But the gray horizon was not light enough for them to be sighted. And all hope was gone.

Bessie Stuart continued pointing to the vessel as if she were paralyzed by fright.

"Row! Row!" she shrieked.

And Clif seized the oars frantically. But he knew that it was utterly useless. The gunboat was coming on like a race horse.

And scarcely had he taken two strokes before the matter was settled finally. For there came a puff of white smoke from the Spaniard's bow.

And almost at the same instant with a deafening, blinding crash, a solid shot struck the tiny rowboat.

It plunged through, almost tearing the frail craft in half, hurling splinters about and sending the two horrified occupants tumbling into the water!



CHAPTER XXI.

RECAPTURED BY THE ENEMY.

Clif was so heartbroken at that sudden ending of all his hopes, that he scarcely cared whether he was drowned or not. But he saw Bessie Stuart struggling in the seething waters, and toward her he struck out desperately.

It took the cadet but a moment to reach her side. The shattered wreck of the wooden boat was floating near, and to that he struggled, helping her on.

And they reached it, in what it sounds like mockery to call safety. The girl scarcely knew whether it were best to hold on or to drown.

But instinctively she clung to the side as the great waves swept over them; and the two fixed their eyes upon the approaching vessel.

She came on swiftly, sheering the water with her sharp bow. And Clif could see half a dozen men standing in the bow watching them.

"Perhaps they have heard of our escape," he growled, "and come after us."

The vessel was not coming from Havana, but the cadet knew that a telegram might have sent it out.

At any rate, they were recaptured; and the horrors of Morro were before them again.

Steadily the gunboat drew nearer; the two half-drowned Americans were reached in a minute or two.

And the vessel slowed up and a rope was thrown to them. Clif desperate from despair, seized it and drew himself close.

A couple of Spanish sailors leaned down from the low side and lifted first the half unconscious girl and then the cadet up to the deck.

And then, weak and pale and dripping wet, they confronted a tall, ugly-looking Spaniard with an officer's chevrons.

He stared at them curiously.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

And Clif, grim with desperation, looked him in the eye and answered boldly:

"We are Americans," said he.

"Prisoners?"

"Yes."

"From where?"

"Morro Castle."

The Spaniard looked the amazement he felt.

"Morro Castle!" he echoed. "Humph! How did you get out?"

"Take us back there and you'll find out," was Clif's defiant answer.

And with that he turned toward the girl to wipe her dripping hair from her face.

He expected that the man would continue questioning them. But he was mistaken. The Spanish gunboat had done a risky thing, running out as it had, and her officers were anxious to get back.

The man turned away and hurried off. A sailor with a pair of handcuffs approached Clif, and the cadet quietly allowed his wrists to be secured.

Bessie Stuart was fortunately spared that indignity. The sailor gruffly ordered them to go below.

The vessel, meanwhile, had resumed her trip. She had been running along close to the coast under cover of the darkness of the previous night. And now she turned to steal back.

Clif's heart was heavy, and he was miserable beyond description.

But he turned and silently followed the sailor to the companionway.

They did not go below at once, however, for just then something occurred that made the sailor stop.

The man who had first spoke to Clif, the captain, apparently, had been sweeping the shore with his glass. And just then he gave a startled exclamation.

Everybody heard him, and the Spanish sailor stopped and turned to look.

Clif was so listless and despairing that he did not take the trouble to do likewise; but when he heard the exclamations of the men he felt his heart give a leap.

They were staring at a man on the shore.

"What in the world can be the matter with that fellow?" cried the captain.

"Santa Maria! he is calling to us!" exclaimed another.

"He must be crazy," declared a third.

The captain, with his glass could see more plainly than the others, and his astonishment grew greater.

"Why, he's a Spanish officer—a lieutenant, I think! And he is trying to hail us. What can it mean?"

"Perhaps he's got dispatches!" suggested some one.

It flashed over Clif in an instant what that meant, and Bessie Stuart heard him give a muffled exclamation of delight.

For he could see a blue-uniformed figure running down the shore and waving its arms wildly.

"It's Lieutenant Hernandez!" he panted.

And there was a wild gleam of hope in his eyes as he realized what that meant.

He might rescue them again!

Feverishly Clif watched to see what the gunboat would do. The captain continued staring and muttering exclamations of astonishment.

"I wonder if he does want us," he cried. "Por dios, I do think that's it."

And a second later he made up his mind and whirled about.

