triumphantly. But again he was doomed to disappointment. Beyond the “Green-way stretched a large shallow lake called “Freshwater Mere” through which there was but one passage, a deep canal. As fortune would have it, however, this canal led directly under a bridge that was in possession of the Spaniards. This time the enemy had looked well to its defences, and a few skirmishes soon convinced Boisot that the foe had the advantage of him. So he prudently drew off and waited.
Only two and a half miles from the beleaguered city lay the rescuing fleet stranded in shallow water, unable to progress an inch. The east wind blew steadily, the waters decreased and the Spaniards laughed in their faces. Within the city reigned a despair all the blacker for the brief illumination of hope that had now died. But God had not yet forsaken the cause of the right.
On the eighteenth of September the wind changed, a great gale raged for three days
