The consternation of the Americans it would be hard to imagine. They
were simply aghast, and Clif stood fairly rooted to the deck.

His mind was in a tumult, but he strove to think what that startling
interruption could mean.

"They must have fired at us!" he gasped.

And if there was any doubt of that an instant later came a second flash.

To a merchantship in war time such a signal is peremptory. It means slow
up or else take the consequences.

There were two possibilities that presented themselves to the commander
of this particular merchantship. One was that he had met an American
warship----

And the other! It was far less probable, but it was possible, and
terrible. They might have fallen into the hands of the enemy.

But whatever was the case, there was nothing for Clif to do but obey the
signals. He could not run and he could not fight.

"If I only knew," he thought, anxiously.

And then suddenly he learned; for a faint voice was borne over to him
through the gale. It was a voice that spoke English!

"Ahoy there!" it rang.

And Clif roared back with all his might!

"Ahoy! What ship is that?"

And his heart gave a throb of joy when he heard:

"The United States cruiser Nashville. Who are you?"

"The Spanish merchantman Maria, in charge of a prize crew from the
Uncas!"

Whether all that was heard in the roar of the storm Clif could not tell;
but he put all the power of his lungs in it.

He knew that the story would be investigated.

And so he was quite prepared when he heard the response:

"Lay to and wait for a boarding party."

And quick as he could move Clif sprang to the pilot house, and signaled
to stop, and the vessel swung round toward the stranger.

The die was cast, for good or evil. They had given up!

For perhaps five minutes there was an anxious silence upon the vessel.
Every one was waiting anxiously, while the ship rolled in the trough of
the sea and shook with the crashes of the waves. Her small crew were
picturing in their minds what was taking place out there in the
darkness, their comrades struggling to get a small boat out in that
heavy sea.

And then they fancied them buffeting their way across, blinded by the
spray and half swamped by the heavier waves.

"They can't be much longer," muttered Clif, impatiently.

"Ahoy there! A ladder!"

It seemed to come from right underneath the lee of the merchantman. And
it was shouted in a loud, peremptory tone that was meant to be obeyed. A
moment later the rope ladder was flung down. Clif peered over the side
when he dropped it.

He could make out the shape of the boat tossing about below; he could
even distinguish the figures of the men in the boat.

And then he made out a man climbing hastily up.

He stepped back to wait for him. He saw a blue uniform as the officer
clambered up to the deck.

And then suddenly he stood erect, facing Clif.

The cadet took one glance at him and gave a gasp of horror.

It was a Spanish officer!

And he held in one hand a revolver and was aiming it straight at Clif's
head.




CHAPTER VI.

REPELLING BOARDERS.


That had been a cleverly managed stroke, and it left the young officer
simply paralyzed. All he could do was to stare into the muzzle of that
weapon.

He realized of course in a flash how he had been duped. And he was in a
trap!

Half dazed he looked and saw a Spanish sailor in the act of lifting
himself up to the deck to join his superior. And Clif had no doubt there
were half a dozen others following.

There was of course nothing that Clif could do; a movement on his part
would have been sheer suicide.

He thought the case was hopeless; he had let himself be caught napping.

But the cadet had forgotten that there were other Americans on that
vessel besides himself. And there were no revolvers threatening the
others.

The rage of the Yankee tars at what seemed to them a cowardly and
sneaking way to capture the ship was too great for them to control.
Prudence would have directed surrender, for the Maria had not a gun on
board and the Spaniard might blow her out of the water.

But nobody thought of that; the same instant the Spanish officer
presented his weapon and disclosed his real nationality, there were two
sharp cracks in instant succession from the bow of the imperiled ship.

And the officer staggered back with a gasp. He dropped his weapon to the
deck, reeled for an instant and then vanished over the side in the
darkness.

There was a moment of horror, and then Clif heard him strike with a thud
on the small boat below.

At the same time there was a bright flash just in front of Clif, and a
bullet whistled past his ear.

The Spanish sailor, who had only half reached the deck, had fired at
him.

By that time there was no longer any hesitation as to what course to
pursue. The sailors had decided it by their fatal shots. It was
resistance to the death.

And Clif whipped out his own weapons and sent the sailor tumbling
backward to follow his officer.

Then he drew his sword and with two slashing strokes severed the ladder.
From the yells and confusion that followed there must have been quite a
number clinging to the rope.

But where they were or what their fate was nobody had any time to learn.
Everything was moving like lightning on the merchantman.

Clif leaped into the pilot house and signaled full speed. There was no
further need of lookouts and so the two sailors rushed down into the
engine-room to see that the order was obeyed.

The big vessel started slowly forward. The cadet sprang to the wheel,
his mind in a wild tumult as he strove to think what he should do.

As if there were not confusion enough at that instant there were several
loud reports in quick succession, followed by deafening crashes as shots
tore through the vessel.

The Spaniards had opened fire!

"But they'll have to stop to pick up that boat's crew!" gasped Clif. "We
may get away!"

And that being the case every minute was precious; the vessel had swung
round, but there was no time to turn--she must run as she was for a
while.

And from the way the vessel trembled and shook it could be told that the
irate tars down below were making things hum.

"They may burst the boilers if they can," thought Clif, grimly.

