The shot was fired; and it did the work.
The merchantman had evidently had enough, and saw that there was no further hope.
For in full view of the shore batteries she swung round and came slowly to a halt, a signal that she surrendered. It made the Americans give another cheer, and it must have made the Spaniards on shore fairly yell.
For they began banging away, even at that distance, though they couldn't come anywhere near the tug.
As for the Americans, they sighed with relief. They had worked hard for that victory. And they felt that they had earned it. The race was over then, and they were happy.
Clif was so wearied by his heroic labor at that gun (he must have lifted and rammed some two hundred six-pounder cartridges) that he sat down on the wreck of the machine to wait until the two vessels drew near.
And the lieutenant gave up the wheel to one of the men and came out to look his capture over at leisure.
She was a fairly large vessel and seemed to have a big carrying capacity. What she was loaded with no one could guess, but at any rate she was a big prize for a small crew like that of the Uncas.
"I think I'll retire from business after to-day," Clif heard the old boatswain remark.
That personage had had one arm badly damaged in the struggle that had taken place in the morning with the Spanish gunboat; but he seemed to have forgotten his wounds in the general excitement.