"Yes, yes! But it has no paddles—it moves like a snake!"
"No matter," said old Manuel. "Everybody knows that the North Americans are in league with the Evil One. Only the Evil One could make a boat to move without paddles. But the saints will protect us."
"They are bringing soldiers!" young Manuel cried. "Look! The decks of the warships are crowded!"
The American warships all forged to the fore; in line behind the tall Raritan and the smoking new steamer (which was only a propeller) they filed past the foreign ships at the Sacrificios anchorage, and about a mile from the beach they cast anchor also. Now it might be seen that each ship had towed a line of rowboats, and that every deck was indeed crowded with soldiers, for muskets and bayonets flashed, uniforms glittered, bands played, and a clatter and hum drifted with the music to the shore.
The merchant ships stayed outside the anchorage, as if waiting. There seemed to be seventy-five or eighty of them; too many for the space inside.
The warships lost no time. Small launches instantly began to tow the rowboats to their gangways; soldiers began to descend
"What! They are going to land here, on our beach of Collado?" old Manuel gasped.
"No! Viva, viva!" young Manuel cheered. "Our brave soldiers are there, waiting! Viva, viva!"
"Now we shall see!" And old Manuel cheered, waving his ragged hat. "There will be a battle. Maybe we shall have to run."
