The flags which floated from their mast-heads bore a strong resemblance to our own, yet they were not the stars and stripes; for the stripes were replaced by but two broad bands of red and white, and in the blue field there was but a single star.

“Chili, by Jove!” ejaculated some one in the signal station.

He was right.

The new-comers were the “Huascar,” the “Almirante Cochrane” and the “Blanco Encelada,” the three armored vessels of the South American Republic.

It was the “Huascar” which was now bearing down upon the “Arapiles.”

Suddenly, the Chilian monitor was seen to slacken her speed and change her course.

She no longer meant to ram; the necessity had ceased.  At the same time, the other Chilian vessels ceased firing.

The Spanish ensign on the “Arapiles” had been lowered.  In a few minutes after it rose again, but this time surmounted by the Chilian flag.

Then the four vessels stood in toward the Hook.

The watchers on the signal station now waited in breathless suspense.

The “Arapiles,” with a prize crew from the other vessels to work her guns, was to be made to attack her former consort, the stranded “El Cid;” and that vessel, aware of her danger, was now firing rapidly at her approaching enemies.

It was not reserved, however, for the Chilians to complete their victory by the capture of the great ironclad.

The giant was to be killed by a pigmy scarce larger than one of his own huge weapons.  A smaller steam-launch slowly crept out from the Staten Island shore.  But two men could be seen on board of her—­one in the bow, the other at the helm.

“They don’t see us yet, Ned,” said the man in the bow.

“No; they have all they can do to take care of the other fellows.  Look out!  Are you hurt?”

A shell from the Chilians just then came over the Hook, and, bursting under the water near the launch, deluged the boat with spray.

“Not a bit,” said the other.

“Is your boom clear?”

“All clear.”

Bang!  A shot, this time from the Spaniard came skipping along the water in the direction of the launch, and flew over the heads of the daring pair.

“Hang them!  They’ve seen us.”

“Rig out your boom.  We’re in for it now!”

The man in the stern pushed shut the door of the boiler furnace, and turned on full steam.

The little craft fairly leaped ahead.

The two men set their teeth.  He of the stern lashed the tiller amidships, and crept forward, aiding the other to push out the long boom which projected from the bow.

Ten seconds passed.  Then the torpedo on the end of the boom struck the “El Cid” under the stern.  There was a crash—­a vast upheaval of water and fragments.

The great ironclad rolled over on her side and lay half submerged.

Of the two men who had done this, one swam ashore bearing the other, wounded to the death.