The crew of the gun-boat were equally alive. Men were seen scrambling over her deck fore and aft; several lights flamed on her forecastle; and it was evident that, though not yet in motion, she was actively preparing to give them chase.
They had scarcely begun to make good way through the water, when Hildebrand discerned the gun-boat following. Propelled by a score of oars, she gained upon them quickly, and it was clear, on regarding her progress, that a conflict would be unavoidable. Though the Englishman sailed gallantly on, she drew nearer and nearer every moment. At last, she fired a gun, and the charge, which the report seemed to indicate as a twenty-four-pounder, struck the fugitive’s stern, just above the water.
Still the latter vessel held on her course. The gun-boat, whether doubtful of the effect of her shot, or more desirous to push the pursuit, did not fire again for several minutes. By that time, having thrown her whole force into the chase, she had come nearly abreast of the fugitive, at a distance of about a dozen yards.
The Englishman was well prepared to receive her. His lower-deck guns, embracing six long twenty-fours, were all manned, and, as he was much higher in the water than she was, sunk to her level. To avert observation, however, the lower deck was left without a light, and, consequently, his readiness for action was not discernible. Being unable to distinguish the open port-holes, the Spaniard, under the guidance of his rowers, approached without suspicion. While he was yet scarcely abreast of the fugitive, he fired two guns, of the same calibre as his first, right into her bulwarks. The lower deck of the fugitive was lighted up in a moment; before the smoke, which issued like a fog from the two discharged guns, had cleared away, her gunners had raised their portfire, and she swept the Spaniard’s deck with her whole broadside.
The report of the guns was still booming over the water, when a heartrending shriek, even more startling than the roar of the artillery, rose from the deck of the gun-boat. At the same moment, the smoke, which now rendered the darkness almost tangible, was broken with bright red flames, shooting up from her deck like waving rockets, and her hull was circled with volumes of fire.
The breeze that insured her destruction served to shoot the Englishman ahead. Though thus pushing forward, however, the crew of the latter vessel, now released from action, still heard the cries of her doomed company. They were audible for several minutes, when, all at once, they became perfectly hushed. The next moment, the gun-boat blew up, and shot into the air in a thousand fragments.
A buzz of horror arose from the crew of the “Eliza” at this consummation of the catastrophe. The shock was so great, that, though now a good distance from its locality, their own ship was shaken by it, and bumped on the waves as if they were a rock. After the unanimous buzz specified, however, no one ventured to speak, and they pursued their course in solemn silence.
Hildebrand was the first to collect himself. Like his men, he had turned, almost mechanically, to view the explosion, and was wheeling round again to the binnacle, or box before the helm (which, it may be explained, contained the compass), when a small and trembling hand was laid on his arm. Labouring under intense excitement, this slight incident made him start; but his face, though it remained pale, betrayed no anger as his glance fell on Don Rafaele.