A Prisoner of Morro Part 47

The contest must be one of muscle against muscle; and to unusual strength Clif added a surprising agility that came in good stead in such a struggle.

They grappled, and there in that enclosure formed by the mounds of earth on several sides the two began a furious hand to hand battle, the result of which long hung in doubt.

The Spaniard was no mean opponent, and fought with enraged fury. Clif's astounding exertions during the past hours had been enough to exhaust the strongest and st.u.r.diest, and he was compelled to acknowledge to himself, as the battle progressed, that it had made inroads upon his strength.

Back and forth across the little enclosure the pair fought fiercely.

Once Clif slipped and fell beneath his opponent; but an instant after he was upon his feet.

His keen eye followed his antagonist's every move. He was watching for a chance to deliver one blow that would settle the combat. Several times he had landed upon the Spaniard's head and face, inflicting severe punishment, but not enough.

At last the moment came. The opening presented itself in the Spaniard's guard, and with all the strength that was in him, Clif shot out his right hand. It went home. With a force that seemed to lift the fellow high into the air, his fist met the Spaniard's chin, and the latter fell backward to the ground.

It was a clean knockout. Breathing heavily, the fellow lay where he had fallen, unconscious of his surroundings.

Clif was panting from the exertion. He had received some punishment, and the wound in his arm was throbbing fiercely.

But he paused only long enough to see that the fellow would not give him further trouble, and then hurried toward the spot where the sh.e.l.l had rolled.

"I guess that'll hold you for a while," he muttered, looking at his fallen foe as he started away.

"But he'll come out of it after a time," he added. "Gorry! how my arm aches all the way up to the elbow."

It took but a moment for him to find the sh.e.l.l, for he had seen it roll from the other's hand.

"That's it," he exclaimed, as he picked it up. "I'd know it in a minute by its shape and weight. Rather light for a cannon ball."

But he did not wait to examine it there. There would be time enough for that when he reached the flagship.

With a parting look at his unconscious antagonist he started away.

"I'm sorry, my dear sir," he exclaimed, sarcastically, as he looked back on reaching the top of the rampart. "You seemed so attached to this sh.e.l.l, I'd like to take you along with it. But as I can only take one at a time, I'll content myself with this."

Then he turned his back upon the scene of his contest, and started for his boat as expeditiously as due caution would allow.

He met with no obstacle in the way, and found the boat just as he had left it. He threw the sh.e.l.l in the stern, and with a feeling of exultation sprang in after it and seized the oars.

A few steady strokes and he was on the way toward the flagship. But there had been a change in those quiet waters while he was on the land.

He had not gone many boat lengths from sh.o.r.e before he discovered looming up before him a slowly moving steamer. It was apparently hugging the coast and proceeding with as little noise as possible.

"A boat trying to run the blockade!" exclaimed Clif, as he backed water and rested upon his oars. "She'll succeed, too, unless one of our ships should happen to discover her with its searchlight."

And then his responsibility, in view of the discovery he had made, flashed upon him.

"I must warn the flagship at once," he exclaimed, seizing the oars and sending the boat forward with a spurt.

But after a couple of strokes he suddenly stopped again.

"What a fool I am!" he exclaimed. "By the time I can row out to the flagship, it will be too late. They must be warned instantly, and there is only one way of doing it."

He reached for the signal rockets he had brought at the rear admiral's order. Should he fire them?

Those on board the strange boat that was nearly abreast of him did not know that he was there. If he gave the signal it would betray his presence, and no doubt lead to an attack upon himself in his open boat.

Clif looked far out to sea for a moment, half hoping to see the flash of the searchlight play upon the water, and lead to the detection of the strange craft.

But the delay was only momentary.

"It is my duty to warn the ships," he exclaimed, as he set a rocket up in the stern, and drawing a match from his pocket, struck it upon the seat of the boat. "Here goes!"

A moment later, with a sharp whirr and a flash of light, the rocket shot up into the air. A second and third followed; then Clif sprang back upon his seat and seized the oars.

The signal had been given. He had done his duty at whatever risk there might be to his own safety.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

CAPTURED.

Clif had elected to imperil his own existence rather than allow one of the enemy's boats to pa.s.s that blockade without warning to the American ships. But he had no intention of lying idly by in the path of the hostile craft.

He waited but a moment after the glare of the last rocket had died out in the air, and then bent to the oars, and urged the boat toward the open sea beyond.

And then he had every confidence that he had little to fear from the enemy's boat.

"They'll have all they can do to look out for their own safety now," he thought, "without paying any attention to me. The New York has seen the signal, and will not be slow in making out the cause. Then look out, Mr.

Spaniard."

But there was more taking place upon those waters than Clif was cognizant of, and peril came from an unlooked-for source.

His decision to send up the warning signal had been quickly formed after his first discovery of the strange vessel. He had seen at a glance that it was not a warship, but a merchant steamer. It was moving slowly, and apparently seeking, as much as possible, the concealment afforded by the shadow of the coast. Every feature about it showed that it was trying to quietly steal out past the blockading vessels.

Clif had not delayed, but on the impulse of the moment had sent up the signal rockets while he was yet between the ship and the sh.o.r.e. But a few steady strokes would carry him beyond the enemy and toward the flagship, he thought.

But to his surprise he noticed, on glancing over his shoulder as he drew nearer the vessel, that the latter was moving slower than before and in fact had just stopped.

This was puzzling to him, for now, if at any time, the boat should be showing its utmost speed. Those on board must surely know from the signals that they had been discovered and that pursuit would instantly follow.

A few words will explain the situation to the reader. The vessel was, as Clif suspected, endeavoring to steal out past the American ships, which were known to be in the vicinity. But a short time before Clif had left the sh.o.r.e for the second time, the blockade runner had slowed down, and a boat, manned by half a dozen sailors, had been sent ash.o.r.e. An officer in the Spanish army, with important dispatches, was to be taken aboard at a point not far from where Clif had landed.

The work of the Spanish boat's crew had been expeditiously performed, and when Clif sent up his signal, they were returning to the ship.

Unnoticed by Clif in his excitement at the time, they were close to one side of his boat at that fateful moment.

A pistol shot suddenly ringing out in the air and a bullet flying not far from his head apprised the cadet of danger from that quarter. The Spaniards, as was natural for them to be, were aroused to a high pitch of excitement against the youth whose vigilance promised to set all their plans at naught.