A Prisoner of Morro Part 8

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

To a merchants.h.i.+p in war time such a signal is peremptory. It means slow up or else take the consequences.

There were two possibilities that presented themselves to the commander of this particular merchants.h.i.+p. One was that he had met an American wars.h.i.+p----

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

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

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

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

"Ahoy there!" it rang.

And Clif roared back with all his might!

"Ahoy! What s.h.i.+p is that?"

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

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

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

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

He knew that the story would be investigated.

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

"Lay to and wait for a boarding party."

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

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

For perhaps five minutes there was an anxious silence upon the vessel.

Every one was waiting anxiously, while the s.h.i.+p rolled in the trough of the sea and shook with the crashes of the waves. Her small crew were picturing in their minds what was taking place out there in the darkness, their comrades struggling to get a small boat out in that heavy sea.

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

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

"Ahoy there! A ladder!"

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

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

And then he made out a man climbing hastily up.

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

And then suddenly he stood erect, facing Clif.

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

It was a Spanish officer!

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

CHAPTER VI.

REPELLING BOARDERS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rage of the Yankee tars at what seemed to them a cowardly and sneaking way to capture the s.h.i.+p was too great for them to control.

Prudence would have directed surrender, for the Maria had not a gun on board and the Spaniard might blow her out of the water.

But n.o.body thought of that; the same instant the Spanish officer presented his weapon and disclosed his real nationality, there were two sharp cracks in instant succession from the bow of the imperiled s.h.i.+p.

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

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

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

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

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

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