A moment later a sh.e.l.l flew past so close that the windage almost staggered him, but the daring lad only cried banteringly: "That's more like it. One more a little closer and I'll show you a home run worth seeing."

And so it went until he was espied from the bridge and peremptorily ordered down.

In the meantime, while this little episode was in progress, we on the gun deck were laboring without cessation. A dozen shots had been fired from Number Eight alone, when suddenly another fort secured the range, and began a deadly fusillade.

The situation was becoming extremely serious!

CHAPTER XV.

COALING IN THE TROPICS.

The well-directed fire of the forts at the entrance to Cienfuegos was rapidly making the "Yankee's" position untenable, and it soon became apparent that we would have to give way before overwhelming odds.

Fifteen minutes after the battle began between the Spanish gunboat and the "Yankee," the former beat a hasty retreat, steaming back into the harbor.

It was plainly evident, however, that she had been badly hulled, as she yawed wildly while pa.s.sing from sight behind the headlands. This of itself was victory enough for the present, and at the end of twenty minutes' firing, we withdrew out of range.

Our object in the first place was, as we ascertained from forward during the day, to intercept a Spanish blockade runner, the "Purissima Concepcion"; so we laid off the harbor and waited for the coming of the ship, which was supposed to have left Jamaica for Cienfuegos. The day was spent in cleaning up after our brief but lively battle, and when night came, we were again shipshape.

Shortly after daybreak the following morning, the lookout aloft reported that a steamer, evidently a man-of-war, was emerging from the harbor.

The crew were called to "general quarters" at once, and every preparation made to give the stranger a lively reception. She proved, however, to be the German warship "Geier" bound for Santiago.

"In time of peace prepare for war" is a good adage, but the reverse is also true. Peaceful pursuits are of a necessity carried out even in the face of the enemy.

At "evening quarters" new hammocks were doled out, and all hands were instructed to scrub the old ones next morning and turn them in.

By this time we had become quite expert laundrymen, but we had never tackled a stiff canvas hammock, and the prospect was far from pleasant; the following morning, however, we learned how to perform this final feat of cleansing; after which we felt qualified to wash anything--from a handkerchief to a circus tent.

As "Hay" said, "I feel equal to applying for the position of general housework man, if I lose my job. I can sew--you ought to see the elegant patch I put on the seat of my old blues--I can 'scrub and wash'

clothes, I can sweep beautifully, I can make a bed with neatness and despatch. And I have been known to get on my knees and scrub the deck."

"You're not the only one," growled Bill. "Why, even 'Dirty Greene'

escapes the aforetime customary 'calling down.'"

Greene was a clever fellow, a student at Harvard, the owner of a yacht, and a good sailor, but his college education did not help him to get his clothes clean. That was a study that had been left out of his university curriculum. The consequence was that he, with a good many others, was "called down" at every inspection.

"Greene is getting it in the neck now," said his friend "Steve"; "but I think he will get even some day with his cousin, the lieutenant of his division."

"How's that?" we chorused.

"Why, you see he owns a schooner yacht. And his cousin, the lieutenant, is very fond of sailing and never fails to accept an invitation to go cruising on her. Some day when the lieutenant is aboard, Greene will look him over and discover that his shoes are not polished, that his hair has not been combed properly, or his white duck trousers are not immaculate. He will then be sent below in disgrace to repair these faults, and our friend Greene will have the merry Ha! Ha! on him. 'He who laughs last, laughs best.'"

We one and all wished we owned yachts and could invite some of the other officers--"Cutlets" in particular.

Blockading duty is monotonous work, though the strain on the lookouts is intense. During the day, a bright lookout must be kept for the lightest tinge of smoke on the horizon, and at night for the faintest glimmer of light, or a deeper shadow on the rim of the ocean that would betray a ship.

It was Tuesday night, and time hung heavy on our hands. Eight bells had not sounded, and, though hammocks had been given out, neither watch could turn in. It was with particular glee, therefore, that we welcomed the news that "Steve" had composed an up-to-date verse to his "Tommy Atkins" song. After some persuasion--for he is a modest chap--he consented to sing it for us.

