YOUNG GLORY TO THE RESCUE--A SURPRISE FOR THE
BROOKLYN.
Lieutenant Tyler glanced round involuntarily. It was like a man taking
his last look at the earth.
The lieutenant was as brave as a lion, but he saw only one issue to the
fight.
"Would that Young Glory were here!" he cried. "He's equal to twenty
men!"
Then the two forces closed in a fierce fight.
Back the Americans retreated. Well they might do so.
The enemy was more than four to one, and the weight of numbers was
irresistible. But the Nashville's blue jackets fought desperately, and
for every American sailor that fell, four Spaniards were stretched on
the deck.
"The victory shall cost them dear!" hissed Mr. Tyler.
He knew that his men would fight to the last.
Captain Moret, entirely unmoved, saw his men falling like flies. What
did he care? A Spanish officer places no value on the lives of those
under him, and besides, he knew that his men must win.
Ha! what was that?
A terrific shout was heard now, above the clashing of steel.
"Young Glory to the rescue!"
That was the cry that came from fifty lips.
Then in a moment all saw what had happened.
Captain Moret had stripped the fore part of the ship bare of men in
order to concentrate them with the rest of his forces in making one
final attack on the enemy.
The quick eye of Young Glory had detected the weak spot instantly.
"Young Glory to the rescue!" shouted the blue jackets, and on they came,
taking the Spaniards in the rear.
Even now the men of the Cristobal Colon had nothing to fear, for they
still vastly outnumbered the Americans, but this sudden and unexpected
attack in the rear caused a panic.
Young Glory's terrible sword aided to the fear that filled the breasts
of the Spaniards. All within reach of him dropped to the deck.
"Forward, men!" cried Lieutenant Tyler, "the enemy weakens. Now is our
chance!"
The Spaniards were a huddled and confused mass of human beings now. The
last vestige of discipline had gone, and the officers who yet remained,
struggled in vain with their men to inspire them with courage.
"Dogs!" they cried, "the day is ours yet!"
"Faith, it's sorry to contradict ye, I am!" shouted Dan Daly, still in
the front of the battle.
"Halloa, Dan!" cried Young Glory, looking across the intervening foe.
"This is a great day!"
"Great!"
Dan could say no more. He could not find any expression that exactly
fitted the case.
The Spaniards now were throwing down their arms.
Captain Moret, in despair, rushed into the thick of the fight,
endeavoring to rally his men.
"Cowards!" he cried, furiously. "This is a black day for Spain!"
"Faith, old gentleman," said Dan, "she's had so many black days it won't
be noticed, an' it's black herself she is wid crime."
Captain Moret made a furious rush at the author of this insulting
speech. The blades of the Irishman and the Spaniard crossed in fierce
fight.
"Caramba! but you die!"
"Some day!" answered Dan, coolly, as he parried a furious blow. "Ah! my
gold-laced don, you're beginnin' to see that Dan Daly's handled a sword
before."
The two men were practically alone. Captain Moret had his back to the
mast, and Dan, agile as a cat, despite his age, was hopping merrily
round and round him.
The tide of battle had passed them by.
Such of the Spaniards as had not thrown down their arms had retreated in
a body towards Lieutenant Tyler's force, with Young Glory and his band
of fifty blue jackets in hot pursuit.
"It's your beautiful uniform I'm afther spoilin'," said Dan, as he gave
a thrust. "Arrah! but that was a great stroke, though it's meself as
says it."
The stroke in question was a severe cut on Captain Moret's sword arm,
which caused him instantly to pass his weapon into his left hand.
"Ould gentleman," said Dan, "it's a poor chance ye have. Surrender!"
"Never! While my men fight I will!"
"Begorra, but it's a nuisance ye are. I'm bound to kape ye alive, an'
while I'm here I'm afther losin' all the great fight that's goin' on.
Ah! it's Dan Daly's the man was born under an unlucky star."
It was perfectly clear that the Spanish captain was in Dan's power.
Every moment he weakened, though he continued from time to time to make
frantic thrusts at the Irishman. Faintness from loss of blood was
coming over him, and it was with difficulty that he kept on his feet.
"Betther give up, captain dear," said Dan in a most insinuating voice.
"What! I hand my sword over to a common sailor!"
"To the last of the Dalys!" replied Dan, drawing himself up proudly as
the Spaniard had done. "It's a king I'd be if I had my rights."
"Three cheers for King Dan!" shouted a voice.
"Young Glory!"
But Dan never turned his head. He was making passes at the Spanish
captain as if he meant to pin him to the mast.
"Surrender!" cried Dan once more.
"To you, never!"
"But to me, captain," said a voice that caused Dan to start. "I am the
commander of the Nashville."
Dan was completely astounded to find Captain Long beside him.
The Spanish captain bowed, and without a word he handed his sword to
Captain Long.
