"Right!" he sung out to "Stump" and "Flagg," who were at the training wheels. "Right handsomely," added Tommy, working the elevating gear, as the gun moved slowly round. The gun roared and jumped back on its mount six or eight inches, but promptly slid back again--forced back by powerful springs. The sh.e.l.l sped on its way, humming as it went, and struck a little short of the target, sending up a great fountain as it was exploded by the impact with the water.

"Hay" pulled the breech lever and the breech plug came out, allowing "Stump," who wore heavy gloves for the purpose, to extract the empty sh.e.l.l. This he dropped in the concrete waterway, then ran to his place at the training wheel; a fresh sh.e.l.l had been put in the gun, meanwhile, and it was ready for business again. A number of good shots were made by different gunners. Enough to show that, amateur tars that we were, there was the making of good gunners in us. As the "Kid," in his overweening confidence, said, "Ain't we peaches? When we get down south we will have a little target practise, and the 'dagos' will be so scared that they will haul down their colors tight away."

During the day we steamed slowly along, a bright lookout being kept by the men at the foremast-head for suspicious steamers. After dinner at eight bells (12 o'clock), the smoking lamp, which hangs near the scuttle b.u.t.t aft, was kept lighted about fifteen minutes. Smoking is allowed aboard only when the smoking lamp is lighted, and as "Hay" was wont to say, it was lighted "when you did not want to smoke." At ten minutes past one "turn to" was piped by the boatswain's mates, followed by the call for sweepers. Then came the order, "Stand by your scrub and wash clothes." So the "Kid" and I hastened forward, both anxious to see if our initial clothes-washing venture was a success. We had depended on the sun to bleach our much be-scrubbed clothes, but--well--I would have left them where they were if I could. As for the "Kid's"--after holding them off at arm's length for a while, he remarked, "Why, I would not use such rags to clean my bicycle at home," and threw them overboard. He was always a reckless chap.

The infantry drill we had at afternoon quarters at 1:30, served to keep us busy. The same thing had been gone through on the "New Hampshire"

many a time and oft. We found it rather difficult to march straight and keep a good line on a swaying deck. So we were kept at it until we had got the hang of it. We were still parading to and fro on the spar deck, when some one sighted land off the starboard bow. The dismissal call was given none too soon, for the curiosity as to what we were heading for made discipline lax and attention far from close.

We soon learned that this was Block Island.

The gig was lowered, and the captain and mail orderly went ash.o.r.e.

"Now we'll get our real orders," said Potter. "Ho! for the Spanish main," he shouted, forgetting his narrow escape of the day before.

"It will be Ho! for the ship's brig, and Ho! for five days on bread and water, if you don't look out," said "Stump," dryly.

About dark, the gig came back again, bringing the captain in it and the mail orderly--but no mail, and how we did long for a word from home. A sc.r.a.p of newspaper, even, would be a blessing.

We had just sat down to evening mess when the order, "All hands on the gig falls!" was given, and the master-at-arms chased us off the gun deck. Soon the measured tread of many feet could be heard, and then the order was given by the officer of the deck to the c.o.xswain of the gig, "Secure your boat for sea."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE GIG WAS LOWERED"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE MEN ON THE STAGES"]

So we were to go off again. Where?

Within a short time we were under way again. The usual watches were set, but very few of the boys went below. The mere rumor that the enemy was prowling along the coast was enough to prevent sleep. My watch went on duty at four o'clock. We were not called in the usual way, by the boatswain's whistle, but each man was roused separately. This in itself was sufficient to lend an air of intense interest to the scene.

On reaching the deck I found that the night had grown stormy. A chill wind was blowing off the coast, rendering pea coats and watch caps extremely comfortable. A fine rain began to fall shortly after four, and by the time I had taken my post forward as a lookout it had increased to a regular squall.

The "Yankee" was a splendid sea boat, but in the course of an hour the choppy waves kicked up by the storm set her to bobbing about like the proverbial cork. The gloom of the night had changed to a blackness that made it impossible to see an arm's length away. Standing on the starboard bridge, I could scarcely distinguish the faint white foam gathered under the forefoot. Aft there was nothing visible save a length of stay which seemingly began at nothing and ended in darkness.

The howling of the wind through the taut cordage of the foremast, the sullen plunging of the ship's hull in the trough of the sea, the rise to a wave crest and the poising there before falling once more, the smell of the dank salt air, and the occasional spurt of spray over the leaning bow, all made a scene so novel to me that I forgot Spanish ships and my duty and stood almost entranced.

It was a dereliction for which I was to suffer. In the midst of my reverie a hand was suddenly placed upon my shoulder and I heard a familial voice exclaim sternly:

"Lookout, what do you mean by sleeping on post? Why did you not report that light?"

It was Captain Brownson!

Asleep on post! The accusation was grave enough to startle me, and I lost no time in stammering a denial. Luckily, the discovery of the strange light, which was just faintly visible dead ahead, occupied the commander's attention for the moment and I escaped further rebuke.

