It is needless to say that Clif stared at the man in amazement. But an instant before he had heard him state that he was willing to assume responsibility for them as prisoners.
And now he was saying that they were free!
But there was no time to ask any questions. Bessie Stuart was clinging to Clif's arm and urging him on.
"Have you got some place to hide us?" she inquired anxiously of the officer.
"It is hardly likely that I would leave you here," was the other's quiet answer. "Come."
He led them away from the prison. A short distance off there was standing a small closed carriage.
"Here it is," said the Spaniard. "Step in."
Clif helped the girl inside; and then entered himself. He expected the officer to follow, but he did not; he clambered up with the driver.
And the carriage rattled off down the road.
Clif saw his chance then. He turned eagerly toward the girl.
"Bessie!" he cried, "for Heaven's sake, tell me what this all means. Who is this man? And why is he setting us at liberty?"
The girl sank back weakly in the seat.
"I will tell you the story, Clif," she said. "There is plenty of time, for we have a long ways to go."
"He is ruining himself for us!" Clif exclaimed. "For you! Why he will be court-martialed and shot if he lets us get away."
"I know it," groaned the girl, choking down a sob. "I know it. We talked it all over beforehand. But it was a question of his life or mine."
"Are you sure he is not tricking us?" gasped Clif—"kidnapping us?"
The girl smiled sadly.
"You do not understand the circumstances," she said. "Wait, and let me tell you."
Clif missed in his friend the old self-reliant manner that she had always had; she was nervous and weak, and it was plain that she was not well.
And Clif was trembling all over with anxiety as he watched her.
"Go on!" he cried. "Tell me. How did you get here, in the first place?"
"You left me with Gomez," began the girl, taking a deep breath. "I did not stay very long, for he was marching about, and I could not stand the strain. He wanted me to go to one of the Cuban villages in the interior where his family was; but I was anxious to get back to the United States. And so I came here to Havana——"
"To Havana!"
"Yes, for I thought no one would know me."
"And Ignacio saw you?"
"Yes, and recognized me. But that was only the other day."
"Where were you meanwhile?"
"I had a letter to the British consul, and I stayed at his home. There was so much suffering in this city that I couldn't stay idle. I used to go to the hospitals to take care of the poor people, the Cubans. And that was how I met Lieutenant Hernandez."
"Who is he?"
"He is the man who has rescued us. He had been hurt in the Matanzas bombardment, and one of his arms was terribly cut. I took care of him—he wasthere because the military hospitals were crowded. And, Clif, I—I—I guess he fell in love with me."
The girl flushed as she said that.
"I should not tell, perhaps," she went on, hastily. "But it is your right to know this, and you would not understand if I didn't tell you. Clif, he asked me to marry him."
Clif started and turned pale.
"Bessie!" he exclaimed in horror.
The thought of that girl's marrying the Spanish officer was terrible. It flashed over him that that was the reason why the rescue had been attempted.
"Oh, Bessie!" he cried again.
Clif had never breathed a word of love to her in his life. But all through their trying journey through Cuba he had protected her, fairly worshiped her. And he had thought she understood his feelings.
And now he thought that he had lost her—she had promised to be that officer's wife! It was no wonder that he felt his hands grow icy.
His heart fairly stood still as he waited for the girl to go on.
"I will tell you," said Bessie. "You must know in the first place that this man is a gentleman, a hero in fact. You will understand it when I tell you what he has done."
"Go on."
"When he left the hospital, as I say, he begged me to marry him—declared he would resign from the army if I would."
The girl was breathing hard as she continued; it was evident that the subject pained her.
"I felt so sorry for him," she said, in a low, trembling voice. "For I think it has nearly broken his heart. I refused him. I told him that I liked him, but I did not, I could not marry him. I had been kind to him because he was ill. He swore thathe would die for me—and, Clif, I think he has nearly carried out his promise."
Bessie Stuart choked down a sob.
"I refused him," she said again. "And then came the horrible Ignacio. He saw me on the street. That was three days ago; and that same day I was placed under arrest."
