Clif looked intently along the shore, but there was no hostile movement
to be seen. But he realized that the fast growing light of the rising
sun must betray their presence to the enemy, if any such were on watch.

"What a fine target we would make for them, too," he thought. "And close
range at that."

His thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation from one of the men who
had been previously addressed by the lieutenant.

"Hurrah!" cried the man. "I've got it!"

The boat was quickly brought to a standstill, and willing hands assisted
him. In a few moments the heavy cable appeared above the surface of the
water and was drawn up to the boat.

"Now, men, quick with the saws!" cried the lieutenant, excitedly. "Quick
work, and we'll be done and away before the Spaniards discover us!"

It required quick work, indeed--quicker than any of the brave boat's
crew then thought.

The lieutenant had no more than given his orders when an interruption,
startling and unwelcome, occurred. He had been anxiously scanning the
outlines of the fortifications and congratulated himself that no
movement was visible in that quarter. The Spaniards were napping, he
thought, and all was well.

But the reverse was the case, as he quickly discovered. No sooner had
one of the sailors began to saw away at the cable than suddenly and
without warning a shower of bullets rained around them in the water and
the ominous boom of a cannon from the shore told they had been
discovered.

"A masked battery to the left!" cried Clif. "They have ambushed us!"

This was true. The fortifications which had alone received the
lieutenant's attention remained silent, while from the left a concealed
battery kept up a raking fire upon the small boat and the intrepid crew.

The Spaniards had not yet gotten the range, it is true, but it was a
tight place to be in--in an open boat, unarmed, helpless and exposed to
the raking fire from shore.

But the men in that boat were full of nerve. Not once did they falter
while shells and shot whistled and burst over their heads, beyond them
and even among them.

"Hurry up, Wilson," cried the lieutenant to the sailor sawing the cable.
"That cable must be cut before we leave the spot."

"Ay, ay, sir," responded the other. "If it kills every man of us!"

It began to look as if that would be their fate. The Spanish shot and
shell, which at first fell harmlessly into the water, now dropped nearer
and nearer. Clif heard an awful buzzing and whizzing sound in the air,
and seemed to feel something hit him in the face and head. It was not
his first time under fire, and he knew that a shell had passed near
them.

The fire from shore increased in rapidity and with more accuracy. From
another quarter, a jut of land nearer to the boat, came a fusilade from
Mauser rifles, and their bullets passed near the heads of the American
crew.

It was a hot place, but the men worked coolly on, determined that their
orders should be executed at all hazards. By rapid work one piece of the
cable was cut, but that was not enough. Another cut must be made at
least fifty feet away, so that the Spaniards could not repair it by
splicing. As the last strands parted and the free end of the cable fell
back into the water, it was discovered that the sailor held the shore
end in his grasp, and that to complete their work they must now draw
closer to the fire of their enemies.

"Fifty feet nearer shore!" exclaimed the lieutenant, and the crew
grasped the oars and unflinchingly began to carry out the order.

The shots of the Spaniards began to tell. Bullets splintered the sides
of the boat, and they had not moved but a few feet from the spot when
another volley severely wounded two of the men.

Wilson, the man who had been so active, fell into the bottom of the boat
severely wounded in the shoulder, and another sailor who was near where
Clif sat, was shot in the thigh. But the boat kept on, rowing nearer and
nearer.

Clif resigned the tiller to the lieutenant, while he bound up the men's
wounds and comforted them as best he could. Then he jumped back to the
tiller.

This was an unfortunate move for him, for in that position he and the
lieutenant were the most conspicuous figures in the boat, and the
Spanish riflemen were making every effort to pick off the officer. A
bullet, intended for the lieutenant, struck Clif in the arm as he took
his place.

"Are you wounded?" shouted the officer above the din, noticing that Clif
momentarily paled.

"It is nothing," replied Clif, resolutely clinching his teeth and
continuing to guide the boat.

Just then the welcome sound of the firing of cannon to seaward reached
their ears.

"It is the New York!" cried Clif. "She is taking a hand in the
scrimmage!"

It was true. With deadly accuracy, the flagship was hurling shrapnel
shell over the heads of the bluejackets into the battery on shore.

And thus between the two fires the little band in their frail boat
continued coolly with their labors, Clif assisting those who became
wounded wholly unmindful of the fact that he himself was bleeding
freely.

But it was soon over. The terrible havoc of the well-directed shrapnel
shot from the New York quickly silenced the masked battery and dispersed
the gunners and the cutting of the cable received no further
interruption from the Spanish forces.

They were enthusiastically received upon their return to the flagship,
bearing a section of the cable to be cut up as souvenirs. The wounded
were tenderly cared for, and Clif himself examined the nature of his own
injury. Fortunately, though it had bled freely, it was but a slight
flesh wound, which gave him no uneasiness after being properly bandaged.

This operation was just completed, when a jaunty young ensign appeared,
and turning to Clif, said:

"Cadet Faraday, you are requested to report to the rear admiral at
once."

Clif saluted and promptly followed the officer.




CHAPTER XXIII.

A PERILOUS DETAIL.


Clif did not have long to speculate upon the cause of the summons. The
ensign led the way to the rear admiral's cabin, knocked, and with Clif
closely following, entered. He then saluted and went out again, leaving
the cadet alone with the officer.

