The events had occurred with such rapidity, this coup-de-main, prepared long beforehand, had been carried out with such coolness and skill, and all had been so thoroughly foreseen, that the Commandant, after taking a despairing glance along the deck, was obliged to allow that he had only one chance of escape—laying down his arms. Still he hesitated, however, and El Alferez understood the combat that was going on in the heart of the brave officer.
"We are not pirates," he said, "Commandant Rodriguez, we are Texans; you can lay down your arms without shame—not to save your life, to which the defeat you have just suffered causes you to attach but slight value, and which you would doubtless readily sacrifice to expiate your misfortunes—but you are responsible before Heaven for the two hundred and fifty men forming your crew. Why needlessly shed precious blood! For the last time I invite you to surrender."
At this moment a thick shadow covered the deck of the corvette; the brig, which everyone had forgotten, had continued to advance; it had come within pistol shot, and its lofty sails stretched out over the vessel and intercepted the sunshine.
"Halloo the ship!" a voice shouted from the stern of the cruiser; "Send a boat aboard us with your captain."
This voice sounded like a thunderclap in the ears of the Mexicans. The brig had shortened sail, and was now lying motionless to starboard of the corvette. There was a moment of intense silence, during which all eyes were instinctively turned on the privateer; her yards were lined with topmen armed with muskets and hand grenades, through the open ports the men could be seen standing by the guns, and it literally held the corvette under its fire.
"Well," El Alferez continued, stamping his foot impatiently, "have you made up your mind; yes or no?"
"Sir," the Commandant answered, "by an infamous act of treachery you have become master of my vessel; as any resistance is henceforth useless, I surrender."
And with a gesture full of dignity the old sailor drew his sword, snapped the blade asunder, and after throwing the pieces into the sea, retired to the stern with a calm and resigned step.
"Captain Johnston," El Alferez shouted, "your corvette is ours; send a boat's crew on board."
A whistle was heard from the brig's deck; a boat was let down, and a few minutes after, twenty privateer's men, armed to the teeth, and commanded by the Captain in person, stepped on the corvette's deck. The disarmament of the crew was effected without the slightest resistance, and Commandant Rodriguez and his staff were at once transferred to the brig, in order that the Mexican sailors, who were much more numerous than their visitors, might be without a leader in the event of their attempting to regain possession of the corvette by a desperate effort. But this precaution was unnecessary, for the Mexicans had not the slightest idea of rising; on the contrary, most of them were natives of Texas, who found among the sailors of the brig many of their old friends and acquaintances; in a few moments the two crews were on the most cordial terms, and mixed up together.