"What for?"
"Why, Ignacio knew that I had been fighting with Gomez; you know we had a fight with some Spaniards when he was along. And so there was no chance for me. The British consul did all he could for me, but there was no hope. I could not deny the charges. And, oh, Clif, I have had a frightful time. I was taken over to those horrible dungeons in Morro. And I was sentenced to death. I was to be taken out and shot to-morrow."
The girl stopped for a few moments to recover her composure.
"And how did you find out about me?" asked Clif.
"I will tell you," said Bessie. "But first I must go on about this Lieutenant Hernandez. I did not know it, but he was stationed over here. And when he found out what had happened to me he managed to come in to see me."
And then Clif felt able to complete that story.
"I suppose," said he, "that he offered to free you if you would marry him."
Bessie Stuart smiled sadly.
"You do not know the man," said she. "I will tell you what he did say. I can almost hear him saying it."
"What?"
"'Miss Stuart,' he said, 'you have said you do not love me. And I think you love some one else—I do not know whom; but I will not make you unhappy by urging you any more. I might take advantage of your present position to get you to promise to marry me. But I will not. If you will be ready to-night I will help you to escape, and prove what I said about dying for you.'"
The girl stopped and sat silent, too much moved to speak. And Clif was too astonished.
That was indeed the act of a noble nature. The cadet saw it all then, why the man had freed them and why he and the girl were both so quiet and sad. Lieutenant Hernandez had given his life for hers.
It was fully a minute before anything more was said. Then Bessie Stuart began again, in a low voice:
"About you," she said. "It was the lieutenant who told me, quite by accident. He said there were five Americans captured, one a cadet, and that he was to be killed. When I asked the name and he told me, I fainted dead away. And I think that hurt the lieutenant more than anything."
"Why?"
"I told him the story, how you had twice rescued me from the Spaniards. And he asked—he asked if you were his rival."
The girl stepped abruptly.
"And you said that I was, I hope," said Clif, quietly.
Most women would have been embarrassed by a question such as that. But Bessie Stuart was not.
There was some of the old-time self-possession in her voice as she responded. She turned and looked fairly into Clif's eyes.
"I know you well enough to speak my mind," she said. "Yes, I told him that you were."
And then the two sat perfectly silent, looking at each other. It was a very few words they had said, but they covered a lifetime of feeling.
In that quiet way and under those strange circumstances Clif had unbosomed his heart; and Bessie Stuart had done the same.
It was the first word that Clif had ever said to indicate how he felt toward her.
For the two sat in silence for a minute or so; and then Clif went on:
"You told this officer that I was his rival," said he; "that you loved me and that I was the only barrier to his hopes?"
"I did," said the girl.
"And he still was willing to save my life?"
"You see what he has done," answered the other. "He said that he loved me, that he would risk his life to make me happy. And here we are."
"But not happy," Clif added, half under his breath.
Then again there was a long silence. One cannot say much when one feels as deeply as those two felt then.
Clif thought of the heroism of that quiet Spanish officer. And his heart went out toward him. He fancied what the man's own feelings must be, the loneliness and the desolation.
He had ruined himself, accepted voluntarily disgrace and a shameful death. And all in order that a woman who had been kind to him might be set free and made happy.
Of the death there could be no doubt. When that officer was caught he would have it to face. And he would face it for the sake of Bessie Stuart.
And moreover, he was aiding Clif, his rival, the one who was robbing him of his heart's desire; he was helping him to freedom so that the cadet, when his work in the war was done, might claim the woman he loved as his reward.
That was heroism; not the noisy kind in the battle, which every one sees and applauds, but thequiet kind that knows it is right and cares for no one else.
Clif felt that he could worship such a man as that.
And it is needless to say that his conscience troubled him. What right had he to accept such a sacrifice?
But the alternative was a terrible one. The lieutenant might flee with them to the United States; and then——
Clif could not finish the thought; it made him shudder.
Just then Bessie Stuart spoke again.
