Navarro does not complete the sentence. While he was speaking the smoke has been pouring out of the chimneys of the yacht in steadily increasing volume, and now the clank of the steam windlass announces that the vessel is getting under way. Without replying to Navarro’s words, Van Zandt hastens below to inform Miss Hathaway of the destination of the yacht. Capt. Beals has taken his station on the bridge and the graceful vessel steams slowly toward the narrow entrance to the harbor of Santiago.
Navarro watches intently the three Spanish warships by which the Semiramis must pass within half a mile. As the yacht draws nearer, the watcher notes with anxiety a boat hastily putting out from the government wharf and evidently making for the flagship of the fleet, the Infanta Isabel. He communicates his discovery to Van Zandt, who has returned from below, with the comment: “They are evidently notifying the cruiser to have her stop this vessel. Rather than that she fire on the yacht and endanger the lives of those on board, including the young lady, you must surrender me. Then they may permit you to go unmolested.”
“No man leaves this ship for a Spanish prison or the garrote,” replies Van Zandt, his eyes burning with excitement, “as long as there is a timber of her afloat. It is less than six miles to the entrance to the harbor, and once outside we can snap our fingers at a whole fleet of Spanish cruisers. Besides, with all the various craft scattered about the harbor, they will not dare to fire on us.”
Navarro shakes his head skeptically, but does not reply. The boat has reached the side of the war vessel. The Semiramis is now nearly abreast of the latter and distant less than half a mile. Suddenly a puff of smoke rises from the forward deck of the Spaniard, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle.
“There! She has signaled you to heave to,” remarks Navarro. “As I told you, you must surrender me.”
“This is my answer,” replies the owner of the Semiramis, drawing his revolver and firing two shots in the air. Then to Capt. Beals on the bridge he sings out: “Full speed ahead!”
Smoke is now pouring from the stacks of the warship, and it is evident that she is preparing to pursue the American yacht, but she does not, as Navarro predicted, fire on the latter. Before the cruiser gets well under way the Semiramis is within four miles of the channel that marks the entrance to the harbor.
Van Zandt smiles at Navarro. “We will lead him a merry race if he thinks to catch the Semiramis,” he remarks. “This yacht can go two miles to his one. And if he hasn’t improved in his marksmanship I will risk his guns. Ah, there goes the first one!”
The Spaniard has succeeded in getting within range of the yacht without endangering any of the other craft, and the roar of his forward gun is heard as Van Zandt speaks.
“An eighth of a mile to windward,” observes the latter, as he watches the solid shot skip over the water. “He can’t race and shoot, too.”