Transcriber's note:
"Ensign Clark Fitch" is a pseudonym used by Upton Sinclair.
A PRISONER OF MORRO
Or
In the Hands of the Enemy
by
ENSIGN CLARK FITCH, U.В S.В N.
Author of "Bound for Annapolis," "Cliff, the Naval
Cadet," "The Fighting Squadron," etc.
[Illustration: A Prisoner of Morro by Ensign Clark Fitch, U.В S.В N.]
Street & Smith, Publishers
79-89 Seventh Ave., New York City
Copyright, 1898
By Street & Smith
A Prisoner of Morro
TABLE OF CONTENTS
I. SIGHTING A PRIZE. 5
II. A LONG CHASE. 10
III. AN OLD ENEMY. 19
IV. IN COMMAND OF THE PRIZE. 28
V. A HAIL FROM THE DARKNESS. 32
VI. REPELLING BOARDERS. 39
VII. A DESPERATE CHASE. 46
VIII. A DASH FOR THE SHORE. 51
IX. THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY. 56
X. A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 63
XI. A RUNNING FIGHT. 67
XII. THE FIRST PRISONERS OF WAR. 72
XIII. IGNACIO'S PLOTS. 78
XIV. BESSIE STUART. 85
XV. IN MORRO CASTLE. 94
XVI. IN THE DUNGEON VAULTS. 99
XVII. OUT OF THE DUNGEON. 104
XVIII. CLIF FARADAY'S SACRIFICE. 112
XIX. A FAREWELL. 120
XX. AN UNEXPECTED PERIL. 127
XXI. RECAPTURED BY THE ENEMY. 133
XXII. CUTTING A CABLE. 139
XXIII. A PERILOUS DETAIL. 146
XXIV. THE CUBAN COURIER. 152
XXV. "IN THE NAME OF HUMANITY AND THE SAILORS OF THE MAINE!" 158
XXVI. A GAME OF BLUFF. 164
XXVII. IN WHICH CLIF MEETS WITH A SURPRISE. 170
XXVIII. A STRUGGLE AGAINST ODDS. 176
XXIX. CLIF'S SECOND EXPEDITION. 182
XXX. THE BATTLE IN THE BRUSH. 187
XXXI. CAPTURED. 194
XXXII. CLIF FARADAY'S TEST. 201
XXXIII. THE MYSTERY OF THE UNEXPLODED SHELL. 208
A PRISONER OF MORRO
CHAPTER I.
SIGHTING A PRIZE.
About noon of a day in May during the recent year the converted tug
Uncas left Key West to join the blockading squadron off the northern
coast of Cuba.
Her commander was Lieutenant Raymond, and her junior officer Naval Cadet
Clifford Faraday. The regular junior officer was absent on sick leave,
and Cadet Faraday had been assigned to his place in recognition of
gallant conduct.
The ropes were cast off, and slowly the tug glided away from the dock
and out toward the open sea.
It was not very long before the harbor of Key West was left behind, and
then began the long trip to Havana. It was over a hundred miles, and
that meant seven or eight hours' journey for the Uncas.
But the Uncas was a good, stout vessel, unusually swift for a tug, and
she made the water fairly fly when once she got clear of the land.
Clif leaned against one of the rapid-firing guns in the bow and gazed
longingly ahead; he was anxious to reach his destination.
There were wild rumors concerning Spanish fleets, Cadiz squadrons and
Cape Verde squadrons and Mediterranean squadrons, which were continually
being sighted or heard of nearby; and for all Clif knew the decisive
battle of the war might be fought at any time.
And he felt that if it took place while he was absent he would never
cease to regret it as long as he lived. The Uncas could not do much in
such a battle; but she was anxious to do her share.
It was possible, also, that Morro might succeed in provoking an attack.
The guns of the Havana defenses kept blazing away at anything that came
near, and the American sailors were fairly boiling over with impatience
to get a whack at them.
And at any time Admiral Sampson might give the word.
So Clif was restless and impatient as he stood in the bow of the swift
tug and gazed southward.
It was a rather damp place of observation the cadet had chosen, for it
had been blowing quite a gale that day, and the Uncas was plowing her
way through a heavy sea.
The spray was flying over the decks; but who would have thought of going
below at such a time as that?
It was not Clif's turn on duty. Lieutenant Raymond seemed to think that
after his struggle on board the Spanish monitor the young cadet deserved
a rest. But he was too eager and wide awake just then to wish to take
it.
When the tug was well under way the lieutenant came out of the pilot
house and joined Clif again.
"Thinking of the weather, Mr. Faraday?" inquired Lieutenant Raymond.
"No, sir," replied the cadet, "I was thinking of Ignacio. I don't know
how he happened to get into my thoughts, but he did."
"Who is Ignacio?"
"He's a Spaniard I've had some trouble with," answered Clif. "You may
have heard about one of his exploits."
"Which one is that?"
"He made an attempt to assassinate Rear Admiral Sampson."
"Oh, yes, I heard about that," said the officer. "The admiral told me
about it himself. I believe you were the person who interfered."
"I had the good luck to be standing near," said Clif, modestly. "And of
course, I sprang between them."
"And the spy stabbed you?"
"Yes. In the shoulder, but he did not hurt me very much."
"He must be a desperate man."
"He is. That stabbing business seems to be a favorite trick of his. I
hope I shan't have to face him again."
