon, heard it and quickly rose to his feet.
"Y'are hurt, Sir Richard," said he. "I know it, though you do bear it so bravely. I beg you let me help you to your cabin, where the surgeon will attend you."
"Wherefore should I leave the deck now," said he,--"now when there be so few to defend it?"
"Nay, I implore you," urged Pennington, and putting his arm about the admiral's body he gently drew him towards the stairs. And Grenville went with him. The surgeon was brought, and he speedily took off Sir Richard's body-armour, and laid bare the many wounds that he had received. These he washed and bound up with bandages. The two stood under a little hanging lamp that was near the open porthole. Their movements, or their flitting shadows, must have been observed upon one of the galleons, for even as they were nearly ready to quit the cabin a musket-shot struck Sir Richard on his shoulder. A second bullet struck him on the head, and at the same moment a third shot killed the surgeon at his side.