The new course they were taking was south, exactly the opposite of the
way they had been going. But Clif did not care about that.

"The storm will drive us faster!" he gasped. "And every yard counts."

The Spanish gunboat (nobody on the Maria, of course, knew but what she
was a big cruiser) fired only about half a dozen shots at her daring
enemy; then the yells of the crew of the small boat must have attracted
her attention and forced her to desist for a moment.

"And now's our chance," was the thought of the Americans.

They were making the most of it, that was certain; they were fairly
flying along with the great waves.

Clif himself was at the wheel, seeing that not an inch was lost by
steering wrongly.

"We'll know soon," he muttered. "Very soon, for she'll chase us."

The scene at this time was intensely dramatic; for the big ship had
glided out into the darkness and those on board of her could not see
their pursuer. They had no means of telling where she was, or whether
they had escaped or not.

They could only keep on listening anxiously, tremblingly, counting the
seconds and waiting, almost holding their breath.

They knew what the signal would be. The signal of their failure. If the
Spaniard succeeded in finding them, he would open fire and soon let them
know.

Clif tried to guess how long it would take them to pick up the
unfortunate occupants of that small boat.

"They'll be raging mad when they do," he thought. "Gorry! they'll murder
every one of us."

For they would probably call the shooting of that officer a murder; it
did not trouble Clif's conscience, for he knew that a merchant vessel
has the same right to resist the enemy that a warship has. It was not as
if they had surrendered and then imitated the example of the treacherous
Ignacio.

"I wonder how Ignacio likes this anyhow," thought Clif.

But he had no time to inquire the Spaniard's views on the struggle; Clif
was too busily waiting and counting the seconds.

He did not think it would be very long before the enemy's ship would be
after them again; and yet several minutes passed before any sign of the
pursuit was given.

Clif began to think that possibly they had eluded their would-be
captors. But his hopes were dashed, for suddenly there came the dreaded
warning shot.

And it was fired from so close that, though the Americans had been
listening for it, it made them start. It was evident that the enemy's
vessel had come close to do the business; her first shot seemed fairly
to tear the big merchantman to pieces.

And Clif shut his teeth together with a snap.

"We're in for it now," he muttered. "That settles it."

There was no longer the last hope of escape. There was no longer even
any use of keeping on. There were but two things to be considered, sink
or surrender.

There was a grim smile on the cadet's face as he turned away from the
wheel.

"Tell the two men to come up from below," he said to one of the sailors.

And then he went out on deck, staring in the direction of the pursuing
vessel. There was no difficulty in telling where she was now, for a
continuous flashing of her guns kept her in view.

Clif was cool, singularly cool, as he stood in his exposed position. He
was no longer anxious, for he had no longer any hope. There was nothing
on board the Maria that could cope with the enemy's guns. There was only
the inevitable to be faced.

The cadet soon guessed the nature of the pursuer from the way she
behaved. Her guns were all low down and close together. They were about
three-pounders, and rapid-firing.

"It's a gunboat like the Uncas," he muttered. "Gorry! how I wish the
Uncas would come back!"

But the Uncas was then near Havana, far from any possibility of giving
aid. And Clif knew it, so he wasted no time in vain regrets.

By that time the Spanish vessel had gotten the range, and her three or
four guns were blazing away furiously. The gunboat was alight with the
flames of the quick reports, and the sound was continuous.

"They aren't doing as well as I did," Clif said. "But still, they'll
manage to do the work."

And so it seemed, for shot after shot crashed through the hull of the
already battered vessel. The Spaniards were mad, evidently. There was no
hail this time and proposal to surrender. But only a calm setting to
work to finish that reckless ship.

The sailors came on deck and Clif, when he saw them, turned and pointed
to the Spaniard.

"There she is, men," he said. "Look her over."

For a moment nobody said anything; the little group stood motionless on
the deck. They were in no great danger for the firing was all directed
at the hull.

Then suddenly Clif began again.

"I guess this vessel is about done for," he said. "She will be either
sunk or captured. The only question is about us--what's to become of us.
I leave it to you."

None of the men spoke for a moment.

"I suppose," Clif said, "that we can manage to let her know we surrender
if we choose. We can scuttle the ship before we do it. But you know what
we may expect; after our shooting those two men they'll probably murder
us, or do things that are a thousand times worse."

Clif stopped for a moment and then he turned.

"Think, for instance," he said, "of being at the mercy of that man."

He was pointing toward Ignacio, who lay near them, glowering in his
hate, and the sailors looked and understood.

"It's better to drown, sir," said one.

And the rest thought so, too, and declared it promptly.

"Very well, then," was the cadet's quiet answer, "we will stay on board.
We have faced death before."

That resolution made there was little else left to be determined.

"We can sink the ship, or wait and let them sink it," the cadet said.
"Or else--there's one thing more. We are headed in the right direction.
We can smash her upon the rocks of the Cuban coast."

And the sailors stared at him for a moment eagerly.

"And stand a chance of getting ashore in safety!" they cried.

At which the cadet smiled.

"I'm afraid there's very little chance," he said. "But it's as good as
anything else. We'll try it."

"Yes, sir."

"You two go down to the engine room again, and keep things moving. And
the others stay on deck and make sure those Spaniards don't try to board
us again. I can handle the wheel myself."

