"Only about fifty."
"And there are eleven of us here! We can set them on the run! Let's do it."
"We have done almost as much on other occasions," said Clif, "but now we are armed with only our revolvers. They are five to one."
"We have plenty of ammunition," spoke up the men, eagerly. "You know we took an extra supply."
"But there is another thing we must bear in mind," said Clif, who had been doing some quick thinking. "I'd like nothing better than to give them a lively tussle. But here are these important dispatches. They must not fall into Spanish hands. The New York will soon be due. If we delay we might miss her."
"That's so," exclaimed the men. "But we can fire one volley at them anyhow."
"One volley would do no good. It would simply betray our presence. Either we must fight to the end, or else sneak off to our boat before they discover us."
The idea of having a lot of the enemy so near at hand and not offering them battle, went against the grain of all of them. They were not deterred by the superior numbers of the Spaniards, but Clif's words about the importance of seeing the dispatches safely in the rear admiral's hand had some restraining effect upon their ardor.
Clif, with all his bravery, was naturally prudent, but was strongly tempted to make one effort to release the captive Cuban. He was their friend and ally, and in his heart Clif felt that if the captive were one of his own men, there would be no thought of hesitancy or delay.
"One minute," he said, after weighing both sides of the question, "I'll take a look and see what they are doing."