These words produced a panic.
It was a wonder that the boats were not overturned. The men stopped rowing, and so the craft containing the ammunition drifted up against them, and they were all in a mass together.
The actions of many of the men were most violent and threatening. They uttered fierce cries, and assailed Young Glory with menaces.
"To your work," he cried, bravely, thinking yet that he might overawe them.
But they took no notice.
"I am your captain," said Young Glory. "Obey my orders!"
"You are a traitor!"
"Seize him! Kill him!"
These were the cries that were now heard. But a clear voice came from the shore. It was that of the man who had denounced Young Glory.
"Do not kill him," he said. "Traitors must be treated differently. Make a prisoner of him."
"Who are you who give your orders?" asked one of the men. "You seem to own us!"
"Own or not," was the stern answer, "it will be bad for those who refuse to obey me. I am Jose Castro!"
There was a buzz of astonishment.
Everyone had heard of the famous Spanish spy, whose services to Spain in the war had been immense.
"Jose Castro!" muttered Young Glory. "And I thought I had seen his hated face for the last time when he sank in the river at Seville. Such men never die. I am lost," he added, "but I will die fighting!"
Three men came towards him. They were bent on carrying out the spy's orders, and were about to seize him.
"Stand back!" he cried, defiantly.
"Yield!"
"Never!"
"We are fifty to one. To fight is useless," said the Spanish soldier. "You will be killed."
"Then I will die fighting. Back! I say," he added, as the men pressed forward. "I will never be taken alive!"
"We shall see!"
The three men rushed at Young Glory.
Instantly he drew his sword. Around his head it flashed.
Then down it came on the nearest man's head. He dropped. A moment later one of his companions was lying in his blood. The third man hesitated.
"This shall cost you dearly," said Young Glory, defiantly, as he faced the crowd.
"Shoot him!"
"No, no! There must be no firing," said one of the sergeants. "A noise will bring the guns of the American cruiser on us. Once more, will you surrender?"
"No!"
"Rush at him, men. Cut him to pieces if he resists."
Such an order is easier given than obeyed. Men cannot move about a boat with perfect freedom, and Young Glory standing in the stern was a desperate foe.
The fight was renewed.
It was a repetition of what had previously taken place.
Two men fell before Young Glory's terrible sword, and the boy himself was not hurt.
But now a diversion took place.
Young Glory heard the sound of oars behind him, and he saw on turning his head, that one of the Spanish boats was hastily coming up. Attacked on both sides the end was certain.
It was necessary to do something at once. To jump into the water was no good. The boats would row after him and capture him in a few minutes. In the sea he would be quite powerless to defend himself.
"Now will you surrender?" cried the sergeant.
"No!"
"The boat will be on you in a minute. You will be between two fires."
"I care not."
"He's a brave fellow!" cried the sergeant, tauntingly. "Look at him, lads."
"We can't see his face."
"He'll keep this bluff up to the last, lads. Then he'll whine for mercy."
"But let's see him."
"Good!"
The sergeant seized a torch, and instantly set fire to it.
There was a glare of light.
"Look at the hero!" he cried.
"Are you mad?" shouted Jose Castro, from the rock. "Do you want everyone to know where you are? Out with that flame if you value your lives!"
"Not yet!" cried Young Glory, springing forward like lightning. He seized the burning torch, and with a quick movement tore it from the sergeant's hand.
Then he jumped back to his post on the stern seat of the boat, and instantly he began to wave the torch above his head.
Jose Castro was furious.
"Kill him, kill him!" he shouted.
"He has a few minutes to live, that's all!"
Still Young Glory waved the torch, hoping it might be seen by those on the cruiser Brooklyn. Even then it was doubtful if they could do anything.
The boat that had been coming up at the stern missed its mark, and ran in between the two ammunition boats.
Then Young Glory saw that he was saved for a few minutes at all events. The torch still waved, and Jose Castro stormed and raved at the men in the boats.
"Listen," said Young Glory.
"Well?"
"I have a word to say."
"Don't let the traitor speak!"
"Be silent!" exclaimed the sergeant. "Well, what is it?"
"I will make terms with you."
"You make terms?"
"Yes. I have the best of the situation now."
The Spaniards roared with laughter at this view of the situation.
Young Glory was really only seeking to gain time.
"Put me on shore, and I will give up the torch."
"The torch!"
"Yes, don't you see that if I continue to wave it, the American cruisers will fire and send you all to the bottom of the sea?"
"You, too."
"Oh, that doesn't matter! If I can take fifty Spaniards there with me, I shall be satisfied."
Jose Castro had heard enough of this talk to know what it meant.
"Why parley with the dog?" he shouted. "If you are men, you will kill him!"
Now was the critical point. The end seemed at hand.
The second boat rushed at Young Glory.
Quick as a flash he sprang from the stern of the boat where he had been standing, into the nearest of the two boats that contained the ammunition.
The boat that was coming up, rushed in, locking itself between the other two boats.
"You will kill me, you say!" hissed Young Glory through his clenched teeth. "Try it on! If you move one step, or one of you raises a finger I will set fire to the powder, and blow you all up!"
A fearful cry arose from the men.
Many of them were so appalled that they sprang into the water and began to swim to shore.
The other men, afraid to move, stood motionless as statues.
"Dan! Dan!" shouted Young Glory now. "I believe he's near. I heard a noise."
The men looked suspiciously at him.
Jose Castro was very ready with his advice.
"Cut your boats adrift!" he cried.