Rear Admiral Sampson noticed the paleness of Clif's face, and
thoughtfully directed him to sit down.

"I hear that you were wounded while cutting the cable," he said at once.
"You were under hot fire while it lasted, and I am proud of the way the
men behaved. I am told that you did not give up the tiller in spite of
your injuries."

Clif, though pleased to receive the praise of the rear admiral, bore
himself modestly. It did not seem to him that he had done any brave act.

"My wound was slight, sir," he said quickly. "It has been properly
dressed, and gives me no trouble."

"I am glad to hear that," replied the officer, "for I have an especial
mission upon which I desire to send you, but of course would not think
of your going if it should endanger your health. Other danger you do not
seem to fear."

Clif reassured the officer that he was ready and able to undertake any
mission intrusted to him.

"It is briefly this," continued the rear admiral. "While you were out
with the boat, I received a communication by the dispatch boat saying
that a courier from the Cuban chief, Gomez, is to be at a certain spot
near, the coast to-night, bearing important dispatches from the
insurgents. It is necessary that we send some one to meet him, and your
previous experience on Cuban soil and your knowledge of the Spanish
language recommend you as the leader of the party. Are you prepared to
go? There may be danger----"

Clif eagerly interrupted him. To his mind it seemed a great honor, as it
really was to be placed in command of so important a mission, and he
counted no danger great enough to cause him to hesitate.

He told the rear admiral as much, forgetting in his eagerness for active
service, that he was but a cadet.

"Then it is settled," said the rear admiral. "To-night the New York will
reach a spot nearly opposite the place of meeting, and you will be ready
with a party of ten, whom you may select. Here is a diagram of that part
of the coast, indicating the appointed spot where the courier is to be
met."

He handed Clif a roughly drawn map, which the latter examined curiously.

"I know the spot well," he exclaimed, after looking at the diagram for a
moment.

"All the better," said the rear admiral.

Then after some further directions and instructions from the officer,
Clif saluted and took his leave, happy in the thought that he had been
singled out for such important duty and that he would have this
opportunity of active work.

He was really glad, though he would hardly admit it to himself, to be
permitted to seek some rest during the day, for his wound was painful,
if not serious.

It was late at night when, with a picked company of ten men, all armed,
Clif parted company with the flagship and steered his boat toward the
shore. The New York had dropped them near the appointed spot, but it had
been deemed prudent not to take the ship near enough to attract
attention to the intended destination of Clif and his crew. They
therefore had considerable distance yet to row before touching land.

"I know the coast pretty well along here," thought Clif, as he set in
the stern, tiller ropes in hand. "We'll get there all right."

Success depended upon their own efforts, for the New York slowly steamed
away along the coast and in the opposite direction.

Clif and his party sped along without any uneasiness. It was night and
darkness favored them. There was no reason to think that their presence
there was suspected or their purpose known.

Still, for all this evident security, Clif kept a sharp lookout for any
of the enemy who might be prowling along like himself, or, worse still,
who might be scouring those waters with one of those silent little
terrors, a torpedo boat.

All went peacefully until they were within less than half a mile of
their destination, and quite near shore. Then suddenly a rifle shot rang
out upon the shore, and sounds of voices came to their ears.

The Spaniards had discovered them!

"Perhaps not," thought Clif, hopefully. "Silence everybody," he said,
addressing the men, "and listen."

Instantly the men ceased rowing, and every one strained his ears to hear
the sounds from shore.

That there was a company of the enemy at that point was evident, from
the noise of many voices and the confused sounds that were borne to the
listeners' ears.

"They have discovered us," whispered Clif to the one nearest him. "I
caught a few words of Spanish that convinces me that the sentry has
heard our oars. Not a sound now! They can't see us in the dark, and will
think it all a mistake."

It was a waiting game that Clif had set out to play, and it seemed the
only thing that could help them under the circumstances. It was out of
the question to think of attacking the Spaniards, superior at least in
numbers. There was other work for the night.

Silently the American crew waited, listening for every sound. Soon these
voices died out, and Clif concluded that they could venture to move once
more.

"Row quietly," was his whispered order. "I'd like to give them a volley,
but that would spoil our plans."

The men cautiously plied the oars and were soon steering softly toward
their appointed place of landing. But quietly as they moved, the sound
was borne ashore and they had not proceeded many boat lengths before
another shot echoed across the water.

"To thunder with the Spaniard," exclaimed Clif, out of patience with the
fresh outbreak. "He's firing at random. Go ahead. We'll meet them
further down the shore if they're not satisfied."

This sentiment met the approval of the men, and they bent to the oars
with vigor and spirit.

They were gliding swiftly across the water, and had nearly reached their
landing place, when Clif heard a noise that put him on the alert.

"Do you hear that?" he exclaimed, after hastily stopping the rowers.

The men rested on their oars and listened.

"Sounds like the throbbing of an engine, sir," at last said one of the
men. "It's a boat, sure."

"Yes, but friend or foe?" exclaimed Clif. "It's not the New York. She
went in the other direction, and I don't know of any more of our boats
in this place."

"Perhaps the New York is coming back," ventured one of the men.

"No," replied Clif. "She's not been here for at least three hours. By
that time we will be ready to return to her."

"It must be a blockade runner," suggested one of the men.

