The midshipmen were on their feet in an instant, while O’Neil came running up from the deck below.
The Spanish captain, calling loudly to all his saints to witness that it was not his fault, jammed the helm to starboard, throwing the steamer’s bow away from the rapidly approaching lorcha. The engine bell clanked riotously, as the excited Spanish captain rang for more speed. Then the Americans’ blood froze in their veins, for the chugging of the noisy engines had ceased in a wheezy wail, and the “Negros” lay helpless, almost motionless in the path of the strange sail to windward.
The lads looked at each other in consternation. The suddenness of the emergency had rendered them powerless to act.
“Was it only a stupid blunder? Or was it by design that the silent lorcha had shifted its helm and stood down upon the demoralized steamer?” were the questions that came into their minds.
A guttural hail from the lorcha accompanied by a fusillade of rifle-shots put an end to all doubt.
“Pirates!” O’Neil gasped as he dislodged an iron crowbar from a boat skid. “And there isn’t a gun among us.”
A bright glare suddenly darted from the bridge of the steamer as some one turned on the current for the search-light, and the Americans saw in the bright beam a motley crew of natives lining the lorcha’s rail, their eager bodies crouched ready to spring upon the deck of their helpless victim.
“Tagalos,” the girl cried out in sudden alarm as she instinctively put her small brother behind her, shielding him from the flying bullets.
“Don’t do it, sir,” O’Neil commanded hoarsely as Phil started precipitously forward. “We can’t stand them off, we’re too few. Here we can make a stand if they attack us. We can’t save the ship.”
The lads saw at once the wisdom in O’Neil’s advice. No power could save the ship from the terrible onslaught of that savage horde. The two vessels came together with a mighty crash, and the air was rent with harsh cries of triumph as the captors leaped on board, firing their guns and slashing with their sharp bolos. The cries for mercy from the cringing crew were soon swallowed up in the shrieks of pain and anger as the vengeful victors satisfied their inherent love for blood.