The senior Cuban officer came hurriedly to the bridge. "It is no good to surrender," he cried. "They would only shoot or hang all of us." There was another thin red flash and a report. A loud whirring noise passed over the ship. "I'm not going to surrender," said the captain, hanging with both hands to the rail. He appeared like a man whose traditions of peace are clinched in his heart. He was as astonished as if his hat had turned into a dog. Presently he wheeled quickly and said--"What kind of a gun is that?" "It is a one-pounder," cried the Cuban officer. "The boat is one of those little gunboats made from a yacht. You see?" "Well, if it's only a yawl, he'll sink us in five more minutes," said Flanagan. For a moment he looked helplessly off at the horizon. His under-jaw hung low. But a moment later, something touched him, like a stiletto point of inspiration. He leaped to the pilothouse and roared at the man at the wheel. The _Foundling_ sheered suddenly to starboard, made a clumsy turn, and Flanagan was bellowing through the tube to the engine-room before everybody discovered that the old basket was heading straight for the Spanish gun-boat. The ship lunged forward like a draught-horse on the gallop. This strange manoeuvre by the _Foundling_ first dealt consternation on board of the _Foundling_. Men instinctively crouched on the instant, and then swore their supreme oath, which was unheard by their own ears. Later the manoeuvre of the _Foundling_ dealt consternation on board of the gunboat. She had been going victoriously forward dim-eyed from the fury of her pursuit. Then this tall threatening shape had suddenly loomed over her like a giant apparition. The people on board the _Foundling_ heard panic shouts, hoarse orders. The little gunboat was paralyzed with astonishment. Suddenly Flanagan yelled with rage and sprang for the wheel. The helmsman had turned his eyes away. As the captain whirled the wheel far to starboard he heard a crunch as the _Foundling_, lifted on a wave, smashed her shoulder against the gunboat, and he saw shooting past a little launch sort of a thing with men on her that ran this way and that way. The Cuban officers, joined by the cook and a seaman, emptied their revolvers into the surprised terror of the seas. There was naturally no pursuit. Under comfortable speed the _Foundling_ stood to the northwards. The captain went to his berth chuckling. "There, by God!" he said. "There now!" IV When Flanagan came again on deck, the first mate, his arm in a sling, walked the bridge. Flanagan was smiling a wide smile. The bridge of the _Foundling_ was dipping afar and then afar. With each lunge of the little steamer the water seethed and boomed alongside, and the spray dashed high and swiftly. "Well," said Flanagan, inflating himself, "we've had a great deal of a time, and we've come through it all right, and thank Heaven it is all over."