"
On the 15th a grenado fell short of the house, in a walk near the chapel
tower: some pieces of the shell, two inches thick, flew over the wall,
and were gathered up by the attendants. It was a mighty achievement to
fire this unwieldy engine, requiring great labour and exertion to fill
up its mouth when once it had vomited forth its malice. The day after,
they loaded it with stones: to their great joy, Morgan and his
bombardiers beheld one of them strike within the body of the house, it
being always a matter of some uncertainty where the ball might spend
itself. Indeed, it was said, in derision it might be, that sometimes
their guns occasioned more damage to the besiegers than to the besieged.
Morgan now set to work, keeping as accurately as he might the head of
the blatant beast to the same level, and loading it with a grenado. When
the gunner had finished his task and lighted the fusee, Morgan rubbed
his hands for joy. Retiring sharply, off went the missile with an
explosion that shook the whole fabric. When the smoke was gone they
perceived some trifling damage in an old court, where the bomb, striking
about half-a-yard into the earth, burst as it rose, much abated of its
violence; yet it shook down some slight buildings near, but without
hurting any one, save two women who had their hands scorched as a
memorial of their presence at the siege of Lathom.
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