HKB
"Goshhawk, from Liverpool to Vera Cruz, with supplies for the Castle of San Juan de Ulua. What ship is that?"
"Schooner Tampico, from Havana to Matamoras, with supplies for General Ampudia," came much more cheerfully back. "We had to run away from Matamoras in ballast to escape the gringos. Their cruisers are around like hawks. You won't get to Vera Cruz if they can help it."
Captain Kemp already knew something about the reckless ways of men-of-war, but he did not say so. He merely responded:
"Is that so? How about the war? We've no news at all."
"War?" shouted the Mexican skipper, triumphantly. "Why, there have been three great battles already. We have whipped the Americans! General Taylor is surrounded, and will have to surrender. So will the fort on the Rio Grande. We shall drive the gringos out of Texas. I did not know until now that you British were going to help us."
There could be no further conversation, for the Goshhawk was sweeping on out of hearing, but Ned Crawford exclaimed, indignantly:
"Our army defeated? How can that be? I don't believe it!"
Everybody on deck could hear the captain when he laughingly responded:
"The victories were won in that fellow's head, most likely. He was on board his schooner at Matamoras, and he didn't see it done. All he knows is that the war is really begun. It takes a long time, men, to make either an American or a British army think of surrendering. We shall hear a good deal more about those battles one of these days. I'd like to read the newspaper reports, though, on both sides."
"They would be good fun," dryly remarked Senor Zuroaga. "There is nobody on earth that can win victories like a newspaper editor."
"Hullo!" suddenly exclaimed Ned. "Something's the matter with the captain! Did you hear that?"
There was quite enough to hear. A long, loud hail that came down from the rigging was followed by almost a yell from Captain Kemp.
"We're chased again!" he said. "Thank God, she's astern! Men, we're in for it! Now for Vera Cruz or a prison! I'm ready!"
Rapid orders went out, but hardly anything more could be done to increase the speed of the ship. In fact, the lookout must almost have taken it for granted that the strange sail away off yonder belonged to a United States cruiser. Very likely it did, but it would have to draw a good deal nearer before there could be any absolute certainty. In the meantime, all on board the Goshhawk might attend to whatever duties they had, and discuss the remarkable tidings brought by the Mexican schooner. While doing so, they could hardly have guessed correctly what was doing and saying on board the other vessel which had caused their anxiety. She was, indeed, a man-of-war, and she had received from a returning army transport ship a whole lot of fresh news from General Taylor's army, by way of Point Isabel on the coast, where he had been encamped. Something like this had been shouted across the water by an enthusiastic officer of the transport:
"Awful fightin'! Half a dozen battles! Taylor's whipped the Greasers into smithereens! He's goin' to march right on into Mexico. I don't keer if Uncle Sam annexes the hull half-Spanish outfit. I'm goin' in for one o' them there big silver mines, if we do. Hurrah for Gineral Taylor!"