"Well, I don't see as it makes any difference," said Clif, finally. "If
it is, we can't stop her. She can't be after us, for I am sure no one of
the enemy knows our mission. There is our landing place. We must hurry
or we will be late."

With this he turned the prow of the boat toward shore, and gave orders
to proceed. A few minutes later the boat grated upon the beach and the
sailors sprang ashore.

There was no one to dispute their landing. The coast at this point was
wild and uninhabited, and but a short distance inland was the spot
appointed for the meeting with the insurgent courier.

Clif hid the boat among some bushes and quickly led the men up the steep
bank toward a clump of trees.

"This is the spot," he exclaimed as they reached it, "and we are
evidently ahead of time."

No one was in sight, as far as the eye could penetrate the darkness.
There was barely enough light from the moon just emerging from behind a
cloud to enable the sailors to take some notice of the surroundings.
Where they stood, near the sparse clump of trees, it was smooth and
level, but close to one side of them rose a ridge of ground forming a
natural rampart. It almost seemed as though Spanish forms might at any
instant appear upon it behind threatening guns.

Seaward the view was unobstructed, and as Clif turned his gaze in that
direction, he could see the moonbeams reflected on the heaving bosom of
the waters. He saw another sight an instant after that caused him to
utter an exclamation of surprise.

Far out to seaward the beam of a searchlight suddenly shot across the
water. It swept from side to side in a gradually widening radius, until
after a few moments its glare fell upon a steamer whose hulk rose up
between it and the shore.

"It is one of our ships chasing a blockade runner," cried Clif. "She was
trying to sneak out, but is caught in the act."

The little party on shore watched with eager eyes the chase as shown by
the bright beam from the warship's searchlight. In the excitement of the
novel sight that was afforded them they for the moment forgot why they
were there.

Then a strange and mysterious thing happened. As they watched the
pursued vessel they suddenly saw a flash from a gun on the side facing
the land.

"What fools!" cried Clif. "Firing toward the land instead of at our
ship. The fool Spaniards must be rattled worse than usual. That
beats----"

He did not finish the sentence. As he spoke the shell fired from the
ship crashed through the trees and landed almost at his feet. The fuse
was burning and spluttering, and it seemed ready to explode on the
instant, carrying death and destruction to the little party.

It was a perilous moment. Several of the men instinctively dodged and
seemed on the point of running away.

Clif saw his peril in an instant and the only hope of averting it.
Without a moment's hesitation he sprang forward and picked up the shell
as it seemed about to burst. With a mighty effort he hurled the
spluttering missile over the ridge of earth that he had noticed to one
side, and then, with an involuntary sigh of relief, he instinctively
huddled with the balance of the party in an expectant attitude, waiting
for the explosion on the other side of the rampart.




CHAPTER XXIV.

THE CUBAN COURIER.


But the explosion never came.

The party waited breathlessly, expecting to hear a deafening sound from
the shell, and to see the earth thrown up in showers about them. From a
safe place of vantage they felt it was a sight worth seeing and felt
personally aggrieved when, after waiting an unconscionable time, all was
quiet on the other side of the natural rampart of earth.

Clif had been surprised and puzzled in the first place to see the ship
firing away from its antagonist instead of toward it, and was now more
than ever perplexed. To add to the mystery, the ship did not fire
another shot, either at its pursuer or in the opposite direction.

Its only purpose now seemed to be to get away from the American ship. It
seemed to stand a good chance of doing it, too; for it was evidently a
very swift boat, and the pursuing vessel was still far away.

"That's the queerest thing that ever happened," exclaimed Clif, when a
sufficient time had elapsed to enable the shell to explode if it was
ever going to. "What possessed them to fire over here, and what's the
matter with the shell? I'll investigate the latter, at any rate; it's
within easy reach."

Though it seemed as though more than enough time had passed to give the
shell a good opportunity, still Clif, for reasons of prudence, concluded
not to be too exacting on the thing, but to give it a fair chance. He
didn't want to crowd it too close.

So he waited a while longer, and then cautiously climbed up the side of
the embankment and peered over.

There in the moonlight he could see the shell lying quietly upon the
ground. There was no smoke now rising from it, and the fuse had
evidently burned itself out. It seemed a harmless enough piece of steel
now.

He waited but an instant, and then vaulted over on the other side. His
curiosity had been aroused regarding the matter and he for the time
being lost all interest in the chase at sea, as well as the appointed
meeting under those trees on shore.

When he picked up the shell he was more surprised and mystified than
ever.

"What does this mean?" he exclaimed aloud. "A round shell of the
old-fashioned type instead of the conical ones used nowadays! Why, a
shell like this has not been used in any navy for ages!"

He had been too excited at the moment of picking up the spluttering
shell to note its shape or size, but now he saw at a glance that the one
he held in his hand was obsolete and out of date. It was well enough for
the old-fashioned smooth-bore guns, but those of modern make had no use
for them.

As he puzzled over the mystery surrounding the projectile he suddenly
heard a whistle from the other side of the embankment. He recognized it
as the signal from the insurgent courier, and at once was alive to the
importance of carrying out the instructions that had been given him.

He hastily dropped the shell upon the ground and sprang up and over the
ridge of earth.

He gave an answering whistle and soon a form cautiously appeared from
among some bushes not far away.

"Alto quien va?" called Clif before the newcomer had advanced a step.