Captain Brownson hurried to the bridge and presently word was pa.s.sed to go to quarters at once. The ports were opened, ammunition made ready for both the main and secondary batteries, and the crew stood at their guns in readiness for action. It was a very impressive sight, the grim weapons just showing in the dim lantern light, the great cartridges standing close to the breeches, the men quiet and steady, their faces showing anxiety but perfect self-control.

I was proud to belong to such a crew, for the majority thought that an action was imminent, and perhaps a superior foe to be fought, yet there was no sign of that fear which is supposed to attack the novice in battle. It was a convincing proof of American bravery and self-reliance.

In the meantime the engines had been called on for full speed, and the ship throbbed and swayed with the increased power. Extra men were presently sent below to the fire room, and it soon became evident that we were in actual chase of the suspicious vessel. From my station at the after port gun I was enabled to catch an occasional glimpse of the sea through the open port.

The squall had pa.s.sed in part and the night was growing lighter. The rain still fell, though fitfully, and at times a dash of water entered the port, besprinkling gun and crew and fighting tackle, leaving great drops that glistened like dew in the waning light of the lanterns.

Alongside, white-capped waves raced with the ship.

As the gloom lightened, the horizon spread, and presently, away in the distance, a dark spot, like a smudge upon a gray background, became visible. "Long Tommy," attached to my gun, leaned far out of the port with an exclamation of excitement.

"By George! it's another ship," he added.

"We are in a nest of the Dagoes," cried young Potter, rather wildly. "We have run into an ambuscade."

"You've got a great chance to become a dead hero," remarked the first gun captain dryly.

Word was pa.s.sed from above to break out more sh.e.l.l, and presently the navigator slipped down the ladder and made a close inspection of the different five-inch guns. As he went from crew to crew he gave whispered instructions to the officers in charge.

"The old man expects trouble this trip," whispered Tommy. He coolly stripped off his shirt and stood, half-naked, the muscles of his athletic chest and arms gleaming like white marble in the uncertain light. Most of us followed his example, and the spectacle of the swaying groups of men, bared for action, added a dramatic tinge to the scene.

Below, the powerful engines throbbed with a pulsation that set every bolt and joint creaking, the strident echoes of the firemen's shovels could he heard sc.r.a.ping against the iron floor, and little whistlings of steam came like higher notes in the general tune. Even the noises of the ship were strange and weird and impressive.

The crews had been standing in readiness at their stations for almost an hour when it suddenly became noticeable that the darkness of night was giving way before a gradual dawn. The glimmering flame in the lanterns faded and waned, objects buried in gloom began to a.s.sume shape, and the edges of the open ports grew sharp and more defined. Constant waiting brought a relaxation of discipline, and the members of the different crews grouped about the ports and eagerly searched for the chase.

The smudge on the horizon had long since disappeared, but directly ahead could be seen the faint outlines of a steamer. A dense cloud of smoke was pouring from her funnel, and it was plainly apparent that she was making every effort to escape. This in itself was enough to stamp her ident.i.ty, and we shook our clenched fists exultantly after her.

The night broke rapidly. In the east a rosy tinge proclaimed the coming sun. Just as the first glitter of the fiery rim appeared above the horizon, a gray, damp mist swept across the water, coming like an impenetrable wall between the "Yankee" and the chase.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "STAND BY, MEN. BE READY FOR INSTANT ACTION".]

CHAPTER V.

A WILD GOOSE CHASE.

A howl of disappointment went up from the crew.

"Oh, if she was only within range," cried "Hay," smiting the breech of the five-inch rifle with his hand. "Just one shot, just one shot."

"Guns' crews will remain at stations," ordered the first lieutenant from near the ladder. "Stand by, men. Be ready for instant action."

"Hurray! the old man won't give it up," cheered "Stump," under his voice. "That's the stuff. Now, if only that measly fog lifts and we get a trifle nearer, we'll do something for the old flag."

The minutes pa.s.sed slowly. It was heartbreaking work, this waiting and watching, and there was not one of the "Yankee's" crew but would have given a year's pay to have seen the mist lift long enough to bring us within range.

Suddenly, just as the fervent wish was trembling on our lips, "Hod Marsh," who was near the port, cried out joyfully:

"She's fading, fellows, she's fading!"

Like a theatre curtain being slowly raised, the mist lifted from the surface of the water. Little by little the expanse of ocean became visible, and at last we, who were watching eagerly, saw the hull of a steamer appear, followed by masts and stack and upper rigging. An exclamation of bitter disappointment came from Tommy. "Durned if it ain't an old tramp!" he groaned. "Fellows, we are sold."

And so it proved.

The fog lifted completely in the course of an hour and we secured a good view of our "will o' the wisp" of the night's chase. It was a great lumbering tramp, as high out of the water as a barn, and as weather-stained as a homeward-bound whaler. She slouched along like a crab, each roll of the hull showing streaks of marine gra.s.s and barnacles. There was little of man-o'-war "smartness" in her make-up, of a verity.

For several days the "Yankee" cruised up and down the coast between Delaware Breakwater and Block Island. Many vessels were sighted, and on two occasions it was considered expedient to sound "general quarters,"