Whether Ignacio was a Spaniard or a traitor Cuban, no one could say.
Clif had first met him trying to lead astray an American officer who had
been sent with dispatches for Gomez.
And Clif had foiled the plot, and had been Ignacio's deadly enemy ever
since. Clif had been keeping a careful watch for him. He knew that the
vindictive fellow would follow his every move; Ignacio was acting as a
spy for the Spaniards, and so must have found it easy to keep track of
the cadet's whereabouts. But so far Clif had not met him.
"We are likely to have a wild night of it," said Lieutenant Raymond.
"The clouds seem to get darker every minute."
"It'll be a night for the blockade-runners," was Clif's answer. "We may
have some excitement."
"We'll have it anyway," said the other. "I don't know of anything I less
rather do than weather a storm while in among the vessels of the fleet.
It will be necessary to stay on deck every instant of the time keeping
watch for our very lives."
"I know how it is," the cadet added. "I was on the Porter dining one
such night. And we captured a prize coming out of Havana after almost
running her down in the darkness."
"I heard about it," said Lieutenant Raymond. "You may repeat the
performance to-night if you have a chance. We aren't likely to meet with
anything till we get there."
As the lieutenant said that he turned and gazed ahead; the broad sea
stretched out on every side of them, without a sign of smoke or sail to
vary the monotony of its tossing waves.
"But it always lends zest to a trip like this," the officer added, "to
know that it's possible you may run across a stray Spaniard at any
moment. It pays to keep one's eyes open."
"And then you have the pleasure of chasing two or three and finding
they're some other nation's ships," said Clif, with a laugh.
"That's about all we've done so far," said the lieutenant. "But we're
still hoping perhaps you'll bring us good luck."
"I'll do my best," the cadet declared with a smile.
"Better get ready for it by resting a bit. Your dinner's ready below."
Clif took the hint and went below. The boat was pitching so violently
that he found eating a very difficult operation, and it was generally so
unpleasant in the little cabin that he was glad to go on deck again.
And then later in the afternoon, at four o'clock, it came time for him
to go on duty. After that he had to remain outside whether he wanted to
or not.
The gale grew considerably stronger, and as the darkness came on it got
much chillier, but Clif still paced up and down the deck with the glass
in his hand watching for a sign of a passing vessel, or of the
approaching Cuban coast.
He was left almost alone on deck as the weather got rougher; for the
crew made themselves comfortable below, knowing what hard work lay
before them through the stormy night.
It was not the custom on the vessel to keep the whole watch on duty
except at night; and Clif had only the two sailors at the wheel and the
lookout in the bow for company.
But if he felt any jealousy of those who were below out of the cold, he
had the grim satisfaction of being able to disturb their comfort before
very long.
It was about half past four in the afternoon, and suddenly the lookout
turned and called to Clif.
The eager cadet knew what it meant. He seized the glass and hurried
forward.
He followed the direction of the man's finger.
"I think I see smoke, sir," was what the sailor said.
And Clif took a long look and then turned, his face betraying his
excitement.
An instant later his voice rang through the ship.
"Steamer ahoy--off the starboard bow!"
CHAPTER II.
A LONG CHASE.
There was excitement on board of the Uncas the instant Clif's cry was
heard. The sailors came tumbling up on deck, Lieutenant Raymond among
the first.
He took the glass eagerly from the lad's hand and anxiously studied the
sky in the direction indicated.
"It's too far west to be near Havana!" he exclaimed.
And he stepped into the pilot house to direct the vessel in a new
direction. At the same time the smoke began to pour from the funnel,
showing that those down in the engine-room had heard Clif's hail.
And so in a few moments the Uncas was speeding away in the direction of
the stranger. And after that there was a long weary wait while the two
vessels gradually drew nearer.
All that could be made out then was the long line of smoke which always
indicates a distant steamer. But it took a sharp eye to make even that
out.
"This will be a long chase," said the lieutenant. "If she takes it into
her head to run we'll have a hard time to catch up to her before dark."
Clif glanced significantly at the bow gun.
"If we can only get within range," he thought to himself, "we won't have
to wait to catch up to her."
The lieutenant was standing by the pilot house with the glass in his
hand, and every once in a while he would make an attempt to catch sight
of the stranger's smokestack.
"It may be one of our own warships," he said, "and if it is we don't
want to waste any coal chasing her."
But such was not the case, and it was only half an hour or so before the
lieutenant found it out. The Uncas rose as a high wave swept by; and the
officer, who had the glass to his eye, gave an eager exclamation.
"She's got one funnel," he exclaimed, "and it's black, with a red top;
and so it's not an American warship."
And after that there was nothing now to be done except wait until the
two approached nearer.
It was evident from the gradual change of course the Uncas was obliged
to make that the vessel she was following was headed in a southerly
direction.
"That would take her toward the western end of Cuba," Clif thought to
himself. "Perhaps she's sighted us and is running away."
She must have been a very shy vessel to have taken alarm at so great a
distance; but from the slowness with which she came into view that
seemed to be the case. And Clif paced the deck impatiently.
It was not very much longer before he went off duty again; but he did
not go below. For perhaps an hour he remained on deck watching the
strange vessel.
It seemed an age, but Clif had his reward. The chase loomed gradually
nearer. The black and red smoke pipe came into view, and then, when the
Uncas rose, the top of the black hull as well.