This was the challenge, meaning, "Who goes there?"

The response came promptly:

"Cuba!"

This is the countersign of the insurgents, and Clif knew that it was the
courier who had reached the appointed rendezvous.

He called out to him to advance, and in the moonlight appeared the
figure of an insurgent soldier, a mambis, as he is called in that
country, a figure with which American tars were to become more familiar
as the war progressed.

His equipment was typical of the insurgent soldier. Beside a pair of
linen trousers and a knitted woolen shirt, he wore a short blouse,
called mambisa. This was a small shirt-like vest, with pockets front and
back, opening at the belt, a handy way of carrying their cartridges
devised by them through necessity during the previous ten-years war. A
panama hat turned up in front and fastened with a silver star, completed
his attire; for as to his feet, they were innocent of a covering.

"Rather a summery outfit," thought Clif as he took it in with a glance.

But he knew that it was sufficient for the needs of the insurgents in
that climate, and that brave hearts beat under the unpretentious
mambisa, and brave deeds were done by the poorly equipped soldiers of
the army of liberation.

The newcomer was effusive in his greeting.

"I bring you greeting from our brave general, Gomez," he exclaimed in
Spanish. "Greetings to our noble friends and allies."

Clif received him cordially, but lost little time in preliminaries. Much
more time had already been consumed than he had calculated upon, and he
was anxious to have his business over with and return to the flagship
with the important dispatches for which he had come.

"I am honored by your words," he said, in reply to the other. "Cuban
liberty is assured by force of American arms, and at the same time we
have our own score to settle with Spain."

"It will be done," said the Cuban.

"But to business," continued Clif. "You have some papers for me, have
you not?"

"Yes," replied the courier, raising his blouse and drawing forth a
package of papers from its place of concealment. "Important dispatches
from our general for your gallant rear admiral. Besides much information
concerning the Spanish fortifications and troops, there are details of
our own plans and preparations which it would be ruinous to have fall
into Spanish hands."

"I'll see that the Spanish don't get them," he said, with a confident
air.

"Be cautious," exclaimed the Cuban. "The enemy have made one effort to
intercept them. I was pursued a mile back from here, but my knowledge of
the country enabled me to give them the slip. It was that encounter that
delayed me."

This was a danger that had not been reckoned on. Every preparation for
the transfer of the papers had been arranged with utmost secrecy.

"But did the Spaniards know of your mission here?" asked Clif, in some
surprise.

"I know not," replied the other. "It is incredible how they could have
discovered it, but I do know that I encountered a detachment of their
troops and that they pursued me."

"Then they may be following you to this point," exclaimed Clif.

"I think not," replied the Cuban. "I made a wide detour and know the
ways of the land too well to leave any trail."

"Nevertheless," said Clif, "our business is transacted, and the sooner
we go our respective ways the better. These papers are now in my care,
and I shall run no risk of their falling into the hands of our enemies."

"You are a wise officer," exclaimed the courier. "And before we part
allow me to present you this. It may interest you."

With this he drew from his mambisa a paper which he quickly unfolded. It
proved to be a sheet about ten by fourteen inches, and Clif could see,
as he examined it by what light the moon afforded, that there was
printing on both sides.

"This," said the courier, somewhat proudly, "is the first copy of 'Las
Villas' ever printed. It is set up and printed at General Gomez's
headquarters under his own direction. It contains, besides orders, and
an address from our beloved general, an account of your intrepid Dewey's
victory at Manila. Ah! that was a magnificent victory!"

"Yes," assented Clif, "and there will be others."

"The American battleships are invincible!" exclaimed the Cuban, with
enthusiasm. "With such noble allies we cannot fail to secure our
liberty. We are no longer instruments, but members of the regular army
of Cuba. God bless America!"

The Cuban seemed in a fair way to continue his rhapsodies indefinitely,
but Clif, having secured the papers for which he came, was now intent
upon delivering them as soon as possible to the rear admiral.

He therefore intimated as much to the courier, and the latter took his
departure.

Clif watched him disappear among the trees in the direction by which he
had approached.

"Now, men," said he, addressing his companions, "to the boat. The New
York will soon be back ready to receive us."

But they had not taken more than a few steps toward the shore when Clif
suddenly stopped as if remembering something.

"Hold on just a minute!" he exclaimed. "That shell! I have special
reasons for wanting to carry that along. It will take but a minute to
find it."

As he started toward the ridge of earth beyond which he had thrown it,
they were all startled to hear the sounds of musketry apparently near at
hand. One volley was quickly followed by another.

Clif sprang upon the embankment for which he had started, and looked off
beyond the clump of trees in the direction from which the sounds came.

He was in that position but a moment or two. A half-dozen reports in
quick succession greeted his appearance--one bullet passing through his
cap.

He dropped on his feet to the ground beside his companions.

"The Spaniards!" he exclaimed, hurriedly. "At least a hundred of them.
From what I saw they were hurrying in this direction and not far away."

They were on the alert on the instant. The sounds that reached their
ears told them unmistakably that the force of the enemy far outnumbered
their own, and were rapidly approaching.

Should they await an attack or run for the boat?




CHAPTER XXV.

"IN THE NAME OF HUMANITY AND THE SAILORS OF THE MAINE!"


