A Prisoner of Morro Part 41

"They don't know we are here, men," he exclaimed, when he rejoined the others. "The Cuban will not betray us. We can surprise them, and if we sweep down on them with a rush and create noise enough about it we can make them think the whole ship's crew is after them."

"We'll do it!" chorused the men, eagerly.

"Then, forward to the rescue!" cried Clif, leading the way. "But quietly through these trees until we reach the other side."

It would seem a foolhardy thing to do--to invite battle with such an overwhelming force, when they might quietly reach their boat and make away without detection. But their blood was up, and there was a friend and ally in peril of a Spanish dungeon or death.

Without a moment's hesitation or further thought, they advanced silently through the spa.r.s.e woods, revolvers in hand. They were few in numbers, but determination was written on every face.

They reached the further edge of the clump of trees without giving a sound that would betray their presence to the enemy. Here they formed in line under Clif's leadership, shoulder to shoulder, ready for the charge.

The moon had gone behind a cloud, but here and there they could detect the glistening of a hostile bayonet, and the sound of Spanish voices.

They did not pause to contemplate the scene. The time for action had come.

"The stars are fighting with us!" exclaimed Clif. "The Spaniards will never know how few we are in this darkness. Now, all together. A rousing cheer and at them!"

At the signal a shout as of a hundred voices startled the unsuspecting Spaniards.

"Fire!" cried Clif and a volley from their revolvers carried consternation into the Spanish ranks.

The shots had told. Groans of the wounded mingled with the hoa.r.s.e, startled commands of the officers.

A moment later a return volley rang out upon the air, but the bullets flew harmlessly among the trees. The Spaniards in their fright were firing wildly.

The Americans returned the fire and kept it up as rapidly as possible, yelling for all they were worth. This noisy charge had the effect Clif had reckoned upon. The Spaniards were thoroughly frightened and Clif's sharp ear told him that some of the soldiers were already on the run, and that the officers had difficulty in keeping them all from retreating.

Clif knew very well that if the enemy had any idea of how meagre were his forces they would be bolder, and instead of trying to get away would sweep down upon him with overwhelming force. He, however, was too shrewd to give them a chance of finding that out. A bold dash would keep up his "bluff," and now was the time to put it into execution.

Drawing his sword, he started toward them, shouting at the top of his voice:

"Up and at 'em, boys!" he roared. "Charge!"

Then facing about for an instant, he added in a lower tone:

"Yell like sixty!"

With a wild shout, the little band rushed forward, firing their revolvers as they advanced in compact line.

This bold dash had the desired effect. The enemy could be heard retreating in disorder before them.

With redoubled clamor the Americans pressed forward, spurred on by the excitement of the chase. The moon at this point emerged from its retirement and showed them the demoralized ranks of the fleeing Spaniards.

But, unfortunately, it also showed to such of the enemy as looked back at their pursuers, what a handful of men had caused such terror and havoc. Clif felt that his "bluff" would now be called.

But the beams of the moon also showed another scene that aroused all the Americans' indignation and fairly made their blood boil with rage.

In spite of the panic the Spaniards had retained hold of their prisoner.

But the first sight that Clif saw as the moon shone out clear once more, was one of the Spanish soldiers deliberately placing his revolver against the unfortunate Cuban's head and sent a bullet crashing into his brain.

"Treachery! base treachery!" cried Clif, beside himself with indignation and horror at the scene. "a.s.sa.s.sination of a prisoner of war! Boys, shall we allow such a vile deed to go unavenged?"

The others had also seen, and there was no need to ask the question. But the answer came prompt and without a dissenting voice:

"No, by thunder! Never!"

"Then at them to the death!" cried Clif, leading them on. "In the name of humanity and the sailors of the Maine!"

The blood-curdling atrocity had made demons of them all, and with a hoa.r.s.e shout they sprang to the charge.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A GAME OF BLUFF.

Clif urged his little band of avengers forward with no thought of danger or of the consequences. The inhuman scene he had witnessed drove from his mind all thoughts of the flagship or the important papers he carried upon his person.

Such barbarity called for vengeance, and that brave American handful of American tars meant to wreak it on their treacherous foes, or die in the attempt.

"Come on!" shouted Clif, wildly. "Give it to 'em! Don't let a man escape!"

A well directed volley was the answer to his command, that sent death-dealing bullets among the frightened soldiers just before them.

But, unfortunately for the heroic little band, they were now fighting in the open, and their strength was known to the enemy.

A little further ahead Clif could see that a Spanish officer had succeeded in rallying some of his men, and they were now forming in solid line to repulse the charge of the Americans.

The first result of this was a shower of bullets from the Spanish rifles that fortunately for the most part went wide of the mark. But one slightly wounded a sailor at Clif's side, as a sharp exclamation of pain quickly told him.

It also aroused his native caution. What was the use, he quickly thought, of holding his men there in the full glare of the moonlight as a target for the enemy's guns, when a more certain conflict could be carried on from the shelter of the trees just behind him? He had too few men to risk losing any on those uneven terms.

He quickly ordered his men to drop back into the woods. But it was with great difficulty at first that he could inforce his commands upon the now thoroughly aroused sailors. They wanted to continue their impetuous charge.

But a second volley from the remaining troops showed them the wisdom of Clif's decision, and with a return volley they fell back into the darkness and shelter of the trees.

"Now, boys," cried Clif, "every man behind a tree and fight for all you are worth. Let every shot tell."

The wisdom of Clif's stand became at once apparent. From the ambush of the woods they could fire with little fear of stopping a Spanish bullet with their own bodies.

And they did fire, and that to good purpose.

The Spaniards were now bolder and bore down upon the ambushed Americans with some semblance of order. But at each volley from the sailors there was a wavering in the ranks of the foe, and Clif could see that more than one dropped wounded from the ranks.

"We'll lick 'em yet!" cried Clif, with enthusiasm. "Keep it up, boys!"

But the Spaniards advanced steadily in spite of their losses. They, too, were fully aroused at the thought that they had been so roughly handled by such a small number of men.