"Faith!" exclaimed Dan, "I'm not understandin' it at all. Young Glory,
why are you here when there's fightin' to be done?"
"You don't understand, Dan. I do. Look!"
Young Glory pointed to the masthead of the ship. There, Dan Daly, to his
astonishment saw the Stars and Stripes flying.
"It means!" cried Young Glory, "that the fight is over. The Spanish
cruiser has struck her colors. Our men have surrendered. The Cristobal
Colon is ours!"
The Nashville had won this great fight against odds, and it was all
owing to Young Glory's daring suggestion that the Spaniard should be
boarded.
Instantly the prisoners were disarmed.
"Place them below!" ordered Captain Long, "with a guard over them!"
Mr. Tyler walked up.
"Shall you navigate this ship, sir, entirely with our men?"
"Have we enough?"
"I think so until we get outside. Then we shall fall in with the
Brooklyn."
"Very well."
Young Glory dashed along the deck.
"Sir! Sir!"
"Well!"
"Danger threatens us."
"Where?"
"Some boats are putting off from San Juan."
Instantly it was seen that quite a flotilla was approaching. No doubt
the reason they had not done so before was because they thought that the
Spanish cruiser stood in no need of aid.
"The Stars and Stripes flying from this ship have brought them out,"
said Captain Long.
"Give them a broadside, sir. We'll fight them with their own guns,
sir."
"Yes, one of the big guns of this ship is in order. See what you can do
with it, Young Glory."
The sailors of the Nashville took a keen delight in handling the Spanish
gun and turning it against the on-coming flotilla. Young Glory aimed
very carefully.
Boom!
The first shot told. The great shell from the ten-inch rifle struck the
leading gun-boat of the flotilla.
"She's done for!"
"Wait!"
"Yes, she is. Look, she's filling."
"Hurrah!"
The men cheered frantically as they saw that the gun-boat had heeled
over to the side, and was fast going down.
The rest of the gun-boats lay to. They were afraid they might share the
same fate.
"We'll be off with our prize," said Captain Long.
"Who takes charge, sir?"
"You. I'll get back to the Nashville. Let there be no delay."
"There need be none. The engineers had orders some time back to spread
the fires."
Back to the Nashville went Captain Long, taking a number of his men with
him. The wounded Americans had already been carried to the Nashville,
where they were receiving every attention from the surgeon.
Such of the Spaniards as were injured in the fight were left on the
cruiser to the care of their own medical officers.
The two boats were still lying side by side, when round the distant
headland appeared the bow of a battle ship.
For a moment the men were aghast. It might mean the approach of a new
and stronger enemy. Then a great cheer rose from every throat. They saw
the Stars and Stripes bravely fluttering in the breeze, and knew what it
meant. It was the Cruiser Brooklyn entering the harbor.
The cruiser fired her saluting guns.
Boom! Boom!
But the cheers from her men drowned the noise of the guns.
The blue jackets were wild with delight when they saw the American flag
at the masthead of the Spanish cruiser.
At this moment a diversion occurred.
Overlooking the harbor was a fort. Now its guns began to fire at the two
ships, the cruiser and the gun-boat. Previously they had refrained,
because they were afraid they might do as much damage to friend as foe.
Short-handed as he was, it was a difficult matter for Captain Long to
handle his guns. But there was no necessity for his doing so. The
Brooklyn took the work in hand instantly.
Boom!
The first shot struck the fort. It was old. Its weapons were antique,
and it had no chance whatever against the great guns of the American
cruiser. Shot after shot struck it, crumbling the masonry to powder.
"The batteries are silenced!" cried Young Glory.
"But not our men!"
The cheer that went up confirmed the last statement.
Already the Nashville and the Cristobal Colon were under way, steaming
rapidly out of the harbor. A few distant guns from shore thundered at
them, but they made a noise, and that was all. They were quite powerless
to do any damage.
Once more the vessels were in the open sea clear of San Juan de Porto
Rico. The Brooklyn lay to, and a boat put off. In obedience to a signal
from the cruiser, the gun-boat and her prize waited till the boat came
up. In the cutter was Captain Miles, the commander of the Brooklyn.
"A great and glorious victory, Captain Long," said he, stepping aboard
the Nashville.
"Yes, sir, thanks to the men you lent me, and especially Young Glory.
Through his advice, as I don't mind admitting, the Spaniard was taken."
"Well, I congratulate you. The country will be crazy when they hear what
you've done. You will, of course, return home."
"I want you to lend me some men, Captain Miles, to work the two ships."
"I must do so. Such a valuable prize as the Spanish cruiser must be
taken care of."
And Captain Miles went back to his ship, sending shortly after for the
necessary help.
Then the ships parted company. The Brooklyn remained in the neighborhood
of San Juan, looking for Spanish ships, and the gun-boat and its prize
steamed away through the Caribbean Sea.