"They must have followed the courier in spite of his cleverness,"
exclaimed Clif. "And if they have tracked him, they know we are here.
The question is, shall we meet them here or take to the boat and run the
risk of being shot down without a chance to defend ourselves? The danger
is yours as well as mine. What do you say?"

But before the men could make reply a rousing cheer from the Spanish
soldiers rang out upon the air.

The little band of Americans expected to see the forms of their enemies
appear among the trees at every second in an impetuous charge upon them.
They had no doubt that the cheers were the signal for the attack.

But to their amazement the sounds of approaching steps died out. Clif's
practiced ear told him that the enemy had halted; but at the same time
he recognized marks of enthusiasm among the Spanish forces.

What could it mean?

"Do they think they can scare us off by yelling at us?" exclaimed Clif,
contemptuously. "They don't know us, if they think so--that's all!"

The group of Americans listened intently. There was no doubt of it, the
Spaniards had halted after their vociferous cheers.

Clif decided to find out what it meant. If the Spaniards were preparing
a surprise for him, he intended finding it out.

Cautiously he climbed upon the little rampart of earth and looked away
beyond the trees where he had first seen the approach of the enemy. In
the moonlight he could plainly distinguish the forms of the soldiers.
There were not as many as he had at first supposed--they numbered not
more than fifty.

In the midst of them he recognized a figure that explained the cause of
their mysterious conduct, and at the same time aroused his fighting
instinct.

He quickly rejoined his companions, his eyes ablaze with the fire of
combat.

"They have captured the courier," he explained to his waiting
companions. "That was why they cheered so lustily. A lot of jubilation
over the capture of one man!"

"They don't have such good luck very often," exclaimed one of the men.

"They fired enough shots to repulse a whole regiment of insurgents,"
exclaimed Clif, "but it was all for the benefit of this one mambesi. I
don't believe they saw me at all, but that bullet through my cap was one
of their stray shots."

"But they must know we are here," exclaimed the men.

"I doubt it," replied Clif, "else why do they halt so near and not
charge on us? Shall we force the fight and go to the rescue of our Cuban
friend?"

"How many are there of them?" asked one of the men.

"Only about fifty."

"And there are eleven of us here! We can set them on the run! Let's do
it."

"We have done almost as much on other occasions," said Clif, "but now we
are armed with only our revolvers. They are five to one."

"We have plenty of ammunition," spoke up the men, eagerly. "You know we
took an extra supply."

"But there is another thing we must bear in mind," said Clif, who had
been doing some quick thinking. "I'd like nothing better than to give
them a lively tussle. But here are these important dispatches. They must
not fall into Spanish hands. The New York will soon be due. If we delay
we might miss her."

"That's so," exclaimed the men. "But we can fire one volley at them
anyhow."

"One volley would do no good. It would simply betray our presence.
Either we must fight to the end, or else sneak off to our boat before
they discover us."

The idea of having a lot of the enemy so near at hand and not offering
them battle, went against the grain of all of them. They were not
deterred by the superior numbers of the Spaniards, but Clif's words
about the importance of seeing the dispatches safely in the rear
admiral's hand had some restraining effect upon their ardor.

Clif, with all his bravery, was naturally prudent, but was strongly
tempted to make one effort to release the captive Cuban. He was their
friend and ally, and in his heart Clif felt that if the captive were one
of his own men, there would be no thought of hesitancy or delay.

"One minute," he said, after weighing both sides of the question, "I'll
take a look and see what they are doing."

He sprang upon the embankment and peered off toward the enemy. The main
body of the troops were resting on their arms, apparently satisfied with
the capture of the solitary Cuban.

Clif, however, could see that several of the soldiers were moving about
from side to side, close to the ground, as though hunting for some
object among the grass. Clif was puzzled to think what they could be
seeking, but he felt convinced that the Spaniards had no idea of the
near proximity of the Americans.

Everything seemed to prove that, and Clif was not slow to make up his
mind. There was time yet for some quick action.

"They don't know we are here, men," he exclaimed, when he rejoined the
others. "The Cuban will not betray us. We can surprise them, and if we
sweep down on them with a rush and create noise enough about it we can
make them think the whole ship's crew is after them."

"We'll do it!" chorused the men, eagerly.

"Then, forward to the rescue!" cried Clif, leading the way. "But quietly
through these trees until we reach the other side."

It would seem a foolhardy thing to do--to invite battle with such an
overwhelming force, when they might quietly reach their boat and make
away without detection. But their blood was up, and there was a friend
and ally in peril of a Spanish dungeon or death.

Without a moment's hesitation or further thought, they advanced silently
through the sparse woods, revolvers in hand. They were few in numbers,
but determination was written on every face.

They reached the further edge of the clump of trees without giving a
sound that would betray their presence to the enemy. Here they formed in
line under Clif's leadership, shoulder to shoulder, ready for the
charge.

The moon had gone behind a cloud, but here and there they could detect
the glistening of a hostile bayonet, and the sound of Spanish voices.

They did not pause to contemplate the scene. The time for action had
come.

"The stars are fighting with us!" exclaimed Clif. "The Spaniards will
never know how few we are in this darkness. Now, all together. A rousing
cheer and at them!"

At the signal a shout as of a hundred voices startled the unsuspecting
Spaniards.

"Fire!" cried Clif and a volley from their revolvers carried
consternation into the Spanish ranks.

