Lieutenant Raymond's eyes were dancing then; he had taken the wheel himself and was hard at work. And as for Clif, he was so busily engaged that he seemed to see nothing except the high stern of that runaway.

"But she's a fool," he growled to himself. "She'll be so torn to pieces she won't be worth capturing. I wish I could kill the captain."

But the captain of that vessel knew his business, as those on the Uncas found later on. He was a Spaniard, and simply gifted with Spanish cunning.

He had no idea of running his ship aground; but he knew that coast perfectly, and he used his knowledge.

When he neared the land the tug was still some distance astern. As that did not suit the Spaniard's purposes, he very calmly slowed up.

And that in spite of the fact that the tug was so close that the rapid-firing gun was. .h.i.tting him every other shot!

That the vessel had slowed up, Lieutenant Raymond of course could not tell. But he wouldn't have cared anyhow, for he had made up his mind to go in there no matter what was there, torpedoes or the very Old Nick himself.

And he went; for perhaps five minutes more the Uncas dashed in at full speed, and the merchantman still never swerved.

"They're within a quarter of a mile of the sh.o.r.e!" gasped Clif.

He turned to his third box of cartridges with a grim smile on his face.

For he knew that something must happen soon.

It did, too--very soon.

It began when the merchantman suddenly swung round to starboard.

"Aha!" chuckled the cadet. "They're as close in as they dare. And now I suppose they'll run down sh.o.r.e awhile."

Lieutenant Raymond was much puzzled to think why the vessel had risked going so close in that storm; but he wasted no time in speculating, but drove the wheel around with all his might.

The Uncas swerved and sped over to shut the merchantman off; at that same instant the reason of the whole thing was seen.

The Uncas was not a mile from sh.o.r.e, and as she turned her broadside to the land a masked battery in the sand let drive with a dozen guns at once.

The whole thing was so sudden that for a moment it quite frightened the Americans. Clif even stopped firing long enough to stare.

But the sudden alarm did not last very long; it left the men on the Uncas laughing. For they had quite forgotten the character of the Spanish gunners' aim.

A shot tore through the tug's funnel, another chipped a piece from her bow, half a dozen sh.e.l.ls whistled over her. And that was all.

Clif turned calmly to his gun again.

"If that's the best they can do," he thought, "they're welcome."

But that was not the best.

It wasn't that the batteries were aimed better next time. They were aimed far worse in their eager haste. They did not even touch the Uncas.

But an instant later something happened that showed that the captain of the Spanish merchantman had one more string to his bow.

He not only knew the location of the batteries, but he knew the location of the sand bars. While his own vessel sped on in safety, on board the Uncas there suddenly came a grinding thud, and an instant later the tug stopped short, so short it almost sent Clif flying over the top of the gun he was working.

And at the same time a shout was heard from Lieutenant Raymond, one that made the sailors' hearts leap up into their throats: "We're aground!

We're aground!"

And in front of a Spanish battery!

CHAPTER III.

AN OLD ENEMY.

It would be hard to imagine a vessel in a much greater predicament than the Uncas was at that moment. Everything was in confusion in an instant.

That is everything except one thing. Lieutenant Raymond was too busy to notice the coolness of one person on board; but he remembered it afterward, and with satisfaction.

It was Clif Faraday; he picked himself up from the deck where he had been flung and took one glance about him. Then he turned to the guns.

Whatever the position of the tug his duty just then remained the same.

He could not free her, and so he did not waste any time rushing about.

There was that Spanish merchantman calmly walking off to safety.

And there was a gleam of vengeance in the cadet's eye as he went to the gun again.

Those on board of the fleeing vessel had seen the success of their clever plan and they gave a wild cheer. It was answered from the sh.o.r.e batteries.

The steamer turned at once and headed out to sea; that put her broadside to the Uncas, and instantly the six-pounder blazed away.

That was the time to do the work, too. The vessel was quite near, and a fair mark. The Uncas was now steady, too, Clif thought grimly to himself.

One of the sailors saw what he was doing, and sprang to aid him. They banged away as fast as they could load.

At the same time the Spanish batteries opened. They had a fair mark, likewise, and plenty of time to aim. It was a race to see who could smash up their prey the quickest.

Clif would certainly have disabled the fleeing vessel if it had not been for an unfortunate accident. What the accident was may be told in a few words. It spoiled his chance.

He turned away to get more cartridges. And at that instant a sh.e.l.l struck the six-pounder gun.

It was a miracle that Clif was not hit; his uniform was torn in three places and his cap knocked off. The sailor next to him got a nasty wound in the arm, made by a flying fragment.

And that of course made the merchantman safe--she steamed off in triumph.

It was bad for the tug, too, for it showed the batteries were getting the range.

The plight of the Uncas was a desperate one. She was being tossed about by a raging sea and cut up by the fire from the guns. Whether she had struck on rocks or sand or mud no one had any means of telling.

But her engines were reversed the instant the accident occurred. And a hasty examination of the hold showed that whatever the danger was there was no leak.