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A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy. Upton SinclairЧитать онлайн книгу.

A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy - Upton  Sinclair


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had best be a bit careful," was Clif's stern response, "or you may find yourself in irons."

      The Spaniard relapsed into a sullen silence.

      "What ship is this?" demanded the cadet.

      "The Maria."

      "From where?"

      "Cadiz."

      "Indeed! And bound where?"

      "Bahia Honda."

      Clif gave a low whistle.

      "We caught you about in time," he said, with a smile. "You were nearly there. But I suppose the story is made up for the occasion. What is your cargo?"

      The captain went over quite a list of articles; the sailors who were with Clif chuckled with delight as they heard him.

      "We get a share in all this," Clif heard one of them whisper under his breath.

      Clif smiled; and as soon as the captain finished he raised his arm and pointed to the stern of the vessel.

      "You and your men will go aft," he commanded, "for the present; I will see you shortly."

      The Spaniard was on the point of obeying; he had half turned, when suddenly with a single bound the treacherous Ignacio sprang forward.

      His keen knife glanced in the air as he raised it in his outstretched arm and leaped upon the unsuspecting cadet.

      Ignacio was clever at that sort of thing. He had tried it before; his spring had been silent as a cat's. Neither the sailors nor the officer heard him. And the blow might have fallen; Clif's only warning of his deadly peril.

      But unfortunately for the desperate assassin, he had failed to let the captain of that vessel know what he meant to do. And the captain, as he saw him leap, realized in a flash that would mean an instant hanging for him.

      And a look of horror swept over his face; Clif saw it and whirled about.

      He was just in time to find himself face to face with his deadliest enemy; and the knife was hissing through the air.

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      It was a moment of horrible peril. Clif's blood fairly froze. But quick as a flash his arm shot up.

      And he caught the descending wrist; for an instant the two glared into each other's eyes, straining and twisting. And then the two sailors of the Uncas leaped forward and seized the baffled Spaniard.

      And almost in the twinkling of an eye-lid, Clif Faraday was saved. He could hardly realize what had happened, and he staggered back against the railing of the vessel and gasped for breath.

      But that was only for a moment, too; and then the blood surged back to his cheeks and the cadet was himself once more.

      He stepped forward, a calm smile playing about his mouth.

      "Bind that man," he said to the sailors.

      The two men were grasping the sinewy Cuban and holding him so tight that he could not move. They almost crushed his wrists, and he dropped the knife with a hoarse cry of pain.

      And Clif picked it up and glanced at it for a moment, then flung it far out into the sea.

      After that he turned to Ignacio.

      "You have met me once more, my friend," he said, "and this time you will not get away."

      And that was all the conversation he had with him. Glancing about the deck he picked up a piece of rope and stepped toward the prisoner.

      He did not strike the fellow, as the Spaniards seemed to think he would. But the sailors flung him to the deck and Clif carefully bound his feet together. Then, while he fairly fumed with rage and hatred, his hands were made fast and he was left lying there, shrieking curses in his native Spanish.

      Clif turned to the captain of the vessel; the man was frightened nearly to death, and began protesting volubly.

      "I did not know it, senor!" he cried. "Indeed, I did not know it! Santa Maria! I——"

      "I don't suppose you did," said Clif, calmly. "You did not act like it. But you will have to suffer for it."

      "Suffer for it! Madre di dios, no, senor! What does the senor mean? Surely he will not hang me for——"

      "The senor will not hang you," said Clif, unable to help smiling at the blustering fellow's terror.

      "Then what will the senor do?"

      "He will tie you like Ignacio."

      The man was evidently relieved, but he protested volubly. He did not want to be tied.

      "Is it customary?" he cried.

      "No," said Clif; "neither is it customary to try to assassinate an officer. After that I think common prudence requires it."

      "But," cried the man, angrily. "I will not submit! Por dios, I will not——"

      "You will either submit or be made to," said Clif, "or else sink to the bottom."

      And so the man had to give up. Those two delighted tars went the rounds and tied every single man on that vessel hand and foot. And they tied them tight, too, occasionally giving them a dig in the ribs for good measure.

      And when they came to search them Clif was glad he had done as he did, for quite a respectable heap of knives and revolvers were removed from the clothes of those angry Spaniards.

      But it did not take long to tie them up, and then Clif felt safe. He took a few extra hitches in the treacherous Ignacio, who was by far the most valuable prize of them all.

      "Admiral Sampson will be glad to get you," the cadet thought to himself.

      And then he turned to examine the captured vessel.

      His sword in his hand, he went down the forward companionway, where he met a group of frightened firemen and stokers huddled below. They seemed to think the Yankee pigs were going to murder them on the spot.

      But Clif had another use for them. Being able to speak Spanish, he found it easy to reassure them in a few words, and sent them down to their work again.

      Then he descended into the hold; he was worried lest the continuous firing he had directed upon the vessel had made her unseaworthy. But apparently the holes were all well above the water line, for there did not seem to be any leak.

      And that was all there was to be done. Clif knew that he had the task before him of piloting that vessel into Key West; he was not willing to let that ugly-looking Spanish captain have anything to do with the matter.

      Clif had fancied he would rather enjoy that duty but under the circumstances of the present case he was not so much pleased.

      For the darkness was gathering then and the cadet knew that he had a long hard night before him; it would be necessary for him to remain on the vessel's bridge all through the stormy trip.

      And, moreover, it would take him away from Havana, the place of all places he was then anxious to reach.

      But the duty had to be faced, and so Clif sent one of the sailors back to the Uncas to report the state of affairs and ask for a prize crew. It seemed scarcely orthodox to send the small boat away without an officer to command it, but that, too, was inevitable.

      The boat arrived safely, however, and returned with three more men, all the little tug dared spare. Lieutenant Raymond sent word to report at


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