"No," returned Young Glory. "No man must move or lift a finger, or I fire the powder."
Young Glory clearly commanded the situation, but how long would it last? One of the men who had swam ashore might have a rifle, and if so, no doubt he would fire at Young Glory.
But the sergeant was not satisfied even with this. For he saw that if Young Glory fell dead in the ammunition boat the torch would fall too, and then what would happen? It was too dreadful to think about.
Bang!
It was Jose Castro who was firing. But as he was only possessed of a six-shooter and the distance was great, Young Glory did not stand in fear of any of the bullets the spy might send.
However, he told him to desist, as it was quite possible he might do some injury. Jose sternly declined, and when Young Glory threatened to blow up the boats, he told him to do so.
"Well, let him fire," muttered Young Glory. "He does good, really, for he's making a noise, and that's what I want. Dan! Dan!"
Here Young Glory began to shout again.
"Faith, it's here I am!" said a well known voice, and immediately the bow of a boat shot around the nearest point of land.
"Alone!" cried Young Glory, in dismay. He had expected to see Dan come with not less than three of the cruiser's boats.
It was a terrible disappointment.
"Shure, an' it was your cries that brought me."
"And you didn't see the light?"
"No."
"Where are the others?"
"The skipper didn't send them."
"Why not?"
"Begorra, it's not near the cruiser I've been at all, at all."
"That accounts for it," muttered Young Glory."Well, I'm in a pretty mess now, and I've dragged Dan into it, which is worse."
"It's a great illumination ye have there, Young Glory."
"Yes."
"An' mebbe it's friends of yours these gentlemen are?"
"Very good friends. See! there's not one of them will do anything to hurt me."
"An' why?"
"Because, Dan, I'm standing with powder and shot all around me, and if I happened to drop this torch—I threatened to do it—the consequence would be very serious."
"Is it here ye're afther stayin' the night?"
"I can't go, Dan, an' I won't let these friends of mine leave me."
"It's mighty awkward."
"Yes, we'll go!" shouted Young Glory. "A good idea's just come into my head."
"It's the great head, is yours!"
"Now, Dan, have you a six-shooter?"
"Yes."
"Then take it."
"What for?"
"Go round the boats to each of the Spaniards you see sitting here."
"An' thin?"
"You'll make him hand over his arms, sword and gun, mind, and six-shooter. Even a stilletto, if he has such a thing."
"Faith, I won't be afther lavin' the spalpeens wid a pen-knife."
"Very well. Do your work, and do it quickly. Every moment counts now."
Dan went to work with a vengeance. Not a man offered resistance. What, between Young Glory's torch and Dan's six-shooter the men were fairly cowed, and one after another they handed over their weapons. Dan Daly threw them carelessly at the bottom of his boat.
"It's no arms they have, but fists now, Young Glory, an' shure they don't count, for a Spaniard wants a knife in his hand, anyway."
"Very good. Now take your oars," said Young Glory, sternly. "The boats' heads are pointed to sea. Pull right out with all your strength. If any man refuses, I'll shoot him dead!"
Not a man refused to obey.
Young Glory's actions had terrorized them.
Instantly they bent over their oars, and the boats once more began to move. Young Glory, torch in hand, still stood in the bow of one of the ammunition boats.
Jose Castro danced about like a maniac on the shore.
"You shall all be shot!" he cried. "The general will have you killed as traitors."
But the men rowed on, despite Jose's threats.
Dan Daly had started up when he heard the noise.
"Faith, an' I know the gentleman," he said, "though it's his name that's not in my mind now."
"It's Jose Castro."
"What?"
"True, Dan. There's no killing him."
"Shure, an' there's no tellin'."
The Irishman took up one of the rifles that lay at the bottom of the boat. It was loaded. He put it to his shoulder and fired.
Bang!
Then he took another and fired.
But by this time Jose had vanished. He had no desire to become a target for Dan Daly's rifle practice.
Meanwhile, the boats were rapidly nearing the shore behind, and fortunately the waves had fallen, or it would have gone hard with everybody.
Young Glory was keenly searching the water for the cruiser. He thought it possible that seeing the torch burning, he might show a light. This, of course was doubtful, for war ships in an enemy's waters, never display a light of any kind at night.
Boom!
"The cruiser!" shouted Young Glory, joyfully.
"Arrah! but it's sinkin' us she'll be."
"No, no, Dan. It's a shot across our bows. I'll wave the light again."
"An' faith it's little good that'll do."
"But it will. It shows we are not an enemy, for enemies don't give notice of their coming."
Young Glory continued to wave the torch, and the boats proceeded slowly.
"I see it!"
"What! Young Glory?"
"The cruiser. Look, Dan, you can just make it out in the darkness."
"Shure, an' ye're right."
"Give them a hail."
"Ahoy there! Ship ahoy!"
"Who are you?"
"Faith, an' it's Dan Daly's squadron arrivin'!"
From the cruiser came a burst of laughter. Evidently the people there had recognized the Irishman's voice.
The boats were nearer to the cruiser than they appeared to be, and a few minutes after this talk they were alongside the Brooklyn.
Instantly Dan Daly bounded up the gangway.
"Dan Daly!"
"Yes, sir," answered Dan, saluting. "It's back I'm glad to be."
"And I'm very glad to see you, Daly," answered Captain Miles, for it was he.
There was a crowd of officers standing around him. Late though it was, they were mostly on deck, for the light shown near the shore had excited their curiosity, and for a long time past they had been watching it, and discussing its meaning.
