beaten to pieces on the rocks," Clif objected.

"They may chance it anyhow; you see they aren't more than a mile or two
from the shore now, and they're running in still."

"If that's the trick they try," Clif thought to himself, "we can stay
out and pepper her to our heart's content--and help the waves to wreck
her."

But the Spaniard had a far better plan than that, as her pursuers
learned some time later.

Clif studied the coast in front of them, as well as he could see without
a glass; there was simply a long line of sandy shore without a bay or an
inlet of any kind. And there were no towns or batteries visible.

"I don't see what she can be hoping for there," he muttered.

But he had no time to speculate in the matter, for it was his business
to keep firing. By that time the range was short and he was beginning to
do damage.

It took an expert to fire at the instant when the tossing ship was
level, but Clif had time to practice, and he soon got the knack of it.

And then it must have been exceedingly unpleasant living on that ship.
One after another the heavy six-pound shots crashed through her stern;
and even at that distance it began to exhibit a ragged appearance.

The cadet expected at any moment to reach the engines or the rudder of
the fleeing ship, and so render her helpless. But probably her cargo
served to protect the former, and the rudder was very hard to hit.

"She must have something important in view to stand all this," Clif
thought to himself. "But I can't see what it is."

The chase at that time was a very exciting one. The Spanish merchantman
was dashing in shore at the top of his speed. And a mile or two beyond
it was the Uncas tearing up the water, plunging along at her fastest
pace and banging away half a dozen times a minute with her bow gun.

Lieutenant Raymond's eyes were dancing then; he had taken the wheel
himself and was hard at work. And as for Clif, he was so busily engaged
that he seemed to see nothing except the high stern of that runaway.

"But she's a fool," he growled to himself. "She'll be so torn to pieces
she won't be worth capturing. I wish I could kill the captain."

But the captain of that vessel knew his business, as those on the Uncas
found later on. He was a Spaniard, and simply gifted with Spanish
cunning.

He had no idea of running his ship aground; but he knew that coast
perfectly, and he used his knowledge.

When he neared the land the tug was still som