Clif was so heartbroken at that sudden ending of all his hopes, that he scarcely cared whether he was drowned or not. But he saw Bessie Stuart struggling in the seething waters, and toward her he struck out desperately.

It took the cadet but a moment to reach her side. The shattered wreck of the wooden boat was floating near, and to that he struggled, helping her on.

And they reached it, in what it sounds like mockery to call safety. The girl scarcely knew whether it were best to hold on or to drown.

But instinctively she clung to the side as the great waves swept over them; and the two fixed their eyes upon the approaching vessel.

She came on swiftly, sheering the water with her sharp bow. And Clif could see half a dozen men standing in the bow watching them.

"Perhaps they have heard of our escape," he growled, "and come after us."

The vessel was not coming from Havana, but the cadet knew that a telegram might have sent it out.

At any rate, they were recaptured; and the horrors of Morro were before them again.

Steadily the gunboat drew nearer; the two half-drowned Americans were reached in a minute or two.

And the vessel slowed up and a rope was thrown to them. Clif desperate from despair, seized it and drew himself close.

A couple of Spanish sailors leaned down from the low side and lifted first the half unconscious girl and then the cadet up to the deck.

And then, weak and pale and dripping wet, they confronted a tall, ugly-looking Spaniard with an officer's chevrons.

He stared at them curiously.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

And Clif, grim with desperation, looked him in the eye and answered boldly:

"We are Americans," said he.

"Prisoners?"

"Yes."

"From where?"

"Morro Castle."

The Spaniard looked the amazement he felt.

"Morro Castle!" he echoed. "Humph! How did you get out?"

"Take us back there and you'll find out," was Clif's defiant answer.

And with that he turned toward the girl to wipe her dripping hair from her face.

He expected that the man would continue questioning them. But he was mistaken. The Spanish gunboat had done a risky thing, running out as it had, and her officers were anxious to get back.

The man turned away and hurried off. A sailor with a pair of handcuffs approached Clif, and the cadet quietly allowed his wrists to be secured.

Bessie Stuart was fortunately spared that indignity. The sailor gruffly ordered them to go below.

The vessel, meanwhile, had resumed her trip. She had been running along close to the coast under cover of the darkness of the previous night. And now she turned to steal back.

Clif's heart was heavy, and he was miserable beyond description.

But he turned and silently followed the sailor to the companionway.

They did not go below at once, however, for just then something occurred that made the sailor stop.

The man who had first spoke to Clif, the captain, apparently, had been sweeping the shore with his glass. And just then he gave a startled exclamation.

Everybody heard him, and the Spanish sailor stopped and turned to look.

Clif was so listless and despairing that he did not take the trouble to do likewise; but when he heard the exclamations of the men he felt his heart give a leap.

They were staring at a man on the shore.

"What in the world can be the matter with that fellow?" cried the captain.

"Santa Maria! he is calling to us!" exclaimed another.

"He must be crazy," declared a third.

The captain, with his glass could see more plainly than the others, and his astonishment grew greater.

"Why, he's a Spanish officer—a lieutenant, I think! And he is trying to hail us. What can it mean?"

"Perhaps he's got dispatches!" suggested some one.

It flashed over Clif in an instant what that meant, and Bessie Stuart heard him give a muffled exclamation of delight.

For he could see a blue-uniformed figure running down the shore and waving its arms wildly.

"It's Lieutenant Hernandez!" he panted.

And there was a wild gleam of hope in his eyes as he realized what that meant.

He might rescue them again!

Feverishly Clif watched to see what the gunboat would do. The captain continued staring and muttering exclamations of astonishment.

"I wonder if he does want us," he cried. "Por dios, I do think that's it."

And a second later he made up his mind and whirled about.

"Hard a port!" he roared.

And Clif's heart leaped with joy as he ............