"Boat ahoy!" he exclaimed joyously, as he reached the side without
having been seen by the occupants. "Take me aboard, men, and then pull
for the shore for all you are worth."

Clif's sudden appearance and the words he spoke had a startling effect
upon the oarsman by whose side Clif made his appearance.

The latter started with an oath, and as Clif seized the side of the boat
and raised himself partly from the water, his gaze fell upon the
glistening barrel of a revolver and back of it he saw a face distorted
with rage and hate.

"Carramba!" fell upon Clif's ear. "It is an Americano! Death to the
American pigs!"

The occupants of the boats were Spaniards.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

A STRUGGLE AGAINST ODDS.


The position in which Clif found himself was so startlingly unexpected
and so full of peril that for a brief instant it almost unnerved him.

Had he suspected the possibility of the boat being manned by Spaniards,
he would have given up the thought as soon as he recognized it as one
belonging to the flagship. It seemed natural that a boat should be sent
to look for them after their protracted absence, and it was a decided
shock to find that he had fallen, alone and unarmed, in the way of his
enemies.

But his surprise affected him but for an instant. He did not propose to
be shot down if he could help it.

The report of the pistol that met Clif's gaze rang out upon the air, but
the bullet did not reach its intended mark.

Like a flash Clif had released his hold upon the boat, and dropped
beneath the water, just in the nick of time.

The Spaniard peered over the side of the boat in the darkness, expecting
to see Clif's form appear on the surface, and hoping to see his life's
blood staining the waters, a testimony to his marksmanship.

How could he have failed to send that bullet crashing through the
American's brain? thought he.

But nothing of the sort happened. Clif not only was not wounded, but was
chipper as a lark. When he disappeared, he dove under the boat and rose
again on the opposite side. The Spaniard would look in vain in that spot
for his intended victim.

But the Spaniard in the bow discovered Clif's head as it appeared for an
instant above the water. With an imprecation of wrath he called his
companion's attention to the spot. But one of them was armed, it seemed.

The other rushed to that side, but when he looked in the direction
indicated, revolver in hand, Clif had again disappeared.

The American lad was as lively as a cricket, and busy thoughts surged
through his brain.

In the first place, he did not propose being a target for a Spanish
bullet. But, above all, he wanted that boat, and, like the cowboy when
he wants a revolver, wanted it "bad."

"How can I get it?" he thought, as his dive brought him up near the bow
of the boat. Help came from an unexpected source, for a few moments
after, he was driven by a new peril to attempt the only plan that could
accomplish it.

The agency that led to his delivery was a shark. That was not the
every-day business of his shark-ship--that of saving an imperiled life
for those inhabitating those waters are especially hungry and voracious.

But it happened this way: As Clif was quietly keeping himself afloat at
the bow of the boat, confident that in that position he ran little risk
of immediate discovery by his enemies, the plans and schemes revolving
in his mind were brought to a sudden standstill by a sight that filled
him with horror. A sharp triangular fin cutting the water like a knife,
flashed past him.

"Merciful Heaven!" he muttered under his breath. "A shark!"

Death faced him on every side. To be sure he might frighten the shark by
churning the surface of the water, but that very act would betray him to
a no less certain death at the hands of his enemies.

His resolve, a desperate one that caused him to shudder as he formed it,
was reached on the instant. The broad back of his enemy, who sat in the
stern, was within easy reach, and inspired his action.

Quick as a flash Clif grasped the stern of the boat with one hand and
with one mighty effort raised himself high out of the water. Before the
Spaniard could divine what was happening, Clif's free arm was thrown
around the fellow's neck, and he was drawn back into the water behind
him.

An instant after Clif clambered over the stern into the boat. With a
shudder at the thought of the fate that awaited the luckless Spaniard,
he addressed himself to the work that lay before him.

And there was plenty of it, and lively, too, while it lasted.

The other Spaniard, who had been peering into the water ahead, turned
sharply around when he heard the noise made by the splash of his
companion, and in the act involuntarily dropped the revolver.

What must have been his feelings upon beholding the lithe and dripping
form of the plucky young American emerging from the sea, may well be
imagined.

But Clif did not pause to study the effects. He seized an oar and sprang
toward his remaining foe.

"Surrender, you villain!" he cried in Spanish as he advanced.

The Spaniard seized an oar and with an oath sprang toward the American.

And there, on the quiet bosom of the water in the dim light of night,
ensued a stubbornly contested duel, in which oars took the place of
broadsword and sabre.

Clif fought savagely and desperately. His blood was up, and he knew that
now, if ever, he was, fighting for his life.

But in the end it was fortune that favored him. A chance blow upon his
antagonist's head rendered the latter unconscious, and victory again
perched upon the young American's banner.

There was no time for exultation, even if he had felt that way. The work
had been too serious, and necessity for action was too imperative.

Satisfied that he had nothing to fear from his enemy, now lying helpless
in the bottom of the Boat, Clif seized the oars and turned the boat
toward shore.

It was trying work for one man to row that boat even the short distance
that lay between him and shore--especially after the ordeal through
which he had passed. But excitement buoyed him up and he made good
progress.

His companions in the shade of the bushes where he had left them had
witnessed his exciting duel and were wrought up to tense excitement. How
they bemoaned the fact that they were not there to help him!

