Shell after shell followed her, but in the darkness the fort’s aim was bad; the gunners ashore could not know the range. Suddenly Phil saw a flash far out on the ocean. “See, a shot,” he cried breathlessly, grasping the captain’s arm in his excitement. A distant boom came to their ears. Flash followed flash in rapid succession, as if a firefly were flying low above the horizon. Then a white shaft of light cut the blackness, swung undecidedly to and fro, and then held steadily on the water. Phil’s glasses trembled as he gazed at the end of the light shaft. Captain Garcia’s voice rang out joyfully when his keen eyes saw the small white object under the search-light’s ray, far out on the ocean. “Be ready, men, she’s coming this way. Either they will sink, or we shall. You must choose--I promise full pardon to all--if we sink her.” A low murmur ran along the decks. In it were betrayed both joy and fear:--joy for the promised reprieve, fear at the sudden unknown danger of the approaching torpedo-boat. O’Neil’s clear voice was raised in cautioning. “Steady, men. Don’t fire; she’s too far away. Wait till I give you the word. Then fire for your lives.” The “Aquadores” turned swiftly toward the object illuminated by the search-light of the “Barcelo.” The former ship was in complete darkness. “Can you read the range?” questioned the captain’s eager voice. Phil put his eyes to the range finder and moved a switch which made the torpedo-boat’s bright hull appear as a line of light. He moved his wheel and brought the direct and reflected rays together. “Five thousand yards,” he announced. “Let me know when she is twenty-five hundred yards away,” said Captain Garcia. The “Aquadores” was steaming at full speed toward the rapidly moving torpedo-boat. They were approaching each other at terrific speed, yet to the overwrought midshipman it seemed an age when his range pointer reached the distance given him by the captain. “Twenty-five hundred yards,” he cried, his voice rising with an excitement he was powerless to control. A second afterward the blinding flashes from the “Aquadores’” guns, accompanied by ear splitting discharges, made the scene on the cruiser one of terrible splendor. The “Barcelo’s” search-light still illumined the enemy, but she had by her superior speed drawn out of range of the former’s guns. Phil’s fascinated gaze held to the torpedo-boat with grim tenacity. “She’s lost her,” he cried, as the end of the “Barcelo’s” search-light swept uncertainly over the water. The boat had vanished into the night. “Cease firing,” cried O’Neil’s stentorian voice, as he saw the torpedo-boat had slipped away from the discovering light. The “Aquadores’” lights were flashed and groped about in despair for the lost vessel. The sailors stood terrified at their guns. O’Neil walked coolly along the deck, shaking men roughly to wake them out of their stupor of fear--some had fallen to praying on their knees.