Half dazed he looked and saw a Spanish sailor in the act of lifting himself up to the deck to join his superior. And Clif had no doubt there were half a dozen others following.
There was of course nothing that Clif could do; a movement on his part would have been sheer suicide.
He thought the case was hopeless; he had let himself be caught napping.
But the cadet had forgotten that there were other Americans on that vessel besides himself. And there were no revolvers threatening the others.
The rage of the Yankee tars at what seemed to them a cowardly and sneaking way to capture the ship was too great for them to control. Prudence would have directed surrender, for the Maria had not a gun on board and the Spaniard might blow her out of the water.
But nobody thought of that; the same instant the Spanish officer presented his weapon and disclosed his real nationality, there were two sharp cracks in instant succession from the bow of the imperiled ship.
And the officer staggered back with a gasp. He dropped his weapon to the deck, reeled for an instant and then vanished over the side in the darkness.
There was a moment of horror, and then Clif heard him strike with a thud on the small boat below.
At the same time there was a bright flash just in front of Clif, and a bullet whistled past his ear.
The Spanish sailor, who had only half reached the deck, had fired at him.