A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy. Upton SinclairЧитать онлайн книгу.
West with the prize, but to steam slowly so as not to come anywhere near the shore before daylight.
Lieutenant Raymond was evidently a little worried about intrusting that big vessel to an inexperienced officer like Clif, and Clif was not so very cock sure himself. No one knew just where they were, and in the storm and darkness reaching Key West harbor would be task enough for an old hand.
The cadet realized the enormous responsibility thus thrown upon him, and he made up his mind that eternal vigilance should be the watchword.
"If staying awake all night'll do any good," he muttered, "I'll do it."
And then the small boat dashed away to the Uncas again, and Clif was left alone. He stepped into the pilot house of the steamer and signaled for half speed ahead.
The vessel began to glide slowly forward again, heading north; the tug steamed away in the direction of Havana.
CHAPTER V.
A HAIL FROM THE DARKNESS.
The four sailors who were with Clif fully realized the task which was before them.
It was then about dusk, and the night was coming on rapidly. Two of the men were stationed as lookouts, and the other two took the wheel.
Clif set to work to try to calculate as best he could how far and in what direction he was from Key West; he wished to take no chances of running ashore or getting lost.
Those, and the possibility of collision, seemed the only dangers that had to be guarded against; the possibility of meeting a Spanish vessel was not considered, for the chance seemed very remote.
The two lookouts were both stationed in the bow. That fact and the other just mentioned sufficed to account for the fact that the real danger that threatened the crew of the merchantman was not thought of or guarded against in the least.
For Clif had no way of knowing that any trouble was to come from behind him; but coming it was, and in a hurry.
Within the shelter of a narrow inlet just to one side of the batteries that had made so much trouble for the Uncas had lain hidden and unsuspected an object that was destined to play an important part in the rest of the present story.
It was a Spanish gunboat, of much the same kind as the Uncas, only smaller. Hidden by the land, her officers had eagerly watched the struggle we have just seen.
The Spanish vessel had not ventured out to take part, for one important reason; she had not steam up. But she would probably not have done so anyhow, for the Uncas was the stronger of the two.
And so venturing out would have been little better than suicide. The Spanish captain had a plan that put that one far in the shade.
The Uncas was still visible down the shore, and the merchantman had hardly gotten well started out to sea before great volumes of black smoke began to pour from the furnaces of the Spaniard.
Her men worked like fiends; sailors pitched in to help the firemen handle coal, while the shores of the dark little inlet flared brightly with the gleam of the furnaces.
Meanwhile the officers with their glasses were feverishly watching the distant steamer, now hull down to the north, and almost invisible in the darkness.
It was about half an hour later, perhaps even less, that that Spanish gunboat weighed her anchor and stole silently out to the open sea.
She breasted the fierce waves at the entrance to the inlet boldly. A minute later she was plowing her way through the storming sea. It was dark then and she could see nothing; but her captain had the course to a hair's breadth.
He knew which way his prey was gone, and he knew to what port she was going. He knew, too, that she would not dare go near the harbor of Key West until daylight. And so if by any chance he missed her in the darkness he would still have another opportunity.
And those on the shore who saw the vessel glide away chuckled gleefully to themselves. It was something to look forward to, a chance to revenge themselves upon the impudent Yankees who had dared to elude the fire from their guns.
Meanwhile the Yankees, totally unsuspicious of this last move, were buffeting their way bravely ahead.
The lookouts clinging to the railing in the bow were peering anxiously ahead in the darkness, and the sailors in the pilot house were wrestling with the wheel; it was quite a task to keep that vessel headed straight, for she was going into the very teeth of the gale.
And as for Clif, he was watchfulness personified. When he was not eyeing the compass carefully he was hurrying about the vessel, now down in the fire-rooms, making sure that those Spaniards were doing as they were ordered, and again looking the prisoners over to make sure that the sly rascals had not wriggled themselves free.
"It would be a fine thing to do," he thought to himself, "if they managed to recapture the ship."
There was something quite prophetic in that thought.
It is hard to keep awake all night, but a man can do it if he has to even though he has been working like a Trojan all day.
Clif kept moving to work off the sleepiness whenever he felt it coming on.
"I'll have time enough to sleep by and by," he muttered.
He was thinking, grimly enough, of how he would be stalled in the town of Key West with his prize, waiting for a chance to get out to the fleet again.
The vessel did not attempt to make more than half speed during the trip, and that, against the storm, was very little.
But there was no need to hurry thought every one.
And so for some two hours the vessel crept on, wearily as it seemed and monotonously. The only thing to vary matters was when some extra high wave would fling itself over the bow in a shower of spray.
But that was not a welcome incident, for it made it harder for the weary sailors to keep the course straight.
The cadet paced up and down the deck; he had been doing that for perhaps the last half hour, stopping only to say a cheery word to the lookouts and once to prop up Ignacio, who was being rolled unceremoniously about the deck.
The cunning Spaniard looked so bedraggled and miserable that Clif would have felt sorry for him if he had not known what a villain he was.
"He'd stab me again if he got a chance," he mused.
For Clif had saved that fellow's life once; but it had not made the least difference in his vindictive hatred.
"I'm afraid," Clif muttered, "that Ignacio will have to suffer this time."
The Spaniard must have heard him, for he muttered an oath under his breath.
"It would be wiser if it was a prayer," said the cadet. "Ignacio, you are near the end of your rope, and you may as well prepare for your fate."
The man fairly trembled all over with rage as he glared at his enemy; such rage as his was Clif was not used to, and he watched the man with a feeling of horror.
"I don't like Spaniards!" was the abrupt exclamation, with which he turned away.
And Ignacio gritted his teeth and simply glared at him, following back and forth his every move, as a cat might.
"I may have a chance yet," he hissed, under his breath. "Carramba, if I only had him by the throat!"
But Clif paid no more attention to the Spaniard. He had other things to attend to, things to keep him busy.
It