"It's some friends of mine below, sir. It's meself wants to ask 'em aboard."
"Do so."
"Arrah! an' ye'd betther be steppin' up lively, ye spalpeens. It's the skipper himself's waitin' to see ye."
Not a word of this speech did any of the Spaniards understand, but Young Glory instantly translated it for their benefit.
One after another they slowly filed up the gangway.
There were not less than forty of them, and it may be imagined that their appearance created a great sensation.
"Spaniards!" cried Captain Miles. "Why, it's a regular army."
"Widout arms, Yer Honor," said Dan. "It's meself has their guns and swords."
"This is most extraordinary, and what's this?"
"I report myself returned, sir."
"Young Glory!"
The skipper staggered back a few paces, he was so astounded.
"There are about forty rifles and as many cutlasses in the boats below, sir."
"They must be brought on board at once."
"That is not all, sir."
"Is there more, Young Glory?"
"Yes, sir. There are two large boats also filled with ammunition."
"That must be brought aboard, too."
The captain turned to the lieutenant-commander, and gave the necessary orders.
"Now, Young Glory, you and Dan Daly will come to my cabin at once. I want to hear all that's happened."
And he sat spellbound whilst Young Glory related the whole story, beginning with Dan's escape, and ending with the capture of the boats.
"It's a letter I had for you, sir," said Dan, "but faith, I couldn't get out to sea."
"The letter is no good now, Dan. Tear it up."
"No, no!" exclaimed Captain Miles, eagerly, taking possession of it. "This letter shall be preserved. It will be a memento of one of the bravest actions ever done by an American seaman."
It was little rest that Dan and Young Glory had that night.
Their comrades insisted on hearing every detail of their marvelous adventures, and the day had dawned before they sank to rest.
Each of them was indulged with an unusual allowance of sleep that night, on account of their great exertions, and when they awoke and went on deck, the shores of Cuba had faded from sight, and the gallant Cruiser Brooklyn was steaming through the Caribbean sea in an easterly direction.
"Where are we bound?" was the universal question now.
"Ask Young Glory. He knows everything," laughingly said one of the men.
"It's Porto Rico we're going to," cried one of the sailors. "I heard an officer say so."
"Porto Rico! That belongs to Spain, eh?" asked one of the sailors.
"Spain! Why, no! China, of course!"
"Ha, ha!"
The men were in the highest spirits now. They had not enjoyed the work of the past few days, cruising about off Valmosa and Monterey. Inaction is the last thing a blue jacket appreciates.
Now there was always something to do, and Captain Miles, a first-class officer, saw that everything was done to perfection.
"If we do go into action," he said, "it will not be our fault if we are beaten!"
The run to Porto Rico took some days.
The lookout men were on the alert, expecting to sight land every minute.
Suddenly there was a shout from one of them.
"Porto Rico at last!" cried one of the sailors, joyfully.
"A sail!" cried the lookout man.
"Where?"
"On the port bow!"
One of the officers instantly went to the top with his binocular, bringing it to bear on a small, far distant speck on the ocean.
"A sail, surely," he said, "but what is it?"
"Well, sir?" shouted Captain Miles.
"It is a sail, sir."
"What do you make of it, Mr. Robson?"
"Hard to say. Certainly not a battle ship, nor even a gun-boat."
"What, then?"
"Looks like a small boat, sir. Perhaps there may be people aboard, but at present it's impossible to say."
Mr. Robson was a lieutenant on the Brooklyn. He had been early in the war on the battle ship Indiana. There Young Glory had served under him, and had learned to appreciate the attention to duty and the bravery displayed by this gallant officer.
He and Captain Miles paced the deck now, talking over what should be done.
"I should send a boat, sir."
"We shall see in a minute or two what is best to be done, Mr. Robson. We're running directly for the sail."
"It's not a boat, sir!" cried Mr. Robson, after a while.
"Not a boat?"
"No."
"What, then?"
"A raft."
"You're right," said the captain, after another look. "A raft, sure enough, and what's more, is that there are people on it. Order out two boats."
"Yes, sir."
"They must start for the raft at once."
"Instantly, sir."
To lower the boats and man them does not takelong on board a man-of-war. Every man knows his place, and the operation proceeds like clock work.
In a few minutes they were flying over the water towards the raft. Very soon they saw it was crowded with people. Some of them raised their hands as they saw the boats draw near.
"Poor souls!" said Dan Daly. "It's shipwrecked they are, an' starvin' too."
"Well, it won't take many minutes to remedy that, Dan."
"Pull hard, lads!" cried Mr. Robson. "Every minute counts in a case like this."
What a sight met the eyes of the blue jackets.
Half of the occupants of the raft were dead men. The survivors seemed to be, many of them, at the point of death. Very few had strength enough to rise even to a sitting position.
"No time for talking, lads," said Lieutenant Robson. "Get them back to the ship at once."
"And the dead, sir?"
"Throw them over. It's all that can be done."
Some stimulants had been taken with the boats, and by the time that the Brooklyn was reached one of the men had recovered sufficiently to talk. The others were carried below and given at once into the hands of the surgeon.
"You have suffered very much," said Captain Miles, kindly.
"Yes, but our troubles are over at last."
"You feel strong enough to talk?"
"Yes, captain. I'm the mate of the Mary Parker, a fruit ship bound from Rio Janeiro to New Orleans. We were attacked by the Spaniards, and our ship was captured."
"What was done with it?"
"The cargo—that is, the valuable part of it—was taken by the Spaniard, and our ship was sunk."