It became evident that there were other spectators, too; for no sooner
had Clif seized the oars and began to row for the shore than a volley of
bullets rattled out across the water from the hill that had witnessed
such thrilling scenes earlier in the night. The Spanish soldiers had
discovered Clif!

In the face of this, Clif redoubled his efforts to reach the beach and
rescue his companions, who might any moment be attacked by the soldiers
in their rear.

But the enemy's attention was concentrated upon Clif and his boat, and
he shot through the waters in a perfect hail of missiles. They spattered
into the waters all around him, but wide of their mark.

He reached the shore, and as he sprang upon the ground his faithful
little band could not repress a cheer at his bravery and pluck.

But he urged them on. Not a moment could now be lost. The enemy, shut
off temporarily by the overhanging hill, might be down upon them any
second.

Clif gathered up his clothing and at a word they all sprang to their
places and the boat leaped through the water with a bound, and was away.

"To the flagship!" Clif cried, and then uttered an exclamation of alarm.

"The dispatches!" he cried, as he felt among his clothes. "They have
been left behind!"

At a word the boat was turned round and shot swiftly toward the beach.

Yelling Spaniards could be heard racing down the hillside. They had
discovered the landing-place, and bullets began again to rain about the
water.

It seemed sure death to return in the face of that fire, but the
intrepid crew sped on. The dispatches must not fall into Spanish hands!

The boat grated on the sands, and Clif sprang out. One instant brought
him to the spot where his clothes had lain. Fortune favored him. As he
felt along the ground, his hand touched a package of papers.

"The dispatches!" he cried, as he sprang to his place in the stern of
the boat, which had been turned ready for the start. He gave the word
and away they sped, this time with the flagship as the goal. Spanish
bullets flew after them, but they were safe. It was only when they were
for a moment brought out into bold relief by the searchlight that again
began to play from the flagship that the bullets of the enemy came near
their mark.

And then the firing ceased and the boat sped on. An enthusiastic and
jubilant crew it was. Only Clif seemed in a dissatisfied mood.

"Gorry!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I came off without that shell after
all!"

"You seem to lay great store by that, sir," said one of the men.

"I do," said Clif. "But will not return for it just now. To the
flagship!"

Not many minutes later they were safe aboard, the captured Spaniard in
proper custody, and, best of all, the dispatches were personally
delivered by Clif to the rear admiral.

But still Clif was not entirely satisfied.




CHAPTER XXIX.

CLIF'S SECOND EXPEDITION.


In spite of the glorious work accomplished in those few hours Clif felt
chagrined that he had, in the excitement of the struggle on the boat and
under fire of the Spanish soldiers on shore, been forced to return to
the flagship without the shell.

He had thought considerably about it even during the stirring scenes
through which they had passed. He had his own ideas about it and wanted
to put them to the test.

Everything connected with it indicated to his mind some mystery, the
solution of which would materially help the American forces.

In the first place, the way in which it was brought to his attention was
unusual, to say the least. That a ship being pursued by a hostile craft
should deliberately fire away from the pursuer and toward the land was
peculiar, even for a Spaniard.

It was ridiculous to think that the shell had been aimed at Clif and his
party, for even had it been broad daylight the American boat's crew
would not have been visible to those on the Spanish ship. It was merely
a coincidence that Clif happened to be where the shell landed.

"No," thought Clif as he revolved this in his mind, "that shot was not
aimed at our forces. There was some other reason for firing it."

What that was he could merely conjecture, and he was not entirely clear
in his own mind. That the mysterious purpose had been carried out to the
satisfaction of those on the Spanish boat, Clif felt convinced, was
evident from the fact that not another shot was fired.

Then the shape of the shell was an important factor.

"They are not using those round ones nowadays," thought Clif. "This one
must be used for a special purpose. What that is, I'm going to find
out."

The arrival of the Spanish soldiers and their peculiar actions before
the little battle that followed also demanded explanation.

"They didn't know we were there," mused Clif, "or they would not have
been so easily taken by surprise. Why were they there? Their capture of
the Cuban courier was accidental, I'm sure. They were on some other
mission."

Last of all, the theft of the ship's boat and the strange behavior of
the two Spaniards who had taken it and whom Clif had been forced to
overcome added a peculiar feature to the affair.

Taking it all in all, Clif felt that though they had bravely avenged the
murder of the Cuban, and had brought the dispatches safely to the rear
admiral, and with them a prisoner, still an important object had not
been accomplished.

He meant to return for that unexploded shell in the face of every
difficulty and put his ideas to the test. He had this purpose in view
when he delivered with his own hands the dispatches to the rear admiral.

Rear Admiral Sampson glanced quickly over the papers after they were
handed to him, and seemed highly pleased.

"These are of the utmost importance," he exclaimed. "With this
information we will be the better able to act in conjunction with the
insurgents when the proper time comes."

Clif knew the papers must indeed be of especial value from the rear
admiral's manner, for it was decidedly unusual for an officer of such
importance to unbend to that extent with an ordinary cadet. The rear
admiral was evidently more than satisfied with the result of Clif's
mission.

After a hasty examination of the papers, he turned to Clif, who had
remained standing, and asked some particulars of his meeting with the
Cuban courier.