And suddenly the lieutenant handed the glass to Clif.
"You may see now," he said. "She is a merchant steamer, and she flies
the Spanish flag."
Clif nearly dropped the glass at those startling words. The lieutenant
said them as calmly as if he were telling the time of day.
"You don't seem very much excited," the cadet thought.
And yet the lieutenant's statement proved to be true. It was several
minutes before Clif got a favorable view; but he kept his eyes fixed on
the smoke and he finally caught a glimpse of the hull.
And sure enough there was the hated red and yellow ensign waving
defiantly from the stern; it was blown off to one side by the breeze,
and could be plainly seen.
Clif was fairly boiling over with excitement at that discovery.
"We've got our prize!" he chuckled. "I brought the luck after all."
Lieutenant Raymond was not nearly so little moved as he chose to
pretend; he had announced his discovery in that careless way half in a
spirit of fun.
The news got round among the crew, and however the officer may have
felt, there was no indifference there.
The engines of the Uncas began to work even more rapidly, and cartridges
were hastily brought up for the rapid-firing guns. Nobody meant to let
that steamer get away.
She must have suspected her danger by that time, for the smoke grew
blacker. But the crew of the Uncas knew that there were few merchant
ships could beat that tug, and they rubbed their hands gleefully.
There is something very aggravating about a race like that. In a rowing
race you may break your back if you choose, trying to catch the boat in
front; and even in a sailing race you may do something. But when it
comes to steam you can only grit your teeth and walk up and down and
watch and try not to let anybody see how anxious you are.
In that way half an hour passed away, and mile after mile of the
storm-tossed waters.
By that time the hull of the vessel was plainly visible on the horizon;
and the Spanish flag was still waving from her stern.
Clif had been gazing every once in a while at the lieutenant with an
inquiring look upon his face, but the officer had only shaken his head.
"Not yet," he said. "Wait a little."
And Clif would then take another stroll across the deck.
But at last his inquiring look brought another answer.
"Go ahead," said the lieutenant.
And the cadet made a leap at the gun.
It was already loaded, and he sighted it himself. He was no longer
nervous and hurried; it was at least a minute before he rose.
And then at his signal the sailor pulled the firing trigger.
There was a flash and a loud report, and every one looked anxiously to
see the effect.
Lieutenant Raymond, who had the glass, was the only one who could tell;
for the sea was so wild that the slight splash could not be noticed.
The shot of course fell short, for the vessel was still out of range;
but it hit right in line, and the officer nodded approvingly.
"Now we'll wait," he said. "She may give up."
But she didn't; so far as those on the Uncas could tell the shot had no
effect whatever. The vessel kept straight on in her course.
"She's counting on the darkness coming," said the lieutenant.
But that was not the only reason why the Spaniard did not give up; those
upon the Uncas discovered another shortly afterward.
"The Cuban coast," exclaimed the officer.
Yes, the long, faint line of the shore was at last visible just on the
horizon's edge. It lay to the southward, directly ahead.
"What good will that do her?" asked Clif.
"If she finds she can't get away," answered the other, "she may make a
run for one of the ports or try to get under the shelter of the
batteries."
For a while after that nothing more was said, and the tug plowed its way
through the tossing water. When the lieutenant spoke again it was to
point to the gun.
"Try it again," he said.
And Clif did try it. The two ships were then not over three or four
miles apart, and when the cadet fired again he heard the lieutenant give
a pleased exclamation.
"They're within range!"
And then Clif got to work with all his might.
Had he had a calm sea he could have raked that vessel without missing a
shot. He had only to experiment and get the aim just right and then
leave the gun to stay in that one position while he blazed away.
But the Uncas in climbing over the waves was now up and now down, so
that sometimes the shots fell short and sometimes they went high.
But every once in a while he had the satisfaction of hearing that he had
landed one.
After that the chase was a lively one, for the Uncas kept blazing away
merrily. The people on board that fleeing vessel must have had a very
large time of it that afternoon.
It was just what Clif Faraday liked; he was beginning to be quite an
expert in target practice, and he was willing to experiment with that
ship just as long as the ammunition held out.
But his opportunity did not last very long, for the land in front was
neared very rapidly, and after that there was less fun and more work.
The stranger headed round gradually to the west. She evidently had no
idea of being driven toward Havana.
The Uncas swerved more sharply, in order to head her off. Lieutenant
Raymond was in the pilot house, and Clif soon saw by the way he managed
things that he was an expert in all the tricks of dodging.
And those who were handling the merchant ship saw it, too; they would
have been soon headed off. So they turned in another direction quite
sharply, making straight in toward shore again.
Under ordinary circumstances with the short range that he had by that
time, Clif could have riddled the vessel in short order; but aiming in
that sea was so far a matter of luck that comparatively little damage
could be done.
No one knew what the enemy's last move could mean.
"But we can go in any water that's deep enough for them," thought Clif,
grimly, as he blazed away.
And so thought the lieutenant, too, for he was soon racing in. For
perhaps ten minutes pursuer and pursued kept straight on, the firing
never ceasing for a moment.
"Perhaps she may run on shore on purpose," said the lieutenant, coming
out of the pilot house for a moment.
"On purpose?" echoed Clif.
"Yes; so that we can't get the cargo."
"But she'll be beaten to pieces on the rocks," Clif objected.
