For an appalling discovery was made, one that seemed fairly to freeze Clif's blood.
He was struggling with his back toward Bessie Stuart. And the joy that was in his heart was turned to horror by hearing the girl give a shrill scream.
The cadet whirled about.
He saw the girl, her face transfixed and white as a sheet, pointing with a trembling finger off to starboard.
Clif followed the direction of her gaze; what he saw made his brain reel, made him almost totter backward into the boat.
Not half a mile away, coming straight down the coast and bearing down upon them at full speed, was a vessel, a low gunboat.
And high above her bow was floating a Spanish flag.
Clif stared at the frightful apparition as if he had seen a ghost.
What it meant to him may be imagined—the failure of all their hopes—their capture and death!
And there was not the slightest possibility of escape!