Читать книгу A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy - Upton Sinclair - Страница 11

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It was a moment of horrible peril. Clif's blood fairly froze. But quick as a flash his arm shot up.

And he caught the descending wrist; for an instant the two glared into each other's eyes, straining and twisting. And then the two sailors of the Uncas leaped forward and seized the baffled Spaniard.

And almost in the twinkling of an eye-lid, Clif Faraday was saved. He could hardly realize what had happened, and he staggered back against the railing of the vessel and gasped for breath.

But that was only for a moment, too; and then the blood surged back to his cheeks and the cadet was himself once more.

He stepped forward, a calm smile playing about his mouth.

"Bind that man," he said to the sailors.

The two men were grasping the sinewy Cuban and holding him so tight that he could not move. They almost crushed his wrists, and he dropped the knife with a hoarse cry of pain.

And Clif picked it up and glanced at it for a moment, then flung it far out into the sea.

After that he turned to Ignacio.

"You have met me once more, my friend," he said, "and this time you will not get away."

And that was all the conversation he had with him. Glancing about the deck he picked up a piece of rope and stepped toward the prisoner.

He did not strike the fellow, as the Spaniards seemed to think he would. But the sailors flung him to the deck and Clif carefully bound his feet together. Then, while he fairly fumed with rage and hatred, his hands were made fast and he was left lying there, shrieking curses in his native Spanish.

Clif turned to the captain of the vessel; the man was frightened nearly to death, and began protesting volubly.

"I did not know it, senor!" he cried. "Indeed, I did not know it! Santa Maria! I——"

"I don't suppose you did," said Clif, calmly. "You did not act like it. But you will have to suffer for it."

"Suffer for it! Madre di dios, no, senor! What does the senor mean? Surely he will not hang me for——"

"The senor will not hang you," said Clif, unable to help smiling at the blustering fellow's terror.

"Then what will the senor do?"

"He will tie you like Ignacio."

The man was evidently relieved, but he protested volubly. He did not want to be tied.

"Is it customary?" he cried.

"No," said Clif; "neither is it customary to try to assassinate an officer. After that I think common prudence requires it."

"But," cried the man, angrily. "I will not submit! Por dios, I will not——"

"You will either submit or be made to," said Clif, "or else sink to the bottom."

And so the man had to give up. Those two delighted tars went the rounds and tied every single man on that vessel hand and foot. And they tied them tight, too, occasionally giving them a dig in the ribs for good measure.

And when they came to search them Clif was glad he had done as he did, for quite a respectable heap of knives and revolvers were removed from the clothes of those angry Spaniards.

But it did not take long to tie them up, and then Clif felt safe. He took a few extra hitches in the treacherous Ignacio, who was by far the most valuable prize of them all.

"Admiral Sampson will be glad to get you," the cadet thought to himself.

And then he turned to examine the captured vessel.

His sword in his hand, he went down the forward companionway, where he met a group of frightened firemen and stokers huddled below. They seemed to think the Yankee pigs were going to murder them on the spot.

But Clif had another use for them. Being able to speak Spanish, he found it easy to reassure them in a few words, and sent them down to their work again.

Then he descended into the hold; he was worried lest the continuous firing he had directed upon the vessel had made her unseaworthy. But apparently the holes were all well above the water line, for there did not seem to be any leak.

And that was all there was to be done. Clif knew that he had the task before him of piloting that vessel into Key West; he was not willing to let that ugly-looking Spanish captain have anything to do with the matter.

Clif had fancied he would rather enjoy that duty but under the circumstances of the present case he was not so much pleased.

For the darkness was gathering then and the cadet knew that he had a long hard night before him; it would be necessary for him to remain on the vessel's bridge all through the stormy trip.

And, moreover, it would take him away from Havana, the place of all places he was then anxious to reach.

But the duty had to be faced, and so Clif sent one of the sailors back to the Uncas to report the state of affairs and ask for a prize crew. It seemed scarcely orthodox to send the small boat away without an officer to command it, but that, too, was inevitable.

The boat arrived safely, however, and returned with three more men, all the little tug dared spare. Lieutenant Raymond sent word to report at Key West with the prize, but to steam slowly so as not to come anywhere near the shore before daylight.

Lieutenant Raymond was evidently a little worried about intrusting that big vessel to an inexperienced officer like Clif, and Clif was not so very cock sure himself. No one knew just where they were, and in the storm and darkness reaching Key West harbor would be task enough for an old hand.

The cadet realized the enormous responsibility thus thrown upon him, and he made up his mind that eternal vigilance should be the watchword.

"If staying awake all night'll do any good," he muttered, "I'll do it."

And then the small boat dashed away to the Uncas again, and Clif was left alone. He stepped into the pilot house of the steamer and signaled for half speed ahead.

The vessel began to glide slowly forward again, heading north; the tug steamed away in the direction of Havana.