"They may chance it anyhow; you see they aren't more than a mile or two
from the shore now, and they're running in still."
"If that's the trick they try," Clif thought to himself, "we can stay
out and pepper her to our heart's content--and help the waves to wreck
her."
But the Spaniard had a far better plan than that, as her pursuers
learned some time later.
Clif studied the coast in front of them, as well as he could see without
a glass; there was simply a long line of sandy shore without a bay or an
inlet of any kind. And there were no towns or batteries visible.
"I don't see what she can be hoping for there," he muttered.
But he had no time to speculate in the matter, for it was his business
to keep firing. By that time the range was short and he was beginning to
do damage.
It took an expert to fire at the instant when the tossing ship was
level, but Clif had time to practice, and he soon got the knack of it.
And then it must have been exceedingly unpleasant living on that ship.
One after another the heavy six-pound shots crashed through her stern;
and even at that distance it began to exhibit a ragged appearance.
The cadet expected at any moment to reach the engines or the rudder of
the fleeing ship, and so render her helpless. But probably her cargo
served to protect the former, and the rudder was very hard to hit.
"She must have something important in view to stand all this," Clif
thought to himself. "But I can't see what it is."
The chase at that time was a very exciting one. The Spanish merchantman
was dashing in shore at the top of his speed. And a mile or two beyond
it was the Uncas tearing up the water, plunging along at her fastest
pace and banging away half a dozen times a minute with her bow gun.
Lieutenant Raymond's eyes were dancing then; he had taken the wheel
himself and was hard at work. And as for Clif, he was so busily engaged
that he seemed to see nothing except the high stern of that runaway.
"But she's a fool," he growled to himself. "She'll be so torn to pieces
she won't be worth capturing. I wish I could kill the captain."
But the captain of that vessel knew his business, as those on the Uncas
found later on. He was a Spaniard, and simply gifted with Spanish
cunning.
He had no idea of running his ship aground; but he knew that coast
perfectly, and he used his knowledge.
When he neared the land the tug was still some distance astern. As that
did not suit the Spaniard's purposes, he very calmly slowed up.
And that in spite of the fact that the tug was so close that the
rapid-firing gun was hitting him every other shot!
That the vessel had slowed up, Lieutenant Raymond of course could not
tell. But he wouldn't have cared anyhow, for he had made up his mind to
go in there no matter what was there, torpedoes or the very Old Nick
himself.
And he went; for perhaps five minutes more the Uncas dashed in at full
speed, and the merchantman still never swerved.
"They're within a quarter of a mile of the shore!" gasped Clif.
He turned to his third box of cartridges with a grim smile on his face.
For he knew that something must happen soon.
It did, too--very soon.
It began when the merchantman suddenly swung round to starboard.
"Aha!" chuckled the cadet. "They're as close in as they dare. And now I
suppose they'll run down shore awhile."
Lieutenant Raymond was much puzzled to think why the vessel had risked
going so close in that storm; but he wasted no time in speculating, but
drove the wheel around with all his might.
The Uncas swerved and sped over to shut the merchantman off; at that
same instant the reason of the whole thing was seen.
The Uncas was not a mile from shore, and as she turned her broadside to
the land a masked battery in the sand let drive with a dozen guns at
once.
The whole thing was so sudden that for a moment it quite frightened the
Americans. Clif even stopped firing long enough to stare.
But the sudden alarm did not last very long; it left the men on the
Uncas laughing. For they had quite forgotten the character of the
Spanish gunners' aim.
A shot tore through the tug's funnel, another chipped a piece from her
bow, half a dozen shells whistled over her. And that was all.
Clif turned calmly to his gun again.
"If that's the best they can do," he thought, "they're welcome."
But that was not the best.
It wasn't that the batteries were aimed better next time. They were
aimed far worse in their eager haste. They did not even touch the Uncas.
But an instant later something happened that showed that the captain of
the Spanish merchantman had one more string to his bow.
He not only knew the location of the batteries, but he knew the location
of the sand bars. While his own vessel sped on in safety, on board the
Uncas there suddenly came a grinding thud, and an instant later the tug
stopped short, so short it almost sent Clif flying over the top of the
gun he was working.
And at the same time a shout was heard from Lieutenant Raymond, one that
made the sailors' hearts leap up into their throats: "We're aground!
We're aground!"
And in front of a Spanish battery!
CHAPTER III.
AN OLD ENEMY.
It would be hard to imagine a vessel in a much greater predicament than
the Uncas was at that moment. Everything was in confusion in an instant.
That is everything except one thing. Lieutenant Raymond was too busy to
notice the coolness of one person on board; but he remembered it
afterward, and with satisfaction.
It was Clif Faraday; he picked himself up from the deck where he had
been flung and took one glance about him. Then he turned to the guns.
Whatever the position of the tug his duty just then remained the same.
He could not free her, and so he did not waste any time rushing about.
There was that Spanish merchantman calmly walking off to safety.
And there was a gleam of vengeance in the cadet's eye as he went to the
gun again.
Those on board of the fleeing vessel had seen the success of their
clever plan and they gave a wild cheer. It was answered from the shore
batteries.
The steamer turned at once and headed out to sea; that put her broadside
to the Uncas, and instantly the six-pounder blazed away.
