the crew, appalled by the steel hail which now began to pour from the sides of the calvo, became so demoralized at the crisis that heroic measures were necessary. stanley and herc drew their revolvers and forced the deserters back to their guns.
“i’ll throw the first man who leaves his post to the sharks!” yelled herc, and, although they couldn’t understand what he said, the crew appeared to comprehend the import of his words. at any rate, they rallied, and began serving the guns once more.
suddenly a loud cheer went up from the bridge of the barrill. a black, gaping hole appeared in the foreworks of the calvo, and two of her guns were silenced. this cheered them hugely. it meant that their fire was taking effect at last.
“close in!” shouted captain gomez to the men at the wheel in the conning tower below.
the space between the two vessels began to close. ned at once understood the meaning of these tactics. they were to demolish the calvo before the other vessel, which was hastening to the rescue, arrived. thus they would have only one foe to tackle at a time. for a space the two vessels jockeyed, but, deprived of officers as she was, the calvo was no match for the tricky destroyer at this game. as he found his broadside fairly raking the other’s quarter, the spanish-american captain gave the word. the range was about two thousand yards, and that tornado of steel was in position to do the most deadly work of which it was capable.
before the few officers remaining on the calvo could swing her bow on to avoid the full effect of the barrill’s fire, stanley and herc received the signal from the bridge. as the tempest of shell took effect, the calvo careened, till her underbody showed, and then staggered drunkenly[247] back on an even keel. but she seemed water-logged, and began drifting down on the destroyer.
“hooray! we’ve smashed her steam steering gear!” yelled ned, half crazy with excitement.
but, crippled as she was, the calvo could still fight. suddenly two bright flashes showed at her midship section, and a couple of six-inch projectiles shrieked toward the barrill. the bridge was carried half away before they could stir. ned caught midshipman stark as the young officer was hurled back against him. captain gomez stood grimly at the engine-room telegraph, which, luckily, had not been carried away. nor, by good fortune, had the range-finder and fire-control instruments.
at the same instant as the calvo’s shell shrieked its way through one end of the destroyer’s little bridge the other missile from the same vessel carried away the canvas forward funnel. the little destroyer stood revealed in her true colors.
an instant’s glance served to show that the midshipman was not seriously wounded. a deep[248] cut on his head from a steel splinter was his only injury. but it had temporarily disabled him, and two sailors carried him to the small cabin, in which the surgeon had established himself.
ned now stood alone on the bridge by captain gomez. a thrill ran through the boy as he realized this. they were in a real battle, and he was actually second in command!
“shall we let them have it again, sir?” he asked, as the shouts and cries of the terrified crew died out under stanley’s persuasion and herc’s reckless flourishing of his weapon.
“yes, my boy. this time we’ll sink them, if possible. it will be in revenge for the terrible fright they gave me when i saw our brave young friend wounded.”
as the signal was transmitted, stanley’s battery mingled its fire with herc’s. this time the calvo did not answer. instead they could see that the greatest confusion prevailed on her decks.
“give her some more!” shouted the captain.
but even as he spoke there resounded from[249] the crippled ship a terrific explosion. she seemed to lift for half of her length upward out of the water, and then, in a shroud of dense, white vapor, she settled back.
“her boilers have exploded!” shouted ned, as he gazed with horror-stricken eyes on the tragedy.
“lower the boats; we must save all we can!” exclaimed captain gomez. “alas! my poor countrymen!”
the calvo wavered only for an instant after the explosion, and then, with a dreadful roar and a furious hissing, she vanished amid clouds of white steam. as the vapor cleared away, all that remained on the surface to show her end were a few ash-streaked pools of grease, amid which human heads showed like black dots.
the barrill steamed among the debris, and many a man owed his life to her heroic efforts. but hardly had the work of rescue terminated before the destroyer was called upon to face a fresh emergency. the other vessel was within[250] four thousand yards, steaming furiously toward them.
“it is the bolivar!” exclaimed captain gomez, as he gazed through his glasses.
for a flash hope almost died in ned’s heart. the newcomer was the torpedo-equipped craft. as we know, of this class of weapon the barrill had but four on board. what chance would she stand, crippled as she was, against this new enemy? hastily stanley and herc were called to the bridge and the situation explained to them. it was decided to get the barrill’s torpedo apparatus in order, and at least discharge all the whiteheads she carried at the bolivar—provided, that is, that the other vessel gave them a chance. on came the bolivar, her officers apparently not the least dismayed by the fate that had overtaken the calvo. the barrill’s batteries opened fire on her at three thousand five hundred yards. the accuracy of stanley and herc’s fire halted her for a moment in the same manner as a ferocious bulldog pursuing a cat will halt, in a puzzled way, as her claws encounter his nose.
the hesitation was only for an instant, however, and then the craft began to swing.
