The cadet's report was soon made. Under ordinary circumstances he would have been ordered to report back to the Uncas, but that stanch little gunboat was then miles beyond the western horizon. Moreover, the admiral had other work for the cadet.
 
As to Miss Stuart; there was a parting between her and Clif that was such as should be between acknowledged lovers, but it was a parting of the most decided kind, for his duty lay in the war, hers on land. She was sent to Key West on a cruiser that was then leaving the squadron to recoal.
 
What the young man and the girl said to each other cannot concern us here, for we have now to do with Faraday's experience as a sailor. His love affair had to await the events of war, and so may the story of it.
 
Clif's next service began on the morning following his escape. A small boat left the flagship and headed for Point Rubalcava on the Cuban coast. It was bent upon a dangerous mission; so hazardous, in fact, that volunteers had been called for to man the boat.
 
The first one to offer his services had been Clif Faraday. There was no lack of followers among the brave American tars. Fifty offered themselves a moment after the cadet stepped forward, and the task was to select from them twelve men to form the boat's crew.
 
"It is necessary to cut the cable as a war measure," said Rear Admiral Sampson, when the selection had been made. "You will proceed cautiously toward shore and grapple for the cable. If you find it, cut it. If not, you must go ashore and locate the landing place of the wire. Are you ready for the service?"
 
"Ay, ay, sir!" came the ready response.
 
Rear Admiral Sampson looked upon the brave, eager faces of the men for a moment with evident satisfaction.
 
"There is danger of discovery, and attack from the shore batteries," he added. "Success will depend upon your quickness and skill."
 
The men well knew the danger that lay before them, but there was no sign of faltering upon their faces. Rather, there was an eagerness for instant action that was not lost upon the commanding officer.
 
"Then go!" he exclaimed, heartily.
 
The boat was lowered, and quietly set out upon its mission.
 
It was in charge of a lieutenant, and Clif Faraday, in recognition of his being the first to volunteer, was placed beside him in the stern to steer the boat through the rough waters.
 
It was still dark, though the eastern sky gave promise of the near approach of day. The time had been selected to enable the boat to near the shore without great danger of detection in the dim light. But by the time they should succeed in grappling the cable there would be sufficient light to enable them to complete their task.
 
"All seems quiet on shore," said Clif, after a time, to the lieutenant, as they both peered forward at the coast line now looming up before them. "The Spaniards don't seem to be looking for us."
 
"True," responded the lieutenant. "It looks that way. But you can't sometimes always tell. They may have a surprise for us."
 
"If they don't shoot any straighter than they have been doing," said Clif with a laugh, "they'll never touch us."
 
"That's true, too," assented the lieutenant. "But still you must remember——"
 
"The Maine!" interrupted Clif.
 
"Yes, remember the Maine! But, as I was saying, these fellows might possibly aim at something else beside our boat and hit us accidentally. At any rate, I hope they don't see us. We are not out to capture a fort armed as we are with nothing but revolvers, and in this open boat we would be an easy prey to decent marksmanship."
 
"Still, the boys like action," said Clif.
 
"We may have plenty of it yet," replied the lieutenant, with a suspicion of uneasiness in his tone.
 
Meanwhile the boat, guided by Clif's hand, had drawn nearer the shore. They could see plainly the outlines of the fortifications, which had been recently battered by shell from American gunboats, and which they knew the Spaniards had attempted to repair. But as far as they could see all was quiet there.
 
The boat was following what was supposed to be the course of the cable, and the men were constantly seeking to secure it with their grappling irons. The crew proceeded cautiously but expeditiously with its work, the boat passing to and fro across what they supposed was the line of the cable.
 
"How is it, Wilson?" at last said the lieutenant, speaking to one of the men who was leaning over the side of the boat. "Struck anything yet?"
 
"Not yet, sir," was the response.
 
Nearer and nearer to the shore came the boat, the men coolly continuing their labors, seemingly as unmindful of danger as though the coast was not lined by hostile forces. The sun peeped above the face of the water to the eastward, and the darkness slowly receded before it. Every detail of the frowning fortification ashore was now plainly visible to the boat's crew.
 
Clif looked intently along the shore, but there was no hostile movement to be seen. But he realized that the fast growing light of the rising sun must betray their presence to the enemy, if any such were on watch.
 
"What a fine target we would make for them, too," he thought. "And close range at that."
 
His thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation from one of the men who had been previously addressed by the lieutenant.
 
"Hurrah!" cried the man. "I've got it!"
............