It plunged through, almost tearing the frail craft in half, hurling
splinters about and sending the two horrified occupants tumbling into
the water!
CHAPTER XXI.
RECAPTURED BY THE ENEMY.
Clif was so heartbroken at that sudden ending of all his hopes, that he
scarcely cared whether he was drowned or not. But he saw Bessie Stuart
struggling in the seething waters, and toward her he struck out
desperately.
It took the cadet but a moment to reach her side. The shattered wreck of
the wooden boat was floating near, and to that he struggled, helping her
on.
And they reached it, in what it sounds like mockery to call safety. The
girl scarcely knew whether it were best to hold on or to drown.
But instinctively she clung to the side as the great waves swept over
them; and the two fixed their eyes upon the approaching vessel.
She came on swiftly, sheering the water with her sharp bow. And Clif
could see half a dozen men standing in the bow watching them.
"Perhaps they have heard of our escape," he growled, "and come after
us."
The vessel was not coming from Havana, but the cadet knew that a
telegram might have sent it out.
At any rate, they were recaptured; and the horrors of Morro were before
them again.
Steadily the gunboat drew nearer; the two half-drowned Americans were
reached in a minute or two.
And the vessel slowed up and a rope was thrown to them. Clif desperate
from despair, seized it and drew himself close.
A couple of Spanish sailors leaned down from the low side and lifted
first the half unconscious girl and then the cadet up to the deck.
And then, weak and pale and dripping wet, they confronted a tall,
ugly-looking Spaniard with an officer's chevrons.
He stared at them curiously.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
And Clif, grim with desperation, looked him in the eye and answered
boldly:
"We are Americans," said he.
"Prisoners?"
"Yes."
"From where?"
"Morro Castle."
The Spaniard looked the amazement he felt.
"Morro Castle!" he echoed. "Humph! How did you get out?"
"Take us back there and you'll find out," was Clif's defiant answer.
And with that he turned toward the girl to wipe her dripping hair from
her face.
He expected that the man would continue questioning them. But he was
mistaken. The Spanish gunboat had done a risky thing, running out as it
had, and her officers were anxious to get back.
The man turned away and hurried off. A sailor wit
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