The foremost were ships of war; they looked too trim and large, and kept in too good order, for merchantmen, and they held their positions, in the lead and on the flanks, as if guarding. But what a tremendous fleet this was――sail after sail, until the ships, including several steamers, numbered close to one hundred! Soon the flags were plain: the red-and-white striped flags of the United States, streaming gallantly from the mast ends. “The Americans!” young Manuel scoffed. “They want another beating? They think to frighten us Vera Cruzanos? Bah! We will show them. We are ready. See?” That was so. How quickly things had happened! As if by a miracle the sea wall of Vera Cruz was alive with people clustered atop; yes, and people were gathering upon all the roofs, and even in the domes of the churches. From this distance they were ants. The news had spread very fast. The notes of the army bugles sounded faintly, rallying the gunners to the batteries. Now out at the anchorage near Sacrificios the mastheads and the yards of the foreign men of war and the other vessels, from England, France, Spain, Prussia, Germany, Italy, were heavy with sailors clustered like bees, watching the approach of the American fleet. Straight for Sacrificios the fleet sped, silent and beautiful, before a steady six-knot breeze which barely ruffled the gulf. A tall frigate (the American flagship _Raritan_) forged to the fore, and in its wake there glided a vessel squat and bulky, leaving a trail of black smoke. “Un barco de vapor――a steamboat!” “Yes, yes! But it has no paddles――it moves like a snake!” “No matter,” said old Manuel. “Everybody knows that the North Americans are in league with the Evil One. Only the Evil One could make a boat to move without paddles. But the saints will protect us.” “They are bringing soldiers!” young Manuel cried. “Look! The decks of the warships are crowded!” The American warships all forged to the fore; in line behind the tall _Raritan_ and the smoking new steamer (which was only a propeller) they filed past the foreign ships at the Sacrificios anchorage, and about a mile from the beach they cast anchor also. Now it might be seen that each ship had towed a line of rowboats, and that every deck was indeed crowded with soldiers, for muskets and bayonets flashed, uniforms glittered, bands played, and a clatter and hum drifted with the music to the shore. The merchant ships stayed outside the anchorage, as if waiting. There seemed to be seventy-five or eighty of them; too many for the space inside. The warships lost no time. Small launches instantly began to tow the rowboats to their gangways; soldiers began to descend―――― “What! They are going to land here, on our beach of Collado?” old Manuel gasped. “No! Viva, viva!” young Manuel cheered. “Our brave soldiers are there, waiting! Viva, viva!” “Now we shall see!” And old Manuel cheered, waving his ragged hat. “There will be a battle. Maybe we shall have to run.”