"They'll have to stay and take chances with us," muttered Clif.
As if there were not noise enough about that time those men began to raise a terrific outcry, yelling and shrieking in terror. But nobody paid any attention to them—except that the sailors took the trouble to examine their bonds once more.
It would have been dangerous to let those desperate fellows get loose then. For the Americans had enemies enough to cope with as it was.
All this while the Spanish gunboat had been firing away with all her might and main. She would cut across the vessel's stern, and send her shots tearing through the whole length of the ship; then she would come up close alongside and pour a dozen broadsides in.
And nearly all the shots hit, too.
It was evident to those on board that the merchantman would not stand very much battering of that sort. Already one of the sailors had come up to announce that two of the firemen had been struck.
But still the Maria tore desperately onward. Nobody cared very much how much damage was done, except that they did not want the engines to be smashed until the ship had reached the shore.
As well as Clif could calculate roughly, it ought not to have taken them an hour to return to the coast, for they had the storm to aid them. That they could hold out that long under the unceasing fire he did not believe.
"But the Spaniards may use up all their ammunition," he thought to himself.
That was a possibility, for he knew that the supply in the possession of Spain was a small one.