And with that the brave cadet turned away and sprang toward the pilot
house.




CHAPTER VII.

A DESPERATE CHASE.


That was a heroic resolution those five brave men had made. But it was
inevitable, for they did not mean that either they or that valuable ship
should fall into the hands of the enemy.

And apparently the enemy knew they did not mean to. For they kept
battering away at the big hulk that loomed up in the darkness, running
close alongside and firing viciously.

Every shot made a deafening crash as it struck home.

But the Americans did not mind it especially. When a man has made up his
mind to die he is not afraid of anything.

And the men on deck paced up and down serenely, and Clif tugged at the
wheel with a positively light-hearted recklessness.

It would have been a cold sort of a person whose spirit did not rise to
such an occasion as that. The wild night and the furious cannonading,
but above all the prospect of taking that huge ship and driving her
forward at full speed until she smashed upon the rocks, was a rather
inspiring one.

The reader may have heard about the man out West who drew an enormous
crowd by advertising an exhibition railroad wreck, two empty trains
crashing into each other at full speed. This was a similar case; it does
not often happened that a man has occasion to drive a ship aground on
purpose.

The resolution to which the Americans had come must have been plain to
the unfortunate Spaniards who were tied up on board the Maria. Their
fright was a terrible one, anyhow.

Clif glanced out at them several times; their presence was the only
thing that made him hesitate to do what he had resolved.

"For they haven't done anything, poor devils," he thought to himself, "I
wish I knew what to do with them."

But there was only one thing that could be done; that was to put them
off in a small boat, and that would be practically murdering them.

"They'll have to stay and take chances with us," muttered Clif.

As if there were not noise enough about that time those men began to
raise a terrific outcry, yelling and shrieking in terror. But nobody
paid any attention to them--except that the sailors took the trouble to
examine their bonds once more.

It would have been dangerous to let those desperate fellows get loose
then. For the Americans had enemies enough to cope with as it was.

All this while the Spanish gunboat had been firing away with all her
might and main. She would cut across the vessel's stern, and send her
shots tearing through the whole length of the ship; then she would come
up close alongside and pour a dozen broadsides in.

And nearly all the shots hit, too.

It was evident to those on board that the merchantman would not stand
very much battering of that sort. Already one of the sailors had come up
to announce that two of the firemen had been struck.

But still the Maria tore desperately onward. Nobody cared very much how
much damage was done, except that they did not want the engines to be
smashed until the ship had reached the shore.

As well as Clif could calculate roughly, it ought not to have taken them
an hour to return to the coast, for they had the storm to aid them.
That they could hold out that long under the unceasing fire he did not
believe.

"But the Spaniards may use up all their ammunition," he thought to
himself.

That was a possibility, for he knew that the supply in the possession of
Spain was a small one.

And the actual course of events made him think that his surmise was
true. The desperate chase kept up for perhaps half an hour; and then
unaccountably the Spaniard's fire began to slacken.

Clif could hardly believe his ears when he heard it.

"What can it mean?" he gasped.

But a moment later his surprise was made still greater. For one of the
sailors bounded into the pilot house.

"She's giving up, sir!" he cried.

"Giving up!"

"Yes, sir."

"How in the world do you mean?"

"She's stopped firing, sir. And what's more, she's dropping behind."

Clif stared at the man in amazement.

"Dropping behind!"

And then suddenly he sprang out to the deck.

"Take the wheel a moment," he cried to the sailor.

And he himself bounded down the deck toward the stern.

He stared out over the railing, clinging to it tightly to prevent
himself from being flung off his feet.

He found that what the sailor had said was literally true. The Spaniard
was now firing only an occasional shot, and she was at least a hundred
yards behind.

What that could mean Clif had not the faintest idea. Could it be that
her engines had met with an accident? Or that she fancied the
merchantman was sinking?

The cadet gazed down into the surging water below him; he could see the
white track of the big steamer and knew that she was fairly flying
along.

He took one more glance in the direction of the now invisible Spaniard.
The firing had ceased altogether.

And like a flash the thought occurred to Clif that whatever the reason
for the strange act might be, now was the time to save the merchantman.

"We can turn off to one side!" he gasped, "and lose her!"

And with a bound he started for the pilot house.

"Hard a-port!" he shouted to the man at the wheel.

But before the man had a chance to obey Clif chanced to glance out
ahead, into the darkness toward which the vessel was blindly rushing.

And the cadet staggered back with a gasp.

"A light!" he cried. "A light!"

Yes, there was a dim flickering point of light directly in front of
them. Where it came from Clif could not tell, but he realized the
significance in an instant.

And at the same time there was another sound that broke upon his ear and
confirmed the guess. It was a dull, booming roar.

The man at the wheel heard it, too.

"It's breakers, sir!" he shouted. "Breakers ahead!"

They were nearing the land!

And then the significance of the Spaniard's act became only too
apparent. The men who were running her had seen the light, and they had
no idea of being led to destruction by their eagerness to follow that
reckless merchantman.

And so they were slowing up and keeping off the shore.

There was a faint hope in that; the Maria might be able to steal away if
she were quick enough in turning.

Clif's order had been obeyed by the sailor the instant he heard it. Clif
sprang in to help him, and they whirled the wheel around with all their
might.

