The crew, appalled by the steel hail which now began to pour from the sides of the Calvo, became so demoralized at the crisis that heroic measures were necessary. Stanley and Herc drew their revolvers and forced the deserters back to their guns.
“I’ll throw the first man who leaves his post to the sharks!” yelled Herc, and, although they couldn’t understand what he said, the crew appeared to comprehend the import of his words. At any rate, they rallied, and began serving the guns once more.
Suddenly a loud cheer went up from the bridge of the Barrill. A black, gaping hole appeared in the foreworks of the Calvo, and two of her guns were silenced. This cheered them hugely. It meant that their fire was taking effect at last.
“Close in!” shouted Captain Gomez to the men at the wheel in the conning tower below.
The space between the two vessels began to close. Ned at once understood the meaning of these tactics. They were to demolish the Calvo before the other vessel, which was hastening to the rescue, arrived. Thus they would have only one foe to tackle at a time. For a space the two vessels jockeyed, but, deprived of officers as she was, the Calvo was no match for the tricky destroyer at this game. As he found his broadside fairly raking the other’s quarter, the Spanish-American captain gave the word. The range was about two thousand yards, and that tornado of steel was in position to do the most deadly work of which it was capable.
Before the few officers remaining on the Calvo could swing her bow on to avoid the full effect of the Barrill’s fire, Stanley and Herc received the signal from the bridge. As the tempest of shell took effect, the Calvo careened, till her underbody showed, and then staggered drunkenly[247] back on an even keel. But she seemed water-logged, and began drifting down on the destroyer.
“Hooray! we’ve smashed her steam steering gear!” yelled Ned, half crazy with excitement.
But, crippled as she was, the Calvo could still fight. Suddenly two bright flashes showed at her midship section, and a couple of six-inch projectiles shrieked toward the Barrill. The bridge was carried half away before they could stir. Ned caught Midshipman Stark as the young officer was hurled back against him. Captain Gomez stood grimly at the engine-room telegraph, which, luckily, had not been carried away. Nor, by good fortune, had the range-finder and fire-control instruments.
At the same instant as the Calvo’s shell shrieked its way through one end of the destroyer’s little bridge the other missile from the same vessel carried away the canvas forward funnel. The little destroyer stood revealed in her true colors.
An instant’s glance served to show that the midshipman was not seriously wounded. A deep[248] cut on his head from a steel splinter was his only injury. But it had temporarily disabled him, and two sailors carried him to the small cabin, in which the surgeon had established himself.
Ned now stood alone on the bridge by Captain Gomez. A thrill ran through the boy as he realized this. They were in a real battle, and he was actually second in command!
“Shall we let them have it again, sir?” he asked, as the shouts and cries of the terrified crew died out under Stanley’s persuasion and Herc’s reckless flourishing of his weapon.
“Yes, my boy. This time we’ll sink them, if possible. It will be in revenge for the terrible fright they gave me when I saw our brave young friend wounded.”
As the signal was transmitted, Stanley’s battery mingled its fire with Herc’s. This time the Calvo did not answer. Instead they could see that the greatest confusion prevailed on her decks.
“Give her some more!” shouted the captain.
But even as he spoke there resounded from[249] the crippled ship a terrific explosion. She seemed to lift for half of her length upward out of the water, and then, in a shroud of dense, white vapor, she settled back.
“Her boilers have exploded!” shouted Ned, as he gazed with horror-stricken eyes on the tragedy.
“Lower the boats; we must save all we can!” exclaimed Captain Gomez. “Alas! my poor countrymen!”
The Calvo wavered only for an instant after the explosion, and then, with a dreadful roar and a furious hissing, she vanished amid clouds of white steam. As the vapor cleared away, all that remained on the surface to show her end were a few ash-streaked pools of grease, amid which human heads showed like black dots.
The Barrill steamed among the debris, and many a man owed his life to her heroic efforts. But hardly had the work of rescue terminated before the destroyer was called upon to face a fresh emergency. The other vessel was within[250] four thousand yards, steaming furiously toward them.
“It is the Bolivar!” exclaimed Captain Gomez, as he gazed through his glasses.
For a flash hope almost died in Ned’s heart. The newcomer was the torpedo-equipped craft. As we know, of this class of weapon the Barrill had but four on board. What chance would she stand, crippled as she was, against this new enemy? Hastily Stanley and Herc were called to the bridge and the situation explained to them. It was decided to get the Barrill’s torpedo apparatus in order, and at least discharge all the Whiteheads she carried at the Bolivar—provided, that is, that the other vessel gave them a chance. On came the Bolivar, her officers apparently not the least dismayed by the fate that had overtaken the Calvo. The Barrill’s batteries opened fire on her at three thousand five hundred yards. The accuracy of Stanley and Herc’s fire halted her f............