"Clif," she said, "I have something to say to you. And I shall speak plainly, for there is no time to hesitate. I have told you how I feel toward you; I have told you that I loved you. Neither of us would have declared our feelings, I suppose, if it had not been for this situation. But I have been with you for months, and I have never known you to do anything I could not admire. And mine is no childish fancy, Clif, for we have been doing the work of men, you and I. Clif——"
The girl choked back a sob—and then went on:
"We must stop," she said, "stop where we are."
Clif knew what was coming, and he felt his blood surging. Bessie Stuart's hand was in his and it was trembling.
For a moment she could not speak; the words would not come.
But then with that terrible self-command she sometimes displayed, she mastered her emotion and turned to look into her companion's face.
"Clif," she said, "you know what I mean. You must let me marry this officer."
Clif had known, and so he did not move when he heard those awful words. He sat perfectly motionless, almost frozen; he felt the girl's hand turn cold in his.
The carriage rolled on, and for at least one long, long minute there was not a sound. The girl was listening, trembling again; and Clif, half dazed was thinking to himself, thinking again and again of that death knell, "You must let me marry this officer."
And it was true. Clif knew it. It was his duty; and the feeling lingered in his mind that if he had half the heroism of that Spaniard he would have said so long ago.
At last he spoke. His mouth was dry and his voice husky, but he forced the words out.
And they were the right ones.
"Yes," said he, "you must marry him. And we must never meet again."
And then once more came the terrible silence. Bessie Stuart heard him choke down a sob; and her heart was ready to break.
For this cadet was the dearest friend she had. She had been through terrible dangers with him, coming to love him more every day, as she saw the brave man's daring. And no one could ever know now how she felt toward him.
But there was her duty; and though she was nearly ready to faint, she sat perfectly motionless by his side.
And so for two or three minutes they rode on in silence; then suddenly they heard the driver of the carriage stopping his horses.
"We are there," said Clif, in a husky voice.
He turned to look at the girl once more; he found that she was gazing at him, and their eyes met.
There was anguish in both of their faces; Miss Stuart could scarcely see for her tears.
But Clif took her hands in his. All the emotion of his lifetime seemed crowded into that moment. He bent toward her and their lips met in one trembling kiss.
And then with a set look on his face the cadet rose from his seat and opened the door of the carriage, which had stopped.
Clif found Lieutenant Hernandez waiting for them to come out. Both he and the driver had descended from the carriage.
It was quite dark where they were, apparently surrounded by a lonely woods. But by such light as there was Clif looked at the officer anxiously.
Now since he had heard that story he was more than anxious to study his face, to see what manner of man this was.
The lieutenant still wore the calm, quiet look; he seemed almost inspired.
"If you will follow me a short distance," he said, "we shall reach a place where we can remain concealed until morning."
He started across the country, after a few words with the driver of the carriage; they had not gone very far before the faint roaring of the breakers on the beach became audible.
"You see," said the Spaniard, "we are near the sea. We are only about four miles from Havana harbor, and you may make an effort to reach the blockading fleet in the morning."
Obviously, it would not do to try it in the darkness. They might be run down or lost or fired on or swept out to sea.
"But it will be daylight in a few hours," said the lieutenant.
And then the three went on in silence until suddenly a small hut loomed up in the darkness.
"It is deserted," said their guide. "We can conceal ourselves there."
And accordingly, they crept through the low doorway, and finding the place covered with straw inside, sat down to wait.
There was no conversation among them, for each one of the trio was wrapped in his own sad thoughts. The place was in absolute darkness, and so they could not see each other.
But Clif was revolving a plan over in his thoughts, and it was not very many minutes before he made up his mind.
He rose to his feet again.
"Excuse me for a while," he said. "I will return."
And with that he hurried out of the hut.
Bessie Stuart knew why he had gone, and after a moment's silence she turned toward the lieutenant.
"My friend has left," she said, "in order that I may have a chance to talk to you."
The officer answered nothing; the girl went on slowly.
"Lieutenant Hernandez," she said "will you answer me a question?"
"What is it?"
"What do you intend to do?"
"How do you mean?"
