It seemed an age to him, that brief struggle. Breathless and eager, he watched the great white caps breaking, smiting against the stern, struggling to turn that boat but a few inches so that they might catch it on the side and fling it over. And meanwhile the wind and waves and oars all helping, on swept the boat--bounding over the foamy crests, sinking into the great hollows, leaping and straining, but still shooting on in the darkness. And every second was precious, for the shore was not far away; the roar of the surf grew louder--louder almost upon them. And then suddenly one great seething billow came rushing up behind. Clif saw it, and shouted to the men. In a second more its white crest towered over them. It was just on the point of breaking in a giant cataract of foam; it would have buried the little boat and its occupants beneath tons of foaming water. But it was just a second too late. The little boat's stern shot up; for a moment it was almost on end, and then it rose to the top of the wave and a moment later as the crash came and the sweep in toward shore began the frail craft was flung forward as if from a catapult. And in it shot with speed that simply dazed the Americans; but it was toward shore--toward shore! They had passed the breakers! And Clif gave a gasp of delight as he felt the wild leap forward. It seemed but a second more before the rush ended. The bow of the rowboat struck and the frail object was whirled round and flung over, its occupants being fairly hurled into the air. When they struck the water it was to find themselves within a few feet of dry land. They staggered to a standing position to find that they were in water only up to their waists. And the great wave was tugging them out to sea again. They struggled forward wildly, clutching at each other. A minute later, breathless, exhausted and half drowned, but wild with joy, they staggered out upon a sandy beach and sank down to gasp for breath. "We're safe!" panted Clif. "Safe!" Safe! And on the island of Cuba, the stronghold of their deadly enemies! CHAPTER IX. THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY. It must have been at least five minutes before those exhausted men moved again; when at last they managed to rise to their feet it was to find themselves in the midst of absolute darkness, with the wild sea on one side of them and on the other no one knew what. The faint point of light which they had seen had now disappeared: but they took it to mean that there were Spaniards in the neighborhood. And they did not fail to recognize the peril in which they were. The firing had probably been heard and the wreck of the merchantman seen. If so, the Americans could not be in a much worse place. "We may be right in front of a battery," whispered Clif. The first thing the sailors did was to see to their revolvers and cutlasses. And after that they started silently down the shore. "We won't try to go far," Clif said, "but we must find a hiding-place."