Then turning to the Spaniard again he put his megaphone to his lips and shouted to the little commander, who still capered and gesticulated on the bridge:
"Yes, I am el Capitaine Dynamite. Come on and take me if you can. Viva, Cuba Libre."
CHAPTER VIII
A Brush with the Gunboat
The Mariella swung slowly around until she presented only her stern and the width of her hull as a mark for her enemy, and then under a full head of steam she started to show her heels to the Spaniard. But clouds of heavy, black smoke began to roll upward from the gunboat's funnel, showing that she, too, was crowding on steam for the chase.
The puff of smoke, the bark of the gun, the shot skipping over the water across their bows, much as a child scales a flat stone across a mill pond, opened the boys' eyes to the seriousness of the situation. They fingered their revolvers nervously and watched the black bow of the Spaniard anxiously, expecting to see another white burst of smoke.
But the little commander evidently believed he could rely on the speed of his vessel to overtake the Mariella, for after the warning shot, he did not fire again, and with throbbing engines the steamers settled down to a trial of speed.
"If we could only imagine that as a starting gun this would make a first-rate yacht race," said Bert, after they had been running for some minutes.