As it was they were too late.

The bowmen rushed into the glade, and five muskets from our side took toll of them.

My last vision was of leaping yellow devils capering from among blazing trees.
Then without warning it was dark again, and from the skies fell a deluge of rain.

In a minute the burning creepers were quenched, and the whole world was one pit of ink, with the roar as of a thousand torrents about our ears.

As the vividness of the lightning, so was the weight of the rain.