Then Clif briefly but graphically told of his receiving the papers from
the hands of the insurgent and of the latter's tragic death so soon
after at the hands of the cowardly Spanish soldier who held him as a
prisoner of war.

Rear Admiral Sampson's blood fairly boiled as Clif gave him the details.

"The cowards!" he exclaimed, with clinched fist. "It was barbarous!"

"But, sir," continued Clif. "It has been avenged."

And then he briefly and with modest demeanor told of their attack upon
the company of Spanish soldiers, and their victory over them without
the loss of an American life. More than one Spaniard had gone to his
death to atone for that cowardly assassination.

The rear admiral was plainly interested, and at his request Clif gave
the particulars of his subsequent adventures and of the narrow escape in
the boat from the Spanish soldiers firing upon them from the hill and
shore.

"Admirable! admirable!" exclaimed the rear admiral, when the brief
narrative was finished. "I am proud of the bravery of yourself and the
men with you."

"And now, if you please, sir," said Clif, calmly, "I want to go back
there."

"Back there!" exclaimed the admiral. "Where do you mean?"

"To the spot where I met the Cuban," replied Clif.

"What do you mean? According to your account the place is swarming with
Spanish soldiers."

"Not many of them, sir," said Clif. "And it is not my intention that
they should see me. I left something behind that I think is important."

Then he told of the shell that came crashing through the trees where
they stood, and of the series of incidents that had prevented his
examining it as fully as he wished.

He insisted strongly that the recovery of the shell was of the greatest
importance, and intimated something of his ideas concerning the mystery
that it suggested. He spoke to such good purpose that at last the rear
admiral was disposed to grant his wish.

"But it would be better to wait until you have had a chance to rest a
bit," said the latter. "To-morrow night, for instance."

"Delay is dangerous, sir, I think," said Clif. "Others are seeking it, I
know, and it may not be there unless I go at once. There are still
several hours of the night left, and I can easily accomplish it."

The rear admiral had evidently been impressed with what Clif had told
him concerning the shell, and at last agreed that he should go about it
in his own way.

"Very well, then," he said at last. "Take a boat's crew and go at once."

"If you please, sir," exclaimed Clif, "I would rather take one of the
small boats and go alone. One man can move about with less fear of
detection."

"Young man, you are undertaking a very dangerous mission," exclaimed the
rear admiral. "But you seem to have the pluck, and I have confidence
that you can take care of yourself. Do then as you wish, but take some
signal rockets with you. Don't hesitate to use them if necessary. We
will be ready to send you assistance if needed."

Clif, highly pleased at the confidence that was reposed in him, saluted
respectfully and hastened away to prepare for the venture.

In a few minutes he was ready, the boat was lowered, and for the second
time that night he left the flagship to face fresh dangers on the shore.

But this time he was alone. Success and safety depended upon his unaided
efforts.




CHAPTER XXX.

THE BATTLE IN THE BRUSH.


Was it a foolhardy venture, he thought, as with steady stroke he forged
ahead away from the flagship, and toward the shore he had so recently
left amid the clatter of hostile bullets.

The enemy now must be on the alert, and he might be detected and
captured the instant his boat touched shore. And he was not blind to the
dangers that might confront him on land.

"I'm in for it now, at any rate," he thought, "and I've got to succeed.
This mystery must be solved, and I believe the result will show that it
is worth all the risk."

Darkness favored him, and besides he was alone; and for that very reason
could move around with less risk of discovery once he reached land. He
knew exactly where he had dropped the shell, and it would not take long
to get it.

It was therefore with confidence that he urged the boat forward.

It was a long pull, for the flagship lay well out to sea, but Clif did
not seem to feel the strain. He drew near the shore without detecting
any hostile movement or hearing any sound that would lead him to think
that the enemy were on the lookout.

He decided that it would be prudent not to land at the same spot as
previously. He therefore steered for a clump of trees a little further
down the coast, and still not a great distance from the hill where the
shell lay.

Not a sound from the enemy reached his ears as his boat grated upon the
sandy beach, and he sprang out to secure the painter to a bush.

Then, feeling that his revolver was ready and handy for business, he
cautiously began to steal his way through the shrubbery that fringed the
shore.

These screened his advance and soon he was ascending the steep bank in
the direction of the previous encounter. He was getting further away
from his boat and nearer and near to his destination.

"All serene, so far," he muttered, as he advanced steadily without any
adventure. "The Spaniards must have gone."

But suddenly, as he was about to step from the concealment of the trees
into a slight clearing that lay in his path, he heard a sound that
caused him to dodge quickly back. Looking out he saw a figure close at
hand and slowly approaching.

A step further and Clif would have brought himself directly within the
other's view.

It was not Clif's purpose to invite an encounter, although he grasped
his revolver in readiness for an emergency. He desired, rather, to avoid
it, and to quietly make his way to the spot where the shell lay. That
once secured, he felt that he could in the same way return to his boat
and to the flagship.

He therefore silently waited in his place of concealment to see what the
enemy would do. The latter evidently had not heard Clif's movements, and
continued slowly to advance, stooping occasionally and peering from side
to side.

"I think I know what you're after," muttered Clif below his breath. "But
you won't find it here; nor me, either," he added, as he began to edge
away from the position he held.

As he did so, the other turned and slowly continued his course in the
opposite direction.

