“A shell!” echoed Ned.
As he spoke there came another screaming rush, and this time it was
followed by a reverberating crash. The earth shook. The projectile had
burst near at hand.
“Thought I hadn’t forgotten the tune,” muttered Stanley.
“There must be a ship to seaward pumping metal into this wasp nest!”
exclaimed Midshipman Stark, his face burning with excitement.
“That’s it, sir, I think. Here, Strong, give me a leg up--so.”
Once more Stanley peered through the window, supporting himself as
before.
“There’s some sort of craft out yonder,” he announced, fairly
sputtering out his words in his excitement. “She’s firing so fast I
can’t see her for smoke.”
Explosion followed explosion now. Bugle calls resounded amid the noise
of falling buildings. The inmates of the prison could hear the clash of
accouterments as troops raced by. Hoarse commands sounded near and far.
“There’s a fine picnic now, I’m thinking,” grinned Stanley, “and--Great
Scott!”
An explosion louder than any of the preceding ones sounded. A choking
dust filled the air. It drifted in through the window.
“Great Dewey! they’re shelling this building!” yelled Midshipman Stark.
Cr-as-h!
The place shook as if an earthquake had passed beneath it. Mingling
with the roar of the exploding shell and the scream of the projectiles
that were now pumping into the city came a sound of splintering and
smashing.
“Those fellows have the range,” shouted Ned above the uproar.
“Yes, and if we don’t get out of here quick we’ll find a grave in the
ruins,” roared the midshipman.
As he spoke the building shook to its foundations once more, and a
heavy explosion rent the air.
“Too close for comfort,” decided Stanley. “Come on, we’ll try the door.”
Together the Americans rushed the portal. The strong oak withstood
their united assault without a tremor, however.
“We’ll be killed like rats if we don’t escape!” exclaimed Herc
despairingly.
“What are we to do?” gasped Ned, as they stood in the center of the
prison, with the sweat streaming from them. Outside the bombardment
grew heavier. It seemed incessant now. Suddenly Stanley gave an
exclamation. His companions, gazing at him, saw that his cheeks were
white.
“Do you smell something?” he choked out.
A pungent odor had filled the air of the prison within the last few
minutes.
“Yes, smells like burning,” assented the middy.
“It is burning. The place is on fire.”
“On fire!”
“And burning like a dry haystack. If we’re not out of here in a few
minutes we’re goners.”
Even while he spoke the sinister odor grew stronger. Now their
horrified ears caught the crackle of the flames as they ate their way
toward them. Sparks drifted in through the window and lay glowing on
the floor of the place.
“The door! Try it once more. It’s our last chance!”
It was Stanley who spoke. His words came chokingly in the reek of the
burning building. But as once more their shoulders crashed against the
heavy portal they fell back with a groan of despair. They had made no
more impression on it than if it had been made of boiler plate.
Suddenly an explosion, sharper and more ear-splitting than its
predecessors, detonated--in their very faces, as it seemed. They were
flung reeling in every direction, while suffocating fumes and dust
filled the air.
Ned felt a sharp pain in his leg and put down his hand. It came away
red and sticky. A flying splinter had struck him. Anxiously he gazed
about him. His companions lay as they had been flung. But an instant
later they began scrambling to their feet.
“W-what happened?” gasped Ned.
“A shell burst in our faces almost--and look!”
Stanley’s voice broke off in a joyous yell.
The oaken door, riven and splintered by the projectile, hung saggingly
on one hinge. A child could have pushed it open.
“I’d give six months’ pay to the fellow who aimed that gun!” cried
Stanley, as the Americans charged in a body on the tottering portal.
It was swept aside with a crash, and out they poured into the street.
Their guards had long since fled. The only visible inhabitants about
were the pigs. Here and there these horrible creatures were nosing
huddled forms, which the boys realized with a chill were those of
victims of the bombardment. It was the first glimpse of war at close
quarters for Ned and Herc. They felt rather sickened.
But it was no time for indulging in such thoughts. All about them
shells were bursting. More screamed past overhead. The air was filled
with choking dust and acrid powder fumes.
Suddenly a sullen sound of firing sounded off to the right and below
them. It was quite near at hand.
“The shore batteries!” cried Stanley. “Come on, we’ve got no time to
lose.”
“Where can we go?” exclaimed Midshipman Stark. “If we go toward Boca
del Sierras we’ll run right into the arms of the insurgents.”
“We’ll head for the shore!” exclaimed Stanley. “Come on.”
Suiting the action to the word, he started off, followed by the others.
