and bringing the ship to. His
authority would have ceased, for he had no right to compel them to break
the law or to run the risk of a broadside from a man-of-war.

Nearer, nearer, nearer, came both the dim outline of the Mexican coast
and the white sails of the pursuing _Portsmouth_. Louder and more
ominous grew the but half-suppressed murmurs of the sailors, but Captain
Kemp's face was now wearing a hard, set look, and he was known to be a
dangerous man to deal with. Something, which looked like the handle of a
pistol, stuck out of one of his side pockets, and his fingers wandered
to it now and then, as if he might be turning over in his mind the
possibility of soon having to shoot a mutineer. Ned was staring
anxiously back at the Yankee cruiser at the moment when his shoulder was
gripped hard, and Senor Zuroaga almost whirled him around, exclaiming:

"Look! Look yonder! That's the Castle of San Juan de Ulua! Oh, but don't
I wish it were a half-mile nearer! Hear that firing?"

The guns of the _Portsmouth_ were indeed sounding at regular intervals,
and she was evidently almost within range. She was also, however, well
within the prescribed distance line which a hostile cruiser may not pass
without being regarded as making the attack herself. Beyond a doubt,
too, there must have been observers at the fort, who were already
watching the operations of the two approaching vessels. Minutes passed,
which were counted by Ned with a heart that beat so he almost thought he
could hear it.

"I think we are safe now," began the senor, but he had been looking at
the fort, and there was one important fact of which he was not aware.

Only a couple of minutes earlier, the captain of the _Portsmouth_ had
shouted angrily to his first lieutenant:

"No, sir! I will not let her get away. I will take her or sink her! Out
with that starboard battery, and let them have it!"

Around swung the sloop, like the perfect naval machine that she was, and
there quickly followed the reports of several guns at once. It was not a
full broadside, but there was enough of it to have sunk the _Goshhawk_,
if the iron thrown had struck her at or near the water-line. None of it
did so, but the next exclamation of Senor Zuroaga was one of utter
dismay, for the foremast of the bark had been cut off at the cap and
there was a vast rent in her mainsail. Down tumbled a mass of spars and
rigging, forward, and the ship could no longer obey her helm.

"All hand