"I mean that you will be court-martialed if you return to Havana——"
"Yes," said the other, "I know that."
"Do you mean to return there?"
"Such are my plans at present," was the quiet response.
Miss Stuart thought a moment before she began again.
"Lieutenant Hernandez," she said at last, "you have been a hero to-day."
"I have done my best," said the man.
"You have done what few men would have. You have given your life for our safety."
"Yes," answered he, "I have."
"But there are other heroes, Lieutenant Hernandez," said the girl. "You have inspired us two. That is what I wish to speak to you about. I have a better plan than your return to Havana."
"What is it?"
"Come to America with us——"
"And then?"
"Then I will do my best to repay your favor. I will do as you have asked me."
"You mean——"
"I mean that I will marry you the day that we arrive."
The girl said those words in a low, earnest tone. She saw the officer give a start, she even fancied she heard his heart begin to beat louder.
But he said nothing. The two sat as they were in silence. The Spaniard was having his struggle then.
The pause continued for at least five minutes; it was broken only once.
"Does Cadet Faraday know of this?" asked the officer.
"He does," said the girl. "We talked it over in the carriage."
"And he said that he was willing to give you up?"
"He did."
"I am glad that I saved him," muttered the man.
Bessie Stuart was a little puzzled to catch the drift of that last remark. But she soon saw what it meant.
She was quite startled by the decision to which the Spaniard came.
"Miss Stuart," he began, in a low, trembling voice, "this is indeed a reward for my helping you. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. It shows me that those I helped were worth helping. And it makes me all the more sorry."
"Sorry?"
"Yes, sorry that it cannot be."
The girl gave a slight gasp.
"What cannot be?"
"I cannot marry you. I will not."
The officer paused for a moment, then he went on.
"It is plain to me," he said, "that you have worshiped this cadet. I do not blame you, after what I have just seen of him. I have heard of his bravery, too, and he is worthy of you—more so than I am. As I say, Miss Stuart, you love him; and you do not love me. You make this proposal to me from a sense of duty, and I cannot think of accepting it. You would never be happy again."
The girl started to protest, but the lieutenant held up his hand to stop her.
"No," he said, "there are more reasons, even stronger ones, I could not think of going to the United States. I could not think of turning traitor to my country. You forget, since I have helped you, that I am still a Spaniard; and while this war continues I shall remain with my countrymen."
"But they will kill you!"
"They may do what they please with me. It is not for me to say. I have done my duty; I will not become a traitor."
The officer was silent for a moment, sadly staring ahead in the darkness.
"You Americans forget how we Spaniards feel," he began slowly. "You think us foolish to fight for a dying country. I know that it is dying; for I am not one of those who blind their eyes and boast. I know that we are bankrupt and disorganized, ourmen dying, and our enemies closing in on us. We cannot keep up with modern nations. But, Miss Stuart, it is still Spain, my native land; my friends are there, my memories are there. And Spain's enemies are mine."
There was a gleam in the proud Castilian's eyes as he said that; but then he sank back with a sigh.
"It is useless," he said, "foolish, if you will. And I am tired of the struggle, tired of weeping at my country's trials, her follies. I shall be glad to leave. I can die without a murmur. When I go back to Havana I shall have no one to care about me, and it will soon be over."
The man stopped abruptly.
"I am through," he said.
"You say you have no one to care for you," said the girl. "I will care for you."
But the officer only shook his head.
"I should ruin your hopes," he said. "You must not think of me at all. If I came I should have no way of taking care of you; I will stay in Cuba. And remember that I have done this to make you happy—because I love you. If I leave you unhappy I shall know that I have died for nothing."
And there the matter ended. The calm officer only shook his head to all of Bessie's arguments; he had his mind made up, and was as firm as adamant.
It seemed strange that the girl should be trying to persuade him to marry her; but in her earnestness she never thought of that. The man's sacrifice quite appalled her; she felt that she was not worth it, and she did all she could to persuade him of her sincerity.
But Lieutenant Hernandez was unmoved.