The coast was again clear, and Clif lost no time in putting what
distance he could between himself and the unwelcome visitor. His course,
too, led him toward the mound of earth behind which lay the object of
his coming.

When he reached the spot where he had met the Cuban courier he found it
deserted. The Spaniards, after the escape of Clif and his men, had
evidently withdrawn.

With a light heart he sprang toward the rampart of earth and began to
ascend its side.

"In one minute it is mine," he thought exultingly, "and then back to the
flagship and the test!"

But a surprise was in store for him. As he vaulted over the top of the
mound on to the other side, he landed almost into the arms of a man who
was just ascending that side.

The man was unmistakably a Spaniard, and from his hands there fell a
round shell, that rolled away across the ground.

The encounter was startling to both, but Clif was the first to recover
his wits. His quick eye detected the fallen shell, and he divined the
fellow's purpose.

Before the other could recover from his evident fright, Clif sprang upon
him.

"So you have found it!" he muttered, as he closed in upon the Spaniard,
"but finding's not keeping's this time."

Clif's attack brought the Spaniard quickly to his senses, and he was not
slow to defend himself.

In a flash he drew his revolver, but Clif was too quick for him. The
latter knocked the weapon from the fellow's grasp before he had a chance
to fire it.

Clif's own weapon was within easy reach, but for several reasons he did
not care to use it. He wanted, among other things, to avoid a pistol
shot which might attract others to the spot.

The contest must be one of muscle against muscle; and to unusual
strength Clif added a surprising agility that came in good stead in such
a struggle.

They grappled, and there in that enclosure formed by the mounds of earth
on several sides the two began a furious hand to hand battle, the result
of which long hung in doubt.

The Spaniard was no mean opponent, and fought with enraged fury. Clif's
astounding exertions during the past hours had been enough to exhaust
the strongest and sturdiest, and he was compelled to acknowledge to
himself, as the battle progressed, that it had made inroads upon his
strength.

Back and forth across the little enclosure the pair fought fiercely.
Once Clif slipped and fell beneath his opponent; but an instant after he
was upon his feet.

His keen eye followed his antagonist's every move. He was watching for a
chance to deliver one blow that would settle the combat. Several times
he had landed upon the Spaniard's head and face, inflicting severe
punishment, but not enough.

At last the moment came. The opening presented itself in the Spaniard's
guard, and with all the strength that was in him, Clif shot out his
right hand. It went home. With a force that seemed to lift the fellow
high into the air, his fist met the Spaniard's chin, and the latter fell
backward to the ground.

It was a clean knockout. Breathing heavily, the fellow lay where he had
fallen, unconscious of his surroundings.

Clif was panting from the exertion. He had received some punishment, and
the wound in his arm was throbbing fiercely.

But he paused only long enough to see that the fellow would not give him
further trouble, and then hurried toward the spot where the shell had
rolled.

"I guess that'll hold you for a while," he muttered, looking at his
fallen foe as he started away.

"But he'll come out of it after a time," he added. "Gorry! how my arm
aches all the way up to the elbow."

It took but a moment for him to find the shell, for he had seen it roll
from the other's hand.

"That's it," he exclaimed, as he picked it up. "I'd know it in a minute
by its shape and weight. Rather light for a cannon ball."

But he did not wait to examine it there. There would be time enough for
that when he reached the flagship.

With a parting look at his unconscious antagonist he started away.

"I'm sorry, my dear sir," he exclaimed, sarcastically, as he looked back
on reaching the top of the rampart. "You seemed so attached to this
shell, I'd like to take you along with it. But as I can only take one at
a time, I'll content myself with this."

Then he turned his back upon the scene of his contest, and started for
his boat as expeditiously as due caution would allow.

He met with no obstacle in the way, and found the boat just as he had
left it. He threw the shell in the stern, and with a feeling of
exultation sprang in after it and seized the oars.

A few steady strokes and he was on the way toward the flagship. But
there had been a change in those quiet waters while he was on the land.

He had not gone many boat lengths from shore before he discovered
looming up before him a slowly moving steamer. It was apparently hugging
the coast and proceeding with as little noise as possible.

"A boat trying to run the blockade!" exclaimed Clif, as he backed water
and rested upon his oars. "She'll succeed, too, unless one of our ships
should happen to discover her with its searchlight."

And then his responsibility, in view of the discovery he had made,
flashed upon him.

"I must warn the flagship at once," he exclaimed, seizing the oars and
sending the boat forward with a spurt.

But after a couple of strokes he suddenly stopped again.

"What a fool I am!" he exclaimed. "By the time I can row out to the
flagship, it will be too late. They must be warned instantly, and there
is only one way of doing it."

He reached for the signal rockets he had brought at the rear admiral's
order. Should he fire them?

Those on board the strange boat that was nearly abreast of him did not
know that he was there. If he gave the signal it would betray his
presence, and no doubt lead to an attack upon himself in his open boat.

Clif looked far out to sea for a moment, half hoping to see the flash of
the searchlight play upon the water, and lead to the detection of the
strange craft.

But the delay was only momentary.

"It is my duty to warn the ships," he exclaimed, as he set a rocket up
in the stern, and drawing a match from his pocket, struck it upon the
seat of the boat. "Here goes!"

