In spite of these odds, and the spectacle of two fanatical friars on the ramparts, with lance in one hand, and crucifix in the other, urging on the garrison to resist to the death the handful of aggressors—­the indomitable courage of Miller did not allow him to remain in the forts he had already taken till nightfall, when he would have been comparatively safe by attacking in the dark.  Choosing out of his small band a forlorn hope of sixty men, he perilled his own safety, upon which so much depended, by leading them in person; every gun and musket of the enemy being concentrated on a particular angle of the path which he must needs pass.  As the detachment reached the spot, a shower of grape and musketry mowed down the whole, twenty out of the sixty being killed outright, whilst nearly all the rest were mortally wounded.  Seeing their gallant Commander fall, the marines, who were waiting to follow, dashed through the fire, and brought him off, with a grape-shot through his thigh, and the bones of his right foot crushed by a round shot.  Another dash by the force which remained brought off the whole of the wounded, though adding fearfully to their numbers.  This having been accomplished, Captain Erescano, who succeeded to the command, ordered a retreat; the Spaniards, animated by success, and urged on by the friars, following just within musket-shot, and making three separate attacks, which were on each occasion repelled, though from the killed and wounded, the pursuers were now fully six times their number.  Nevertheless one-half of the diminished band kept the enemy at bay, whilst the other half spiked the guns, broke up the gun-carriages, and destroyed the military stores in the forts captured in the morning, when they resumed their march to the beach, followed by the Spaniards as before.

The marines who, with affectionate fidelity, had borne off Major Miller, had been careful to protect him from fire, though two out of the three who carried him were wounded in the act; and when, on arriving at the beach, they were invited by him to enter the boat, one of them, a gallant fellow named Roxas, of whom I had spoken highly in my despatches from Valdivia, on account of his distinguished bravery, refused, saying, “No, Sir, I was the first to land, and I mean to be the last to go on board.”  He kept his word; for on his Commander being placed in safety, he hastened back to the little band, now nearly cut up, and took his share in the retreat, being the last to get into the boats.  Such were the Chilenos, of whom the mean jealousy of the Minister of Marine, Zenteno, refused to allow me a thousand for operations at Callao—­which could have been conducted with ease, as Valdivia had been captured with less than a third of that number.