The cruiser had come up within gunshot and had sent a summons to heave-to. There was no alternative but to obey or fight or go to the bottom.
For a moment Poole considered seriously the question of a fight. He would gladly have accepted it had the conditions been anywhere near equal.
But the cruiser had heavier guns and more men. There was no other course but to heave-to.
So the schooner came up to the wind, her mainsail slacked, and the two vessels drifted within speaking distance.
“Ahoy, the schooner!” came the hail in Spanish. The Cuban flag was seen to be flying at the yard of the cruiser.
“The Meta; pleasure yacht, under the United States flag,” replied Poole.
For a time there seemed to be a consultation held aboard the cruiser. Then another hail came:
“Captain of the Meta, we are going to send our lieutenant aboard you!”
“What is that?” shouted Poole. “We are under the protection of the United States flag. I warn you not to trouble us!”
Then a boat slid down from the Santa Maria’s davits and six men entered it. One in the uniform of a lieutenant entered and stood in the bow.
Another boat followed this, with a dozen armed marines. Matters began to look serious.
The wrath and alarm felt by Poole was of the most intense description. He was utterly powerless, though.
How he would have liked to turn his gun upon the oncoming boats and sink them! But he did not dare to do this.
He stood savagely by the gangway, therefore, as they came on. The first boat touched the Meta’s side, and the natty Spanish lieutenant sprung upon deck.
“Buenas, Senor Capitan,” he said, touching his gold-laced cap, with much politeness. “I am Carriero, lieutenant of His Majesty’s navy. I salute you in the name of the king of Spain.”
Poole could talk Spanish fairly well, so he said:
His manner was so brusque that the dapper little Spaniard straightened up. With an affectation of dignity, he said:
Then he motioned to the marines. In a moment they were over the rail and ranged upon the deck.
The Meta was in the power of the Spanish. Poole turned black in the face.
“What!” he roared, “you dare to board a vessel flying the United States flag? This is an outrage and you will pay dearly for it, I promise you.”
“What do you think we are?” cried Poole in desperation. “We are not filibusters.”