A moment later, with a sharp whirr and a flash of light, the rocket shot
up into the air. A second and third followed; then Clif sprang back upon
his seat and seized the oars.

The signal had been given. He had done his duty at whatever risk there
might be to his own safety.




CHAPTER XXXI.

CAPTURED.


Clif had elected to imperil his own existence rather than allow one of
the enemy's boats to pass that blockade without warning to the American
ships. But he had no intention of lying idly by in the path of the
hostile craft.

He waited but a moment after the glare of the last rocket had died out
in the air, and then bent to the oars, and urged the boat toward the
open sea beyond.

And then he had every confidence that he had little to fear from the
enemy's boat.

"They'll have all they can do to look out for their own safety now," he
thought, "without paying any attention to me. The New York has seen the
signal, and will not be slow in making out the cause. Then look out, Mr.
Spaniard."

But there was more taking place upon those waters than Clif was
cognizant of, and peril came from an unlooked-for source.

His decision to send up the warning signal had been quickly formed after
his first discovery of the strange vessel. He had seen at a glance that
it was not a warship, but a merchant steamer. It was moving slowly, and
apparently seeking, as much as possible, the concealment afforded by the
shadow of the coast. Every feature about it showed that it was trying
to quietly steal out past the blockading vessels.

Clif had not delayed, but on the impulse of the moment had sent up the
signal rockets while he was yet between the ship and the shore. But a
few steady strokes would carry him beyond the enemy and toward the
flagship, he thought.

But to his surprise he noticed, on glancing over his shoulder as he drew
nearer the vessel, that the latter was moving slower than before and in
fact had just stopped.

This was puzzling to him, for now, if at any time, the boat should be
showing its utmost speed. Those on board must surely know from the
signals that they had been discovered and that pursuit would instantly
follow.

A few words will explain the situation to the reader. The vessel was, as
Clif suspected, endeavoring to steal out past the American ships, which
were known to be in the vicinity. But a short time before Clif had left
the shore for the second time, the blockade runner had slowed down, and
a boat, manned by half a dozen sailors, had been sent ashore. An officer
in the Spanish army, with important dispatches, was to be taken aboard
at a point not far from where Clif had landed.

The work of the Spanish boat's crew had been expeditiously performed,
and when Clif sent up his signal, they were returning to the ship.
Unnoticed by Clif in his excitement at the time, they were close to one
side of his boat at that fateful moment.

A pistol shot suddenly ringing out in the air and a bullet flying not
far from his head apprised the cadet of danger from that quarter. The
Spaniards, as was natural for them to be, were aroused to a high pitch
of excitement against the youth whose vigilance promised to set all
their plans at naught.

With a hoarse yell of rage they tugged at the oars and their boat fairly
leaped through the water after the intrepid young cadet.

Clif saw the movement, and redoubled his efforts at the oars. It was a
race for his life--one against seven!

With frantic energy he tugged at the oars, and his boat shot forward
with encouraging speed. At that moment the searchlight on the flagship
sent its rays across the waters in answer to the signal, and a dazzling
stream of light played upon the scene.

It brought in clear relief the form of the waiting steamer, and the two
boats racing so desperately near at hand.

What a thrilling scene it must have been to the officers on the bridge
of the flagship as with glass in hand they watched the exciting race.
But it was not given to them long to note the cadet's desperate struggle
for freedom, or to marvel at his great endurance.

The race was a short one, and the result a foregone conclusion. There
was no hope of Clif's escaping from the pursuing boat, with its crew of
fresh and eager oarsmen. The latter closed in upon him with a leap and a
bound, and soon were within oar's length of him.

He recognized the uselessness of trying to escape from them, but was
determined not to surrender without a struggle even in the face of great
numbers.

He dropped his oars and sprang to his feet, facing his enemies. He drew
his revolver, but before he could use it one of the Spanish sailors, who
had risen in the boat, knocked it from his grasp with his oar.

The boats were now side by side, almost touching, and the dark hulk of
the steamer was not many feet away.

From the latter arose aloud cheer as they saw that Clif had been
disarmed, and above the noise Clif could hear a few words of command
from the Spanish army officer who sat in the stern of the boat at his
side. It was to the sailor who had sprung up to attack Clif.

"Don't shoot!" he said. "Take him alive!"

Clif had seized an oar when his revolver fell with a splash into the
water, and there was no doubt that he intended using it.

But two can play at that game, and the Spanish sailor, forbidden to
shoot, attacked Clif furiously with the oar, which he still held in his
hand.

Clif dodged, but as he did so another sailor aimed a blow at his head.
The aim was good.

A sharp pain shot through the young cadet's head, he reeled and all
became dark before him. With a faint moan he fell senseless into the
bottom of his boat.

The contest had been short, and well it was for the Spaniards that such
was the case. Already the flickering of the searchlight told that the
flagship was hurrying to the scene.

The Spaniards realized the importance of quick action. They had, on the
impulse of the moment, retaliated upon Clif because it could take but a
few minutes and because they felt that the chase would end not far from
their waiting vessel.

They congratulated themselves that it had, indeed, brought them almost
to the ship's side, and now they lost no time in getting themselves and
their prisoner aboard. Willing hands assisted from above.

