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A Prisoner of Morro: In the Hands of the Enemy, a fiction by Upton Sinclair |
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Chapter 7. A Desperate Chase |
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_ CHAPTER VII. A DESPERATE CHASE That was a heroic resolution those five brave men had made. But it was inevitable, for they did not mean that either they or that valuable ship should fall into the hands of the enemy. And apparently the enemy knew they did not mean to. For they kept battering away at the big hulk that loomed up in the darkness, running close alongside and firing viciously. Every shot made a deafening crash as it struck home. But the Americans did not mind it especially. When a man has made up his mind to die he is not afraid of anything. And the men on deck paced up and down serenely, and Clif tugged at the wheel with a positively light-hearted recklessness. It would have been a cold sort of a person whose spirit did not rise to such an occasion as that. The wild night and the furious cannonading, but above all the prospect of taking that huge ship and driving her forward at full speed until she smashed upon the rocks, was a rather inspiring one. The reader may have heard about the man out West who drew an enormous crowd by advertising an exhibition railroad wreck, two empty trains crashing into each other at full speed. This was a similar case; it does not often happened that a man has occasion to drive a ship aground on purpose. The resolution to which the Americans had come must have been plain to the unfortunate Spaniards who were tied up on board the Maria. Their fright was a terrible one, anyhow. Clif glanced out at them several times; their presence was the only thing that made him hesitate to do what he had resolved. "For they haven't done anything, poor devils," he thought to himself, "I wish I knew what to do with them." But there was only one thing that could be done; that was to put them off in a small boat, and that would be practically murdering them. "They'll have to stay and take chances with us," muttered Clif. As if there were not noise enough about that time those men began to raise a terrific outcry, yelling and shrieking in terror. But nobody paid any attention to them--except that the sailors took the trouble to examine their bonds once more. It would have been dangerous to let those desperate fellows get loose then. For the Americans had enemies enough to cope with as it was. All this while the Spanish gunboat had been firing away with all her might and main. She would cut across the vessel's stern, and send her shots tearing through the whole length of the ship; then she would come up close alongside and pour a dozen broadsides in. And nearly all the shots hit, too. It was evident to those on board that the merchantman would not stand very much battering of that sort. Already one of the sailors had come up to announce that two of the firemen had been struck. But still the Maria tore desperately onward. Nobody cared very much how much damage was done, except that they did not want the engines to be smashed until the ship had reached the shore. As well as Clif could calculate roughly, it ought not to have taken them an hour to return to the coast, for they had the storm to aid them. That they could hold out that long under the unceasing fire he did not believe. "But the Spaniards may use up all their ammunition," he thought to himself. That was a possibility, for he knew that the supply in the possession of Spain was a small one. And the actual course of events made him think that his surmise was true. The desperate chase kept up for perhaps half an hour; and then unaccountably the Spaniard's fire began to slacken. Clif could hardly believe his ears when he heard it. "What can it mean?" he gasped. But a moment later his surprise was made still greater. For one of the sailors bounded into the pilot house. "She's giving up, sir!" he cried. "Giving up!" "Yes, sir." "How in the world do you mean?" "She's stopped firing, sir. And what's more, she's dropping behind." Clif stared at the man in amazement. "Dropping behind!" And then suddenly he sprang out to the deck. "Take the wheel a moment," he cried to the sailor. And he himself bounded down the deck toward the stern. He stared out over the railing, clinging to it tightly to prevent himself from being flung off his feet. He found that what the sailor had said was literally true. The Spaniard was now firing only an occasional shot, and she was at least a hundred yards behind. What that could mean Clif had not the faintest idea. Could it be that her engines had met with an accident? Or that she fancied the merchantman was sinking? The cadet gazed down into the surging water below him; he could see the white track of the big steamer and knew that she was fairly flying along. He took one more glance in the direction of the now invisible Spaniard. The firing had ceased altogether. And like a flash the thought occurred to Clif that whatever the reason for the strange act might be, now was the time to save the merchantman. "We can turn off to one side!" he gasped, "and lose her!" And with a bound he started for the pilot house. "Hard a-port!" he shouted to the man at the wheel. But before the man had a chance to obey Clif chanced to glance out ahead, into the darkness toward which the vessel was blindly rushing. And the cadet staggered back with a gasp. "A light!" he cried. "A light!" Yes, there was a dim flickering point of light directly in front of them. Where it came from Clif could not tell, but he realized the significance in an instant. And at the same time there was another sound that broke upon his ear and confirmed the guess. It was a dull, booming roar. The man at the wheel heard it, too. "It's breakers, sir!" he shouted. "Breakers ahead!" They were nearing the land! And then the significance of the Spaniard's act became only too apparent. The men who were running her had seen the light, and they had no idea of being led to destruction by their eagerness to follow that reckless merchantman. And so they were slowing up and keeping off the shore. There was a faint hope in that; the Maria might be able to steal away if she were quick enough in turning. Clif's order had been obeyed by the sailor the instant he heard it. Clif sprang in to help him, and they whirled the wheel around with all their might. But alas! they were too late! When a steamer waits until she hears breakers in a storm like that it is all up with her, for she must be near the shore indeed. And plunging as the Maria was, urged on by wind and waves and her own powerful engines, it was but an instant before the crisis came. Clif had half braced himself for the shock; but when it came it was far greater than he had expected. There was a crash that was simply deafening. The huge ship plunged into the rocky shore with a force that almost doubled her up, and made her shake from stem to stern. And she stopped so abruptly that Clif was flung through the window of the pilot house. The deed was done! _ |
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