“That is the risk of war,” Captain Garcia answered grandiloquently. “If she torpedoes us we must sink her even if we ourselves are sunk. My government can buy another ‘Aquadores.’” The two vessels steamed swiftly away from their enemy. The sun sank slowly toward the horizon to the westward. The midshipmen watched the molten ball dip into the fiery sea. Darkness came quickly, for in these latitudes there is no twilight. Inside of ten minutes night had settled down over the sea and the war-ships had turned about and were steaming at full speed toward the enemy’s harbor. The hours passed with leaden feet. Cloud banks which had been visible on the horizon before sunset slowly spread a filmy mantle over the sky, blotting out the brilliant tropical stars. The night became darker. With all lights screened, the gray hulls moved noiselessly through the calm sea. “If she is outside the night is in her favor,” Captain Garcia said, peering through the inky blackness. “We couldn’t see her five hundred yards away, while from her low deck she could see our hull at nearly twice that distance.” “Maybe our better chance is to enter the harbor after all,” exclaimed Phil, losing heart. “But think of the mines and the guns of the forts,” replied the captain; “for me, I’d rather find her outside. She can hardly be lucky enough to sink both ships, and I have confidence that we shall sink her if we see her.” He turned to Phil questioningly. “May I count upon my American friends for aid?” he added. Phil hesitated. If the torpedo-boat attacked them it would be surely self-defense for them to help defend the cruiser. “We are entirely at your service, sir,” he declared, “if the boat is outside. I am sorry, but our aid cannot be given otherwise.” Captain Garcia seemed perplexed. “I find I become ever more heavily your debtor. Are all American naval men like you and your companions?” Then he added sincerely, “I pray that some day I shall be given an opportunity to show my gratitude.” The boys took his proffered hand and wrung it warmly. O’Neil stepped hesitatingly on the bridge. The lads seized upon the sailor and brought him up beside them. “What is it now?” he inquired, peering into the darkness ahead. The situation was quickly explained. The boatswain’s mate’s face lit up with pleasure for a moment, then he turned to Phil, a troubled note in his voice. “Them dagos can’t hit even the water at night,” he whispered; “some of them have been begging me to come and find out what’s going to happen.” “But the enemy’s sailors are just as much afraid of the dark,” Phil declared in a low tone. “These men ain’t sailors,” he answered disgustedly, “they are soldiers, landlubbers. All the sailormen of the country are with the rebels.” A sudden idea struck the lad. He turned from O’Neil toward Captain Garcia, wrapped in his own thoughts. “Captain Garcia, O’Neil says all your men are soldiers,” he cried anxiously. The captain nodded.