“Our friend the artillery lieutenant,” exclaimed Phil, as the brown vapor from the exploded shrapnel appeared again in the air above the cruiser. “He knows her range too. She is turning. I wonder if they have seen us.”
“They’ll see us in a minute,” answered O’Neil grimly, as he stripped himself of his white undershirt and drew from the sand a long bamboo pole. “But our artillery friends ashore may see us also.”
“If they do, we must swim for it,” said O’Neil calmly, tying his shirt on to the pole and raising the conspicuous flag above his head.
“They see us; I mean the cruiser,” cried Sydney joyfully; “she is heading toward us.”
The cruiser had turned in shore; her battery was now silent, but the spiteful piece of artillery ashore sent its bursting shrapnel ever nearer the approaching vessel.
“Get under the water, quick,” cried O’Neil, grasping the lads and drawing them down with him.
Through the water the noise of an explosion above them came muffled to their ears. When they rose to the surface, the agitated water about them told the story only too plainly. O’Neil’s fears had been realized. The enemy had also seen them.
It was fortunate for our friends that they were all good swimmers. They must leave the protection of their bamboo piling and swim toward the approaching man-of-war. With but their heads above water they would afford but a small target for their friend the lieutenant of artillery, but if he was fortunate with his aim once it would be all over with the Americans.
Leaving their insecure resting place they swam slowly out toward the cruiser, which had now stopped and seemed to be awaiting them.
The cool freshness of the water put new strength into the swimmers. O’Neil swam on his back, his eyes turned toward the shore. As soon as the red flash appeared he commanded his companions to duck, and thus escaping the shower of bursting shrapnel, they reached the side of the cruiser in safety.