A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the EnemySinclair, Upton
History
A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy
Sinclair, Upton
Spanish-American War, 1898 -- Fiction
"That must be the Wilmington," he exclaimed, cheered by a suddenly
revived hope. "She can cut across our path, and all may yet be well."
He looked back at the flagship and saw the red and the blue signal
lights flashing their message to the ship ahead which was, as Clif
surmised, the Wilmington. They also carried a message to Clif, nor was
their meaning lost upon the Spanish crew.
"They have signaled the Wilmington to intercept her," exclaimed Clif.
"But it will be a close race."
He heard the signal from the excited captain of the Spanish boat for
more speed, and the throbbing of the machinery told that they were
endeavoring in the engine rooms to carry out the order. It seemed as if
the engines were already doing their utmost, but Clif could notice a
slight increase in the headway they were making.
It was a fast boat and no mistake, Clif thought, as he anxiously
strained his eyes to see what the Wilmington was doing.
Answering signals told that she had received the order from the
flagship, and that those orders would be obeyed. Clif fervently hoped
that she would be successful. He hated to think of the possibility of a
hostile ship succeeding in running the blockade, and now this patriotic
impulse was heightened by the fact that he was a helpless prisoner on
board the very boat that promised to accomplish that feat.
For, as he watched the race, there was a growing conviction in Clif's
mind that the Wilmington was so far out to sea that she could not hope
to stop the Spanish steamer except by the power of her guns. And a hole
in the side of the enemy's vessel, however desirable under ordinary
circumstances, did not coincide with his hopes or ideas on this
occasion. He had no desire to share a watery grave with his captors.
The two boats were heading for the same point, the Wilmington seeking to
block the path the other was following. One of her guns spoke out, but
the shot fell short. She was not in range.
Faster went the Spanish boat, and nearer to the objective point raced
the two vessels.
Clif breathlessly watched the pursuing craft whose success meant so much
to him. Could she win?
The Spaniards shared his excitement, and watched their opponent with
fully as much eagerness. At last they broke out into a cheer.
Clif was not slow to understand its import. The Spanish boat was making
really a phenomenal run, and had reached a point where it was evident
that if they maintained their speed they would soon be past the
dangerous line. That once reached they could show the Yankee boat a
clean pair of heels.
Clif's spirits fell when he realized that the Spaniards had good cause
for their jubilation. There was no doubt now that the steamer could pass
the danger line and then away.
The Wilmington, too, seemed to realize that there was no hope of
catching up with the other vessel, for now the cannon boomed out in
rapid succession. They were rapidly drawing nearer and within range.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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