A PERILOUS DETAIL.
Clif did not have long to speculate upon the cause of the summons. The
ensign led the way to the rear admiral's cabin, knocked, and with Clif
closely following, entered. He then saluted and went out again, leaving
the cadet alone with the officer.
Rear Admiral Sampson noticed the paleness of Clif's face, and
thoughtfully directed him to sit down.
"I hear that you were wounded while cutting the cable," he said at once.
"You were under hot fire while it lasted, and I am proud of the way the
men behaved. I am told that you did not give up the tiller in spite of
your injuries."
Clif, though pleased to receive the praise of the rear admiral, bore
himself modestly. It did not seem to him that he had done any brave act.
"My wound was slight, sir," he said quickly. "It has been properly
dressed, and gives me no trouble."
"I am glad to hear that," replied the officer, "for I have an especial
mission upon which I desire to send you, but of course would not think
of your going if it should endanger your health. Other danger you do not
seem to fear."
Clif reassured the officer that he was ready and able to undertake any
mission intrusted to him.
"It is briefly this," continued the rear admiral. "While you were out
with the boat, I received a communication by the dispatch boat saying
that a courier from the Cuban chief, Gomez, is to be at a certain spot
near, the coast to-night, bearing important dispatches from the
insurgents. It is necessary that we send some one to meet him, and your
previous experience on Cuban soil and your knowledge of the Spanish
language recommend you as the leader of the party. Are you prepared to
go? There may be danger----"
Clif eagerly interrupted him. To his mind it seemed a great honor, as it
really was to be placed in command of so important a mission, and he
counted no danger great enough to cause him to hesitate.
He told the rear admiral as much, forgetting in his eagerness for active
service, that he was but a cadet.
"Then it is settled," said the rear admiral. "To-night the New York will
reach a spot nearly opposite the place of meeting, and you will be ready
with a party of ten, whom you may select. Here is a diagram of that part
of the coast, indicating the appointed spot where the courier is to be
met."
He handed Clif a roughly drawn map, which the latter examined curiously.
"I know the spot well," he exclaimed, after looking at the diagram for a
moment.
"All the better," said the rear admiral.
Then after some further directions and instructions from the officer,
Clif saluted and took his leave, happy in the thought that he had been
singled out for such important duty and that he would have this
opportunity of active work.
He was really glad, though he would hardly admit it to himself, to be
permitted to seek some rest during the day, for his wound was painful,
if not serious.
It was late at night when, with a picked company of ten men, all armed,
Clif parted company with the flagship and steered his boat toward the
shore. The New York had dropped them near the appointed spot, but it had
been deemed prudent not to take the ship near enough to attract
attention to the intended destination of Clif and his crew. They
therefore had considerable distance yet to row before touching land.
"I know the coast pretty well along here," thought Clif, as he set in
the stern, tiller ropes in hand. "We'll get there all right."
Success depended upon their own efforts, for the New York slowly steamed
away along the coast and in the opposite direction.
Clif and his party sped along without any uneasiness. It was night and
darkness favored them. There was no reason to think that their presence
there was suspected or their purpose known.
Still, for all this evident security, Clif kept a sharp lookout for any
of the enemy who might be prowling along like himself, or, worse still,
who might be scouring those waters with one of those silent little
terrors, a torpedo boat.
All went peacefully until they were within less than half a mile of
their destination, and quite near shore. Then suddenly a rifle shot rang
out upon the shore, and sounds of voices came to their ears.
The Spaniards had discovered them!
"Perhaps not," thought Clif, hopefully. "Silence everybody," he said,
addressing the men, "and listen."
Instantly the men ceased rowing, and every one strained his ears to hear
the sounds from shore.
That there was a company of the enemy at that point was evident, from
the noise of many voices and the confused sounds that were borne to the
listeners' ears.
"They have discovered us," whispered Clif to the one nearest him. "I
caught a few words of Spanish that convinces me that the sentry has
heard our oars. Not a sound now! They can't see us in the dark, and will
think it all a mistake."
It was a waiting game that Clif had set out to play, and it seemed the
only thing that could help them under the circumstances. It was out of
the question to think of attacking the Spaniards, superior at least in
numbers. There was other work for the night.
