On, on, over the long swell, every man aboard in the highest possible state of excitement, eager that the Texas should be in at the death, and ahead, straining every nerve as it were, fled the Spaniards, knowing full well that there could be but one ending to such a race.
"It's Yankee grit an' Yankee skill that's winnin' this fight!" Bill Jones cried, excitedly, forgetting that he was only a "plain, every-day sailor, with no fightin' timber about him," and at every onward leap of the ship his body swayed forward as if he was eager for a fray.
But neither Bill Jones nor any man aboard the Texas, save those brave souls in the very bowels of the gallant ship, had any opportunity to display personal bravery.
The fight ended when the chase did, for then nothing was left of those mighty Spanish ships save blackened hulks.
The Oregon was sending 13-inch projectiles after the Oquendo at every fair opportunity, and the Texas, more than holding her own with the other vessels, was coming up astern with a speed that threatened to bring the long race to a speedy conclusion.
Then, suddenly, although all had been expecting it, the Almirante Oquendo's bow was headed toward the shore,—she saw the uselessness of further flight,—and all the pursuers, save the Texas, hauled off in pursuit of the Cristobal Colon.
Standing with a group of Texas men, Teddy and Bill Jones saw the Spaniard near the line of surf, and as their vessel's speed was checked there came a roar mightier than when the battle was first opened; the doomed ship rocked to and fro as if she had struck a sunken reef, there was an uprending of the iron decks, and then came a shower of fragments that told of the tremendous explosion within the hull of the Oquendo.
Now it was the Yankee crew burst once more into shouts of triumph; but before the first cheer arose on the morning air Captain Philip cried:
"Don't cheer; the poor devils are dying!"
Then it was that every man realised what had, until this moment, been absolutely forgotten: the game in which they were such decided victors was one of death! While they were triumphantly happy, scores upon scores of the enemy were dying,—mangled, scalded, drowning,—and on the instant, like a flash of light, came the terrible fact that while they rejoiced, others were suffering a last agony.