Fierce shouts of eagerness replied to him, and the men were stripping themselves for a hard fight. The very most of clothing that was actually needed under that hot sun, by men who were to handle cannon, was a shirt and trousers, and many of the brawny backs were even bare. Muskets, pikes, pistols, cutlasses, were bringing up from below. Ammunition, plenty of it, was serving out to all the guns, and now, as the point of land was left to starboard, all eyes could see what kind of work had been cut out for the privateer. The Spaniard, as her flag declared her, was a three-master of, probably, not more than six hundred tons. She was crowding all sail, but she was evidently heavily laden. "She has too much cargo for good runnin'," growled Sam Prentice. "That buccaneer has the heels of her." "What's worse'n that," said the captain, "she has nothin' but popguns to fight him with. He won't sink her, though. What he wants is to run along side and board her." "Then it'll be good-by to every livin' soul that's in her," said the mate. "We'll jest put a stopper on all that!" "Up-na-tan," shouted the captain, "come down to your gun! We shall be in fair range in three minutes. Then give it to 'em as fast as you can load and fire." "Ugh!" was all the response they heard, and the Manhattan warrior came down so swiftly that he was at his gun almost before they knew it. There was a pitiful scene, just then, on board the unlucky Spaniard. She had many passengers as well as much cargo. Women and children were crouching in terror upon her deck, or hiding hopelessly away in her cabins. Fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, were gazing in awful despair at the horrible black flag of murder and ruin, which was so evidently nearing them, minute after minute. "The _Santa Teresa_ is doomed!" groaned the Spanish captain, and then he raised his voice to shout courageously: "Men! we will fight to the last! We'd better go to the bottom, than to let those devils get on board!" "We'd better die fighting, than stand still to have our throats cut, or to walk the plank!" came back to him from among the men. Even the women begged for weapons. There were boys and girls who were fiercely handling firearms, and swords, and pikes. Numerous as might be the buccaneers, they were likely to win a costly victory upon the deck of the _Santa Teresa_. "There goes our mizzenmast," called out her mate to the captain. "We've no chance left, now!" "We never had any, Roderigo," replied the captain. "O God! Here they come!" "Ho! Captain Velasquez!" came from the man at the wheel. "A sail to larboard! A schooner!" "A Yankee flag!" said Mate Roderigo. "Captain! She's heading this way!" "Alas!" mourned the captain. "What can a Yankee sugar-boat do for us?" A mournful wail went up from his women passengers as they heard him, but a tall gentleman near him touched his elbow.