Chapter 9 THE FIRST SHOT-A HOT FIGHT.

Instantly all was excitement on the Nashville.

Captain Long saw how serious matters were.

Single-handed he had to fight against the Spanish cruiser, for it was certain that the Brooklyn could give no assistance.

"My lads!" he said, "the odds against us are terrific. All the more reason why we should fight bravely. Let us show the Spaniards to-day what Americans can do."

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" answered the crew, and a ringing cheer went up.

The men knew no fear, and strong hearts count for much in a sea fight.

"Clear the decks for action!" was the order now.

Everything movable was instantly carried away. The decks were stripped bare.

"You have your wish now, Dan," said Young Glory.

"Yes, faith, it's all the fightin' I'll want. Begorra, but it's glad I am I came."

Dan went away and Young Glory was alone.

On the deck of the ship stood Young Glory, ready for the fight, with his eyes on the Spanish cruiser.

Proudly the American flag flew, and when the men saw the Stars and Stripes waving in the breeze, they realized that they had something to die for.

The Spaniard was coming slowly along now.

The gun-boat had slackened speed, but had not changed its position.

Captain Long was discussing the situation with his lieutenant, and the men at the guns were busily doing the same thing.

"It's a fine ship," said one of the men.

"Which?"

"Why, Dan, how in thunder can you ask such a question? The Spaniard, I mean, of course."

"An' it's a quare name it has."

"Cristobal Colon! Oh! that's named after Columbus."

"Ah! it's himself would be the sad man if he could see his own people now."

"Never mind about that, Dan, this is a fine ship, and don't you forget it."

Dan shrugged his shoulders scornfully, and put a plug of tobacco in his mouth.

"Arrah! it's the little boat for me."

"But think of their guns."

"What of them?"

"Why, they've two ten-inch breech-loading rifles, and she has between thirty and forty quick firing guns."

"An' faith, we have eight."

"That's so."

"An' enough," answered Dan, obstinately. "One American equals ten Spaniards. That's my way of looking at it, so, begorra, eight guns equal eighty. Shure, an' it's all in our favor."

Having made this wonderful calculation, Dan walked away with a satisfied expression on his face.

Captain Long had been speaking to Young Glory. It was an unusual thing for an officer to take advice from a seaman, but then Young Glory was a seaman of no common order. Everybody knew that his place was the quarter deck, and that time and again he had refused the promotion which had been offered him.

"There can be only one result," said Captain Long.

"True, sir."

"And the fight won't last long."

"You think not, sir?"

"No, one shot from one of their big guns will put us out of the way if it strikes."

"Then it mustn't strike."

"It can't be prevented. The Spaniards are poor gunners, that's our only chance."

Boom!

"Hulloa, she's opened fire!"

The Spanish cruiser began the attack by firing one of her great guns from the barbette in the bows.

The shot went very wide of the mark, and the Yankee sailors shouted with derision.

They were all at the guns waiting the order to commence. But Captain Long was in no hurry.

Boom!

Another gun from the Spaniard.

"You see, sir, they can't hit us," said Young Glory.

"There's a heavy swell on, and it's almost impossible to train those big guns on us."

"We'll see if we can't do better. Her armor is only three inches thick, steel it's true, but what of that. One good shot may smash through a barbette, anyway."

Then the fight really began.

Boom! Boom!

The rapid firing guns were at work now. Occasionally the deep boom of one of the great ten-inch rifles would be heard, but these latter guns can only be fired at long intervals. It takes time to clean them, load again and fire.

What was Young Glory doing?

He was at one of the bow guns of the Nashville, the largest she was carrying, an eight-inch breech-loader.

Young Glory had for the time superseded the officer of this gun, for it was a critical moment, and Captain Long knew that if Young Glory could not do the required work, there was no one on board who could.

The accuracy of the young hero had been proved in many a hard fight at sea.

Coolly he directed operations, with Dan Daly assisting him.

"An' faith, it's a poor mark," said the latter.

"I have my orders."

"Shure ye have, Young Glory, but it's meself would rather be afther firin' at the big ship herself."

"Dan, you're a good fellow and I'm particularly fond of you, but you wouldn't make a great general. Now, see here, Dan, if I can manage to hit that turret I'll put one of their great guns out of action. That's a tremendous gain."

"It's yerself knows best," said Dan, and he added to himself, "or ye'd prove to me ye knew best anyway."

Dan was working like a hero.

Two of his comrades at the gun had been carried below, badly wounded by some splinters from a shell.

