eaped clear of the waves.

Before he went up he turned to the sailors.

"Two of you follow me," he commanded.

He climbed quickly up the ladder and stepped out on the deck, gazing
about him eagerly.

He saw about a dozen dark-faced Spaniards gathered together and glaring
at him; one of them, wearing the uniform of the captain, stepped forward
toward him.

He was a surly, ill-looking man, with a heavy dark mustache. He bowed
stiffly to the cadet.

"The senor takes possession," he said, in a low voice.

Clif was so busy watching this man that he did not look around the
vessel. But we must do so.

We must glance for one instant at the capstan, which was just behind
where the jaunty young cadet was standing. There was an interesting
person near the capstan.

Clif did not see him; and neither did the sailors, nor even the
Spaniards on the vessel. For he was crouching behind the capstan, out of
sight.

He was a small man, dark and swarthy. He was the same one we noticed
glaring at Clif; he had recognized him, and realized in a flash that the
issue between them was death--death for one or else death for the other.

For Clif knew the man, and would secure him the instant he saw him; his
crimes were many--treason and attempted assassination the worst.

For the man was Ignacio!

And his dark, beady eyes were glittering with hatred as he crouched in
his momentary hiding-place. He was quivering all over with rage; the
muscles of his sinewy arms were clinched and tense.

And in his right hand he clutched a sharp, gleaming knife, half hidden
under his coat.

His glance was fixed on the figure just in front of him; the
unsuspecting cadet was not twenty yards away, his back turned to his
crouching enemy.

And Ignacio bent forward to listen and wait his chance.

The cadet, the object of his hatred, was talking to the captain.

"The senor takes possession," the latter repeated again.

"The senor does, with your permission," said Clif, quietly.

"You gave us quite a run," he added, after a moment's thought.

"A Spaniard would not surrender to Yankee pigs without a fight," snarled
the other.

"You had best be a bit careful," was Clif's stern response, "or you may
find yourself in irons."

The Spaniard relapsed into a sullen silence.

"What ship is this?" demanded the cadet.

"The Maria."

"From where?"

"Cadiz."

"Indeed! And bound where?"

"Bahia Honda."

Clif gave a low whistle.

"We caught you