The fleet cruiser _Minneapolis_ lies straining at her arched cable off Tompkinsville, Staten Island. The last of the flood tide is singing around the outward curve of her powerful ram, and a gentle southerly breeze is floating to leeward from her ma.s.sive yellow smoke-stacks, two columns of oily-brown smoke, for the signal "spread fires" flew from the flag-ship hours ago, and the fleet is in readiness to get under way.

Down in the fire-room the coal-pa.s.sers feed the giant furnaces that roar for more. Water-tenders and machinists glide hither and thither watching the boilers and the machinery. On the platforms beside the twin engines stand engineer officers waiting for the signal to start the propellers.

Bra.s.s-work and steel-work glitter with the splendor of a new polish, and under all rumbles the dull monotone of the dynamo.

On the bridge stand the Captain, the Executive Officer, the navigator, the officer of the watch, the cadet whose duty it is to watch for signals, and a signal boy. A seaman stands by the wheel, and a quartermaster stands beside him. On the after-bridge stand the junior-officer of the watch, a quartermaster, and two signal boys. About the decks are hundreds of seamen ready to jump to their allotted stations. All are silent, eager, alert.

"Signal, sir," says the cadet, referring to his fleet signal-book; "137--get under way."

A word from the Executive Officer, and the steam-winch rolls in the cable. A touch upon an electric b.u.t.ton, a rattle of jangling bells below, and the mighty engines turn slowly over, taking the strain off the cable, and sending the ship up to her anchor. Another string of flags runs to the signal-yard of the flag-ship.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIGNALLING FROM THE FLAG-SHIP.]

"Form column of vessels," reads the cadet from the signal-book, "natural order." A minute later the North Atlantic Squadron, Admiral Bunce commanding, is steaming in single file out toward the Narrows, the flag-ship _New York_ leading, followed by the _Minneapolis_, _Columbia_, _Raleigh_, _Montgomery_, _Cushing_, _Ericsson_, and _Stiletto_. A triangular shape swings point up half-way between the Deck and the signal-yard of the _New York_. It means half-cruising speed--five knots an hour--and the other ships repeat the signal. Silently, majestically, keeping their distances like soldiers on parade, the powerful steel cruisers and the agile torpedo-boats move down the Conover Channel, around the Southwest Spit, past the Hook bell-buoy, out the Gedney Channel, and past the old red light-ship to the open sea. Another string of signals rises on the flag-ship, and the answering pennants flutter on the other ships while the signal-book says,

"Form double column."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "FORM DOUBLE COLUMN!"]

Every ship knows her place, and in a few minutes the right wing is made of the _Minneapolis_, _Montgomery_, _Cushing_, and _Stiletto_, and the left of the others, the flag-ship at the head and in the centre. The speed is now up to the full cruising limit--ten knots an hour--and as the ships go rolling and bowing over the Atlantic swells, their keen prows send up fountains of silvery foam that spread away on either bow in streamers of snow on the living blue. The flag-ship signals the course, and again the others answer with the pennant of perpendicular red and white stripes. The quiet of an orderly sea-march settles down over the fleet, yet never for one instant, night or day, does vigilance relax, for at any moment signals may break out on the flag-ship, though they be nothing more than some vessel's number to warn her that she is out of position.

But other signals do appear, for this is no holiday cruise, but one of practice and ceaseless drill. Fleet tactics are executed almost without rest. "Form line of battle, wings right and left front into line;" "By vessels from the right front into echelon," "Front into line,"

"Squadrons right turn," "Form line, left wing left oblique," "Form column, vessels right turn," and dozens of other orders are given by the flag-ship, and executed with precision and accuracy which would amaze a landsman, but which probably fall far short of the high ideal in the Admiral's mind. Empty, paradelike manoeuvres these would seem to the ignorant, but it was the skill of his captains in the execution of such movements, combined with their knowledge of his plans, that enabled Nelson to hurl his fleet upon that of Villeneuve at Trafalgar with such fatal accuracy after hoisting only three signals to the yard-arm of the _Victory_.

In the darkness of a cloudy night one of the ships is detached with secret orders. She is to indicate an enemy's force, and to fall upon the fleet at some unexpected hour the next day. From the moment of her departure the lookouts on the remaining ships doubly strain their eyes, and not a spar rises above the horizon that is not studied with all a seaman's skill. In the first dog-watch of the next afternoon, when the sailors forward are amusing themselves with pipe and song, the lookout in the foretop cries,

"Steamer ho!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "All HANDS CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION!"]