But alas! they were too late! When a steamer waits until she hears
breakers in a storm like that it is all up with her, for she must be
near the shore indeed.

And plunging as the Maria was, urged on by wind and waves and her own
powerful engines, it was but an instant before the crisis came.

Clif had half braced himself for the shock; but when it came it was far
greater than he had expected. There was a crash that was simply
deafening. The huge ship plunged into the rocky shore with a force that
almost doubled her up, and made her shake from stem to stern. And she
stopped so abruptly that Clif was flung through the window of the pilot
house.

The deed was done!




CHAPTER VIII.

A DASH FOR THE SHORE.


Strange to say, Clif was not much excited at the terrific moment. The
peril was so great that he was quite gay as he faced it. He had risen to
the occasion.

He picked himself up and stepped out to the deck.

There he found a scene of confusion indescribable. Above the noise of
the breakers on the shore and the waves that were flinging themselves
against the exposed side of the ship rang the wild shrieks and cries of
the terrified Spanish prisoners.

The vessel after she had struck had been flung around and was being
turned farther over every minute. The violence of the storm that was
struggling with her was quite inconceivable.

The waves were pouring over her in great masses, sweeping everything
before them; and the spray was leaping so high and the flying storm
clouds driving past so low that there was no telling where the surface
of the sea ended and the air began.

The big ship had landed among rocks, and every wave was lifting her up
and flinging her down upon them with dull, grinding crashes that could
be both heard and felt.

A moment after she struck a man came dashing up the ladder to the deck;
it was one of the sailors, and behind were the terrified firemen.

"She's leaking in a dozen places!" the man shouted.

He clung to railing as he spoke, and a great wave half drowned him; but
he managed to salute, and Clif saw a look of wild delight on his face,
one that just corresponded with his own eager mood.

"She'll split in about half a minute, I fancy," the cadet answered, "and
the Spaniards are welcome to what's left. We've done our duty."

And with that he turned to the pilot house, where the rest of the men
were grouped. They were gazing at him eagerly.

"Are you ready, boys?" Clif shouted.

Every one knew what he meant by "ready"--ready to make the wild attempt
to land and reach the shore through all those wildly surging breakers.
The very thought of it was enough to stir one's blood.

And the answer came with a vengeance.

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Then get out one of the boats," shouted Clif.

As he saw the men struggling forward to reach the nearest rowboat he
turned suddenly on his heel. He had something else to attend to for a
moment.

It was an errand of mercy. Those shrieking wretches were all bound to
the railing of the doomed ship, and Clif would never have forgiven
himself if he had left them there. Their faces would have haunted him.

And he drew his sword and set swiftly to work.

He cut the captain loose and put a knife into his hand.

"Get to work!" he cried. "Get to work!"

Clif took the risk of trusting the man, and went on, leaving him with
the weapon. The cadet believed that he would be grateful for his
release.

And besides they were fellow sufferers then, threatened with the same
peril.

And Clif was not mistaken. The man set hastily to work releasing his
comrades, and in less time than it takes to tell it the terrified men
were huddled together on the deck.

The cadet wasted no more time upon them.

"There are three boats left for you," he cried. "Save yourselves."

And with that he turned and made his way down to where his own men were
struggling with one of the small boats.

There was one other thing which in the wild confusion of that moment
Clif managed to remember needed to be attended to. There was Ignacio!

The treacherous Spaniard had nearly been swept off, and he was half
drowned by the floods of water that poured over the deck. But his hatred
of the Americans was too great for him to shout to them for aid.

What to do with that murderous villain was a problem that worried Clif.
Undoubtedly the wisest thing would be to kill him, then and there; death
was the fate he certainly deserved.

And Clif half drew his sword; but it was no use. He could not bring
himself to do such an act. And he flung the weapon back into the
scabbard.

To attempt to carry him away was equally useless; the Americans did not
expect to reach the shore themselves.

"I'll leave him to his fate," Clif muttered. "The Spaniards may help him
if they choose."

And with that he turned toward the sailors again; the men had by that
time nearly succeeded in getting the boat away. They were working like
Trojans.

Every wave that struck the ship helped to fill the boat, even before it
touched the water; the spray poured down over the slanting deck upon it
and the sailors had to empty it several times.

While they were wrestling thus the wind and water and rocks had been
getting in their work upon the doomed vessel. Lower and lower she sank,
harder and harder she pounded.

And then suddenly a great billow heaved itself with a thud against the
bow and fairly hammered it around. One of the sailors gave a yell.

"She's split!"

And sure enough, a great seam had opened amidships and the water surged
in with a roar.

The vessel seemed fairly falling to pieces.

And such being the case the sailors had no time to delay. The frail boat
was lowered into the seething waters; the men tumbled in and seized the
oars. Clif made a wild leap and caught the stern just as one mighty wave
raced by and whirled the boat away from the vessel.

And in one instant it was lost to sight and sound. What was done by the
Spaniards no one could see a thing. The Americans were fighting for
their own lives.

There was but one thing for them to do----

"Pull for the shore, sailors, pull for the shore."

And the great sweeping breakers to aid them. In fact they were flung in
so fast that they could hardly row.

