The chase at that time was a very exciting one. The Spanish merchantman was dashing in shore at the top of his speed. And a mile or two beyond it was the Uncas tearing up the water, plunging along at her fastest pace and banging away half a dozen times a minute with her bow gun. Lieutenant Raymond's eyes were dancing then; he had taken the wheel himself and was hard at work. And as for Clif, he was so busily engaged that he seemed to see nothing except the high stern of that runaway. "But she's a fool," he growled to himself. "She'll be so torn to pieces she won't be worth capturing. I wish I could kill the captain." But the captain of that vessel knew his business, as those on the Uncas found later on. He was a Spaniard, and simply gifted with Spanish cunning. He had no idea of running his ship aground; but he knew that coast perfectly, and he used his knowledge. When he neared the land the tug was still some distance astern. As that did not suit the Spaniard's purposes, he very calmly slowed up. And that in spite of the fact that the tug was so close that the rapid-firing gun was hitting him every other shot! That the vessel had slowed up, Lieutenant Raymond of course could not tell. But he wouldn't have cared anyhow, for he had made up his mind to go in there no matter what was there, torpedoes or the very Old Nick himself. And he went; for perhaps five minutes more the Uncas dashed in at full speed, and the merchantman still never swerved. "They're within a quarter of a mile of the shore!" gasped Clif. He turned to his third box of cartridges with a grim smile on his face. For he knew that something must happen soon. It did, too--very soon. It began when the merchantman suddenly swung round to starboard. "Aha!" chuckled the cadet. "They're as close in as they dare. And now I suppose they'll run down shore awhile." Lieutenant Raymond was much puzzled to think why the vessel had risked going so close in that storm; but he wasted no time in speculating, but drove the wheel around with all his might. The Uncas swerved and sped over to shut the merchantman off; at that same instant the reason of the whole thing was seen. The Uncas was not a mile from shore, and as she turned her broadside to the land a masked battery in the sand let drive with a dozen guns at once. The whole thing was so sudden that for a moment it quite frightened the Americans. Clif even stopped firing long enough to stare. But the sudden alarm did not last very long; it left the men on the Uncas laughing. For they had quite forgotten the character of the Spanish gunners' aim. A shot tore through the tug's funnel, another chipped a piece from her bow, half a dozen shells whistled over her. And that was all. Clif turned calmly to his gun again. "If that's the best they can do," he thought, "they're welcome." But that was not the best.