But his opportunity did not last very long, for the land in front was neared very rapidly, and after that there was less fun and more work. The stranger headed round gradually to the west. She evidently had no idea of being driven toward Havana. The Uncas swerved more sharply, in order to head her off. Lieutenant Raymond was in the pilot house, and Clif soon saw by the way he managed things that he was an expert in all the tricks of dodging. And those who were handling the merchant ship saw it, too; they would have been soon headed off. So they turned in another direction quite sharply, making straight in toward shore again. Under ordinary circumstances with the short range that he had by that time, Clif could have riddled the vessel in short order; but aiming in that sea was so far a matter of luck that comparatively little damage could be done. No one knew what the enemy's last move could mean. "But we can go in any water that's deep enough for them," thought Clif, grimly, as he blazed away. And so thought the lieutenant, too, for he was soon racing in. For perhaps ten minutes pursuer and pursued kept straight on, the firing never ceasing for a moment. "Perhaps she may run on shore on purpose," said the lieutenant, coming out of the pilot house for a moment. "On purpose?" echoed Clif. "Yes; so that we can't get the cargo." "But she'll be beaten to pieces on the rocks," Clif objected. "They may chance it anyhow; you see they aren't more than a mile or two from the shore now, and they're running in still." "If that's the trick they try," Clif thought to himself, "we can stay out and pepper her to our heart's content--and help the waves to wreck her." But the Spaniard had a far better plan than that, as her pursuers learned some time later. Clif studied the coast in front of them, as well as he could see without a glass; there was simply a long line of sandy shore without a bay or an inlet of any kind. And there were no towns or batteries visible. "I don't see what she can be hoping for there," he muttered. But he had no time to speculate in the matter, for it was his business to keep firing. By that time the range was short and he was beginning to do damage. It took an expert to fire at the instant when the tossing ship was level, but Clif had time to practice, and he soon got the knack of it. And then it must have been exceedingly unpleasant living on that ship. One after another the heavy six-pound shots crashed through her stern; and even at that distance it began to exhibit a ragged appearance. The cadet expected at any moment to reach the engines or the rudder of the fleeing ship, and so render her helpless. But probably her cargo served to protect the former, and the rudder was very hard to hit. "She must have something important in view to stand all this," Clif thought to himself. "But I can't see what it is."