That was the time to do the work, too. The vessel was quite near, and a
fair mark. The Uncas was now steady, too, Clif thought grimly to
himself.
One of the sailors saw what he was doing, and sprang to aid him. They
banged away as fast as they could load.
At the same time the Spanish batteries opened. They had a fair mark,
likewise, and plenty of time to aim. It was a race to see who could
smash up their prey the quickest.
Clif would certainly have disabled the fleeing vessel if it had not been
for an unfortunate accident. What the accident was may be told in a few
words. It spoiled his chance.
He turned away to get more cartridges. And at that instant a shell
struck the six-pounder gun.
It was a miracle that Clif was not hit; his uniform was torn in three
places and his cap knocked off. The sailor next to him got a nasty wound
in the arm, made by a flying fragment.
And that of course made the merchantman safe--she steamed off in
triumph.
It was bad for the tug, too, for it showed the batteries were getting
the range.
The plight of the Uncas was a desperate one. She was being tossed about
by a raging sea and cut up by the fire from the guns. Whether she had
struck on rocks or sand or mud no one had any means of telling.
But her engines were reversed the instant the accident occurred. And a
hasty examination of the hold showed that whatever the danger was there
was no leak.
But that seemed cold comfort, for at the rate the heavy batteries were
blazing away there was likely to be a number of leaks in a very short
while. And even a steel tug will not hold together long with a sea
pounding over her like this one was.
Yet as it actually happened, that sea was the only thing that got the
vessel out of her unfortunate predicament.
They were a great deal luckier than they would have dared to hope to be.
For when they realized they were aground there was not a man on board
who did not think his last hour was at hand.
But as it actually happened, the sand bar upon which the tug had driven
lay some distance beneath the surface. And it had caught the vessel by
the keel.
The engines throbbed wildly, doing their noblest to pull the vessel off;
and then one after another came the great waves, tossing her this way
and that, wrenching and twisting, lifting and lifting again, while every
one on deck clung for his life.
There was a minute or two of agonizing suspense, while the shore
batteries kept up a galling fire and the merchantman steamed out to sea,
proud of her triumph.
And then suddenly came a wild cheer from the imperiled Americans. Then
men fairly shrieked in a transport of delight.
"She's moving! She's started! She's safe!"
And the men fairly hugged each other for joy. Slowly, then faster, then
faster still, and finally at full speed backward. The gallant tug had
torn herself loose from the grip of the sand--and was free!
The baffled Spanish batteries redoubled their fire at that. One could
almost imagine the gunners grinding their teeth with rage as they saw
their prey escaping.
But grinding their teeth did not seem to sharpen their eyes. Their aim
was as bad as ever, and the Uncas seemed like the proverbial man in the
rainstorm who keeps dry by "dodging the drops."
The confusion on board of the "escaped" vessel may be imagined. How that
triumphant captain must have sworn Spanish oaths.
It was a ticklish task that Lieutenant Raymond had before him then. He
knew there were sand bars about. But he did not know where they were.
And the task was to avoid them.
He did it by creeping along very slowly, in absolute indifference to the
galling fire from the shore guns. He knew that there must be a channel,
for he and the Spaniard had come in by it.
He had only a vague idea where it was. But the Uncas stopped and then
crept slowly forward, heading north.
And after five minutes of torment they knew that they were safe. They
were far enough from shore to start up again and get away from those
Spanish guns. The gallant tug was quite battered by that time, but
nobody cared for that in the wild rejoicing that prevailed.
The vessel swung around to port.
"And now for that prize!" muttered the lieutenant.
And he went for her, too, full speed ahead. He was mad now.
The vessel had gotten a start of about two miles. She had apparently
exhausted her resources in the neighborhood of Cuba, for she was heading
north, out to sea again.
"And so it's only a question of time," chuckled Clif. "We've got her!"
And so they had. The Spaniards must have realized it, too.
"Mr. Faraday," said the lieutenant, "try a shot from the starboard gun."
The shot was fired; and it did the work.
The merchantman had evidently had enough, and saw that there was no
further hope.
For in full view of the shore batteries she swung round and came slowly
to a halt, a signal that she surrendered. It made the Americans give
another cheer, and it must have made the Spaniards on shore fairly yell.
For they began banging away, even at that distance, though they couldn't
come anywhere near the tug.
As for the Americans, they sighed with relief. They had worked hard for
that victory. And they felt that they had earned it. The race was over
then, and they were happy.
Clif was so wearied by his heroic labor at that gun (he must have lifted
and rammed some two hundred six-pounder cartridges) that he sat down on
the wreck of the machine to wait until the two vessels drew near.
And the lieutenant gave up the wheel to one of the men and came out to
look his capture over at leisure.
She was a fairly large vessel and seemed to have a big carrying
capacity. What she was loaded with no one could guess, but at any rate
she was a big prize for a small crew like that of the Uncas.
"I think I'll retire from business after to-day," Clif heard the old
boatswain remark.
That personage had had one arm badly damaged in the struggle that had
taken place in the morning with the Spanish gunboat; but he seemed to
have forgotten his wounds in the general excitement.
The little tug steamed up boldly toward her big prize, which lay idly
tossing on the waves. One could see her officers and crew standing on
deck watching the approach.
"I'll bet they feel happy!" Clif muttered to himself.
The lieutenant loaned him the glass. Then he could see the faces of the
men.