A couple of strokes of the oars had brought them to the ship's side,
with Clif's boat in tow. In obedience to a command, Clif's boat with its
unconscious burden was raised bodily to the deck. The captain thought he
could use it in his business.

A moment later the Spaniards with the army officer reached the deck, and
the ship's captain signaled to go ahead.

All now was excitement on board the Spaniard. Beyond securely fastening
the arms and legs of their unconscious captive where he lay, they paid
but little attention to Clif. They were all too wrapped up in thoughts
of escape from the cruiser whose piercing searchlight was streaming upon
them.

Among the crew there was, here and there, a murmur against the delay
that had been caused by stopping to take on the army officer, and with
this was coupled a note of resentment against the young cadet whose
appearance on the scene promised to spoil all their plans.

But the captain's orders were carried out promptly, the more so as their
own safety depended upon it.

They were not without hope of making good their escape in the end, for
they knew what speed their craft was capable of. It was a fast boat, and
the throbbing of the engines told that she was being urged to her full
speed.

Amid intense excitement of crew and officers, the wild dash for freedom
and safety had begun.

Through all this confusion and flurry the cadet whose prompt signaling
had occasioned it lay helpless and unconscious. The steady thump of the
machinery below, which was steadily carrying him further and further
from his friends, made no impression upon his ears, nor was his mind
aroused by the excitement of the chase or the hope of rescue.

But the race had not been long under way before he began to show signs
of returning consciousness. He stirred uneasily in the bottom of the
boat where he lay, attempting to move his pinioned limbs; then a
long-drawn breath, and he opened his eyes slowly.

The noise from shipboard fell upon his ears, and the sounds confused
him. His surroundings puzzled him and his mind at first could not grasp
the situation. Where was he?

Then with a rush of recollection came the remembrance of the attack upon
him in the open boat. His enemies had triumphed, he thought, and left
him a helpless victim to drift about upon the open sea. But whence those
sounds?

He painfully raised himself to a sitting posture and looked out. To his
astonishment, he found himself and boat upon the deck of a swiftly
moving steamer.

Then he saw it all, and realized what had happened. He caught a glimpse
of the rays of the searchlight that still streamed across the water, and
a moment after heard the boom of a cannon out at sea.

"The New York!" he exclaimed. "She is in pursuit! But she's too far
away, and can never catch this fast boat. The only chance of her
stopping it is with one of her big guns."

And then, involuntarily, he shuddered as he thought that, bound and
helpless, he would share the fate of the Spanish crew if a shot from the
flagship should penetrate the ship's side and send it to the bottom!

He moved a little toward the stern of his boat, as best he could, to get
a better view of the light that showed the approaching flagship. As he
did so he struck a round, hard object that lay behind him.

"The unexploded shell!" he exclaimed, as he recognized what it was. "I
still have that with me, at any rate!"

And then he began to tug at the ropes that bound his arms in a frantic
effort to loosen them.

The rapid throb of the engines below and another boom of cannon from out
to sea told that the chase was becoming a hot one.




CHAPTER XXXII.

CLIF FARADAY'S TEST.


The excitement among the crew of the Spanish steamer was intense as they
watched the light from the flagship and noted the course of the
projectiles that came toward them. For this reason they had not observed
Clif's movements, and gave themselves no concern about him.

Whatever may have been his intended course of action, he was at last
compelled to abandon it.

Strain and tug as he would at the cords that bound his arms, they
remained intact, nor could his ingenuity devise any way of releasing
himself from their hold. Though hastily tied, the knots had been put
there to stay, and Clif at last realized that it was a hopeless task to
try to undo them.

But though he could not free his arms and legs, he could use his eyes,
and the scene was one thrilling enough to rivet his attention.

The fast moving steamer, urged to its utmost speed, the exclamations of
hope and fear among its crew, the more majestically moving flagship
whose deficiencies of speed were more than atoned for by the range of
her guns, suggested possibilities to one in Clif's position that might
well set one's heart to beating wildly.

If the steamer should escape by reason of superior speed, it would
bring joy to the crew, but disaster to Clif, their helpless prisoner.
If, on the other hand, a shot from the flagship should sink the Spanish
boat, Clif perforce would share death with them. Little wonder that
brave as he was, he struggled anxiously to free his arms and legs from
their bonds.

"The New York can never catch us," he exclaimed, when he had settled
down to watching the flagship as best he could. "She is too far away,
and this boat is too fast."

There was little need of the searchlight now, as dawn was approaching.
The forms of the ships could be distinguished in the uncertain light
without its aid.

Clif had been watching the flagship which was astern, but now, looking
forward, he saw a beam of light in that direction. It was several miles
out to sea, and shot across their path.

"That must be the Wilmington," he exclaimed, cheered by a suddenly
revived hope. "She can cut across our path, and all may yet be well."

He looked back at the flagship and saw the red and the blue signal
lights flashing their message to the ship ahead which was, as Clif
surmised, the Wilmington. They also carried a message to Clif, nor was
their meaning lost upon the Spanish crew.

"They have signaled the Wilmington to intercept her," exclaimed Clif.
"But it will be a close race."

He heard the signal from the excited captain of the Spanish boat for
more speed, and the throbbing of the machinery told that they were
endeavoring in the engine rooms to carry out the order. It seemed as if
the engines were already doing their utmost, but Clif could notice a
slight increase in the headway they were making.