It was a thrilling struggle, that race with the giant waves. The sailors
struggled with all their might, keeping the frail craft straight. And
Clif, with a bucket he had thought to bring, was bailing frantically,
and shouting to encourage the men.

In, in they swept, nearer, with the speed of a whirlwind, toward the
shore.

"If it's rocks, Heaven help us!" Clif gasped.

It seemed an age to him, that brief struggle. Breathless and eager, he
watched the great white caps breaking, smiting against the stern,
struggling to turn that boat but a few inches so that they might catch
it on the side and fling it over.

And meanwhile the wind and waves and oars all helping, on swept the
boat--bounding over the foamy crests, sinking into the great hollows,
leaping and straining, but still shooting on in the darkness.

And every second was precious, for the shore was not far away; the roar
of the surf grew louder--louder almost upon them.

And then suddenly one great seething billow came rushing up behind. Clif
saw it, and shouted to the men. In a second more its white crest towered
over them.

It was just on the point of breaking in a giant cataract of foam; it
would have buried the little boat and its occupants beneath tons of
foaming water.

But it was just a second too late. The little boat's stern shot up; for
a moment it was almost on end, and then it rose to the top of the wave
and a moment later as the crash came and the sweep in toward shore began
the frail craft was flung forward as if from a catapult.

And in it shot with speed that simply dazed the Americans; but it was
toward shore--toward shore!

They had passed the breakers!

And Clif gave a gasp of delight as he felt the wild leap forward. It
seemed but a second more before the rush ended.

The bow of the rowboat struck and the frail object was whirled round and
flung over, its occupants being fairly hurled into the air.

When they struck the water it was to find themselves within a few feet
of dry land. They staggered to a standing position to find that they
were in water only up to their waists. And the great wave was tugging
them out to sea again.

They struggled forward wildly, clutching at each other. A minute later,
breathless, exhausted and half drowned, but wild with joy, they
staggered out upon a sandy beach and sank down to gasp for breath.

"We're safe!" panted Clif. "Safe!"

Safe! And on the island of Cuba, the stronghold of their deadly enemies!




CHAPTER IX.

THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.


It must have been at least five minutes before those exhausted men moved
again; when at last they managed to rise to their feet it was to find
themselves in the midst of absolute darkness, with the wild sea on one
side of them and on the other no one knew what.

The faint point of light which they had seen had now disappeared: but
they took it to mean that there were Spaniards in the neighborhood.

And they did not fail to recognize the peril in which they were. The
firing had probably been heard and the wreck of the merchantman seen. If
so, the Americans could not be in a much worse place.

"We may be right in front of a battery," whispered Clif.

The first thing the sailors did was to see to their revolvers and
cutlasses. And after that they started silently down the shore.

"We won't try to go far," Clif said, "but we must find a hiding-place."

But in that darkness the hiding-places were themselves hidden; the best
the Americans could do was to stumble down the shore for a hundred yards
or so, being careful to walk where the waves would wash out their
footprints.

Then they were a short distance from the wreck and felt a trifle safer.

"We may as well strike back in the country now," said the leader, "at
least until we can find some bushes or something to conceal us."

That was a rather more ticklish task, and the men crouched and stole
along in silence. They had no idea what they might meet.

It was fortunate for them that they were quiet. Otherwise they would
have gotten into very serious trouble indeed.

They stole up the sandy beach a short ways, feeling their way along and
getting further and further away from the sea. They were struggling
through soft dry sand.

And suddenly Clif, who was in front, saw something loom up before him, a
dark line. And he put out his hand to touch it.

He found that the sand rose gradually into a sort of drift or bank. It
was high, and seemed to reach for some distance.

The sailors stopped abruptly, and Clif crept softly forward, feeling
along with his hands; suddenly the men heard him mutter a startled
exclamation under his breath.

"Men," he whispered, "we're in a terrible fix; I ran into a gun!"

"A gun!"

"Yes--a big one. We've struck a Spanish battery, and we must be near
some town!"

The sailors stared at him aghast; and then suddenly came a startling
interruption--one that fairly made their blood grow chill.

"Who goes there?"

It was a loud, stern hail in Spanish, and it seemed to come from almost
beside them!

Quick as a flash the Americans dropped, crouching close together in the
darkness. They could hear the beating of each others' hearts.

There were several moments of agonizing suspense; the Spaniard who had
shouted out was evidently awaiting a reply. And then suddenly he
repeated his challenge.

"Who goes there?"

And a moment later came a sound of hurrying footsteps.

"What's the matter?" Clif heard a voice demand.

He was the only one in the party who understood Spanish, and knew what
was said. But it was plain to the rest that it was a conversation
between a sentry and an officer.

"I heard a footstep, senor capitan!" cried the man. "Quidada! Take care!
It's very near."

There was a moment's pause.

"You must be mistaken," said the officer.

"I am not mistaken," repeated the man firmly. "Santa Maria, my ears do
not deceive me. You said to be watchful, for you have heard firing."

To that the Americans had listened in trembling silence; but the next
made them jump. "I will light this lantern," said the officer.

And the instant they heard it Clif rose silently to his feet; the men
did likewise, and began to creep softly off to one side.

But careful as they were they could not help the grinding sound of their
footsteps in the sand, and it caught the quick ear of the Spaniard.