"And how came you on the water?"
"Oh, that is a terrible story. The Spaniards would not take us on board. The captain said that he had too many mouths to feed as it was."
"The wretch!"
"Wait. Many of the Spanish officers proposed that we should be sunk with the ship. It would save time, they said. Sometimes I think it would have been better if they had carried out their intention, for my poor comrades suffered torments before they died."
"It was merciless!"
"Then these men held a conference. After a lot of talk they came to a decision. It was decided that the carpenter should rig out a raft in a hasty fashion, and that we were to be put aboard it. And so we were. They sent us adrift on a few timbers without a bite to eat, or one drop of water."
Captain Miles was aghast.
The officers of the Brooklyn who had drawn close to listen, were loud in their expressions of indignation.
"The brutes! the inhuman brutes!" said the skipper. "And these are the men for whom some misguided people feel pity."
"An object lesson like this," said the lieutenant-commander, "shows how much pity they deserve."
"As we left the Spaniard," continued the mate of the Mary Parker, "the wretches on board hooted and jeered at us. We heard some of them propose that they should have some rifle practice on us, but this was rejected, because it was too merciful a death. Five days we passed beneath a burning sun, suffering cruel thirst and hunger. Of twenty men who went on the raft, but nine remain."
"Poor creatures!"
Captain Miles was silent. The horrors to which he had listened had affected him deeply, it was some moments before he spoke.
"Tell me, if you can, the name of the ship that captured you."
"It was a Spanish cruiser, the Cristobal Colon."
"The Cristobal Colon! That name will stick in my memory, my friend, until I have revenged you and your shipmates. Do you think it's likely that the Spanish cruiser is in these waters now?"
"Yes, I heard enough while I was aboard of her to make me think so. Her mission is to prey on American commerce."
"We will catch her."
"It's not easy. She does her work, then dashes into the harbor of San Juan and finds safety."
"We shall find a way, never fear."
The treatment of the American sailors by the Spaniards had roused the men's passions to the boiling point. The Cristobal Colon would have a bad time if the two ships came to close quarters.
For three days the Brooklyn cruised around Porto Rico. Not a sign did she see of the enemy.
"Faith, we'll never have a sight of her."
"How's that, Dan?"
"She knows we're around. It's one of their Spanish fishin' vessels has seen us, and that's enough. It's out of San Juan she'll not be comin'."
Captain Miles thought the same as Dan, but he determined to remain, because even if he could not get near enough to the Cristobal Colon to attack her, yet he was able by remaining, to prevent the Spanish cruiser from leaving the port in order to prey on American commerce.
The next day a ship was sighted.
She evidently recognized the Brooklyn, for she flew the Stars and Stripes in a very short time.
"One of ours, boys!" cried a sailor, "and I know her, too."
"You do?"
"Yes. She's a gun-boat. She's the Nashville, and I was aboard her for two years."
"A good boat, Bill?"
"A very smart craft."
It was not long before the captains of the Nashvilleand the Brooklyn were exchanging compliments. The skipper of the gun-boat came aboard the cruiser, and a long conference took place.
"So you'd heard of the Cristobal Colon, then?" said Captain Miles.
"Yes," answered Captain Long, of the gun-boat. "It was on her account I was ordered here. Admiral Jackson thought I might be able to help you. More than one ship has arrived in the gulf reporting a severe chase. She's doing great damage as a commerce destroyer, and the admiral says she must be checked."
"It's all very well for Admiral Jackson to talk that way," said Captain Miles, impatiently; "but just let him come here. He wouldn't be able to do any more than I'm doing."
"Of course, if she won't stir outside of San Juan it's difficult for us to act."
"Yes."
"What's to be done? A ship-load of wretches like that should not be at large. They're no better than wild beasts."
"I can't venture in shore."
"But I can, Captain Miles. My boat's very light draft. Supposing I have a look in at San Juan? I may find out something."
"A good idea, but be careful. The Cristobal Colon's a fast boat, and if she caught you, well, you know where you'd be, at the bottom of the sea in a very few minutes."
"I shall be cautious. My scheme will be to try and lure the Spaniards out of port."
"Ha! Ha! Try, by all means, but the fish won't always bite."
"You can do something for me."
"What?"
"Spare me twenty men. That is, if you're not short-handed. I am."
"I can lend you twenty, but they won't like it at all, for they're all spoiling for a fight with this Spaniard, and they want to be here when the fun begins."
"But I must have them."
"Very well. Mr. Robson!"
"Yes, sir."
"Twenty men wanted for the Nashville. We can spare them, and Captain Long is short-handed."
"Now," laughed Captain Long, "give me a fair selection, Mr. Robson. No cripple, mind."
"All our men are up to the mark."
"Good! The sooner you can send them aboard the better, for I want to start."
Lieutenant Robson lost no time. He had twenty men paraded on deck. Amongst them happened to be Young Glory and Dan Daly.
Lieutenant Robson passed his eye along them.
"If he doesn't like them," he said to himself, "he's hard to please."
In truth he would be, for a finer body of men never stepped the deck of a ship.
"What's up?" whispered one of the men.
"Shure, it's some fightin' for us!"
"Hope so, Dan."
"My men," said Lieutenant Robson, "the duty you are to be placed on, is not given to you because you have displeased the captain. On the contrary. But someone has to do it, and you have been chosen."
The men's faces fell at this speech.
"Yes, you are lent to the Nashville. You will go aboard at once, and my last word is—but I know it's unnecessary—that you will show your new skipper what the men of the Brooklyn can do."