It was a fast boat and no mistake, Clif thought, as he anxiously
strained his eyes to see what the Wilmington was doing.

Answering signals told that she had received the order from the
flagship, and that those orders would be obeyed. Clif fervently hoped
that she would be successful. He hated to think of the possibility of a
hostile ship succeeding in running the blockade, and now this patriotic
impulse was heightened by the fact that he was a helpless prisoner on
board the very boat that promised to accomplish that feat.

For, as he watched the race, there was a growing conviction in Clif's
mind that the Wilmington was so far out to sea that she could not hope
to stop the Spanish steamer except by the power of her guns. And a hole
in the side of the enemy's vessel, however desirable under ordinary
circumstances, did not coincide with his hopes or ideas on this
occasion. He had no desire to share a watery grave with his captors.

The two boats were heading for the same point, the Wilmington seeking to
block the path the other was following. One of her guns spoke out, but
the shot fell short. She was not in range.

Faster went the Spanish boat, and nearer to the objective point raced
the two vessels.

Clif breathlessly watched the pursuing craft whose success meant so much
to him. Could she win?

The Spaniards shared his excitement, and watched their opponent with
fully as much eagerness. At last they broke out into a cheer.

Clif was not slow to understand its import. The Spanish boat was making
really a phenomenal run, and had reached a point where it was evident
that if they maintained their speed they would soon be past the
dangerous line. That once reached they could show the Yankee boat a
clean pair of heels.

Clif's spirits fell when he realized that the Spaniards had good cause
for their jubilation. There was no doubt now that the steamer could pass
the danger line and then away.

The Wilmington, too, seemed to realize that there was no hope of
catching up with the other vessel, for now the cannon boomed out in
rapid succession. They were rapidly drawing nearer and within range.

A shot swept across the Spaniard's bows, but on she went. Then another
struck the bridge upon which the captain stood glass in hand, and he had
a narrow escape from flying splinters. But the goal was too near for
them to stop, and he signaled for more steam.

Clif could not but admire this officer's pluck. Under other
circumstances, he would have said that the Spaniard deserved to win.

The vessel seemed to struggle to do what was demanded of her, and sped
on. Another shot from the Wilmington rattled across her bows, but the
crew answered with a cheer. Five minutes more and they would be round
the point and then----

What would happen then was never to be known. Suddenly a loud explosion
was heard from below, and the whole frame of the steamer shook from end
to end. Men rushed on deck in a panic, and wildly proclaimed the cause.

A steam pipe, urged beyond its strength, had exploded, carrying
destruction with it. The race was lost, and the captain promptly hauled
down his flag.

But as he did so, he gave orders to steer toward the land, and the
steamer came to a standstill not far from the shore.

The Spanish army officer carrying the dispatches entered a boat that was
quickly lowered and when the prize crew from the Wilmington boarded the
steamer he was safe upon land and his escape was assured.

When the officer in charge of the prize crew had finished the
formalities, Clif attracted his attention. The cadet had apparently been
forgotten by his captors in the excitement of the chase and the calamity
that had come upon them. The American officer was astonished beyond
measure to find one wearing the familiar uniform in such a plight on
that boat.

"Why, Mr. Faraday," he exclaimed upon learning Clif's identity, and
having released him from his bonds, "we were not aware that they had an
American on board as a prisoner."

"I thought not, from the way you were firing at us," said Clif, with a
smile. "I thought more than once that you would send this particular
American to the bottom along with the shipload of the enemy. You were
firing too accurately to suit me this time."

"Well, the American boys do come pretty near hitting what they aim at,"
responded the officer, evidently pleased at the compliment to their
marksmanship. "But I am curious to know how it has happened that we find
you here."

Clif then briefly told of the adventures that followed his finding of
the unexploded shell, which he picked up from its lodgment in the boat
and held in his hand.

"So you have risked your life for that piece of steel!" exclaimed the
officer. "What can have been your purpose in that?"

"Does it not strike you, sir, that there is something peculiar about
it?" asked Clif, as the other examined it.

"Yes," replied the officer, "it is decidedly out of date, and might be
interesting as a relic, but not of sufficient importance to risk one's
life for."

"I had an idea that there was a mystery about it that was well worth
solving," replied Clif. "And with your permission, sir, I will put the
matter to a test."

"As you like," responded the officer, with the air of a man who is
indulging some childish fancy.

Clif was not slow to take advantage of the permission granted, and
carried the shell to a table that stood upon the after deck, the officer
meantime paying no further attention to him, but attending to some
further detail of transfer.

Clif had procured a fuse and inserted it into the shell and was upon the
point of lighting it when the officer appeared.

"Stop, sir!" he commanded. "Would you blow us all to destruction?"

Others standing near made a move as if to stop Clif, but it was too
late. The fuse was burning rapidly.

With a cry of alarm and amazement, the officers, American as well as
Spanish, sprang to one side and dodged in great fright.

But Clif calmly stood by, his arms folded and a confident smile playing
about his lips.

He was putting his theory to the test.




CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE MYSTERY OF THE UNEXPLODED SHELL.


Mingled with evident fright and alarm there was upon the face of each a
look of incredulity at rashness of the cadet. Had his adventures and
narrow escapes turned his brain, and were they now at the mercy of a
maniac? was in the minds of all.