The sight of his comrades' blood infuriated the Irishman, and it animated the other men also.

As for Young Glory, there was apparently no difference in him. He was as cool as ever.

It was his work to sight and train the gun, and each time that it was fired, anxious eyes followed the shot to see whether it would be a success.

"Bah! I'll never hit it!" cried Young Glory, in disgust, after his last unsuccessful shot. "It's the swell on the water. It's almost impossible to take aim; you can't do it with any accuracy."

"Murther!" cried Dan, "but those spalpeens can!"

As he spoke a shot had come from the enemy's ship, and it tore away one of the ship's boats, but doing no other damage. Several men had narrow escapes from the splinters of the shell. Boats are invariably a source of danger in naval fights, and it is the custom for battle ships to get rid of most of their boats before the action begins.

Captain Long was very anxious now.

The last few shots from the Spanish cruiser showed that her gunners were getting the range and elevation. At any moment a shot might come and sink the gun-boat.

Several times he cast anxious eyes seaward, hoping that the noise of the fight might bring the Brooklyn to the port.

Alas! this was not to be. The fine American cruiser was yet far away.

The gun-boat had suffered a serious loss in men. A number of the seamen had been struck by shots fired from the machine guns, and Captain Long knew he could ill afford such losses.

"Young Glory!"

"Yes, sir."

"One good shot from you may give us a fighting chance."

"I am doing all I can, sir."

"That I know."

Boom!

Young Glory had been almost ready to fire as Captain Long spoke to him. Now he did so.

"A hit!" cried the man. "A hit!"

"A knock-out blow!" shouted Dan, excitedly. "It's yourself won't come up to time."

The wind blew the thick smoke away for a few minutes, and when it was clear all eyes were fixed on the Spanish cruiser. It was seen at once that Young Glory's last shot had been successful.

The barbette was smashed.

The eight-inch gun of the Nashville had sent a shot right against it. Confusion reigned on the cruiser. Men were running hither and thither. They were carrying off the wounded, and others, hastily summoned from below, machinists, carpenters and the like, were busily engaged in trying to make good the damage.

"Ye may work yer hardest," said Dan, shaking his fist at the enemy, "but it's that gun won't bark any more this blessed day."

"You never said a truer word, Dan!" exclaimed Captain Long, merrily.

Young Glory's shot had put him in a good humor.

"My lads," he cried, "the big do not always win in battle. First blood is ours! Work your hardest, and the last blood will be ours, too!"

"Hurrah!" came from a hundred throats.

Meanwhile, Young Glory was working busily at the gun again, having very little to say, but listening intently to what was going on, and feeling very much amazed at Dan's running comments on the progress of the fight.

Captain Long was on deck in the conning tower. He called his lieutenant, Mr. Tyler, over.

"A new move on, Mr. Tyler."

"Looks like it, sir."

"What does it mean?"

"They're trying to get at us with their broadside guns."

"By jingo, but you're right! Well, that move must be stopped if possible!"

Captain Long gave the necessary orders, and as fast as the Spanish cruiser tried to bring its broadside guns into play, so did the Nashville maneuver so as to keep its bow head on to the Spaniard.

Meanwhile, the guns of the Nashville were busily at work, and more damage had been done to the cruiser. The din was terrific, and for the most part the two ships were enveloped in such a thick cloud of smoke, that it was quite impossible to see what they were doing.

The Nashville had little steam on, for she had been lying to during the fight. Suddenly the Cristobal Colon put on a great burst of speed, and came dashing through the water toward the gun-boat.

"She's going to ram us!"

"Sink her! Stop her!"

These cries came from all parts of the ship.

The excitement was terrific. The Spaniard was firing her guns as she came on, the Nashville was replying. Captain Long was working to stave off the impending disaster. Hastily the engineer got up steam. The gun-boat was well under way again.

"This dodging about can have only one end, sir," said Young Glory to the captain.

"Yes, an end for us."

"Exactly. There's only one way to save ourselves."

"I know none. Once those broadside guns get into play on us it will soon be over. They are bound to sink us at this distance. The worst gunners in the world could not miss."

"Don't give them the chance."

"How, Young Glory?"

"Run boldly up to her, sir."

"What then?"

"It's neck or nothing. Let all hands be ready, and once we're alongside of the Spaniard, we must board her and take her by storm."

The captain was thunderstruck. This audacious proposal fairly took his breath away. It was difficult for him to reply. Meanwhile, Young Glory respectfully awaited an answer.

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