There was one of them he might have recognized had he been careful; but
he did not recognize it, and so he failed to save himself some mighty
unpleasant adventures indeed.
They were all typical Spanish faces, dark and sullen; but there was one
there even darker and more sullen than the rest.
And the owner of that countenance had a glass in his hand and was
staring at those on the tug. Though the cadet did not know it, that man
was at that instant watching him.
And there was an expression of furious hate on his face as he looked.
Lieutenant Raymond expected no further trouble; but he took no chances.
Men were stationed at the three remaining six-pounders, and the rest of
the crew was armed.
In silence the Uncas steamed up to within a hundred yards of her prize.
And then came the signal to stop engines.
It was the time for a boarding party. Clif, as junior officer, knew that
that was his duty, and without a word he proceeded to get the small boat
off.
It was quite a task in that heavy sea, but the eager sailors worked with
a will, and though nearly swamped twice, managed to get clear of the
tug.
And Clif was seated in the stern, heading for the big merchantman.
"Keep your eyes open," he heard the lieutenant shout. "They may make
trouble."
And Clif nodded and the boat shot away. They wouldn't catch him napping
on board that Spanish vessel--not much!
But they come perilously near it all the same.
It was a rough trip in that tossing rowboat. It seemed to sink and then
fairly bound up on the next wave, its bow went down and its stern shot
up. It did everything except turn over, while the spray fairly flew over
it.
But the sturdy sailors worked with a will, and the distance was not very
great. In a short time the little craft shot round in the lee of the
Spaniard.
"A ladder there!" shouted Clif.
And in a few moments the rope ladder came tumbling down. It seemed to
come with bad grace though, as if it knew its owners didn't want to
send it.
The rowboat was backed near and Clif, with a sudden spring, caught the
ladder and leaped clear of the waves.
Before he went up he turned to the sailors.
"Two of you follow me," he commanded.
He climbed quickly up the ladder and stepped out on the deck, gazing
about him eagerly.
He saw about a dozen dark-faced Spaniards gathered together and glaring
at him; one of them, wearing the uniform of the captain, stepped forward
toward him.
He was a surly, ill-looking man, with a heavy dark mustache. He bowed
stiffly to the cadet.
"The senor takes possession," he said, in a low voice.
Clif was so busy watching this man that he did not look around the
vessel. But we must do so.
We must glance for one instant at the capstan, which was just behind
where the jaunty young cadet was standing. There was an interesting
person near the capstan.
Clif did not see him; and neither did the sailors, nor even the
Spaniards on the vessel. For he was crouching behind the capstan, out of
sight.
He was a small man, dark and swarthy. He was the same one we noticed
glaring at Clif; he had recognized him, and realized in a flash that the
issue between them was death--death for one or else death for the other.
For Clif knew the man, and would secure him the instant he saw him; his
crimes were many--treason and attempted assassination the worst.
For the man was Ignacio!
And his dark, beady eyes were glittering with hatred as he crouched in
his momentary hiding-place. He was quivering all over with rage; the
muscles of his sinewy arms were clinched and tense.
And in his right hand he clutched a sharp, gleaming knife, half hidden
under his coat.
His glance was fixed on the figure just in front of him; the
unsuspecting cadet was not twenty yards away, his back turned to his
crouching enemy.
And Ignacio bent forward to listen and wait his chance.
The cadet, the object of his hatred, was talking to the captain.
"The senor takes possession," the latter repeated again.
"The senor does, with your permission," said Clif, quietly.
"You gave us quite a run," he added, after a moment's thought.
"A Spaniard would not surrender to Yankee pigs without a fight," snarled
the other.
"You had best be a bit careful," was Clif's stern response, "or you may
find yourself in irons."
The Spaniard relapsed into a sullen silence.
"What ship is this?" demanded the cadet.
"The Maria."
"From where?"
"Cadiz."
"Indeed! And bound where?"
"Bahia Honda."
Clif gave a low whistle.
"We caught you about in time," he said, with a smile. "You were nearly
there. But I suppose the story is made up for the occasion. What is your
cargo?"
The captain went over quite a list of articles; the sailors who were
with Clif chuckled with delight as they heard him.
"We get a share in all this," Clif heard one of them whisper under his
breath.
Clif smiled; and as soon as the captain finished he raised his arm and
pointed to the stern of the vessel.
"You and your men will go aft," he commanded, "for the present; I will
see you shortly."
The Spaniard was on the point of obeying; he had half turned, when
suddenly with a single bound the treacherous Ignacio sprang forward.
His keen knife glanced in the air as he raised it in his outstretched
arm and leaped upon the unsuspecting cadet.
Ignacio was clever at that sort of thing. He had tried it before; his
spring had been silent as a cat's. Neither the sailors nor the officer
heard him. And the blow might have fallen; Clif's only warning of his
deadly peril.
But unfortunately for the desperate assassin, he had failed to let the
captain of that vessel know what he meant to do. And the captain, as he
saw him leap, realized in a flash that would mean an instant hanging for
him.
And a look of horror swept over his face; Clif saw it and whirled about.
He was just in time to find himself face to face with his deadliest
enemy; and the knife was hissing through the air.
CHAPTER IV.
IN COMMAND OF THE PRIZE.
It was a moment of horrible peril. Clif's blood fairly froze. But quick
as a flash his arm shot up.