In answer to the questions of the officer of the watch, he says the smoke looks like that of a cruiser. The _New York_ has seen her too, and the next minute signals fly at her yard-arm. The Captain nods, and the hollows of the ship are filled with the sharp beating of a drum, the shrill screeching of boatswains' pipes, and the sound of heavy voices bawling, "All hands clear ship for action!" That is a thrilling cry, even in time of peace, and half-slumbering sailors spring to their feet with staring eyes and panting breath. Marines rush to the arm-racks to get their rifles, belts, and bayonets. Officers buckle on swords and revolvers, and spring to their stations.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LOADING A BIG GUN.]

And now begins a brief period of bustling activity, which to a landsman would seem like confusion itself confounded. Boats are lashed around with canvas to keep splinters from flying, extra slings are rigged on yards and gaffs to keep them from falling to the deck if struck by shot, breastworks of hammocks are made on bridges, forecastle, and p.o.o.ps, stanchions and rails are sent below, and everything that can be removed is taken from the deck so that the guns may have a clear sweep. The magazines and fixed ammunition-rooms are thrown open, and the men of the powder division take the stations allotted to them for keeping up a continuous supply of ammunition to the whole battery. Hatch-covers are lifted, sh.e.l.l-whips are rigged for hoisting away the heavy charges for the big guns, and chutes are placed for sending empty cartridge-cases below. The men belonging to the lighting-tops go aloft and hoist ammunition for their guns. The crews of the main battery open the breeches of their great weapons, sponge out the chambers, insert the big steel sh.e.l.ls and powder cartridges, and stand waiting for orders.

At last all is ready, and the division officers report to the Executive Officer, who in turn reports to the Captain.

The flag-ship signals the order for the formation for attack, and then at full speed the vessels dash forward. Signals follow signals, and the ships go through swift and graceful evolutions, until the Admiral's programme has been fully carried out. Then the vessel that was detached to represent the enemy lowers over her side a pyramidal target of white canvas with a black spot painted in the centre. She steams back to her position in line. Now the vessels in turn glide slowly along at a distance of 1600 or 1800 yards from the target, and the thunder of great guns fairly shakes the heavens, while the ma.s.sive steel projectiles strike the water around the target, and thrash it into glaring geysers of milk-white foam. It would be a sad time for any hostile ship if she lay where that target is.

At last the target practice is over, while a great cloud of gray smoke drifting slowly off to leeward, and the signal "Secure" at the flag-ship's yard-arm, are all that remain of the recent scene of action.

Once again signals direct the formation of the fleet in double column, and like some giant duck leading a flock of monster ducklings across the sea the _New York_ swims away, followed by her steel companions. This time the fleet steers for a harbor. Again the red and blue flags blossom at the _New York_'s yard-arm like the magic flowers in the last scene of a fairy play.

"Two thirty-seven," reads the cadet from the signal-book; "anchor in column."

With the precision of carriages driven to a church door at a wedding the big ships and the little torpedo-boats stop at their proper stations, and the hoa.r.s.e rumble of cables through hawse-holes tell that the anchors have gone down. All but three--for see, there go the three torpedo-boats, spinning around on their heels, and gliding out of the harbor as silently and as swiftly as mice. There is to be a torpedo-boat attack. This will be made under cover of the darkness, and the anch.o.r.ed ships will strive, by means of their search-lights, to detect the a.s.sailants. If the torpedo-boat succeeds in approaching a certain ship within a given distance without being seen, she is credited with having sunk or disabled that ship, for that is what she would do in time of war.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FIRING FROM THE MILITARY TOPS.]

The night is intensely dark, and the blinding search-lights pierce the blackness in every direction with their shafts of dazzling white. Under the shallow of the land, with every light extinguished, the torpedo-boats, painted a color which blends with that of the sea, steal noiselessly toward the fleet. Suddenly they separate, and with lightning speed dash forward. See! a brilliant light falls on one. She is caught, and the firing of rifles and Gatling-guns from the tops shows that she is hotly received. The other two escape detection, and make their presence known inside the circle. Red and while lights flash signals along the main rigging of the _New York_. The day's work is over, and erelong tired blue-jackets hear the bugles blow the welcome notes of the tattoo.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A LANDING PARTY.]

The next morning the flag-ship hoists the signal for a landing-party.