The men were instantly dismissed. It took them a few minutes to collect their belongings, during which they received much sympathy from their comrades.
"You'll miss this fight, Young Glory."
"Don't talk about it," replied Young Glory, hotly. "It's enough to send a man crazy!"
"Shure, it's like desertin', I feel!"
"Do. There's no one to stop you, Dan, and it's very easy. You have only to step over the ship's sides into the mouth of the shark who's waiting there for you."
But Dan was too mad to reply.
He and his comrades very soon found themselves on the Nashville.
The first person they met aboard was Captain Long, whom they had not seen when he paid his visit to Captain Miles on the Brooklyn.
"Young Glory and Dan Daly!" cried Captain Long. "Well, this is a surprise. I can't complain now that they've sent me a poor lot of men."
Captain Long was a lieutenant of the Indiana, the first battle ship on which Young Glory had served during the war. He was only a young man, but he had on so many occasions displayed such conspicuous bravery, that he had been promoted to the rank of captain and placed in command of the gun-boat.
"It might be worse, Dan," said Young Glory.
"Why?"
"Because wherever Captain Long is there's fighting. That's a dead sure thing, and I wouldn't be surprised but what we'll have enough of it."
"Faith, an' it's plased I am to see an ould face."
"Old! Captain Long's young."
"Arrah! ye're a tasin' lad. It's yerself knows what I mane."
The Brooklyn had faded from sight now. The Nashville was running towards San Juan. The gun-boat did not mean to enter the harbor, but simply to cruise about in the hope that something might be seen of the Spanish cruiser.
One night the weather was very thick.
It was quite possible for a ship to leave the port without being seen, or even heard, for the waves stifled any sound she might have made.
Towards morning the weather cleared.
Young Glory was on watch duty and Captain Long happened to be near him.
"Can I have a word with you, sir?"
"Surely?"
"Well, sir, I may be mistaken, but I feel positivethat the Cristobal Colon went out of port during the night."
"How do you make that out? You saw nothing."
"No, sir."
"And heard nothing?"
"Very little. But this is what happened. I was looking over the ship's sides during the night, and a little after midnight, when the fog was thickest, there was a great rush of water towards our boat. The waves rose high, almost to the deck. What caused that? I said to myself, and there was only one explanation."
"Well?"
"It was the wash from a big steamer. I've no doubt of it."
"You have spoken of this?"
"Certainly, sir. It was my duty. I drew the attention of the officer of the watch to this, and he said he thought it was a tidal wave."
"And you did not agree with him?"
"No, sir."
"Young Glory, I think your theory is the correct one. It seems reasonable. That boat's waited for thick weather so as to give us the slip. I must know."
"How, sir?"
"Why, if she's not in San Juan I must notify the Brooklyn at once, so that she may look after her; we don't want any more ships destroyed."
Captain Long lost not a moment.
All hands were called instantly.
The Nashville's course was changed, and she steered straight for the harbor of San Juan.
The men were all excited now. It was a desperate mission upon which they were bound, and they knew it. The enterprise affected men differently. Some of the sailors looked stern and determined. Dan Daly smiled the first time for a week.
As for Young Glory, he was in his element.
The Nashville had now entered the harbor, quite regardless of the guns or the forts. Captain Long held these antiquated weapons in contempt.
Rapidly his eye scanned the horizon.
"Young Glory was right," he exclaimed; "the Cristobal Colon has sailed from Porto Rico."
He ordered the ship put about, and the Nashville was once more steaming towards the ocean, when a startling sight met all eyes.
The Cristobal Colon hove in view. She was steaming into the harbor, coming towards the Nashville.
Everyone knew what it meant. There was no possibility of escape. The Spaniard barred the way to the ocean, and there was no passing her.
Cruiser against gun-boat! That was the situation.
It was to be a fight against odds!
Instantly all was excitement on the Nashville.
Captain Long saw how serious matters were.
Single-handed he had to fight against the Spanish cruiser, for it was certain that the Brooklyn could give no assistance.
"My lads!" he said, "the odds against us are terrific. All the more reason why we should fight bravely. Let us show the Spaniards to-day what Americans can do."
"Hurrah! Hurrah!" answered the crew, and a ringing cheer went up.
The men knew no fear, and strong hearts count for much in a sea fight.
"Clear the decks for action!" was the order now.
Everything movable was instantly carried away. The decks were stripped bare.
"You have your wish now, Dan," said Young Glory.
"Yes, faith, it's all the fightin' I'll want. Begorra, but it's glad I am I came."
Dan went away and Young Glory was alone.
On the deck of the ship stood Young Glory, ready for the fight, with his eyes on the Spanish cruiser.
Proudly the American flag flew, and when the men saw the Stars and Stripes waving in the breeze, they realized that they had something to die for.
The Spaniard was coming slowly along now.
The gun-boat had slackened speed, but had not changed its position.
Captain Long was discussing the situation with his lieutenant, and the men at the guns were busily doing the same thing.
"It's a fine ship," said one of the men.
"Which?"
"Why, Dan, how in thunder can you ask such a question? The Spaniard, I mean, of course."
"An' it's a quare name it has."
"Cristobal Colon! Oh! that's named after Columbus."
"Ah! it's himself would be the sad man if he could see his own people now."
"Never mind about that, Dan, this is a fine ship, and don't you forget it."
Dan shrugged his shoulders scornfully, and put a plug of tobacco in his mouth.
"Arrah! it's the little boat for me."