"I know that you love him," he said, "and I know that your heart is ready to break at the thought of leaving him. I can see it in the way you look at him. I knew it when you fainted when Ispoke of his danger. And I do not blame you, for he is a braver man than I. But I will not be coward enough to separate you. You would hate me."
"Hate you?"
"Yes, and every decent American, too. What else has any man for a traitor? I should kill myself for shame. No, no!"
And the girl realized to her despair what he said was true; but oh! how her heart went out to that man!
The officer rose to his feet just then, as if to close the painful discussion. Bessie Stuart rose, too, and she held out her hand to him.
He took and kissed it reverently; then his face still calm and dignified, he stepped to the door.
"It is best," he said, "that I should go."
"Can you not wait to see us start?" asked the girl.
"You will find a boat on the shore just in front of you," began the other. "And you had best start as soon as it is light. But there is nobody about here, and you are not in any danger. As to my staying, I will watch you from the woods, a short ways back. It would not be well for me to stay here, for I am human——"
The man paused a moment as he gazed into the girl's beautiful face.
"I am very weak," he said, with a sad smile. "I might accept the reward you offer."
And with that he bowed, then turned resolutely on his heel and strode away into the darkness.
As he did so he passed Clif; and Clif, as he saw him leave rushed toward the dark figure that stood in the doorway of the hut.
What had been Clif's agony of mind may be imagined. When he saw the lieutenant going away it had flashed over him that perhaps he refused the act of treason implied in his going to America.
And Clif's heart began to throb once more with the wild hope he had tried so hard to suppress.
"Bessie!" he panted. "Bessie! What did he say?"
"He has gone back to Havana," was the answer.
For an instant the two stood staring at each other, their hearts throbbing with an emotion they were ashamed to call joy. Clif saw the girl's slender figure trembling.
And he sprang forward and caught her in his arms just as she fainted dead away.
How the long hours between then and sunrise passed away those two hardly knew. Bessie Stuart, exhausted by her long nervous strain, sank into a restless slumber. And Clif sat with his eyes fixed on the gradually lightening doorway.
Clif wanted to feel happy, but he scarcely dared. For he had before his mind the thought of that lonely Spanish officer, waiting somewhere in the distance to see them depart and leave him to his fate.
It was a solemn thought, and it made Clif tremble. He almost wished that the man had not rescued him.
But then again he thought of Ignacio and his frenzied cruelty, and he felt that he would have died himself to save any man from such a fate as that.
And now it was done and there was no undoing it. There was no way of aiding the lieutenant, no way of persuading him, nothing but death for him to face.
But as Clif sat there through the early hours of the morning and gazed upon that silent figure by his side he felt that his love for that girl was consecrated by that hero's sacrifice. There was a light of high purpose in the brave man's eyes; he was accepting his life and hers at the cost of another's, and the terms were such as made him feel the meaning of his existence. It was to be no child's play, no blind hunt for pleasure or wealth or fame, but alife with a purpose and meaning, a struggle for the right.
"I think his face will always be watching me," thought Clif.
And there were moments in his after life when the thought that that quiet Spaniard's eyes were watching made him shrink from the base things of life.
The light that shone in from the eastern sky gradually grew brighter and brighter, and Clif awakened from his solemn reverie to the duty that lay before him then.
He had Bessie Stuart to protect, and to lead from that position of peril.
It would indeed be a frightful calamity, he thought, if that sacrifice of Lieutenant Hernandez should avail nothing. If that girl should fall once more into the clutches of the Spaniards.
"For they are not all like that man," thought the lad.
And so he waited nervously until the light was bright enough. And then very gently he awakened her and assisted her to rise.
The girl was weak and exhausted, but she gathered her strength for this last final effort.
"We have not far to go," Clif said. "And we will soon be safe."
The two halted for a moment at the doorway of the hut and gazed out.
In the faint gray light they could not make out the line of the shore beyond, but they heard the noise of the breakers and knew that it was not far away.
And so half carrying his friend, Clif set out in the direction of the sound. Once only he turned again.
That was to take a parting look in the direction he knew Lieutenant Hernandez to be.
