They fled from unarmed Israel, further than they had from the pistol of Paul.
The flames now catching the rigging and spiralling around the masts, the whole ship burned at one end of the harbor, while the sun, an hour high, burned at the other.

Alarm and amazement, not sleep, now ruled the world.

It was time to retreat.
They re-embarked without opposition, first releasing a few prisoners, as the boats could not carry them.
Just as Israel was leaping into the boat, he saw the man at whose house he had procured the fire, staring like a simpleton at him.
"That was good seed you gave me;" said Israel, "see what a yield," pointing to the flames.

He then dropped into the boat, leaving only Paul on the pier.
The men cried to their commander, conjuring him not to linger.
But Paul remained for several moments, confronting in silence the clamors of the mob beyond, and waving his solitary hand, like a disdainful tomahawk, towards the surrounding eminences, also covered with the affrighted inhabitants.
When the assailants had rowed pretty well off, the English rushed in great numbers to their forts, but only to find their cannon no better than so much iron in the ore.

At length, however, they began to fire, having either brought down some ship's guns, or else mounted the rusty old dogs lying at the foot of the first fort.
In their eagerness they fired with no discretion.