“They would be good fun,” dryly remarked Señor Zuroaga. “There is nobody on earth that can win victories like a newspaper editor.”
“Hullo!” suddenly exclaimed Ned. “Something’s the matter with the captain! Did you hear that?”
There was quite enough to hear. A long, loud hail that came down from the rigging was followed by almost a yell from Captain Kemp.
“We’re chased again!” he said. “Thank God, she’s astern! Men, we’re in for it! Now for Vera Cruz or a prison! I’m ready!”
Rapid orders went out, but hardly anything more could be done to increase the speed of the ship. In fact, the lookout must almost have taken it for granted that the strange sail away off yonder belonged to a United States cruiser. Very likely it did, but it would have to draw a good deal nearer before there could be any absolute certainty. In the meantime, all on board the Goshawk might attend to whatever duties they had, and discuss the remarkable tidings brought by the Mexican schooner. While doing so, they could hardly have guessed correctly what was doing and saying on board the other vessel which had caused their anxiety. She was, indeed, a man-of-war, and she had received from a returning army transport ship a whole lot of fresh news from General Taylor’s army, by way of Point Isabel on the coast, where he had been encamped. Something like this had been shouted across the water by an enthusiastic officer of the transport:
“Awful fightin’! Half a dozen battles! Taylor’s whipped the Greasers into smithereens! He’s goin’ to march right on into Mexico. I don’t keer if Uncle Sam annexes the hull half-Spanish outfit. I’m goin’ in for one o’ them there big silver mines, if we do. Hurrah for Gineral Taylor!”
A chorus of ringing cheers had answered that, but here, also, there were men of experience ready to question the entire accuracy of such tremendous war news. The one thing, however, which was brought out clearly to the mind of a naval commander was his greatly increased duty of watchfulness to prevent any kind of munitions of war from reaching the Mexican ports. That was the reason why he was now following at his best speed what might after all prove to be an entirely innocent trader. He even went below to consider the matter, and it was a full hour later when the officer in charge of the deck came hastily down to tell him:
“Same fellow we chased before, sir. I’ve made him out. He’s under British colors again. Are we to chase?”
“Chase, sir?” roared the captain. “Of course we must chase! We know what it means now. The old Portsmouth must catch that rascal this time. I’ll come on deck.”
Just as good glasses as those on board of her had been watching her during that hour of swift sailing, and Captain Kemp was even now lowering his telescope with what sounded like a sigh of relief.