"Hear it!" he cried. "Por dios, again! Somebody is stealing upon us!"

And an instant later the air was rent by a sharp crack of a rifle--the
sentry had fired!

There was wild confusion at once, and the unfortunate castaways were
aghast. For an instant Clif thought of charging the battery--with four
men. But he realized the folly of that.

"Quick!" he cried, "let us hide. Forward!"

Lights were flashing and men shouting and running about behind the sand
wall just in front of them, but the sailors were still unseen. They
broke into a run and fairly flew down the shore.

They fancied the whole Spanish company was at their heels; but after
they had run for some distance they found that they had not been
pursued.

For the enemy were so taken by surprise at the sudden alarm that they
were if possible more frightened than the Americans.

And so the men stopped for breath.

They stared at each other, as if hardly able to realize the peril into
which they had so suddenly been plunged.

"I think that was the quickest adventure I ever had in my life,"
muttered Clif.

The suddenness of it made him laugh; they had almost walked into a
Spanish fort.

But it was no laughing matter, certainly; it was a confounded piece of
ill-luck.

"For they'll be watching for us now!" muttered Clif. "I'm afraid that
will settle us."

"They'll follow our footsteps!" exclaimed one of the sailors.

That was so, and it was an unpleasant prospect; it was plain that if the
Americans wished to find any safety they must get some distance away
from that battery.

"We'll make one more effort to get back into the country," muttered
Clif.

And amid silence and anxious suspense they once more started up the
sloping seashore.

They crept along as it seemed by inches. But fortunately they did not
run across any more "guns." When they came across an embankment it was
of solid earth and marked the end of the beach.

And there were some trees and bushes there, so the Americans began to
feel more comfortable. For all they knew they might in the darkness have
been strolling into a town.

But they were apparently out in the open country, there seemed to be no
people and no houses near. So they started boldly forward.

It was then late at night, a dark and damp and windy night; so they were
not likely to find many people wandering about.

"What we want to do," Clif said, "is to get back in the country a while
where we can hide until morning. Then if we can find some Cubans we'll
be all right."

Clif was about tired to death. He had done far more work that day than
any of those sailors. But there was no time for resting then.

He gritted his teeth and started; they took their bearings from the sea,
and then went straight on, watching and listening carefully, but meeting
with no trouble.

At first their walk led through what had evidently once been a
cultivated country, for it was level and had but few trees upon it. At
present, however, it was overgrown with weeds.

Once they almost ran into a house, which it may readily be believed gave
them a start. It was creepy business, anyhow, this stumbling along
through the enemy's country without being able to see ten yards in
front.

But the house seemed to be empty. In fact, it could hardly be called a
house any more, for it was half burned down.

The Americans thought that it was empty, for Clif had stumbled and
fallen with a crash over a pile of dry sticks and rubbish. But when he
rose to his feet to listen anxiously there was no movement or sign that
anybody had heard him.

"It probably belonged to some of the reconcentrados," he muttered.

He was about to turn and give the word to proceed.

Then suddenly a new idea occurred to him, and he gave a pleased
exclamation.

"This is lucky!" he whispered. "Men, what is the matter with hiding
there?"

That was a rather startling proposition; for they could not be at all
sure but some one lived there after all.

But Clif had come several miles by that time, and he was disposed to be
a trifle desperate.

A person can get so tired that he will be anxious to enter even a
Spanish dungeon in order to get a chance to rest.

"We will search the house," he said. "If we find anybody we'll hold them
up and make them prisoners; and if we don't, we'll spend the night
there."

And then without another word he started silently forward. The sailors
were right behind him.

What was evidently the front of the house was the part that had been
burned. Clif picked his way over the ruins and into the rear, where
there was a roof still remaining.

There was a door there, half shut; one may readily believe that in
pushing it open Clif was rather nervous.

But nothing occurred to startle him, and so they went forward once more.
The place about him seemed deserted.

Then suddenly Clif did a startling thing.

He took a deep breath and called aloud.

"Anybody here?"

And then for at least a minute or two the little party stood waiting in
silence; but no answer was heard.

"I guess it's deserted," Clif said. "Scatter and search it thoroughly."

And that was quickly done. To their relief the Americans found that the
place was not inhabited and that there was no one near. That once made
sure it may be believed that they wasted no more time in delay.

"I don't think it will be necessary for us to keep watch," he said. "Our
safety lies in our hiding."

They made their way into one of the smaller rooms of the little
building, one which had a key to the door. And having secured themselves
as best they could from danger of discovery, the wearied men sank down
upon the floor.




CHAPTER X.

A STARTLING DISCOVERY.


It may seem strange that they were able to sleep in the perilous
situation they were in; but they were men who were used to holding their
lives in their hands. They say that Napoleon could take a nap, during a
lull in battle, while he was waiting for his reserves to be brought up.

The men were cold and damp, of course, but it was impossible for them to
light a fire, even had they dared to take such a risk. But the darkness
was their principal shield.

But all the cold in the world could not have kept Clif awake; he and the
rest of the men were soon fast asleep, hidden away in the enemy's
country, and surrounded by perils innumerable, yet resting as quietly as
if they were at home.