"Hard a port!" he roared.

And Clif's heart leaped with joy as he heard that order.

The sailor was so much interested in that strange incident that he let his prisoners remain on deck while he stood and stared. The Spanish vessel raced swiftly in toward shore.

And the stranger as soon as he saw that stopped his frantic gesticulating and stood still to wait.

The captain ran in as close as he dared, and then stopped. He stepped into the bow.

"What do you want?" he roared.

"Send a boat," the man shouted back. "I must come aboard. Quick!"

The captain muttered an exclamation of astonishment under his breath; but his curiosity alone would have been sufficient to move him. The gunboat's wherry boat was quickly gotten away.

As for Clif, he was simply wild with delight. For he could see that it was Lieutenant Hernandez after all.

Bessie Stuart was so overcome by the sudden shock of the discovery that she was scarcely able to stand, breathlessly the two watched the rowboat speeding in.

The lieutenant waded out as far as he could, and when the boat reached him he climbed into the bow. In a few moments he was speeding back to the gunboat.

And when he stepped on board he found the captain staring at him.

"Lieutenant Hernandez!" he gasped.

"Yes," said the other with a bow.

But he scarcely glanced at the man until his eager eyes had sought out Clif and Bessie. When he saw them alive and unhurt a look of relief swept over his face.

And then he turned to the captain.

"What in the world is the matter?" the man cried.

The other nodded toward the two Americans.

"It is about them," he said.

"What about them?"

"Why did you stop them?"

"Stop them! Why they are Americans, and they were prisoners in Morro."

"I know that," said the officer. "But they were released."

"What!"

"Yes. And I was charged with the duty of seeing them safe on board the American ships."

The Spanish captain stared in amazement.

"Carramba!" he muttered. "Why didn't they say so?"

"I don't see that you gave them a chance," said the other. "You fired on them too soon."

"But I had no idea of this!" cried the other.

To doubt that story never once entered his head; he seemed to know who the lieutenant was.

"What in the world am I to do?" he asked, after a moment.

"I don't see that there is but one thing," said the other.

"Take them back to Havana and let them be sent from there?" asked the captain.

"No," said the lieutenant, quietly. "That will not do; for the government has pledged its word that they shall be on the ships by daybreak. To make haste is very important."

"But what else?"

"Give them your small boat."

"Carramba! I haven't got but one! And how will I ever get it back?"

The lieutenant was puzzled for a moment.

But suddenly he hit on a daring scheme.

"Captain," he said, "my orders are from General Blanco himself. He charged me above all things to see these people safe at once, even if I had to go out to the ships with them. I don't see that there is but one thing we can do."

"What is it?"

"We will have to hoist a flag of truce and take them out on this vessel."

The captain started.

"Can we trust the Americans?" he gasped.

"They are expecting us," said the lieutenant quietly.

And then for a minute the captain was silent; when he spoke it was to the man at the wheel.

"Steer us out to the Yankee fleet," he said. "It will have to be done, and run up that white flag."

* * * * *

Perhaps ten minutes after that the blockading squadron sighted a Spanish gunboat coming toward them with a flag of truce.

The New York steamed to meet it; and the vessel came alongside and without a word of explanation the two prisoners were sent aboard.

Clif and Bessie both gazed longingly at the noble-hearted lieutenant as he stood on the deck and watched them leave. Their look said plainer than words, "Come with us!"

But he only shook his head; and when he saw the two disappear upon the deck of the big cruiser, and when the gunboat was well on her way back to shore he turned with a slight groan and went below.

Clif and Bessie wondered with anxiety and sorrow what would be his fate. They dreaded for him the worst tortures of Castle Morro, but the heroic Spaniard escaped that—in a way that Clif learned a few days later.



CHAPTER XXII.

CUTTING A CABLE.

The cadet's report was soon made. Under ordinary circumstances he would have been ordered to report back to the Uncas, but that stanch little gunboat was then miles beyond the western horizon. Moreover, the admiral had other work for the cadet.

As to Miss Stuart; there was a parting between her and Clif that was such as should be between acknowledged lovers, but it was a parting of the most decided kind, for his duty lay in the war, hers on land. She was sent to Key West on a cruiser that was then leaving the squadron to recoal.

What the young man and the girl said to each other cannot concern us here, for we have now to do with Faraday's experience as a sailor. His love affair had to await the events of war, and so may the story of it.