They had not long to wait. The fuse burned rapidly and spluttered to the
end, and as they all involuntarily ducked their heads at the impending
explosion, a peculiar thing happened.

When the fire from the fuse reached the shell there was a sharp clicking
sound, and those who were looking at the shell saw it suddenly open like
a book, and from its hollow interior fell a roll of paper upon the
table.

This Clif seized and waved over his head in triumph.

"Hurrah!" he cried. "It is as I suspected. Secret dispatches from the
enemy that are worth all they have cost!"

The officers were struck dumb with amazement, and stood and stared at
the smiling young man as though they could not believe their eyes. But
after a time they crowded around him and examined the shell curiously,
and then the papers that Clif held in his hand.

The papers were evidently written in Spanish, and though the American
officers could not read them, they now had conceived sufficient
confidence in Clif to believe that they were indeed of importance.

The shell, whose quest had caused Clif so much peril and danger, was a
curious affair. It had been cunningly contrived for the purpose it had
so admirably fulfilled. Though very much in appearance like the
old-fashioned round shells, it was in two parts, ingeniously hinged so
that when closed it required very close scrutiny to detect the seam.

It was hollow, and consequently light in weight. This fact had first
arrested Clif's attention and had set his thoughts to work upon the
mystery that was connected with it. In the opening where the fuse was
inserted there was a concealed mechanism so arranged that it might not
be detected or opened with the finger, but would readily give way to the
force of a slight explosion in that small cavity. If it should fall into
strange hands, unfamiliar with its design, it was meant to defy all
efforts at opening it.

Clif was the recipient of many expressions of praise from the American
officers upon his ingenuity in fathoming the secret that was so
cunningly devised, and they questioned him at length.

"That is indeed wonderful," said the superior officer. "But how did you
ever guess the purpose for which it was intended or the method of
opening it?"

Clif then explained the circumstances connected with its appearance at
his feet among the trees where he was awaiting the Cuban courier.

"I thought it was strange that a ship being pursued should fire a shell
at the land instead of at its enemy," he said, "and when I picked it up
I was struck with its peculiarities, but my examination was interrupted
by the arrival of the Spanish soldiers. We were kept busy for a while
pursuing them, and did not have much time to pursue this mystery."

The officer smiled knowingly at this, for he had gathered enough from
Clif's previous narrative to know that the little band of sailors had
done great feats that night.

"The shell not exploding," continued Clif, "led me to think that perhaps
it was not intended to explode just then and when I saw that the Spanish
soldiers seemed to be hunting for something there, I jumped to the
conclusion that it was this identical piece of steel they were after.
That explained their presence there and their peculiar behavior. And
what could the Spaniards want with that shell if it did not contain
something of value to them and of greater value to the American cause?"

"You reasoned well," exclaimed the officer, "and so you decided to risk
going back for it, and your ideas have come out triumphant through the
test. But, young man, don't try any more experiments like that when I'm
around."

They all laughed heartily at this sally, at which Clif joined in.

"But it was decidedly a peculiar way to send dispatches," continued the
officer, "and it would seem as though it was uncertain and unnecessary
as well."

"There seemed to me to be a good reason for it, sir," said Clif. "I
figured that that boat had been sent to deliver the dispatches, with
instructions that if they were pursued to fire the shell at a point
agreed upon, and then make their escape. They were pursued, and did fire
toward shore, and the soldiers in waiting evidently saw the flash, and
knew about where to hunt for it. I think, sir, that when these papers
are examined it will be found that they contain information that the
Spanish army ashore wants the worst way."

This proved to be the case. Clif was given custody of the peculiar shell
and the papers it had contained, and after a little delay was taken in
the boat to the Wilmington.

Signals were exchanged between this vessel and the flagship, and in due
time Clif was rowed to the latter and ordered to report to the rear
admiral.

He turned the shell and its contents over to that officer with an
explanation of all that had taken place.

"I see that you had good cause for desiring to go back to find this
shell," said the rear admiral when Clif had finished. "We have learned
from the prisoner whom you secured after a struggle in your boat, that
they had stolen your boat to facilitate the transfer of some papers.
They were late and missed seeing the boat that fired this shell. Now
that you have secured these papers I will call your knowledge of Spanish
into requisition and allow you to transcribe these for me."

And this Clif did; and when he had completed the task it was found that
the most important work he had done that night, was in securing that
shell and unraveling its mystery.

As he issued from the admiral's room Cadet Wells, one of Clif's best
friends, approached him.

"Faraday, old fellow," he said, "I've got news that will interest you."

"I'm listening."

"It's about that exception among Spaniards, the lieutenant who helped
you and Miss Stuart escape."

"Ah! what of him?" asked Clif, eagerly.

"You know he left us on a Spanish boat that brought you over under a
flag of truce. Well, we couldn't touch that boat then, of course, but
yesterday she ventured too far out, and the New York sunk her. We saved
all her crew and from one of them I learned what became of Hernandez. It
seems he sought a lonely part of the boat while she was on the way from
us to the shore, and knelt to pray. An officer of the boat saw him thus
and withdrew. A moment later all hands were startled by a pistol shot.
Hurrying below they found Lieutenant Hernandez prone on the deck, a calm
smile on his face, a bullet in his brain."