waves that were flinging themselves
against the exposed side of the ship rang the wild shrieks and cries of
the terrified Spanish prisoners.

The vessel after she had struck had been flung around and was being
turned farther over every minute. The violence of the storm that was
struggling with her was quite inconceivable.

The waves were pouring over her in great masses, sweeping everything
before them; and the spray was leaping so high and the flying storm
clouds driving past so low that there was no telling where the surface
of the sea ended and the air began.

The big ship had landed among rocks, and every wave was lifting her up
and flinging her down upon them with dull, grinding crashes that could
be both heard and felt.

A moment after she struck a man came dashing up the ladder to the deck;
it was one of the sailors, and behind were the terrified firemen.

"She's leaking in a dozen places!" the man shouted.

He clung to railing as he spoke, and a great wave half drowned him; but
he managed to salute, and Clif saw a look of wild delight on his face,
one that just corresponded with his own eager mood.

"She'll split in about half a minute, I fancy," the cadet answered, "and
the Spaniards are welcome to what's left. We've done our duty."

And with that he turned to the pilot house, where the rest of the men
were grouped. They were gazing at him eagerly.

"Are you ready, boys?" Clif shouted.

Every one knew what he meant by "ready"--ready to make the wild attempt
to land and reach the shore through all those wildly surging breakers.
The very thought of it was enough to stir one's blood.

And the answer came with a vengeance.

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Then get out one of the boats," shouted Clif.

As he saw the men struggling forward to reach the nearest rowboat he
turned suddenly on his heel. He had something else to attend to for a
moment.

It was an errand of mercy. Those shrieking wretches were all bound to
the railing of the doomed ship, and Clif would never have forgiven
himself if he had left them there. Their faces would have haunted him.

And he drew his sword and set swiftly to work.

He cut the captain loose and put a knife into his hand.

"Get to work!" he cried. "Get to work!"

Clif took the risk of trusting the man, and went on, leaving him with
the weapon. The cadet believed that he would be grateful for his
release.

And besides they were fellow sufferers then, threatened with the sam