And none of them awakened either, as the dark night wore on. The day
began to break over the mountains to the eastward, and the gay sunbeams
streamed into the room to find the sailors still undisturbed and
unconscious.

The sun had risen and was half an hour up in the sky before any of the
Americans showed signs of awakening. One of the sailors turned over and
then sat up and stared about him.

It was not strange that the man wondered where he was, for a moment; he
had been through so much during the previous day.

He found himself seated in a little bare apare apartment half charred by
fire, and having damp straw for flooring. His companions, including the
officer, were stretched out upon it.

They seemed in blissful ignorance of the fact that it was damp.

The sailor rose to his feet; he was rather stiff and sore, and somewhat
hungry, but he felt that he ought to be glad to be alive.

And then he stole quickly over to the tiny window to look out; naturally
enough he was a little curious to see what sort of a place it was they
had hit on in the darkness.

There was light, then, plenty of it--too much in fact, so the man
thought. It showed him everything.

And the everything must have included something rather startling. For
the sailor acted in a most surprising way.

He took a single glance out of the window; and then he staggered back as
if some one had shot him.

The man's face was as white as a sheet.

He stood for a moment seemingly dazed, his eyes staring vacantly. And
then suddenly he made a leap across the room and seized Clif by the
shoulder.

It was a startling way for Clif to be awakened; the face of that man had
a sort of nightmare look.

"What is it?" Clif gasped. "Quick!"

"The window!" panted the sailor. "Look!".

The man in his excitement had awakened the rest and they were sitting up
staring at him.

Clif meanwhile had rushed to the window, and when he looked out he acted
just as the sailor had done.

It might be well to describe in a few words what he saw.

There was a small clearing around the deserted building, and beyond that
a heavy wood. Clif remembered having made his way through those woods.

And now somebody else had done likewise. There was a squad of a dozen
soldiers standing on the clearing's edge.

And they were Spaniards!

"Can they have surrounded us?" gasped the cadet.

"Or perhaps they don't know we're here," whispered one of the men.

The full meaning of that startling discovery was made evident to them an
instant later. The officer of the Spaniards was standing to one side
watching a man, who, with bowed head, was carefully scanning the ground.

And he was coming slowly toward the building.

"They're tracking us," whispered Clif.

And just then the man raised up his head and Clif got a glimpse of his
face.

"The villain!" he gasped.

It was Ignacio!

Yes, it was the villainous Spanish spy. He and his Spanish companions
must have succeeded in getting ashore. And they had tracked their
unsuspecting enemies to their hiding-place.

"I wish I had killed him!" Clif muttered half to himself.

One of the sailors heard him, and he drew his revolver significantly.

"It's not too late, sir," he said.

But Clif held up his hand.

"No, no," he whispered. "Not yet!"

That suggestion called him back to action. Not yet--because they had not
yet been discovered.

Ignacio was apparently off the scent; he did not know whether his
victims had dodged the building or had the temerity to enter.

And instantly Clif leaped forward, over to the other side of the
building. If none of the enemy was there it might not be too late for
flight.

"If they are," Clif muttered to himself, "by jingo, they've still got
the building to capture."

Whatever was to be done had to be done quickly, for Ignacio was a
cunning fellow, and wouldn't be apt to delay very long.

Clif gazed out in the other direction and saw to his delight that the
thicket came close to the house, and there were no Spaniards in sight.

He called in a low voice to the men, who stole silently over toward him.

"Quick!" he gasped. "Out, for your lives!"

It was a thrilling moment, and Clif was trembling with eagerness. One by
one he watched the men crawl out of the low window and gather in the
shelter of the building.

And a moment later he himself dropped down; the instant he struck the
ground he started forward.

"To the woods!" he whispered. "And not a sound, for your lives."

And the men sprang softly forward, not even pausing to glance over their
shoulders to see if they were discovered.

Clif fancied at that instant that he was safe. The building was between
him and the Spaniards.

But he did not know that at that moment Ignacio had observed a footprint
in the damp ground that made him aware that they had gone into the
building; he rushed around to the other side just in time to see a blue
uniform vanish in the thicket.

The next moment a wild yell came from his throat.

"Mira!" he shrieked. "Forward! Here they are now!"




CHAPTER XI.

A RUNNING FIGHT.


That cry seemed the death knell of the Americans, and their hearts
leaped up in their throats when they heard it. For a moment Clif thought
of stopping and giving battle then and there.

But he realized the hopelessness of that; it was hopeless too, to run,
with no place to run to. But the sailors were already dashing away
through the woods. And the cadet soon caught up with them and urged them
on.

The Spaniards broke into a run the moment they heard Ignacio's cry; a
minute later they fired a volley into the bushes, probably in order to
alarm the country.

It would have been hard for those five fugitives to go any faster than
they did during the first few moments of that chase. They heard their
enemies banging away and yelling in their rear, and they fairly flew
over the ground.

"Keep together," panted Clif. "We may find some place to make a stand."

The ground over which they were traveling was ill adapted for speed, for
it was rough and the bushes were thick.

But it was as fair for one as the other, and the Americans tore their
way through and sped on.

The Spaniards in the rear apparently knew of other troops in the
neighborhood from the way they kept yelling; Clif groaned as he realized
the hopelessness of their flight.

