The “Soledad” was a pitiful sight as she rolled a shattered hulk on the ocean swell; smoke-stacks gone; her decks blackened with the fire of explosions, and torn and rent by the terrific violence of the blown up boilers.
“She’s sinking,” cried Phil in horror, turning anxiously to Captain Garcia.
The captain nodded his head in the affirmative.
“I fear many of her crew have perished. We must save every life we can.”
The “Aquadores” was stopped near the sinking ship and boats were lowered promptly. But as Captain Garcia had feared, there were but a handful of survivors left on the surface after the “Soledad,” her colors still flying, sank beneath the surface of the sea.
In a half hour more a prize crew from the “Aquadores” had been sent on board the captured “Barcelo” and the two vessels, now no longer enemies, lay quietly awaiting the darkness to finish the work of destruction of the insurgent navy; a torpedo-boat must yet be accounted for before Captain Garcia could sail back to La Boca and report to his president that his work had been successfully accomplished.
“The ‘Barcelo’ is quite serviceable,” Captain Garcia informed the American lads, after his return on board the “Aquadores” from his visit to the captured vessel. “She suffered badly from our shells and has lost many men; fortunately her surgeons are uninjured, and are now attending to her wounded. Our losses have been heavy; I weep for my poor countrymen, fighting against their own flesh and blood.”
Captain Garcia burst into tears. The sight quite unmanned the youths. It was a new sight for them—a man, who had borne himself with so much bravery through the terrible trials of the last few hours, breaking down and crying like a child.
The lads tried to console the sorely tried man, but he was inconsolable. The reaction on his Latin nature was more than his nerve could stand.
“You have placed me under a heavy debt,” the captain said, his voice breaking with emotion. “I believe in my heart that without your superb assistance, my ship would now be beneath the waves instead of the ‘Soledad,’ or, which is far worse for an honorable man, lying there vanquished, my flag trailing in the dirt.” He pointed through the gun-port at the battle-scarred “Barcelo,” her lowered flag still trailing from her mast in sign of surrender.