"But think of their guns."
"What of them?"
"Why, they've two ten-inch breech-loading rifles, and she has between thirty and forty quick firing guns."
"An' faith, we have eight."
"That's so."
"An' enough," answered Dan, obstinately. "One American equals ten Spaniards. That's my way of looking at it, so, begorra, eight guns equal eighty. Shure, an' it's all in our favor."
Having made this wonderful calculation, Dan walked away with a satisfied expression on his face.
Captain Long had been speaking to Young Glory. It was an unusual thing for an officer to take advice from a seaman, but then Young Glory was a seaman of no common order. Everybody knew that his placewas the quarter deck, and that time and again he had refused the promotion which had been offered him.
"There can be only one result," said Captain Long.
"True, sir."
"And the fight won't last long."
"You think not, sir?"
"No, one shot from one of their big guns will put us out of the way if it strikes."
"Then it mustn't strike."
"It can't be prevented. The Spaniards are poor gunners, that's our only chance."
Boom!
"Hulloa, she's opened fire!"
The Spanish cruiser began the attack by firing one of her great guns from the barbette in the bows.
The shot went very wide of the mark, and the Yankee sailors shouted with derision.
They were all at the guns waiting the order to commence. But Captain Long was in no hurry.
Boom!
Another gun from the Spaniard.
"You see, sir, they can't hit us," said Young Glory.
"There's a heavy swell on, and it's almost impossible to train those big guns on us."
"We'll see if we can't do better. Her armor is only three inches thick, steel it's true, but what of that. One good shot may smash through a barbette, anyway."
Then the fight really began.
Boom! Boom!
The rapid firing guns were at work now. Occasionally the deep boom of one of the great ten-inch rifles would be heard, but these latter guns can only be fired at long intervals. It takes time to clean them, load again and fire.
What was Young Glory doing?
He was at one of the bow guns of the Nashville, the largest she was carrying, an eight-inch breech-loader.
Young Glory had for the time superseded the officer of this gun, for it was a critical moment, and Captain Long knew that if Young Glory could not do the required work, there was no one on board who could.
The accuracy of the young hero had been proved in many a hard fight at sea.
Coolly he directed operations, with Dan Daly assisting him.
"An' faith, it's a poor mark," said the latter.
"I have my orders."
"Shure ye have, Young Glory, but it's meself would rather be afther firin' at the big ship herself."
"Dan, you're a good fellow and I'm particularly fond of you, but you wouldn't make a great general. Now, see here, Dan, if I can manage to hit that turret I'll put one of their great guns out of action. That's a tremendous gain."
"It's yerself knows best," said Dan, and he added to himself, "or ye'd prove to me ye knew best anyway."
Dan was working like a hero.
Two of his comrades at the gun had been carried below, badly wounded by some splinters from a shell.
The sight of his comrades' blood infuriated the Irishman, and it animated the other men also.
As for Young Glory, there was apparently no difference in him. He was as cool as ever.
It was his work to sight and train the gun, and each time that it was fired, anxious eyes followed the shot to see whether it would be a success.
"Bah! I'll never hit it!" cried Young Glory, in disgust, after his last unsuccessful shot. "It's the swell on the water. It's almost impossible to take aim; you can't do it with any accuracy."
"Murther!" cried Dan, "but those spalpeens can!"
As he spoke a shot had come from the enemy's ship, and it tore away one of the ship's boats, but doing no other damage. Several men had narrow escapes from the splinters of the shell. Boats are invariably a source of danger in naval fights, and it is the custom for battle ships to get rid of most of their boats before the action begins.
Captain Long was very anxious now.
The last few shots from the Spanish cruiser showed that her gunners were getting the range and elevation. At any moment a shot might come and sink the gun-boat.
Several times he cast anxious eyes seaward, hoping that the noise of the fight might bring the Brooklyn to the port.
Alas! this was not to be. The fine American cruiser was yet far away.
The gun-boat had suffered a serious loss in men. A number of the seamen had been struck by shots fired from the machine guns, and Captain Long knew he could ill afford such losses.
"Young Glory!"
"Yes, sir."
"One good shot from you may give us a fighting chance."
"I am doing all I can, sir."
"That I know."
Boom!
Young Glory had been almost ready to fire as Captain Long spoke to him. Now he did so.
"A hit!" cried the man. "A hit!"
"A knock-out blow!" shouted Dan, excitedly. "It's yourself won't come up to time."
The wind blew the thick smoke away for a few minutes, and when it was clear all eyes were fixed on the Spanish cruiser. It was seen at once that Young Glory's last shot had been successful.
The barbette was smashed.
The eight-inch gun of the Nashville had sent a shot right against it. Confusion reigned on the cruiser. Men were running hither and thither. They were carrying off the wounded, and others, hastily summoned from below, machinists, carpenters and the like, were busily engaged in trying to make good the damage.
"Ye may work yer hardest," said Dan, shakinghis fist at the enemy, "but it's that gun won't bark any more this blessed day."
"You never said a truer word, Dan!" exclaimed Captain Long, merrily.
Young Glory's shot had put him in a good humor.
"My lads," he cried, "the big do not always win in battle. First blood is ours! Work your hardest, and the last blood will be ours, too!"
"Hurrah!" came from a hundred throats.
Meanwhile, Young Glory was working busily at the gun again, having very little to say, but listening intently to what was going on, and feeling very much amazed at Dan's running comments on the progress of the fight.
Captain Long was on deck in the conning tower. He called his lieutenant, Mr. Tyler, over.
