Soon both sides were enveloped in smoke and but little could be seen, excepting at close range.
The Boston was hit several times, but the shots merely passed through our upper works, doing but little damage.
For half an hour the battle kept on, and during that time both Dan and myself helped where we could, resolved to do our duty as Americans even though we were not duly enlisted.
"She's on fire!" came presently. The cry referred to one of the leading Spanish ships, and proved correct. One of our shells had burst into a magazine, and a dull explosion was followed by a wild scattering of burning embers. Soon the ship began to sink, and there followed a frantic struggle on the part of the Spanish sailors to save their lives.
"Poor wretches!" I said. "I can't help but pity them."
"War is war, lad," said Roundstock, who was working like a beaver over his gun, which was red-hot. "If we didn't sink them they would sink us; and since one of us must go down, I'd rather it would be the other fellow."
And I could not help but agree with him.
