"Perhaps it is—there is no saying; but I can't make it look like a gunboat," was the answer. "Whatever it is, I reckon the Winslow will soon rout it out. If it's one of those craft, her quick-firers will get to work precious soon, and I think that we shall have a rough time of it; for she's behind the breakwater, while we are stuck out in the open. That won't beat us, though, and if she's there we're goin' to have her."
By this time the three vessels were well in the bay, and while the Wilmington lay to off the town, the Hudson and Winslow rushed in towards the wharves in search of the Spanish gunboats.
These were a constant menace to the Americans, for while they lay under the guns of the forts it was difficult to get at them. And what splendid opportunities of producing havoc amongst the ships of the enemy were in the hands of their commanders! To bold, undaunted men, with plenty of spirit about them, there was practically no limit to the damage they might do. Themselves acquainted with the bay, and with every inch of the formidable reefs that formed a barrier round it, knowing well every turn and twist of the narrow and dangerous inlets and exits so much at their finger-tips that the darkest night was no bar to their traversing them, it was possible for them to keep Admiral Sampson's fleet in a state of perpetual alarm. For who could guess when those long sleuthhounds of the sea would leave their kennels beside the wharves, and slip out into the open? And who could hope to follow those long black hulls racing through the water? It was almost impossible to do so, and it is not to be wondered at that many a look-out man, when staring into the darkness, sent an alarm ringing through the American fleet when he had only imagined that he had sighted a Spanish gunboat. Then guns would begin to go off, and a perfect pandemonium would take the place of the silence that had reigned before. On one occasion, too, owing to mistakes in showing signals, the Americans almost fired on their own gunboats, which were patrolling the seas around them.
Meanwhile, the Hudson and the Winslow had been steaming closer to the low stone quay which jutted into the water, and had separated so as to form a smaller mark for the enemy, when there was a roar of exploding artillery, and a hail of shells burst on and around the Winslow.
"Hillo, these fellows are where you said!" shouted Lieutenant Billing; "and what's more, the Winslow's got badly hit, I fancy. Hooroo! we're bearing down to her assistance."
Slewing the helm round, the commander of the Hudson rushed towards the quay from which the guns were firing, using his own batteries meanwhile. Hal, with a pair of glasses raised, watched the conflict, and distinctly saw the Spanish gunboats firing over the top of the quay, while they themselves were more or less protected by the stonework.
"The Winslow is disabled," he shouted, seeing the gunboat suddenly swerve from her course, while a hail of shells burst about her decks. "She's got her steering gear smashed. See, she's drifting nearer to the quay."
"Then we'll have her out of it," shouted the lieutenant. "Say, boys, get to one of those guns, and lend a hand."
He rushed forward, Hal and Gerald running to the after gun. Meanwhile, the Hudson bore down rapidly upon the disabled Winslow, and at once found that she, too, had become a mark for the enemy. But, nothing daunted, her commander kept her straight ahead, in spite of the bursting shells, until quite close to his damaged consort.