And he caught the descending wrist; for an instant the two glared into
each other's eyes, straining and twisting. And then the two sailors of
the Uncas leaped forward and seized the baffled Spaniard.
And almost in the twinkling of an eye-lid, Clif Faraday was saved. He
could hardly realize what had happened, and he staggered back against
the railing of the vessel and gasped for breath.
But that was only for a moment, too; and then the blood surged back to
his cheeks and the cadet was himself once more.
He stepped forward, a calm smile playing about his mouth.
"Bind that man," he said to the sailors.
The two men were grasping the sinewy Cuban and holding him so tight that
he could not move. They almost crushed his wrists, and he dropped the
knife with a hoarse cry of pain.
And Clif picked it up and glanced at it for a moment, then flung it far
out into the sea.
After that he turned to Ignacio.
"You have met me once more, my friend," he said, "and this time you will
not get away."
And that was all the conversation he had with him. Glancing about the
deck he picked up a piece of rope and stepped toward the prisoner.
He did not strike the fellow, as the Spaniards seemed to think he would.
But the sailors flung him to the deck and Clif carefully bound his feet
together. Then, while he fairly fumed with rage and hatred, his hands
were made fast and he was left lying there, shrieking curses in his
native Spanish.
Clif turned to the captain of the vessel; the man was frightened nearly
to death, and began protesting volubly.
"I did not know it, senor!" he cried. "Indeed, I did not know it! Santa
Maria! I----"
"I don't suppose you did," said Clif, calmly. "You did not act like it.
But you will have to suffer for it."
"Suffer for it! Madre di dios, no, senor! What does the senor mean?
Surely he will not hang me for----"
"The senor will not hang you," said Clif, unable to help smiling at the
blustering fellow's terror.
"Then what will the senor do?"
"He will tie you like Ignacio."
The man was evidently relieved, but he protested volubly. He did not
want to be tied.
"Is it customary?" he cried.
"No," said Clif; "neither is it customary to try to assassinate an
officer. After that I think common prudence requires it."
"But," cried the man, angrily. "I will not submit! Por dios, I will
not----"
"You will either submit or be made to," said Clif, "or else sink to the
bottom."
And so the man had to give up. Those two delighted tars went the rounds
and tied every single man on that vessel hand and foot. And they tied
them tight, too, occasionally giving them a dig in the ribs for good
measure.
And when they came to search them Clif was glad he had done as he did,
for quite a respectable heap of knives and revolvers were removed from
the clothes of those angry Spaniards.
But it did not take long to tie them up, and then Clif felt safe. He
took a few extra hitches in the treacherous Ignacio, who was by far the
most valuable prize of them all.
"Admiral Sampson will be glad to get you," the cadet thought to himself.
And then he turned to examine the captured vessel.
His sword in his hand, he went down the forward companionway, where he
met a group of frightened firemen and stokers huddled below. They seemed
to think the Yankee pigs were going to murder them on the spot.
But Clif had another use for them. Being able to speak Spanish, he found
it easy to reassure them in a few words, and sent them down to their
work again.
Then he descended into the hold; he was worried lest the continuous
firing he had directed upon the vessel had made her unseaworthy. But
apparently the holes were all well above the water line, for there did
not seem to be any leak.
And that was all there was to be done. Clif knew that he had the task
before him of piloting that vessel into Key West; he was not willing to
let that ugly-looking Spanish captain have anything to do with the
matter.
Clif had fancied he would rather enjoy that duty but under the
circumstances of the present case he was not so much pleased.
For the darkness was gathering then and the cadet knew that he had a
long hard night before him; it would be necessary for him to remain on
the vessel's bridge all through the stormy trip.
And, moreover, it would take him away from Havana, the place of all
places he was then anxious to reach.
But the duty had to be faced, and so Clif sent one of the sailors back
to the Uncas to report the state of affairs and ask for a prize crew. It
seemed scarcely orthodox to send the small boat away without an officer
to command it, but that, too, was inevitable.
The boat arrived safely, however, and returned with three more men, all
the little tug dared spare. Lieutenant Raymond sent word to report at
Key West with the prize, but to steam slowly so as not to come anywhere
near the shore before daylight.
Lieutenant Raymond was evidently a little worried about intrusting that
big vessel to an inexperienced officer like Clif, and Clif was not so
very cock sure himself. No one knew just where they were, and in the
storm and darkness reaching Key West harbor would be task enough for an
old hand.
The cadet realized the enormous responsibility thus thrown upon him, and
he made up his mind that eternal vigilance should be the watchword.
"If staying awake all night'll do any good," he muttered, "I'll do it."
And then the small boat dashed away to the Uncas again, and Clif was
left alone. He stepped into the pilot house of the steamer and signaled
for half speed ahead.
The vessel began to glide slowly forward again, heading north; the tug
steamed away in the direction of Havana.
CHAPTER V.
A HAIL FROM THE DARKNESS.
The four sailors who were with Clif fully realized the task which was
before them.
It was then about dusk, and the night was coming on rapidly. Two of the
men were stationed as lookouts, and the other two took the wheel.
Clif set to work to try to calculate as best he could how far and in
what direction he was from Key West; he wished to take no chances of
running ashore or getting lost.
Those, and the possibility of collision, seemed the only dangers that
had to be guarded against; the possibility of meeting a Spanish vessel
was not considered, for the chance seemed very remote.
