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A Prisoner of Morro: In the Hands of the Enemy, a fiction by Upton Sinclair |
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Chapter 32. Clif Faraday's Test |
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_ CHAPTER XXXII. CLIF FARADAY'S TEST The excitement among the crew of the Spanish steamer was intense as they watched the light from the flagship and noted the course of the projectiles that came toward them. For this reason they had not observed Clif's movements, and gave themselves no concern about him. Whatever may have been his intended course of action, he was at last compelled to abandon it. Strain and tug as he would at the cords that bound his arms, they remained intact, nor could his ingenuity devise any way of releasing himself from their hold. Though hastily tied, the knots had been put there to stay, and Clif at last realized that it was a hopeless task to try to undo them. But though he could not free his arms and legs, he could use his eyes, and the scene was one thrilling enough to rivet his attention. The fast moving steamer, urged to its utmost speed, the exclamations of hope and fear among its crew, the more majestically moving flagship whose deficiencies of speed were more than atoned for by the range of her guns, suggested possibilities to one in Clif's position that might well set one's heart to beating wildly. If the steamer should escape by reason of superior speed, it would bring joy to the crew, but disaster to Clif, their helpless prisoner. If, on the other hand, a shot from the flagship should sink the Spanish boat, Clif perforce would share death with them. Little wonder that brave as he was, he struggled anxiously to free his arms and legs from their bonds. "The New York can never catch us," he exclaimed, when he had settled down to watching the flagship as best he could. "She is too far away, and this boat is too fast." There was little need of the searchlight now, as dawn was approaching. The forms of the ships could be distinguished in the uncertain light without its aid. Clif had been watching the flagship which was astern, but now, looking forward, he saw a beam of light in that direction. It was several miles out to sea, and shot across their path. "That must be the Wilmington," he exclaimed, cheered by a suddenly revived hope. "She can cut across our path, and all may yet be well." He looked back at the flagship and saw the red and the blue signal lights flashing their message to the ship ahead which was, as Clif surmised, the Wilmington. They also carried a message to Clif, nor was their meaning lost upon the Spanish crew. "They have signaled the Wilmington to intercept her," exclaimed Clif. "But it will be a close race." He heard the signal from the excited captain of the Spanish boat for more speed, and the throbbing of the machinery told that they were endeavoring in the engine rooms to carry out the order. It seemed as if the engines were already doing their utmost, but Clif could notice a slight increase in the headway they were making. It was a fast boat and no mistake, Clif thought, as he anxiously strained his eyes to see what the Wilmington was doing. Answering signals told that she had received the order from the flagship, and that those orders would be obeyed. Clif fervently hoped that she would be successful. He hated to think of the possibility of a hostile ship succeeding in running the blockade, and now this patriotic impulse was heightened by the fact that he was a helpless prisoner on board the very boat that promised to accomplish that feat. For, as he watched the race, there was a growing conviction in Clif's mind that the Wilmington was so far out to sea that she could not hope to stop the Spanish steamer except by the power of her guns. And a hole in the side of the enemy's vessel, however desirable under ordinary circumstances, did not coincide with his hopes or ideas on this occasion. He had no desire to share a watery grave with his captors. The two boats were heading for the same point, the Wilmington seeking to block the path the other was following. One of her guns spoke out, but the shot fell short. She was not in range. Faster went the Spanish boat, and nearer to the objective point raced the two vessels. Clif breathlessly watched the pursuing craft whose success meant so much to him. Could she win? The Spaniards shared his excitement, and watched their opponent with fully as much eagerness. At last they broke out into a cheer. Clif was not slow to understand its import. The Spanish boat was making really a phenomenal run, and had reached a point where it was evident that if they maintained their speed they would soon be past the dangerous line. That once reached they could show the Yankee boat a clean pair of heels. Clif's spirits fell when he realized that the Spaniards had good cause for their jubilation. There was no doubt now that the steamer could pass the danger line and then away. The Wilmington, too, seemed to realize that there was no hope of catching up with the other vessel, for now the cannon boomed out in rapid succession. They were rapidly drawing nearer and within range. A shot swept across the Spaniard's bows, but on she went. Then another struck the bridge upon which the captain stood glass in hand, and he had a narrow escape from flying splinters. But the goal was too near for them to stop, and he signaled for more steam. Clif could not but admire this officer's pluck. Under other circumstances, he would have said that the Spaniard deserved to win. The vessel seemed to struggle to do what was demanded of her, and sped on. Another shot from the Wilmington rattled across her bows, but the crew answered with a cheer. Five minutes more and they would be round the point and then---- What would happen then was never to be known. Suddenly a loud explosion was heard from below, and the whole frame of the steamer shook from end to end. Men rushed on deck in a panic, and wildly proclaimed the cause. A steam pipe, urged beyond its strength, had exploded, carrying destruction with it. The race was lost, and the captain promptly hauled down his flag. But as he did so, he gave orders to steer toward the land, and the steamer came to a standstill not far from the shore. The Spanish army officer carrying the dispatches entered a boat that was quickly lowered and when the prize crew from the Wilmington boarded the steamer he was safe upon land and his escape was assured. When the officer in charge of the prize crew had finished the formalities, Clif attracted his attention. The cadet had apparently been forgotten by his captors in the excitement of the chase and the calamity that had come upon them. The American officer was astonished beyond measure to find one wearing the familiar uniform in such a plight on that boat. "Why, Mr. Faraday," he exclaimed upon learning Clif's identity, and having released him from his bonds, "we were not aware that they had an American on board as a prisoner." "I thought not, from the way you were firing at us," said Clif, with a smile. "I thought more than once that you would send this particular American to the bottom along with the shipload of the enemy. You were firing too accurately to suit me this time." "Well, the American boys do come pretty near hitting what they aim at," responded the officer, evidently pleased at the compliment to their marksmanship. "But I am curious to know how it has happened that we find you here." Clif then briefly told of the adventures that followed his finding of the unexploded shell, which he picked up from its lodgment in the boat and held in his hand. "So you have risked your life for that piece of steel!" exclaimed the officer. "What can have been your purpose in that?" "Does it not strike you, sir, that there is something peculiar about it?" asked Clif, as the other examined it. "Yes," replied the officer, "it is decidedly out of date, and might be interesting as a relic, but not of sufficient importance to risk one's life for." "I had an idea that there was a mystery about it that was well worth solving," replied Clif. "And with your permission, sir, I will put the matter to a test." "As you like," responded the officer, with the air of a man who is indulging some childish fancy. Clif was not slow to take advantage of the permission granted, and carried the shell to a table that stood upon the after deck, the officer meantime paying no further attention to him, but attending to some further detail of transfer. Clif had procured a fuse and inserted it into the shell and was upon the point of lighting it when the officer appeared. "Stop, sir!" he commanded. "Would you blow us all to destruction?" Others standing near made a move as if to stop Clif, but it was too late. The fuse was burning rapidly. With a cry of alarm and amazement, the officers, American as well as Spanish, sprang to one side and dodged in great fright. But Clif calmly stood by, his arms folded and a confident smile playing about his lips. He was putting his theory to the test. _ |
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