"That does sound the most sensible course," Hal agreed. "At any rate, it would save all this unnecessary delay, and would keep the American people in better humor. They must be very anxious for stirring news away in the States."
"So they are. But look here, Marchant; if Cervera is really in there, why does he not make a rush at us? That is what leads me to doubt whether he's in the island, or, rather, in the harbor; for if he were anchored in Santiago Bay, and just took the trouble to send out his destroyers, why, we should be most uneasy."
This, indeed, was the argument used by many. If Cervera—who was known to have three British-built destroyers with him—were really in Santiago, why, then, did he lie hidden and skulking in there? Why did he not take advantage of his strong position, and of the uncertainty covering his whereabouts, to steal out at night and fall upon the American ships which patrolled the open sea? A bold man with such possibilities before him, and with such obvious advantages, might well do much for the country he served, and wreak havoc in the ranks of the enemy's fleet. What did it mean to one acquainted with the noble profession of a sailor? Risk? Yes, certainly; but imagine what glory and what honor if success were to crown his efforts! Choosing some densely dark night, and with all lights carefully dowsed, the commander of one of those low, rakish-looking destroyers might easily run from the harbor, dash amongst the enemy, and discharge torpedoes right and left. What if the bag were only one proud ship each night? It would still be a fine result, and the loss of confidence amongst the Americans, even with their iron nerves, would be an advantage to the Spaniards in future conflicts, for nothing tells upon the fighting qualities of a force, whether on land or at sea, like constant harassing tactics, and fear of attack which comes only when it is least suspected, and so suddenly as to make retaliation impossible.
In spite of all the possibilities, there was not so much as a move from the harbor, and even when a transport, laden with coal, was held up just outside and within shot of the batteries on Morro Castle, there was no sign of help, and no destroyers ran out to attack the American ships.
And yet, incredible though it may seem, Cervera had reached Santiago as early as May the 18th, though it was not till the end of the month, when Admiral Schley and his consorts made a reconnaissance in force, that it was definitely decided that the long-lost fleet was there. Day after day he had been lying hidden behind the promontory, with steam always up, and yet undecided how to act, and never venturing to leave the harbor. Truly a policy that was scarcely likely to win honor and possessions for his country!
It was a day of excitement and high hope when at last Cervera's whereabouts was known to the American fleet.
"George! But now it will be a game!" exclaimed Lieutenant Billing in delight. "Marchant, there'll be a chance for you yet. Wait till we've whopped this fellow to pieces, and then you shall go ashore."
"But how will you whop him?" asked Hal. "You have him safely in the harbor, I'll allow; but to reach him is another matter."
"That it is, and I ought not to have talked about knocking him to pieces. But I meant this. There he is, and there he'll stay. Do you follow? We're goin' to put a cork in the bottle."
"A cork? But how?"