The shots had told. Groans of the wounded mingled with the hoarse,
startled commands of the officers.

A moment later a return volley rang out upon the air, but the bullets
flew harmlessly among the trees. The Spaniards in their fright were
firing wildly.

The Americans returned the fire and kept it up as rapidly as possible,
yelling for all they were worth. This noisy charge had the effect Clif
had reckoned upon. The Spaniards were thoroughly frightened and Clif's
sharp ear told him that some of the soldiers were already on the run,
and that the officers had difficulty in keeping them all from
retreating.

Clif knew very well that if the enemy had any idea of how meagre were
his forces they would be bolder, and instead of trying to get away would
sweep down upon him with overwhelming force. He, however, was too shrewd
to give them a chance of finding that out. A bold dash would keep up his
"bluff," and now was the time to put it into execution.

Drawing his sword, he started toward them, shouting at the top of his
voice:

"Up and at 'em, boys!" he roared. "Charge!"

Then facing about for an instant, he added in a lower tone:

"Yell like sixty!"

With a wild shout, the little band rushed forward, firing their
revolvers as they advanced in compact line.

This bold dash had the desired effect. The enemy could be heard
retreating in disorder before them.

With redoubled clamor the Americans pressed forward, spurred on by the
excitement of the chase. The moon at this point emerged from its
retirement and showed them the demoralized ranks of the fleeing
Spaniards.

But, unfortunately, it also showed to such of the enemy as looked back
at their pursuers, what a handful of men had caused such terror and
havoc. Clif felt that his "bluff" would now be called.

But the beams of the moon also showed another scene that aroused all the
Americans' indignation and fairly made their blood boil with rage.

In spite of the panic the Spaniards had retained hold of their prisoner.
But the first sight that Clif saw as the moon shone out clear once more,
was one of the Spanish soldiers deliberately placing his revolver
against the unfortunate Cuban's head and sent a bullet crashing into his
brain.

"Treachery! base treachery!" cried Clif, beside himself with indignation
and horror at the scene. "Assassination of a prisoner of war! Boys,
shall we allow such a vile deed to go unavenged?"

The others had also seen, and there was no need to ask the question. But
the answer came prompt and without a dissenting voice:

"No, by thunder! Never!"

"Then at them to the death!" cried Clif, leading them on. "In the name
of humanity and the sailors of the Maine!"

The blood-curdling atrocity had made demons of them all, and with a
hoarse shout they sprang to the charge.




CHAPTER XXVI.

A GAME OF BLUFF.


Clif urged his little band of avengers forward with no thought of danger
or of the consequences. The inhuman scene he had witnessed drove from
his mind all thoughts of the flagship or the important papers he carried
upon his person.

Such barbarity called for vengeance, and that brave American handful of
American tars meant to wreak it on their treacherous foes, or die in the
attempt.

"Come on!" shouted Clif, wildly. "Give it to 'em! Don't let a man
escape!"

A well directed volley was the answer to his command, that sent
death-dealing bullets among the frightened soldiers just before them.
But, unfortunately for the heroic little band, they were now fighting in
the open, and their strength was known to the enemy.

A little further ahead Clif could see that a Spanish officer had
succeeded in rallying some of his men, and they were now forming in
solid line to repulse the charge of the Americans.

The first result of this was a shower of bullets from the Spanish rifles
that fortunately for the most part went wide of the mark. But one
slightly wounded a sailor at Clif's side, as a sharp exclamation of pain
quickly told him.

It also aroused his native caution. What was the use, he quickly
thought, of holding his men there in the full glare of the moonlight as
a target for the enemy's guns, when a more certain conflict could be
carried on from the shelter of the trees just behind him? He had too few
men to risk losing any on those uneven terms.

He quickly ordered his men to drop back into the woods. But it was with
great difficulty at first that he could inforce his commands upon the
now thoroughly aroused sailors. They wanted to continue their impetuous
charge.

But a second volley from the remaining troops showed them the wisdom of
Clif's decision, and with a return volley they fell back into the
darkness and shelter of the trees.

"Now, boys," cried Clif, "every man behind a tree and fight for all you
are worth. Let every shot tell."

The wisdom of Clif's stand became at once apparent. From the ambush of
the woods they could fire with little fear of stopping a Spanish bullet
with their own bodies.

And they did fire, and that to good purpose.

The Spaniards were now bolder and bore down upon the ambushed Americans
with some semblance of order. But at each volley from the sailors there
was a wavering in the ranks of the foe, and Clif could see that more
than one dropped wounded from the ranks.

"We'll lick 'em yet!" cried Clif, with enthusiasm. "Keep it up, boys!"

But the Spaniards advanced steadily in spite of their losses. They, too,
were fully aroused at the thought that they had been so roughly handled
by such a small number of men.

Clif and his gallant band were compelled to drop back from tree to tree.
It began to look as though the Spaniards would in the end become
victorious.

But with the Americans it was do or die. There was no hope of help or
succor from any source. No reinforcements were at hand, and none could
be sent in time from the flagship, even did those on board suspect the
plight in which that boat's crew found itself.

But desperate cases require desperate measures, and Clif was equal to
the emergency. When it became evident that the Spaniards would indeed
fight, Clif's busy brain thought of a means to turn the tide of
conflict.