"A new move on, Mr. Tyler."
"Looks like it, sir."
"What does it mean?"
"They're trying to get at us with their broadside guns."
"By jingo, but you're right! Well, that move must be stopped if possible!"
Captain Long gave the necessary orders, and as fast as the Spanish cruiser tried to bring its broadside guns into play, so did the Nashville maneuver so as to keep its bow head on to the Spaniard.
Meanwhile, the guns of the Nashville were busily at work, and more damage had been done to the cruiser. The din was terrific, and for the most part the two ships were enveloped in such a thick cloud of smoke, that it was quite impossible to see what they were doing.
The Nashville had little steam on, for she had been lying to during the fight. Suddenly the Cristobal Colon put on a great burst of speed, and came dashing through the water toward the gun-boat.
"She's going to ram us!"
"Sink her! Stop her!"
These cries came from all parts of the ship.
The excitement was terrific. The Spaniard was firing her guns as she came on, the Nashville was replying. Captain Long was working to stave off the impending disaster. Hastily the engineer got up steam. The gun-boat was well under way again.
"This dodging about can have only one end, sir," said Young Glory to the captain.
"Yes, an end for us."
"Exactly. There's only one way to save ourselves."
"I know none. Once those broadside guns get into play on us it will soon be over. They are bound to sink us at this distance. The worst gunners in the world could not miss."
"Don't give them the chance."
"How, Young Glory?"
"Run boldly up to her, sir."
"What then?"
"It's neck or nothing. Let all hands be ready, and once we're alongside of the Spaniard, we must board her and take her by storm."
The captain was thunderstruck. This audacious proposal fairly took his breath away. It was difficult for him to reply. Meanwhile, Young Glory respectfully awaited an answer.
"Mr. Tyler."
"Yes, sir."
"Listen. Young Glory proposes to run into the Spaniard and board her."
"Great Heaven!"
"It's the only way to save ourselves."
"Save ourselves, Young Glory! Do you know what you're talking about?"
"I generally do, sir."
"Then take note of this. The Cristobal Colon has a complement of five hundred officers and men. What have we?"
"Two hundred."
"Exactly."
"And they are enough, sir."
"Mr. Tyler, it is not a question of whether we have enough, but what are we to do. We shall be sunk for a certainty in a few minutes."
"Board the Spaniard, sir. Board her. I'm with you heart and soul. We'll die fighting."
"No, we will live and triumph!"
As Young Glory said these words his eyes flashed fire, and his looks more than his words brought hope to each of his officers.
Instantly the call for boarders was heard.
The two ships were nearing each other now, the Spaniard rapidly getting into a commanding position. Those on board of the Cristobal Colon were astounded at the action of the gun-boat. Here she was coming at the cruiser as if with the intention of ramming her.
It seemed madness. What chance would such a small craft have against the great Spanish cruiser?
The Spaniards were in high glee.
They anticipated an easy victory.
"The ship will be sunk in a few minutes," said Captain Moret, who commanded the Spaniard, "and those American pigs with her."
"Pardon me, captain," said a lieutenant.
"Well."
"I wish to make a suggestion."
"Do so."
"If the ship is sunk, she is no use to us."
"Quite so."
"Whereas if we capture her, she will be a very valuable prize, in fact, just the kind of a boat we want. Those men must know they have no chance. Call on them to surrender. They are almost within earshot now. Depend upon it if you offer them good treatment they will hand over their boat, and think they've got out of the hole they're in very well."
"Caramba! lieutenant, but you speak well. Ho! there!"
The captain spoke English, and as there was a lull in the firing he was able to make himself heard.
"Hold! there!"
"I hear you!"
It was Captain Long who answered.
"Strike your flag and surrender, and you shall be treated as prisoners of war."
"Hear my answer?" exclaimed Captain Long, furiously.
Boom! Boom!
The guns of the Nashville poured in a broadside. That was the American reply.
"Sink the dogs!" roared Captain Moret, savagely. "Sink them, they deserve no better fate."
The last broadside of the Nashville had done some damage, but what could not be seen for the clouds of smoke that obscured the view.
The two ships were close to each other now.
Boom! Boom!
The guns of the cruiser were replying now. Here the size of the Nashville was her safeguard. She lay low in the water, and being so near to the cruiser the shot of the latter passed over her decks. One of the topmasts was carried away, and two men were crushed by its fall, so the gun-boat got off lightly.
"Ready, men, ready."
Mr. Tyler, as executive officer stood ready to lead the boarders. Young Glory and Dan Daly, burning with impatience, were near him.
Slowly, amid the smoke, the two ships drifted towards each other. Then with a crash they met. Quick as lightning ladders were thrown from the gun-boat on to the cruiser.
The men swarmed up the sides of the Cristobal Colon like cats.
Captain Moret was astounded. He had never dreamed that the Americans would resort to such desperate tactics. Being completely surprised, he had made no preparations to repel boarders, and such of his men who were not at the guns were in the tops.
The result was that the blue jackets of the Nashville obtained a secure footing on the cruiser's deck.
But Captain Moret was not idle.
"Sweep these dogs from the deck!" he cried, savagely.
Bang!
Dan fired and missed the captain by a hairbreadth.
"It's a more civil tongue in your head I'd have ye kapin'!" cried the Irishman.
The Spaniards had formed to repel the attack now. By the hundred they rushed on to the deck of the ship. From the tops Spanish riflemen kept up a withering fire on the enemy.
Captain Long saw this. Instantly he put his riflemen at work.