For even if they succeeded in shaking off their pursuers the whole
country was alarmed and hunting for them. And they had no food and no
one to guide them.

But the present evil was great enough, for the furious Spaniards were
hot on the trail.

"Surrender! Surrender!" Clif heard the officer shouting a short way
back.

The chase would have ended in no time had it not been for the woods,
which kept the fugitives out of sight so that they could not be shot.

But that was a protection that would not last forever. Clif gave a
sudden gasp as he saw a clearing ahead of them.

But it was only a small one, and the Americans sped across it at the
very top of their speed. They hoped to reach the woods before their foes
sighted them.

And they did. Then suddenly a new idea flashed over Clif.

"Stop a minute!" he cried. "Ready!"

The sailors saw him draw his revolver, and they knew what it meant. They
crouched in the bushes, waiting.

"We'll show them it isn't all play," Clif whispered.

And, a second later, half a dozen Spaniards dashed out of the woods.

"Fire!" roared Clif.

There was a quick volley, and then instantly the fugitives sprang up
again and sped on. They left several of their enemies lying on the
ground.

That unexpected move had evidently disconcerted the pursuers, who hadn't
looked for a reception of that kind.

They were not heard on the trail again for fully a minute, while the
Americans made the best possible use of their time. But the pursuers did
not mean to give up as easily as that, and they soon set out once more,
firing away as if a whole army were in sight.

Their little success raised the spirits of the gallant tars
considerably; they seemed to forget they were in the enemy's country.

And they chuckled gleefully to themselves as they raced on through the
woods; they were a pretty small army of invasion, but they had lots of
courage.

But there is a limit to what courage can do, and the unfortunate sailors
soon learned it.

They came to a second clearing, a broad savanna this time.

"We'll have to run for our very lives," gasped Clif.

For if they failed to reach shelter before the Spaniards came up the
former situation would be just reversed and the Spaniards could hide and
fire in safety.

And so the men set out at breakneck speed, as if they were in a hundred
yard's dash.

"I think we can make it," thought Clif. "They seem to be a long ways
behind."

The shouts of the enemy indicated it; Clif's volley had seemed to
deprive them of their former confidence and rashness.

But unfortunately, they were not the only Spaniards in Cuba. The firing
had not failed to attract attention.

The Americans had reached about the centre of the broad plain. There was
high grass and cane upon it, and that made even walking hard. But the
men still plunged on bravely, though they were gasping for breath.

But then something happened that made them gasp still more.

For the shouts of the enemy in the rear were suddenly answered.

And the answer came from in front.

The sailors halted and stared at each other in consternation.

"Do you see anything?" cried Clif.

All that could be made out was a line of bushes and undergrowth, marking
the beginning of the woods.

But out of it came a confused babel of shouts, as if a whole army were
there and had been suddenly alarmed.

"They'll head us off!" gasped the sailor.

But they stood still for only a second; now was no time to delay.

The pursuers in the rear were drawing closer every instant.

There was only one thing left. They were shut off in two directions, but
off to each side----

"Come!" gasped Clif.

And the sailors whirled about and followed him in the new direction. It
was a hopeless hope, but it was not yet time to give up.

And so for perhaps a hundred yards they raced on. They had heard a shout
behind them, and saw the Spaniards running out from the woods, both in
front and behind.

"Turn and fight them!" shouted Clif.

Like wild animals at bay the sailors faced about and jerked out their
revolvers again. They were on the point of opening fire, when suddenly,
as if they were not in trouble enough, there came a new development.

There was a yell behind them, and a crashing sound. Out upon the broad
savanna galloped a whole troop of Spanish cavalry, their carbines in
their hands.

And at their head rode a brightly uniformed captain waving his sword and
galloping down upon the fugitives.

"Surrender!" he yelled. "Lay down your arms."

And that was the last straw; the sailors looked at Clif, and Clif looked
at the sailors. The troopers were not a hundred yards away, and there
were fifty of them.

"I guess we may as well give up," said Clif, grimly. "We've done our
best, I think."

And he turned toward the galloping men, dropped his sword and revolver,
and then folded his arms.

"We surrender," he called. "Come on."

And a minute later the gallant five were surrounded by the cavalrymen,
who stared at them eagerly.

"Who are you?" demanded the gruff captain.

"An officer in the United States Navy," said Clif, promptly. "From the
gunboat Uncas."

"And what are you doing here?"

"We were wrecked on the coast last night. We surrender, and we expect to
be decently treated."

"You are prisoners of war," was the officer's stern response, "and you
will be treated as such. Forward, march!"




CHAPTER XII.

THE FIRST PRISONERS OF WAR.


The command had hardly been obeyed when out from the brush at the
further side of the savanna came the pursuing Spaniards and with them
Ignacio.

The latter made straight for Clif with an upraised dagger, and would
have killed the cadet then and there if the commander of the troop had
not prevented him forcibly.

"You fool!" he said, "don't you know the orders?"

"What orders?"

"From Blanco. Prisoners are to be brought to Havana. If you want to kill
him, wait till you get him there."

And so the furious Ignacio was compelled to leave his enemy alone. He
now rode along behind the troopers, muttering curses under his breath.

But he knew that his time would come later; moreover he had not so very
long to wait, for the capture had been made quite near to Havana.