Laplace turned to look at the Clock Tower and shouted angrily, "You coward! They'll burn down the town, and our children will starve to death in Lisbon!"
Apinto glanced at him, continued waving the white flag, and switched to English: "Surrender, we surrender..."
The militia, already routed and scattered, saw that even the Member of Parliament had given in; whatever will to resist left them was instantly shattered—they threw down their weapons and knelt down one after another.
"Damn it, we can't just give up!" Laplace shouted anxiously, "Think about those refugee farmers!"
Only the refugees who were hunters, and a handful of townspeople, were still gathered by his side—no more than a hundred or so—continuing to reload and fire.
At that moment, a boy, about ten years old, rushed over, panting, and shouted to Laplace, "Captain... Captain sir, there are lots of British on Red Bamboo Stone Street!"
Laplace's mind buzzed as if struck by a gong.