What a sight they presented! How different from the trim man-of-war’s
men of every-day life! With faces grimed where dirt had rubbed into
sweat, their clothes half in ribbons, cut and bleeding from scratches
received when the providential shell burst, they looked more like
savage combatants in a desperate fight for life than American sailors.
As they ran the disastrous effects of the bombardment were everywhere
apparent. Houses which a short time before had been occupied,--gaped
like open dolls’ houses, exposing to view the contents of every floor.
Natives, some of them wounded and bleeding, staggered about under loads
of cherished household goods. Once they passed a man half frenzied from
fright, dashing aimlessly about with a parrot in a cage. More pathetic
were the groups of women and children deserted by their cowardly men
folk. These cowered in the shadow of the shell-riven buildings, in
imminent danger of having the tottering structures collapse on them.
More than one of these latter groups the Americans found time to warn
of their danger. But it was a hurried dash, with little time for acts
of mercy or kindness. Curiously enough, above all other sounds, the
squealing of the town pigs predominated. The creatures, frenzied by
the confusion and noise, dashed about open-mouthed. They looked as
dangerous as wild boars.
On dashed the Americans, and now a wandering breeze swept aside for a
moment the clouds of heavy smoke enveloping the attacking ship, and
they recognized her with a cry of surprise as the destroyer _General
Barrill_, which they had last seen at Hermillo. Her decks flashed
incessantly as her guns were worked. Stanley looked on approvingly.
“They’ll make a mess of this place.”
“I don’t know,” cried the middy suddenly, as a shell shrieked toward
the courageous little craft. “The land batteries have opened fire.”
“And, by Christopher Columbus, they’ve got the range, too!” exclaimed
Stanley, as a shell struck the water near the adventurous little
destroyer.
“If only we were aboard her we would be safe for a while,” breathed
Ned, as they perceived the red, white and blue, with the gold star, of
the Costavezan republic floating at the bombarding vessel’s stern.
“It was my idea to make for her,” rejoined Stanley. “Come on, let’s
get down on that little wharf there and wave to her. If we can attract
their attention they’ll take us on board.”
“If the fire from the fort doesn’t get too hot, and they have to
skedaddle first,” observed the middy.
There was good reason for his fear. Shells were now breaking all about
the destroyer. So far, however, she seemed uninjured.
They gained the wharf that Stanley had indicated in a few minutes. As
they stood breathless on the slender timbers Stanley gave a shout.
“A boat!” he exclaimed, pointing to a small dinghy moored below.
“Come on, we’ll row out!” cried the middy. “Get aboard there, men.
Slippy now!”
In another moment they had put several boats’ lengths between
themselves and the wharf.
“Hooray!” Ned could not help shouting, as the boat moved rapidly over
the water. His enthusiasm received an abrupt check. Not a hundred yards
from them a shell from the fort struck the water.
“They’ve seen us!” cried the middy.
“That may have been a chance shot, sir,” observed Stanley. “If they
fire any more we’ll know then what their target is.”
Even as he spoke another shell whizzed toward them. It exploded in a
“raying” smother of brown smoke.
“Wow! that was close,” exclaimed the boatswain’s mate, as the spray
showered them.
“Another one like that----”
Boom!
The explosion cut short Ned’s words.
“They’re getting the range. That one wasn’t a hundred feet away,”
grunted Stanley. “Give way now, boys.”
He suited the action to the word. His great muscles strained till
the oar bent under his pull, but fast as the boat leaped through the
water there was still a lamentably large space separating her from the
torpedo-boat destroyer.
The _General Barrill_ all this time had been firing away unceasingly at
the shore, but without apparently succeeding in silencing one of the
guns.
“I hope that our old general is up in that battery,” observed the
middy, as a shell from the destroyer burst in clouds of dust right
inside the fortifications, as it seemed.
“If he is, he swallowed some dust that time,” laughed Stanley. He
glanced over his shoulder.
The _General Barrill_ was not far now. They could see figures on her
decks waving them encouragingly on.
“Come on, boys,” shouted Stanley, “a little more steam. That’s it. Now,
we won’t be----”
A blinding flash filled the air about them. Involuntarily Ned and Herc
threw their hands in front of their eyes. It was well they did so,
for the quick movement threw Ned out of the path of a jagged piece of
metal. It whisked past his ear viciously. A shell had exploded almost
alongside them.
Before they could uncover their eyes the resulting swell swept down on
the boat. Overloaded as she was, the water poured in over her gunwales
in a torrent. It was useless to attempt to bail.
The detonation of the shell had hardly ceased ringing in their ears
before the Americans were struggling in the water, with shells
screaming and exploding all about them.
[Illustration: The Americans were struggling in the water, with shells
screaming and exploding all about them.]