It was a slight hope, to be sure, but the only one that presented
itself. He smiled in spite of himself, in view of his meagre forces at
the thought that the only way to achieve victory was by a flank
movement.

"I'll take two men," he said hurriedly, "and slip around behind those
fellows. The rest of you keep up your fire here, and if our lungs hold
out we'll make them think we have reinforcements."

It was a very risky move, but with two companions Clif put it into
execution at once. They hurried through the woods so as to flank the
enemy, an easy task, as the latter were now well up to the little grove.

As they reached the edge of the woods which would bring them in the
enemy's rear, they set up a mighty shout.

"At them, boys!" Clif yelled at his imaginary forces. "Come on! we've
got 'em!"

Then in Spanish he cried, so that the enemy could hear:

"Surrender, you Spaniards! Twelve men have held you, and now we'll take
you!"

He had reached the edge of the clearing, and paused a moment, facing
around and beckoning to his imaginary reinforcements.

The Spaniards were completely bewildered. The fire from those that Clif
had left behind continued without intermission, and the Spaniards could
not but think that the vociferous sailors in their rear were new
arrivals.

They could not in the first place conceive of the daring and hardihood
that would lead a dozen men to oppose their forces unless reserves were
near at hand. And now, thought they, these reinforcements had arrived.

Clif and his companions made noise enough to give color to this belief,
and without stopping to see what there was behind the demonstration, the
Spaniards took to their heels.

"They are not men, but devils!" Clif heard some one say in Spanish, as
they dropped their rifles and start on the run.

Even the officer who had succeeded once in holding a remnant of his
panic-stricken forces together, now gave up the fight and sprinted away
as fast as the rest.

Every man seemed to be looking for his own safety, and they did not
pause to see what was behind them. Here and there, it is true, one of
the fleeing Spaniards could be seen helping a wounded companion in his
flight. But as for further resistance, there was none.

Clif could not forbear to laugh at the odd sight of an army in a foot
race to escape a few American sailors.

"American bluff has won the day," he laughed. "Our Cuban friend's death
has been avenged, and that without the loss of a man on our side."

"The Spanish are good sprinters, at any rate," said one of the men, as
they started with Clif to rejoin their companions.

Here Clif had all he could do to restrain his followers from continuing
in pursuit of the enemy.

"No," said he in response to the earnest pleading. "We had better leave
well enough alone. These Spaniards say we are not men, but devils, and
I guess they don't care for another interview. The New York no doubt is
waiting for us, and these dispatches are yet to be delivered."

There was no use to grumble, so the party set out on the return to their
boat. They were highly enthusiastic over the good work done under Clif's
leadership, and were proud of his pluck as well as the good generalship
he had shown.

The tide of battle had carried them some distance from the spot where
they had met the Cuban courier, and further still from where they had
concealed their boat.

But they picked their way expeditiously through the woods, and reached
the beach without further incident.

They were near the clump of trees which they recognized as that behind
which they had hidden the boat when Clif stopped with a sudden
exclamation.

"Gorry!" he said, "I have forgotten that shell. It won't take but a
minute to return for it."

"What's the use, sir?" ventured one of the men. "As you said, we'd
better let well enough alone, and not run any further risk for a shell
that don't even explode."

"That's just the reason I want it," said Clif. "That shell is more
important than you might think. I'll----"

But here occurred an interruption that opened up more startling
possibilities, and drove the unexploded shell from the attention of all.

It was in the shape of an exclamation of surprise and alarm from one of
the men who had gone a few steps in advance of the others, and had
reached the boat's hiding-place as Clif spoke.

It arrested Clif's attention at once.

"What's the matter?" he called, sharply.

"The boat, sir," cried the marine, appearing from behind the bushes.

"What of it?"

"It's gone!"

"Gone?"

"Yes, sir."

Clif, followed by the others, hastened to the spot.

The man had spoken the truth. The boat, which was now their sole
dependence, was no longer there.

They looked in blank amazement at one another and at the spot where they
had fastened it in fancied security.

What could it mean?




CHAPTER XXVII.

IN WHICH CLIF MEETS WITH A SURPRISE.


They were now in a perilous position.

They could not return to the flagship, and at any moment the Spaniards,
finding they were not pursued, might pluck up courage to seek them out
and try conclusions with them once more. If they should find them on
that narrow strip of beach the story of the conflict might be a
different one.

And then the disappearance of the boat itself pointed to enemies they
had not counted upon. Who could have found and taken it?

"Well, now we're in a pretty pickle," exclaimed Clif, when he became
satisfied that the boat had really been taken.

"Perhaps, sir, this is not the place where we left it," ventured one of
the men, catching at that faint hope.

"I wish you were right," said Clif, "but there's no doubt about it. The
boat has been taken."

"There's no doubt of it," the men echoed. "The boat is gone."

But to make assurance doubly sure, they searched the beach under Clif's
direction, examining every clump of bushes that was large enough to
conceal the boat. But the result was a foregone conclusion. The boat was
gone.

"Now what's to be done, sir?" asked one of the men.

What, indeed!

"Something's got to be done," said Clif, with determination. "We've got
to get off this island before daybreak. It's easy to dodge the
Spaniards in the darkness, but entirely a different matter by day.
Besides, we seem to have enemies down here as well as back there on the
hill."

