Both of the Covadonga’s shells at this moment burst on board the monitor, one of them blowing her short squat funnel clean over the side, while the other, by one of the strange happenings of war, entered her hull through the same gun-port as the previous shell, working still further havoc in the Huascar’s engine-room.
The gunboat had by this time drawn considerably ahead of the monitor, and Condell soon saw that the latter was too seriously crippled in her engines to pursue. Yet she still continued firing with deadly effect, and the Union was slowly but surely creeping up astern. The skipper therefore ordered his men to turn their whole attention to the corvette and try to disable her also, since they would soon be beyond the range of the Huascar’s guns. Every weapon was thereupon trained astern, and the accuracy of the little gunboat’s fire was soon apparent, for on board the corvette one of the forward 100-pounders was dismounted and silenced, several Nordenfeldts were damaged and put out of action, and a luckily placed solid shot struck the Union’s foremast full upon the cap, wrecking it and bringing the upper spars down, with disastrous effect to the men on deck below.
Indeed it began to look as though the plucky little ship would escape after all, for she was now beyond range of all but the Huascar’s heaviest guns, while the Union had been obliged to slacken speed considerably in order to enable her to get her wreckage cleared away. But Condell surmised that the Peruvians must have shrewdly guessed at his destination, and he knew that they would not give up the chase so long as there was a chance of getting him again under their guns. Moreover, he had still nearly three hundred and fifty miles to go before he could reach safety,—more than a day and a half’s steaming!
The Covadonga very soon ran the Huascar hull-down, and had left the corvette about five miles astern before the latter got the wreckage of her foremast cleared away and resumed her pursuit at full speed; but Condell had improved the shining hour by putting his own little ship to rights, and getting up more powder and shell in readiness for the renewed attack which he knew must come.
Day had just begun to dawn when the Union again opened fire, and her first shell unluckily cut the tiller-chains on board the gunboat, so that the Covadonga very nearly ran up on the beach before the chain could be repaired and the ship again got under control; indeed, Jim distinctly felt her keel scrape as she ran over a shoal which stretched out about half a mile into the sea. By the greatest good fortune, however, she got clear, and again resumed her attempt at escape. But the Peruvian ship had by this time lessened her distance to about two miles, and was firing so accurately that nearly every shot came aboard Condell’s little ship, which, however, still continued to reply pluckily, and with such precision that she did a considerable amount of damage to the Union.
Then suddenly it seemed as though the end had come, for a particularly well-aimed shell came hurtling into the Covadonga, close to her rudder-post, almost entirely destroying the rudder, and smashing one of the blades clean off the propeller. As a consequence, her speed immediately dropped to about five knots, and Condell ground his teeth with rage. If they could but have held out a little longer all might have been well, and he might have escaped into one of the shallow bays abounding on the coast where there was too little water for his heavily armed enemy to follow. He felt that it was cruelly hard. But the brave skipper was not yet beaten; far from it. He was determined to fight to the bitter end and, if need be, go down with his colours flying and guns firing, as did his friend and brother officer, Arturo Prat, on board the Huascar at the battle of Iquique Bay, in which he, Condell, also took part. Surrender? No; perish the thought!
“Two columns of smoke approaching from the southwest, sir,” suddenly reported Douglas, who had been attentively gazing southward through the slit in the conning-tower, “and we are raising them so fast that they must be steaming hard, whoever they may be. Is it possible, I wonder, that they are two of our ships brought up by the firing?”
“Where, Señor Douglas? Allow me to look!” ejaculated Condell excitedly. “By all that’s wonderful, if you are right it means that we are saved! Be so good as to bring me my glass, young man, as quickly as possible. Every moment is now very precious.”
Douglas was back in less than a minute, carrying the telescope, by the aid of which it was presently seen that the approaching steamers were undoubtedly warships; one of them having very much the appearance of the Magellanes, while the other, a corvette, might be either the O’Higgins or the Chacabuco.
Condell looked long at the approaching ships, and then turned to look at the Union. The Peruvian was fast coming up astern, and could not now be more than a mile away. She was still firing remorselessly into the gunboat, and apparently had not noticed the smoke columns.