whole length of the ship; then she would come
up close alongside and pour a dozen broadsides in.

And nearly all the shots hit, too.

It was evident to those on board that the merchantman would not stand
very much battering of that sort. Already one of the sailors had come up
to announce that two of the firemen had been struck.

But still the Maria tore desperately onward. Nobody cared very much how
much damage was done, except that they did not want the engines to be
smashed until the ship had reached the shore.

As well as Clif could calculate roughly, it ought not to have taken them
an hour to return to the coast, for they had the storm to aid them.
That they could hold out that long under the unceasing fire he did not
believe.

"But the Spaniards may use up all their ammunition," he thought to
himself.

That was a possibility, for he knew that the supply in the possession of
Spain was a small one.

And the actual course of events made him think that his surmise was
true. The desperate chase kept up for perhaps half an hour; and then
unaccountably the Spaniard's fire began to slacken.

Clif could hardly believe his ears when he heard it.

"What can it mean?" he gasped.

But a moment later his surprise was made still greater. For one of the
sailors bounded into the pilot house.

"She's giving up, sir!" he cried.

"Giving up!"

"Yes, sir."

"How in the world do you mean?"

"She's stopped firing, sir. And what's more, she's dropping behind."

Clif stared at the man in amazement.

"Dropping behind!"

And then suddenly he sprang out to the deck.

"Take the wheel a moment," he cried to the sailor.

And he himself bounded down the deck toward the stern.

He stared out over the railing, clinging to it tightly to prevent
himself from being flung off his feet.

He found that what the sailor had said was literally true. The Spaniard
was now firing only an occasional shot, and she was at least a hundred
yards behind.

What that could mean Clif had not the faintest idea. Could it be that
her engines had met with an accident? Or that she fancied the
merchantman was sinking?

The cadet gazed down into the surging water below him; he could see the
white track of the big steamer and knew that she was fairly flying
along.

He took one more glance in the direction of the now invisible Spaniard.
The firing had ceased altogether.

And like a flash the thought occurred to Clif that whatever the reason