ing him a life preserver, the man stalked off, leaving Walter standing on the forward deck of the collier in the darkness.
It was a little after three o clock in the morning, and the Merrimac was headed north-northeast, directly for the harbor entrance. From far ahead shone a Spanish flashlight, located on a hill, and by steering for this, Lieutenant Hobson knew the craft would be taken just where he wanted her.
Walter was but lightly attired, and without stripping off any more clothing he placed the life preserver around him, under the arms. "When the Merrimac goes down, we may not even have the catamaran to fall back on," he thought.
Boom! It was the report of one of the Spanish guns on shore, and a heavy shot whizzed over the bridge of the Merrimac, where Lieutenant Hobson and the helmsman were standing, and fell into the waves on the starboard side. The aim was so close that the wind from the shot carried off the helmsman's cap!
Other shots soon followed, and in the excitement of the moment Walter's presence on board was forgotten. The Merrimac was now running at a tremendous rate of speed, her fires roaring fiercely