He was scanning the water earnestly as he spoke. It was time, he knew,
for the flagship to return to her position opposite that point, and
await the return of Clif and his crew.

Was she there?

He could not tell. The face of the moon was again obscured by clouds as
it had been most of the night, and it was impossible for Clif to discern
any object at a distance across the water.

He strained his eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the ship they had left
not many hours ago, but the thought occurred to him, "What good will it
do if I do see her?"

But even as he looked the sky suddenly brightened in a tiny spot out to
sea. A long pencil of light shot up from the water, and a cloud was
tinged with a speck of dull white light.

"It's the New York!" cried Clif. "The signal of her searchlight to
return."

They watched that tiny beam of light as though there was hope of succor
in its rays, until it suddenly disappeared, and all was dark as before.

"Now they are waiting for our appearance," said Clif. "But,
unfortunately, we haven't got wings. Hello! What does that mean?"

Clif had turned suddenly in a listening attitude toward the land. The
others had heard the same sound that had attracted Clif. It was the
solitary report of a rifle shot not far in their rear.

"The Spaniards must be returning," said Clif. "They have made up their
minds that we had no reinforcements because we did not pursue them
further. I'll go up and reconnoitre, to see what they are up to."

"I'll go, sir," volunteered one of the men before Clif could get away.

"You stay here. You may be able to see some way of getting us off."

With this he cautiously hurried up the side of the bank, leaving Clif
and his companions in the shelter of the bushes below.

With ears alert to any sound by land, they anxiously strained their eyes
across the water. Could any way be found to cross the expanse that lay
between them and the flagship?

All were silent for many minutes, and then at last the searchlight of
the flagship flashed out once more and swept across the waters before it
disappeared.

"So near and yet so far," exclaimed Clif. "They are getting impatient
for our return."

"If we could signal them," suggested one of the men, "they would send a
boat."

"But we have no means of doing that," said Clif. "We can't shout at
them, and a pistol shot would not be heard, except by our friends the
enemy."

"Perhaps they will send a boat anyhow," persisted the hopeful member of
the crew.

"Perhaps," assented Clif, "after they get tired of waiting for us."

In a short time the scout returned with news that was at least
disquieting in their situation.

"The Spaniards are after us, sir," he reported. "They seem to have
rallied most of their men, and are now near the woods where we met them,
cautiously advancing. They have scouts out looking for us, for I barely
escaped running into one of them."

"They have guessed the trick we played on them," said Clif, "and it will
go hard with us if they find us. How near are they, did you say?"

"They seem to be in the woods now, but they are advancing steadily.
They are scouring the place thoroughly, and may be down on us any
moment."

"Well, boys, we'll do the best we can, if they do get here," said Clif,
quietly.

A calm settled upon the band, for now they knew their situation was
critical. Their ammunition was nearly exhausted, and if the enemy should
succeed in attacking them from the vantage of the hillside, there was
little hope of a successful resistance. Should they succeed in eluding
the enemy in the darkness, there was no doubt that daybreak would seal
their fate.

"There's no two ways about it," exclaimed Clif. "We've got to get off
this island, and that pretty soon."

"See, sir," cried the hopeful member, who had been intently gazing
across the water. "They have sent a boat!"

Clif looked in the direction in which the other was eagerly pointing.

Sure enough, he could discern the outlines of a boat slowly moving
toward them some little distance from shore.

An involuntary little cheer went up from the others as they, too, saw
the boat approaching.

"We are saved!" exclaimed Clif, "and these dispatches will soon be in
the rear admiral's hands."

But suddenly the eager watchers saw the boat stop, then after a few
moments veer around, and continue its course down the coast until it was
almost abreast of the spot where they stood.

Then it as suddenly stopped, and after a moment's pause retraced its
course.

"What's the matter with those fellows?" exclaimed Clif. "Are they afraid
to land?"

"Hadn't we better signal them, sir?" suggested the man. "They don't know
where we are."

The boat had again turned and was apparently patroling up and down,
seemingly waiting for just such assistance in locating the position of
the waiting sailors.

But just as Clif was about to attract their attention by a mighty shout,
his practiced ear caught sounds from the hill above that caused him to
stop. The Spanish soldiers were unmistakably advancing.

"Silence!" he cautioned, in a whisper. "The Spaniards are on the hill
above us and the slightest noise will betray us."

"But the boat, sir!" exclaimed the man. "We must signal it."

"I'll bring it here," said Clif, with a sudden resolve.

He began divesting himself of his blouse and trousers as he spoke.

"What do you mean to do, sir?" asked the men, wonderingly.

"Swim for it," replied Clif. "That's the only way."

"But, sir----"

"Don't delay me," said Clif. "Every moment is precious now."

With this he quietly slid into the water and with quick, powerful
strokes shot through the waves toward the boat.

Clif was in his element.

In the whole ship's crew none excelled him in swimming and diving, and
it was with a feeling of confidence that he forced his way through the
water.

He made not a sound as he went along--for it was to avoid alarming the
Spaniards that he had hit upon this plan.

The boat was not far from shore and he reached it in a few moments. He
was overjoyed to recognize that it was, as he expected, one of the boats
from the flagship.

There were two occupants of the boat, one at the oars and the other in
the stern. Clif did not recognize them, but he did not pause on that
account. Time was precious, and the boat must be gotten to shore and the
balance of the party taken aboard without delay.