"How strangely and unexpectedly things turn out," he said to Ridge as he turned from examining this telltale relic. "Our Government learned some time ago that the _Manuel Ros_ was taking on board at Cadiz a cargo of improved mines, submarine torpedoes, and high explosives for use in Puerto-Rican harbors. It was positively stated that she would not attempt to run the Cuban blockade. Nevertheless, we were all notified to keep a sharp lookout for her, especially around Santiago and Cienfuegos. She was reported to be very fast, and I can well credit it, for there are few ships in these waters can show their heels as she did to the _Speedy_. As it is, I am afraid she would have gained Cardenas Harbor in safety if it had not been for Mr. Comly's last lucky shot, which must have crippled her steering-gear. And to think that a ship which would have been considered a handsome prize by any cruiser should be destroyed by the little _Speedy_. I wonder, though, where the _Wilmington_ that generally patrols this vicinity could have been?" This mystery was explained a little later when the cruiser in question hove in sight, having been lured from her station by a small Spanish gunboat the evening before. After making his report of what happened, the commander of the _Speedy_ again headed his craft to the eastward, and ran all that day, together with most of the following night, within sight of the Cuban coast. It wanted but an hour of daylight, when Ridge, who was sleeping on deck, was aroused and told that the place of his landing was at hand. A pot of coffee together with a substantial lunch had been prepared for him, and Ensign Comly, whose wound had proved to be slight, was waiting in a boat manned by four sailors. Senorita was hoisted in a sling and dropped overboard to swim ashore in tow of the boat, and at the very last the _Speedy's_ commander whispered the countersign of the Junta that was to open a way through the Cuban lines. Then the boat was noiselessly shoved off, and slipped away through the chill darkness towards the denser shadow of the land that waited with manifold perils to test the courage of our young trooper. CHAPTER XI A LIVELY EXPERIENCE OF CUBAN HOSPITALITY "Good-bye, old man! Good luck, and hope we shall meet again soon." With these words, accompanied by a warm hand-clasp, Ensign Dick Comly stepped into his boat, and it was shoved off from the bit of Cuban beach on which Ridge Norris had just been landed. For a couple of minutes the young trooper stood motionless, listening with strained ears to the lessening sound of muffled oars. It was the last link connecting him with home, country, and safety. For a moment he was possessed of such a panic that he was on the point of shouting for Comly to come back and take him away. It did not seem as though he could be left there alone in the dark, and amid all the crowding terrors of that unknown land.