"The first two verses of this song were writ Before we sailed away for Cuba's Isle; And since that time the Spaniards we have fit, And chased their gunboats many a weary mile.

We've heard the bullets whistling overhead.

We've heard the sh.e.l.ls fly by and called it sport, And down at Cienfuegos We proved ourselves courageous By tackling both a gunboat and a fort.

CHORUS.

"Now we'd _like_ to run a ferry, All along the Jersey sh.o.r.e; Fighting Spaniards, it is very Nice, but we don't want--no more.

We would give our bottom dollar, And of that you need not fear, Just to hear the masthead holler Brooklyn navy yard is here."

"That's very good, 'Steve,'" said Greene, "but I can't quite agree to that line: 'Fighting Spaniards it is very nice, but we don't want--no more.' I'd like to have a few more raps at 'em."

"You are such a bloodthirsty chap," said Flagg, "you slam the charges into your old Number Seven as if you would like to wipe out the whole enemy with one fell swoop."

"Well," replied Greene, thoughtfully, "a man does get awfully excited when the guns begin to bark."

And every one of us knew exactly how he felt.

We maintained a close vigil until the sixteenth of June--two days later--then sailed for Santiago. Shortly after entering port we were informed that the Spanish gunboat with which we had been engaged off Cienfuegos had sunk, sent to the bottom by our fire; a bit of news highly appreciated.

Our stay in Santiago was short, the "Yankee" leaving for Guantanamo the next day at eleven o'clock. On reaching the latter port we found evidences of a considerable change in the condition of affairs. On our former visit, as the reader will remember, we had engaged in an interesting argument with a gunboat, a blockhouse, and a fort, driving the boat back into the harbor and silencing the fort. The good work done that day had borne fruit.

On entering the bay we found several of our vessels quietly riding at anchor--the "Oregon," "Marblehead," "Dolphin" (of railway-train fame), the ambulance ship "Solace," the "Panther," "Suwanee," and three or four colliers and despatch boats.

But that which attracted our instant attention and brought an involuntary cheer from us, was the sight of Old Glory, flaunting proudly from a tall flagstaff erected on the site of the former Spanish blockhouse.

"Hurray!" shouted "Stump," "it's the first American flag to fly over Cuba. And we dug the hole to plant it."

"That's right," a.s.sented "Dye." "We are the people."

"What's that camp on top of the hill?" queried Flagg, indicating a number of tents gleaming in dots of white against the background of green foliage.

"It is the marine camp," explained "Hay." "Didn't you hear about it in Santiago? Why, man, it's the talk of the fleet. The marine corps has been adding to its laurels again. The other day eight hundred of them landed from the 'Panther' and fairly swept the place of Spaniards, fighting against three times their number. It was great."

"The marines have a fine record," put in Tommy. "I've been shipmates with them for years, and I am free to confess that they always do their duty."

"And are always faithful," remarked "Dye."

"That's their motto, 'Semper fidelis.' They have lived up to it in every war. They antedate the navy, you know."

"How's that?" asked the "Kid," who was willing to absorb knowledge at times.

Tommy produced an ancient book from his ditty box, and proceeded to read an extract in a loud, sonorous voice. It was as follows:

"Resolved, That two battalions of marines be raised, consisting of one colonel, two lieutenant-colonels, two majors, and other officers, as usual in other regiments; that they consist of an equal number of privates with other battalions; that particular care be taken that no persons be appointed to offices or enlisted into said battalions but such as are good seamen, or so acquainted with maritime affairs as to be able to serve to advantage on sea when required, that they be enlisted and commissioned to serve for and during the present war with Great Britain and the colonies, unless dismissed by order of Congress, that they be distinguished by the names of the First and Second Battalions of Marines."

"The date of that resolution," added Tommy, with the air of a schoolmaster impressing a particular point, "is November 10, 1775, which was before any naval vessel had been sent to sea by the Continental Congress. So you see the marines can claim priority in point of service."

"And priority in point of landing in Cuba," added "Hod." "Here's to them."

Our discussion on the subject of marines was cut short by a summons to coal ship, a task which had come to form the greatest thorn in the flesh of all on board the "Yankee." The ship was run alongside the collier "Sterling," and the port watch was set to work at once.