It was running with all its possible surface speed; but the _Mare Nostrum_ was also going at the utmost limit of its engines and the distance was widening between the two boats.
"They are shooting!" said Ferragut with the glasses to his eyes.
A column of water spouted near the prow.

That was the only thing that Caragol was able to see clearly and he burst into applause with a childish joy.

Then he waved on high his palm-leaf hat.

"_Viva el Santo Cristo del Grao!_..." Other projectiles were falling around the _Mare Nostrum_, spattering it with jets of foam.

Suddenly it trembled from poop to prow.