Boats are lowered away, and Jack Tar prepares to go ash.o.r.e as a seaman-infantryman. With his brown canvas leggings, his brown belt and knapsack, his formidable rifle and bayonet, the sailor makes a serviceable coast soldier. At a signal from the flag-ship the boats are hauled to the companion-ladders, and the men pour into them. Rifles are laid down, and oars are taken up, for Jacky rows himself ash.o.r.e. Another signal, and the boats, shooting out from the sides of the ships, fall into their allotted places. Again a signal, and they start for the sh.o.r.e, the oars in the rowlocks beating time to a sort of sea-march. As the boats strike the beach the bugle sounds the "a.s.sembly," and in a few minutes the battalion of marines and seamen-infantry is formed. The band from the flag-ship strikes up "Nancy Lee," and with that invigorating swing that belongs to Jack Tar alone the battalion marches inland, where it goes through all the evolutions of the street riot and battle drills, and finishes with a dress parade to the delight of all the boys in that part of the land.

And thus from day to day the work of the squadron runs on, the Admiral constantly propounding new topics for its study; for no one knows better than a naval officer the necessity of being ready for active service at a moment's notice. That readiness can be attained only by obeying the good old maxim: "In time of peace prepare for war."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

b.u.t.tERFLY BOWS.

BY MILDRED HOWELLS.

Once a little girl existed Who was fond of pomps and shows, And upon her braids insisted Tying two great scarlet bows.

Though her father couldn't bear them, And her gentle mother said That she wished her child should wear them Tied with modest bows instead.

But their wishes she made light of, And her gaudy ribbons grew Bigger every day, in spite of All her friends could say or do.

Till this child, all counsel spurning, Found with horror and surprise That her bows were slowly turning Into monstrous b.u.t.terflies.

First they gently swayed and fluttered, Then with spreading wings they flew, Ere one sad farewell was uttered, Straight into the welkin blue.

So she vanished; still her mother Hopes those wandering bows will bring Back her daughter, when the other b.u.t.terflies return with Spring.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PUDDING STICK]

This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.

It isn't a very hard task to set the table, is it, girls? Yet I find that it takes skill, taste, and pains to do this simple thing so very nicely that the family coming to the table three times a day will have the feeling that they have been expected, and their comfort and pleasure planned for.

One important thing to be considered when setting the table is the table-cloth. This should be of fair white linen, if possible, with a pretty pattern of ferns or blocks or clover leaves, but even if it be coa.r.s.e, and not beautiful in design, it must always be spotlessly clean.

Do not let the laundress starch your table-cloth. No starch is needed.

It must, however, be ironed with exquisite nicety, folded evenly down the middle, and the crease made by folding shown plainly by the pressure of the flat-iron. A table-cloth must not be laid upon the bare table.

Next to the table you must have a heavy undercloth of felt or Canton flannel. This serves several purposes. It removes the danger of injury to the table itself from hot dishes, which sometimes leave a disfiguring white rim or scarred edge upon it polished surface, it deadens sounds, and it brings out well the pretty figures on the cloth. If used with care, an undercloth of this kind will last a long time, and I have found Canton flannel much more satisfactory than felt.

When you begin to set your table for breakfast or dinner, decide on the places for the different members of the family, and then do not change these except when you have guests. Mamma will have before her the tray with the cups and saucers, the tea things, and the coffee urn. I hope you make tea and coffee on the table; it is a graceful occupation for the house-mother, and insures your always having clear coffee, and hot, delicious tea, and is, besides, very little trouble once the habit has been established. A simple French coffee-pot with an alcohol lamp, a small tea-kettle also with a lamp, a tea-caddy, and a rule always adhered to, will make these processes simple. Cups and saucers and the cream-jug, sugar-bowl, and spoon-holder should be beside the mother's place.

Oatmeal and other cereals, if served on the table at breakfast, should stand by the sister or brother who dispenses them. It is best to begin with a fruit course, and, therefore, finger-bowls, fruit doilies, and plates, with the knives, forks, and spoons needed for this, should be on the table when the family seat themselves. If you wish to save trouble, and have the meal pa.s.s on in an orderly manner, you may place by each plate all the knives, forks, and teaspoons which will be required during a meal. These will be used one by one, always beginning with that on the outside, farthest from the plate, and as the maid changes the plates for each course she will remove the knives and forks which belong to that.

Flowers should form a point of beauty for the eye, and decorate every home table. You do not need many; a single rose or cl.u.s.ter of lilies, three or four pinks with a few sprays of mignonette, a few stalks of salvia, a half-dozen asters, with geranium leaves or lemon verbena, or sweet-peas in the season, nasturtiums, golden and glowing as flame, are very ornamental. A cut gla.s.s bowl, or a clear bowl of pressed gla.s.s, if bright and free from lint, a china vase, or any pretty bouquet-holder will answer for the purpose of holding the flowers, which must be removed and replaced by others the moment they become withered and faded; never keep dying or dead flowers in any living-room, and, above all, never let them remain an hour on your table. Wild flowers are the loveliest things for ornamenting the table, and you may have as many of them as you can ma.s.s effectively.