Silently the American crew waited, listening for every sound. Soon these
voices died out, and Clif concluded that they could venture to move once
more.
"Row quietly," was his whispered order. "I'd like to give them a volley,
but that would spoil our plans."
The men cautiously plied the oars and were soon steering softly toward
their appointed place of landing. But quietly as they moved, the sound
was borne ashore and they had not proceeded many boat lengths before
another shot echoed across the water.
"To thunder with the Spaniard," exclaimed Clif, out of patience with the
fresh outbreak. "He's firing at random. Go ahead. We'll meet them
further down the shore if they're not satisfied."
This sentiment met the approval of the men, and they bent to the oars
with vigor and spirit.
They were gliding swiftly across the water, and had nearly reached their
landing place, when Clif heard a noise that put him on the alert.
"Do you hear that?" he exclaimed, after hastily stopping the rowers.
The men rested on their oars and listened.
"Sounds like the throbbing of an engine, sir," at last said one of the
men. "It's a boat, sure."
"Yes, but friend or foe?" exclaimed Clif. "It's not the New York. She
went in the other direction, and I don't know of any more of our boats
in this place."
"Perhaps the New York is coming back," ventured one of the men.
"No," replied Clif. "She's not been here for at least three hours. By
that time we will be ready to return to her."
"It must be a blockade runner," suggested one of the men.
"Well, I don't see as it makes any difference," said Clif, finally. "If
it is, we can't stop her. She can't be after us, for I am sure no one of
the enemy knows our mission. There is our landing place. We must hurry
or we will be late."
With this he turned the prow of the boat toward shore, and gave orders
to proceed. A few minutes later the boat grated upon the beach and the
sailors sprang ashore.
There was no one to dispute their landing. The coast at this point was
wild and uninhabited, and but a short distance inland was the spot
appointed for the meeting with the insurgent courier.
Clif hid the boat among some bushes and quickly led the men up the steep
bank toward a clump of trees.
"This is the spot," he exclaimed as they reached it, "and we are
evidently ahead of time."
No one was in sight, as far as the eye could penetrate the darkness.
There was barely enough light from the moon just emerging from behind a
cloud to enable the sailors to take some notice of the surroundings.
Where they stood, near the sparse clump of trees, it was smooth and
level, but close to one side of them rose a ridge of ground forming a
natural rampart. It almost seemed as though Spanish forms might at any
instant appear upon it behind threatening guns.
Seaward the view was unobstructed, and as Clif turned his gaze in that
direction, he could see the moonbeams reflected on the heaving bosom of
the waters. He saw another sight an instant after that caused him to
utter an exclamation of surprise.
Far out to seaward the beam of a searchlight suddenly shot across the
water. It swept from side to side in a gradually widening radius, until
after a few moments its glare fell upon a steamer whose hulk rose up
between it and the shore.
"It is one of our ships chasing a blockade runner," cried Clif. "She was
trying to sneak out, but is caught in the act."
The little party on shore watched with eager eyes the chase as shown by
the bright beam from the warship's searchlight. In the excitement of the
novel sight that was afforded them they for the moment forgot why they
were there.
Then a strange and mysterious thing happened. As they watched the
pursued vessel they suddenly saw a flash from a gun on the side facing
the land.
"What fools!" cried Clif. "Firing toward the land instead of at our
ship. The fool Spaniards must be rattled worse than usual. That
beats----"
He did not finish the sentence. As he spoke the shell fired from the
ship crashed through the trees and landed almost at his feet. The fuse
was burning and spluttering, and it seemed ready to explode on the
instant, carrying death and destruction to the little party.
It was a perilous moment. Several of the men instinctively dodged and
seemed on the point of running away.
Clif saw his peril in an instant and the only hope of averting it.
Without a moment's hesitation he sprang forward and picked up the shell
as it seemed about to burst. With a mighty effort he hurled the
spluttering missile over the ridge of earth that he had noticed to one
side, and then, with an involuntary sigh of relief, he instinctively
huddled with the balance of the party in an expectant attitude, waiting
for the explosion on the other side of the rampart.