A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy. Upton Sinclair

the blackness of the night nothing could be seen, and the vessel was struggling along absolutely without suspicion. And Clif, as we have said, was walking up and down engrossed in his own thoughts, almost forgetting that he was out in the open sea where a Spanish warship might chance to be lurking.

      And so it was literally and actually a thunderbolt from a clear sky.

      The blackness of the waters was suddenly broken by a sharp flash of light, perhaps two hundred yards off to starboard.

      And an instant later came the loud report of a gun.

      The consternation of the Americans it would be hard to imagine. They were simply aghast, and Clif stood fairly rooted to the deck.

      His mind was in a tumult, but he strove to think what that startling interruption could mean.

      "They must have fired at us!" he gasped.

      And if there was any doubt of that an instant later came a second flash.

      To a merchantship in war time such a signal is peremptory. It means slow up or else take the consequences.

      There were two possibilities that presented themselves to the commander of this particular merchantship. One was that he had met an American warship——

      And the other! It was far less probable, but it was possible, and terrible. They might have fallen into the hands of the enemy.

      But whatever was the case, there was nothing for Clif to do but obey the signals. He could not run and he could not fight.

      "If I only knew," he thought, anxiously.

      And then suddenly he learned; for a faint voice was borne over to him through the gale. It was a voice that spoke English!

      "Ahoy there!" it rang.

      And Clif roared back with all his might!

      "Ahoy! What ship is that?"

      And his heart gave a throb of joy when he heard:

      "The United States cruiser Nashville. Who are you?"

      "The Spanish merchantman Maria, in charge of a prize crew from the Uncas!"

      Whether all that was heard in the roar of the storm Clif could not tell; but he put all the power of his lungs in it.

      He knew that the story would be investigated.

      And so he was quite prepared when he heard the response:

      "Lay to and wait for a boarding party."

      And quick as he could move Clif sprang to the pilot house, and signaled to stop, and the vessel swung round toward the stranger.

      The die was cast, for good or evil. They had given up!

      For perhaps five minutes there was an anxious silence upon the vessel. Every one was waiting anxiously, while the ship rolled in the trough of the sea and shook with the crashes of the waves. Her small crew were picturing in their minds what was taking place out there in the darkness, their comrades struggling to get a small boat out in that heavy sea.