But he could make out only a dim line of woodsbehind him. No one could be seen, and the place was lonely and silent and gray.
But Clif fancied those quiet eyes were watching him from the distance.
There was no time to be lost, however, for no one knew when they might chance to meet with some of the enemy; they were in the midst of a thickly settled country.
And so they made their way swiftly down to the shore.
There they found a rowboat, drawn up on the beach a little beyond them. Clif was startled to see a figure standing by it.
But it proved to be only a boy, and he hailed them and then disappeared. Clif knew that he had been sent there to guard the boat; it was more of the lieutenant's thoughtfulness.
The sight of that guarantee of safety revived Bessie Stuart's spirits considerably; her step grew quicker and in a few moments they reached the spot.
There were a pair of oars in the boat, which was a small one. Without a word, Clif set to work to put it off from the shore.
That was as hard a task as could have been given him; for great waves were rolling upon the beach. But Clif was an athlete and a sailor besides; and the realization of their danger nerved his arm.
He seated the girl in the bow and ran the boat out with a rush; he caught a favorable moment. He plunged on until the water was up to his waist, and then he leaped into the boat and seized the oars just as another great wave swept them in toward shore again.
But Clif pulled for his life and held his own; and when the current set out again, he breasted the line of breakers and reached the sea beyond.
Bessie Stuart sat perfectly motionless, graspingthe gunwale, until she saw that they were safe. Then she gave a slight gasp and closed her eyes wearily.
Clif had but one object, and that was to get as far from the coast of Cuba as he could; every stroke that he rowed put him further away from that dreaded shore.
And he knew, though he could not see them then, that far out to sea lay the vessels of the blockading squadron. Once in sight of them and the anxious fugitives were safe.
And so Clif put every ounce of muscle he had into that task. Not a word more was spoken; but the man's lips were set in a desperate resolve and his broad back heaved as he fought his way on.
There was a heavy sea, and progress was frightfully slow. Now that they were so near to safety, to be recaptured would be frightful indeed.
But yet the cadet knew that Spanish soldiers on the shore might catch sight of them at any moment, and come rushing down the beach to open fire.
Clif had rescued one man from just such a plight as that; and so as he rowed he glanced nervously along the shore.
But he saw no one, and no one saw him. The light brightened until he could make out everything along the coast, but there was no sign of any one's having noticed them.
An so with his heart growing lighter at every moment Clif tugged at the oars and forced the frail boat ahead through the waves. It was but natural that his relief should be great, for his adventures upon that island had been terrible ones indeed.
A warship is far from a safe place of residence, especially in war time. But Clif felt that if he once got under the American flag again all his worry would be at an end.
And so every stroke nearer was a cause for joy.
For perhaps five minutes he rowed on in silence. By that time he was some distance from shore, though their progress was slow in the heavy sea.
But they felt that they were safe. They felt that there was no longer anything to be feared. And there was a silent prayer of thanksgiving in Clif Faraday's heart.
And such being his feelings, the reader may imagine the horror and consternation that swept over him a moment later.
For an appalling discovery was made, one that seemed fairly to freeze Clif's blood.
He was struggling with his back toward Bessie Stuart. And the joy that was in his heart was turned to horror by hearing the girl give a shrill scream.
The cadet whirled about.
He saw the girl, her face transfixed and white as a sheet, pointing with a trembling finger off to starboard.
Clif followed the direction of her gaze; what he saw made his brain reel, made him almost totter backward into the boat.
Not half a mile away, coming straight down the coast and bearing down upon them at full speed, was a vessel, a low gunboat.
And high above her bow was floating a Spanish flag.
Clif stared at the frightful apparition as if he had seen a ghost.
What it meant to him may be imagined—the failure of all their hopes—their capture and death!
And there was not the slightest possibility of escape!
Perfectly wild with terror the agonized cadet whirled about, gazing seaward, with a faint hope of the possibility of there being seen by some American vessel.
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!
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 thelow 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 sawthem 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.
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 darknessslowly 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 fellback 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.