The Zuloaga sent off a bow torpedo, but it passed harmlessly under the stern of The Pizarro without doing any damage. Nevertheless, the crew of the rebel ship seemed much alarmed, as well they might be, seeing that a single torpedo striking them amidships would sink their iron ship in a few minutes. Foolishly enough, it never occurred to De Galevez to sweep the starboard with his lights, and he was quite unaware that a second torpedo-vessel was stealing up in the darkness.
Indeed, what with following The Iturbide and The Zuloaga with his search-lights, De Galevez had enough to do, and kept the torpedo boat at bay with his heavy guns. Occasionally a shot from The Iturbide would pass through the rigging of the rebel ship, but no damage was done, and De Galevez’s great desire was to keep at a distance the wasp-like torpedo which circled round rapidly, everywhere trying to plant its sting.
While this drama was taking place on the port side, The Montezuma, on seeing The Iturbide was discovered, moved up on the starboard at a distance of four hundred yards. When abreast of The Pizarro she slowed down her engines and crept up within pistol range. Had it not been for the incessant firing of the guns, those on board The Pizarro would surely have become aware of their danger. As it was, they thought themselves safe while they kept The Zuloaga at a distance. A tremendous broadside was directed at that torpedera and at The Iturbide. It was her last discharge, for the next moment she was struck amidships by a torpedo from The Montezuma.
There was a cry of frenzied fear, and the search lights flashed round to starboard only to see The Montezuma slipping back into the gloom. Three minutes afterwards The Pizarro sank.
The vessels of the Junta at once flashed their electric rays on the spot, and where a moment before had been a magnificent vessel, now saw nothing but a wide expanse of cold black sea dotted with drowning men. Boats were lowered by The Iturbide and a few soldiers and sailors were rescued, but so suddenly had The Pizarro gone down that, with the exception of half a dozen survivors, the whole crew, officers, and soldiers, in all three hundred men, were drowned.
It would be impossible to describe the joy on board the loyalist ships at this successful termination of the contest. Rafael and Jack went on board The Iturbide to receive the congratulations of Pedraza for their success, and the officers of The Zuloaga also hastened to participate in the general joy. The large state-room of the cruiser was one mass of excited men, drinking champagne, and wildly embracing one another. This victory would surely damp the enthusiasm of the rebels, and raise that of the loyalists to fever pitch. Don Hypolito had now but two ships of war, and these could not surely stand before the valour of The Iturbide, with her two torpedo-vessels. The vivas were deafening, and Rafael, as commander of the boat which had sunk The Pizarro, was nearly stifled by the embraces of his brother officers.
As soon as the excitement had somewhat subsided, all went on deck, and The Iturbide stood in to the shore with the idea of seeing how matters stood in the rebel camp. Flying the Opal flag, lest the forts should open fire on one of their own vessels, the cruiser turned her lights on to the beach, and saw that it was lined with the rebel forces, all under arms. The noise of the firing and the flashing of the lights had attracted the attention of those on shore, and fearing that an attack was contemplated by the enemy, those rebels encamped in front of Janjalla were now on the alert. No one could understand the reason of this sea-fight, as it seemed quite impossible that the torpederas could have arrived from Tlatonac in so short a period. The general in command of the troops of Xuarez did not know what to think, and had to wait till dawn before he could make up his mind what course to pursue.
As the lights of The Iturbide struck the distant town, a long line of walls, surmounted by a crowd, leaped out of the darkness. The search-lights from the forts were flashed on to the ships, and those in Janjalla recognising the Opal flag, cheered vociferously. They saw three boats, each flying the ensign of Tlatonac, and no Pizarro. Then they guessed what had occurred, and were glad accordingly. The rebel soldiers on the beach stamped and swore with rage as they saw their loss, but being without boats could do nothing save parade under arms till dawn, so as to be prepared against a possible attack by the victorious loyalists.
“Bueno!” cried Captain Pedraza, who had his night glass up. “There is one good thing, mis amigos, the Opal flag still flies over the town, so as yet it holds out.”
“What is next to be done, Comandante?” asked Jack, who was standing near with Rafael.
“We must wait till dawn, Señor Americano, and then find out if the reinforcements have arrived at Janjalla. Afterwards we will steam back to Tlatonac, and if possible meet the Cortes and Columbus coming back. In any event, we must go to Tlatonac to report this victory to the Junta.”
“Shall you land these two hundred troops?”
“Caranto! Why not?”
“Because the camp of the enemy lies between the town and ourselves. Two hundred men cannot do much against two thousand.”
“True, Señor. If it is impossible, we will not attempt it. But at dawn, I will signal to General Gigedo to make a sally from the gates down to the shore; our men will land, and effect a conjunction, and so with small loss they ought to get into the town. Especially under cover of our guns, and those of the forts.”
“I don’t see what use that will be, Pedraza,” interrupted Rafael, bluntly.
“Caro, Señor! His Excellency ordered this to be done, so it must be done.”
“Rather a useless task, I think,” said Jack, dryly. “However, I am not sorry, as I wish to get into the town myself. But you, Señor Comandante, what will you do?”
“Wait till these troops are safe with Gigedo, and also ascertain if the reinforcements have arrived. Then I shall sail north.”
“You won’t wait for the warships and transports?”
“Carajo! what use? We shall find those on our way to Tlatonac.”
After this conversation, Rafael and Jack returned on board The Montezuma, the former slightly gloomy in spite of the victory so unexpectedly achieved.
“Caro, Juan!” he said, reflectively; “if we lose this war, it will be through Don Francisco Gomez. He is a good politician, but a bad general. What use is there to sacrifice two hundred men to-morrow?”
“It’s rather like the Charge of the Light Brigade, certainly,” replied Jack, with a smile; “as foolhardy and as brave.”
“What is that, mi amigo?”
Whereupon Jack related the glorious charge to Rafael, and thereby stirred up the excitable Spaniard to fiery enthusiasm.
“Oh, what men are the English,” he cried, stamping his foot. “It is a story worthy of the Cid. But this to-morrow, my friend—it is rare! it is brave! and, like your story, there is no good to be gained.”
“Perhaps Gomez wants to frighten the rebels by showing them how dauntless are his men.”
“Dios! That is not wise. The sinking of The Pizarro will frighten them without risking two hundred lives. However, as it is ordered, it must be done. But you, Don Juan! Will you go?”
“Assuredly, mi amigo. I wish to see the Señor Correspondent and Felipe.”
“But you will