Clif's next service began on the morning following his escape. A small boat left the flagship and headed for Point Rubalcava on the Cuban coast. It was bent upon a dangerous mission; so hazardous, in fact, that volunteers had been called for to man the boat.

The first one to offer his services had been Clif Faraday. There was no lack of followers among the brave American tars. Fifty offered themselves a moment after the cadet stepped forward, and the task was to select from them twelve men to form the boat's crew.

"It is necessary to cut the cable as a war measure," said Rear Admiral Sampson, when the selection had been made. "You will proceed cautiously toward shore and grapple for the cable. If you find it, cut it. If not, you must go ashore and locate the landing place of the wire. Are you ready for the service?"

"Ay, ay, sir!" came the ready response.

Rear Admiral Sampson looked upon the brave, eager faces of the men for a moment with evident satisfaction.

"There is danger of discovery, and attack from the shore batteries," he added. "Success will depend upon your quickness and skill."

The men well knew the danger that lay before them, but there was no sign of faltering upon their faces. Rather, there was an eagerness for instant action that was not lost upon the commanding officer.

"Then go!" he exclaimed, heartily.

The boat was lowered, and quietly set out upon its mission.

It was in charge of a lieutenant, and Clif Faraday, in recognition of his being the first to volunteer, was placed beside him in the stern to steer the boat through the rough waters.

It was still dark, though the eastern sky gave promise of the near approach of day. The time had been selected to enable the boat to near the shore without great danger of detection in the dim light. But by the time they should succeed in grappling the cable there would be sufficient light to enable them to complete their task.

"All seems quiet on shore," said Clif, after a time, to the lieutenant, as they both peered forward at the coast line now looming up before them. "The Spaniards don't seem to be looking for us."

"True," responded the lieutenant. "It looks that way. But you can't sometimes always tell. They may have a surprise for us."

"If they don't shoot any straighter than they have been doing," said Clif with a laugh, "they'll never touch us."

"That's true, too," assented the lieutenant. "But still you must remember——"

"The Maine!" interrupted Clif.

"Yes, remember the Maine! But, as I was saying, these fellows might possibly aim at something else beside our boat and hit us accidentally. At any rate, I hope they don't see us. We are not out to capture a fort armed as we are with nothing but revolvers, and in this open boat we would be an easy prey to decent marksmanship."

"Still, the boys like action," said Clif.

"We may have plenty of it yet," replied the lieutenant, with a suspicion of uneasiness in his tone.

Meanwhile the boat, guided by Clif's hand, had drawn nearer the shore. They could see plainly the outlines of the fortifications, which had been recently battered by shell from American gunboats, and which they knew the Spaniards had attempted to repair. But as far as they could see all was quiet there.

The boat was following what was supposed to be the course of the cable, and the men were constantly seeking to secure it with their grappling irons. The crew proceeded cautiously but expeditiously with its work, the boat passing to and fro across what they supposed was the line of the cable.

"How is it, Wilson?" at last said the lieutenant, speaking to one of the men who was leaning over the side of the boat. "Struck anything yet?"

"Not yet, sir," was the response.

Nearer and nearer to the shore came the boat, the men coolly continuing their labors, seemingly as unmindful of danger as though the coast was not lined by hostile forces. The sun peeped above the face of the water to the eastward, and the darkness slowly receded before it. Every detail of the frowning fortification ashore was now plainly visible to the boat's crew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clif saluted and promptly followed the officer.



CHAPTER XXIII.

A PERILOUS DETAIL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All the better," said the rear admiral.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Spaniards had discovered them!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The men rested on their oars and listened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE CUBAN COURIER.

But the explosion never came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The response came promptly:

"Cuba!"

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

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

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

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

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

The newcomer was effusive in his greeting.

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

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

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

"It will be done," said the Cuban.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should they await an attack or run for the boat?



CHAPTER XXV.

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

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

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

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

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

What could it mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only about fifty."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yell like sixty!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, by thunder! Never!"

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

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



CHAPTER XXVI.

A GAME OF BLUFF.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they did fire, and that to good purpose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It arrested Clif's attention at once.

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

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

"What of it?"

"It's gone!"

"Gone?"

"Yes, sir."

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

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

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

What could it mean?



CHAPTER XXVII.

IN WHICH CLIF MEETS WITH A SURPRISE.

They were now in a perilous position.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What, indeed!

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

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

Was she there?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But, sir——"

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

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

Clif was in his element.

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

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

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

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

"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."