With deadly aim the American riflemen fired. One by one the Spaniards dropped dead in the tops, and those who did not, climbed down from their elevated positions to seek a less dangerous spot.
A hand to hand fight was going on.
The Americans and Spaniards had met on the deck of the cruiser in a fierce contest. Nothing was heard but the clash of steel, the firing of pistols, and the shouts of the fighters.
The Spaniards were three to one, for the Americans had left a large part of their force on the gun-boat. It was quite impossible to employ all the blue jackets in the attack on the cruiser.
Young Glory was in the front of the battle, laying about him with his cutlass. Mr. Tyler, leading the sailors, was fighting by his side. Dan Daly was not far off, and Dan's quaint remarks could be heard above everybody's voice.
The Spanish officers kept somewhat in the background, urging their men to the attack, by every means in their power.
"Arrah! it's hidin' ye are!" shouted Dan. "It's here ye ought to be. It's yer foine gold lace I'd be afther seein'!"
But even this invitation did not tempt the officers of the cruiser to come to closer quarters.
One by one the men dropped. The enemy's loss was far the greater, but they were able to sustain it better than the Americans.
Mr. Tyler saw this, and wished to end matters.
"Follow me!" he cried, bravely, turning to his men and waving his sword.
With a cheer, led by Young Glory, the blue jackets sprang forward and dashed at the Spaniards. The latter, appalled by the fury of the attack gave way.
But it was only for an instant. The Spanish officers struck their men with the flat of their swords, compelling them to stand their ground. More than one Spanish sailor was pistoled as an example to the others.
Like desperate men they rallied. On they came, bearing back the Americans by force of numbers.
To the ground fell Mr. Tyler.
A dozen Spaniards rushed at him.
"Take him prisoner!" cried Captain Moret.
Young Glory and Dan Daly flew to the rescue.
By the time they had reached their leader he was on his feet again with his face to the foe.
"Unhurt!" he cried, with a smile; "slipped, that was all!"
"An' that spalpeen slipped, too!" laughed Dan, as he cut a Spaniard down with a furious blow from his cutlass.
Two men rushed at Dan to avenge their fallen comrade. Just at this instant, as Young Glory was going to Dan's assistance, his sword slipped from his grasp falling to the deck, some distance away.
If Dan was to be saved no time must be lost. Young Glory saw this, and not an instant did he hesitate.
He flew at the nearest Spaniard, without a weapon, and seizing the man by the neck, Young Glory hurled him furiously away. The man rolled over and over on the deck, finally landing against one of the turrets, and lying there unconscious from the force of the blow.
The Spaniards stood aghast at this exhibition ofstrength. By this time Young Glory had obtained another cutlass, and Dan had relieved himself of his remaining foe.
The fight became general again. Mr. Tyler was acting on the defensive now. If he could only sustain the contest, he felt convinced that he could tire out the Spaniards.
His men were shooting down the enemy rapidly, and, besides, the riflemen on the Nashville were doing terrible damage.
All at once there was a lull.
The Spaniards called off their men. They got into shelter, and ceased to attack the Americans.
"What does it mean?"
"Sir, it's enough they've had."
"Looks like it, Dan."
"It's givin' up they'll be in a minute."
"No," said Young Glory, decidedly.
"Why, what d'you mean?"
"I know what they're doing, sir. I heard the calls and caught some of the orders given, and I understand them. We shall have the hottest time of all."
"How so?"
"Captain Moret has rallied together all the men on the ship, every man of them, and they'll come against us like an avalanche."
"They will sweep us from the ship!" cried Mr. Tyler, aghast at the prospect.
Even Dan Daly was silent. For once the Irishman could not see a bit of blue sky in the prospect.
"It's retreatin' we ought to be!" cried the Irishman.
"And have them attack our ship?"
"Faith, it's there I want to lure the spalpeens; we'd have an aisy mark on the Nashville. Shure, sir," asked Dan in an injured tone, "it wasn't afraid you thought I was?"
"No, no, Dan."
"Begorra, an' it's betther I feel. But where's Young Glory?"
"Young Glory! why, he's gone!"
"Gone!"
Yes, that was the fact. Young Glory had deserted in the thick of the fight, and a blank look of despair came over every face when they saw what had happened.
"Deserted! shown the white feather!" muttered Lieutenant Tyler. "I couldn't have believed it of Young Glory."
"An' shure, if ye did, sir, ye'd be decavin' yourself," said Dan, hotly, sticking up for his chum through thick and thin.
"But he's gone!" was the cry.
"Begorra! P'haps the poor lad's hurt. Faith, it's a Spanish bullet he may have in him, worse luck. Fear and Young Glory can't be coupled together, me lads. It's Dan Daly tells you so, an' it's himself that knows."
"They're forming for the attack, my men."
"Yes, sir."
"Stand firm, lads."
"We will die where we stand."
"Hurrah!"
"That's the way to talk."
The men, desperate though their situation was, were as defiant as ever. The blue jacket who proposed making terms with the enemy would have had a very hot time. But to the credit of these sailors, it may be said, that they were all heroes, and not a man amongst them knew what fear meant.
Cutlass in hand, sternly they stood facing the foe.
"No quarter!" cried a Spanish officer. "We have offered it once, and they replied with a broadside. Forward to the attack for your king and country!"
Roused to a pitch of frenzy by this address, the Spaniards waved their swords in the air. Then, in a close column, they thundered along the deck to where the small, but devoted band of American blue jackets awaited the attack.