Part 4 (1/2)

Rapid orders went out, but hardly anything more could be done to increase the speed of the s.h.i.+p. In fact, the lookout must almost have taken it for granted that the strange sail away off yonder belonged to a United States cruiser. Very likely it did, but it would have to draw a good deal nearer before there could be any absolute certainty. In the meantime, all on board the _Goshhawk_ might attend to whatever duties they had, and discuss the remarkable tidings brought by the Mexican schooner. While doing so, they could hardly have guessed correctly what was doing and saying on board the other vessel which had caused their anxiety. She was, indeed, a man-of-war, and she had received from a returning army transport s.h.i.+p a whole lot of fresh news from General Taylor's army, by way of Point Isabel on the coast, where he had been encamped. Something like this had been shouted across the water by an enthusiastic officer of the transport:

”Awful fightin'! Half a dozen battles! Taylor's whipped the Greasers into smithereens! He's goin' to march right on into Mexico. I don't keer if Uncle Sam annexes the hull half-Spanish outfit. I'm goin' in for one o' them there big silver mines, if we do. Hurrah for Gineral Taylor!”

A chorus of ringing cheers had answered that, but here, also, there were men of experience ready to question the entire accuracy of such tremendous war news. The one thing, however, which was brought out clearly to the mind of a naval commander was his greatly increased duty of watchfulness to prevent any kind of munitions of war from reaching the Mexican ports. That was the reason why he was now following at his best speed what might after all prove to be an entirely innocent trader.

He even went below to consider the matter, and it was a full hour later when the officer in charge of the deck came hastily down to tell him:

”Same fellow we chased before, sir. I've made him out. He's under British colors again. Are we to chase?”

”Chase, sir?” roared the captain. ”Of course we must chase! We know what it means now. The old _Portsmouth_ must catch that rascal this time.

I'll come on deck.”

Just as good gla.s.ses as those on board of her had been watching her during that hour of swift sailing, and Captain Kemp was even now lowering his telescope with what sounded like a sigh of relief.

”Mate,” he said, ”it's the same sloop that followed us before. It makes me feel better. We know what's about the best she can do. If this wind holds, I think we can fetch Vera Cruz at nightfall. No one Yankee'd dare to follow us under the guns of San Juan de Ulua.”

”I reckon not,” slowly responded the mate of the _Goshhawk_, ”but we don't need to get under that chap's bow-chasers, either.”

”No,” said Captain Kemp, ”but I'll risk a shot or two.”

Ned Crawford heard him, for he had been following him pretty closely, to know what was coming.

”I don't know,” he was thinking, ”how far one o' those cannon of hers'll carry. I don't believe, either, that they can hit a mark that is plunging along as we are. It'd be worse than shooting at a bird on the wing. Still, it's kind of awful to be shot at by our own people.”

The sailors of the _Goshhawk_ were also thinking, and they were beginning to look at one another very doubtfully. Not only were they Americans, most of them, but they had not s.h.i.+pped for any such business as this, and they did not fancy the idea of being killed for nothing. Moreover, Ned himself heard one of them muttering:

”There's an ugly look to this thing. If a shot from that cruiser were to strike us amids.h.i.+ps, we'd all be blown into the air.”

Decidedly that was not a pleasant thing to think of. Neither was there any great amount of comfort in a suggestion made by another of the men:

”Well, we'd never know what hurt us. We must keep out o' range.”

Not long afterward there was a flash at one of the bow-ports of the cruiser. The report which followed was a peremptory order to heave to, under penalty of consequences. The gun was shotted, and a great many eyes watched anxiously for the dipping of that well-aimed ball of iron.

It skipped from crest to crest of several waves before it sank, and then Captain Kemp shouted:

”All right, men! Half a mile short! We shall get there. The coast's in full sight now, and we've less than five miles to run.”

”Ay, ay, sir!” came back from them, half cheerfully, but one voice was heard to grumble:

”It's all right, is it? Well, if it wasn't for that half-mile o'

shortage, there'd be a mutinee-e on board o' this s.h.i.+p. I'd start it. I ain't a-goin' to get myself knocked on the head by Uncle Sam's own men.”

There would very likely have been a mutiny, even as it was, if there had now been time for it to take shape. Thus far, the excitement of the chase had been in the captain's favor, but the seamen would have been legally justified in resisting him and bringing the s.h.i.+p to. His authority would have ceased, for he had no right to compel them to break the law or to run the risk of a broadside from a man-of-war.

Nearer, nearer, nearer, came both the dim outline of the Mexican coast and the white sails of the pursuing _Portsmouth_. Louder and more ominous grew the but half-suppressed murmurs of the sailors, but Captain Kemp's face was now wearing a hard, set look, and he was known to be a dangerous man to deal with. Something, which looked like the handle of a pistol, stuck out of one of his side pockets, and his fingers wandered to it now and then, as if he might be turning over in his mind the possibility of soon having to shoot a mutineer. Ned was staring anxiously back at the Yankee cruiser at the moment when his shoulder was gripped hard, and Senor Zuroaga almost whirled him around, exclaiming:

”Look! Look yonder! That's the Castle of San Juan de Ulua! Oh, but don't I wish it were a half-mile nearer! Hear that firing?”