The two lookouts were both stationed in the bow. That fact and the other
just mentioned sufficed to account for the fact that the real danger
that threatened the crew of the merchantman was not thought of or
guarded against in the least.
For Clif had no way of knowing that any trouble was to come from behind
him; but coming it was, and in a hurry.
Within the shelter of a narrow inlet just to one side of the batteries
that had made so much trouble for the Uncas had lain hidden and
unsuspected an object that was destined to play an important part in the
rest of the present story.
It was a Spanish gunboat, of much the same kind as the Uncas, only
smaller. Hidden by the land, her officers had eagerly watched the
struggle we have just seen.
The Spanish vessel had not ventured out to take part, for one important
reason; she had not steam up. But she would probably not have done so
anyhow, for the Uncas was the stronger of the two.
And so venturing out would have been little better than suicide. The
Spanish captain had a plan that put that one far in the shade.
The Uncas was still visible down the shore, and the merchantman had
hardly gotten well started out to sea before great volumes of black
smoke began to pour from the furnaces of the Spaniard.
Her men worked like fiends; sailors pitched in to help the firemen
handle coal, while the shores of the dark little inlet flared brightly
with the gleam of the furnaces.
Meanwhile the officers with their glasses were feverishly watching the
distant steamer, now hull down to the north, and almost invisible in the
darkness.
It was about half an hour later, perhaps even less, that that Spanish
gunboat weighed her anchor and stole silently out to the open sea.
She breasted the fierce waves at the entrance to the inlet boldly. A
minute later she was plowing her way through the storming sea. It was
dark then and she could see nothing; but her captain had the course to a
hair's breadth.
He knew which way his prey was gone, and he knew to what port she was
going. He knew, too, that she would not dare go near the harbor of Key
West until daylight. And so if by any chance he missed her in the
darkness he would still have another opportunity.
And those on the shore who saw the vessel glide away chuckled gleefully
to themselves. It was something to look forward to, a chance to revenge
themselves upon the impudent Yankees who had dared to elude the fire
from their guns.
Meanwhile the Yankees, totally unsuspicious of this last move, were
buffeting their way bravely ahead.
The lookouts clinging to the railing in the bow were peering anxiously
ahead in the darkness, and the sailors in the pilot house were wrestling
with the wheel; it was quite a task to keep that vessel headed straight,
for she was going into the very teeth of the gale.
And as for Clif, he was watchfulness personified. When he was not eyeing
the compass carefully he was hurrying about the vessel, now down in the
fire-rooms, making sure that those Spaniards were doing as they were
ordered, and again looking the prisoners over to make sure that the sly
rascals had not wriggled themselves free.
"It would be a fine thing to do," he thought to himself, "if they
managed to recapture the ship."
There was something quite prophetic in that thought.
It is hard to keep awake all night, but a man can do it if he has to
even though he has been working like a Trojan all day.
Clif kept moving to work off the sleepiness whenever he felt it coming
on.
"I'll have time enough to sleep by and by," he muttered.
He was thinking, grimly enough, of how he would be stalled in the town
of Key West with his prize, waiting for a chance to get out to the fleet
again.
The vessel did not attempt to make more than half speed during the trip,
and that, against the storm, was very little.
But there was no need to hurry thought every one.
And so for some two hours the vessel crept on, wearily as it seemed and
monotonously. The only thing to vary matters was when some extra high
wave would fling itself over the bow in a shower of spray.
But that was not a welcome incident, for it made it harder for the weary
sailors to keep the course straight.
The cadet paced up and down the deck; he had been doing that for perhaps
the last half hour, stopping only to say a cheery word to the lookouts
and once to prop up Ignacio, who was being rolled unceremoniously about
the deck.
The cunning Spaniard looked so bedraggled and miserable that Clif would
have felt sorry for him if he had not known what a villain he was.
"He'd stab me again if he got a chance," he mused.
For Clif had saved that fellow's life once; but it had not made the
least difference in his vindictive hatred.
"I'm afraid," Clif muttered, "that Ignacio will have to suffer this
time."
The Spaniard must have heard him, for he muttered an oath under his
breath.
"It would be wiser if it was a prayer," said the cadet. "Ignacio, you
are near the end of your rope, and you may as well prepare for your
fate."
The man fairly trembled all over with rage as he glared at his enemy;
such rage as his was Clif was not used to, and he watched the man with a
feeling of horror.
"I don't like Spaniards!" was the abrupt exclamation, with which he
turned away.
And Ignacio gritted his teeth and simply glared at him, following back
and forth his every move, as a cat might.
"I may have a chance yet," he hissed, under his breath. "Carramba, if I
only had him by the throat!"
But Clif paid no more attention to the Spaniard. He had other things to
attend to, things to keep him busy.
It was not very long before that was especially true. For some
interesting events began to happen then.
They began so suddenly that there is almost no way to introduce them.
The first signs of the storm was when it broke.
In the blackness of the night nothing could be seen, and the vessel was
struggling along absolutely without suspicion. And Clif, as we have
said, was walking up and down engrossed in his own thoughts, almost
forgetting that he was out in the open sea where a Spanish warship might
chance to be lurking.
And so it was literally and actually a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
The blackness of the waters was suddenly broken by a sharp flash of
light, perhaps two hundred yards off to starboard.
And an instant later came the loud report of a gun.