“they are going to try a broadside!” exclaimed captain gomez, signaling “astern,” and swinging his vessel till her bow pointed at the other’s beam. it was an effective position, and gave the destroyer the advantage for the moment. stanley, with his bow guns, took full advantage of it. he opened fire with his two rapid-fire weapons forward and succeeded in opening up several holes in the bolivar’s bow.
but the insurgent vessel retaliated fearfully. her steel projectiles ripped and tore the forward structure of the little barrill, putting stanley’s two bow-chasers out of commission, killing two of his men and, of course, driving them all from that part of the vessel. fortunately, however, not one of all the rapidly fired missiles struck the barrill below the water line, or in any vital spot.
the screech and hiss of projectiles were now incessant on both sides. about the barrill the water shot upward in a hundred geysers as the steel rain roared about her. as fast as their[252] gunners were killed or wounded, herc and stanley replaced them by men rescued from the sunken calvo. the revolvers both americans carried proved wonderful persuaders in driving them to the guns.
“where are their torpedoes?” asked ned anxiously, as, after ten minutes of this hot work, no sign of one of those deadly messengers of death had appeared.
there was no time for the silent, anxious figure beside him to reply.
a sudden puff of white smoke showed low down on the bolivar’s bow. the sunlight glinted for a breath on white metal, and then came a splash. ned grew pale and clutched the rail desperately as he realized that five hundred pounds of high explosive had been launched at the destroyer.
he wanted to shout out, but his lips refused obedience. all he could do was to keep his wide-opened, staring eyes fixed on the line of white air bubbles which marked the path of the approaching torpedo. but while ned stood paralyzed,[253] the barrill’s commander had acted. he did the only thing possible to do. skillfully he man?uvered his vessel till her sharp bow pointed toward the oncoming torpedo.
but even as she swung, it seemed to the watchers of the approaching steel tube that the barrill must swing herself directly in the path of the messenger of death. by some subtle wireless telegraphy the news of the peril had already traversed the decks. white under their yellow skins, the frightened crew showed twitching faces and nervous, shaky hands. even the revolvers of stanley and herc seemed powerless now to drive them to duty. in their fatalistic way they argued that death was upon them, and that it was no worse to be shot by a revolver than to be blown to atoms by a striking torpedo.
ned, ashen to his lips, leaned forward above the shattered rail and watched through his glasses the approach of the whitehead. it was running but a short distance under the surface, and once or twice he thought he could detect a shimmering flash as it shot through a wave. the[254] bursting bubbles marking its way were clearly apparent. it could only be a few minutes now.
fascinated, like one in a trance, the boy kept his eyes glued on it. below him, on the decks, he could hear the shouts and screams and prayers as the thoroughly demoralized crew rushed about, leaping over the dead and the wounded, and then stopping short, baffled at the impossibility of escape.
the torpedo was now so close that a few seconds would decide all. without realizing it, ned gripped the rail and braced himself with his feet. silently he waited for the terrific impact of the explosion he knew must come when the deadly point of the gun-cotton “war-head” plowed into the steel plates of the barrill.
but death was not destined for them at that moment. with a flash of bright steel, a whirr of her tiny propellers and a white streak of foam, the awful menace swept by, missing her prey by a hand’s breadth. ned felt sick and weak as he realized that the whitehead had dashed close[255] by and gone onward. its mission of death had proved futile.
“back to your posts, every one of you!”
captain gomez’s sharp voice cut the tense silence on the decks.
“you put them out of business this time!” yelled stanley, “or they’ll let loose another of those, and blow us all to a dago heaven.”
“can’t two play at that game, captain?” asked ned, as the fire broke out afresh. “why can’t we try a torpedo at them?”
“a good idea, my boy! give the orders.”
ned hailed stanley in an interval of the fire and gave the necessary command. the torpedo was rigged in a stern tube, and the barrill swung to deliver it. it was dangerous work. at any moment one of the enemy’s shots might have struck the “war-head” of the implement and blown them all to eternity. but by the same good fortune that had so far protected those on the bridge, stanley and herc managed to get the torpedo in the tube and the compressed-air connections made.
ned snatched up a megaphone as the barrill’s blunt counter swung till it was aimed at the leaden side of the converted yacht.
“now, then, boys!” he cried at length.
stanley took careful aim and released the catch.
there was a sharp hiss, as of outrushing steam, a splash, accompanied by a bright flash of whirring metal. the whitehead was speeding on her errand of annihilation.
