A Gunner Aboard the "Yankee" Part 27

Sunday, after the usual inspection, several visiting lists were arranged, the most popular being that for the "Oregon." We all wanted to inspect that wonderful ship. Visiting is generally conducted on Sunday or after dark. The word is pa.s.sed for those who wish to visit a certain ship to "lay aft and report to the officer of the deck." The party, all in clean clothes, are taken to the vessel designated and lined up. After being counted they are allowed to go forward, where they yarn to their heart's content until the word is given by the boatswain's mate for them to muster aft again.

The "visiting party" to Uncle Sam's bulldog was cordially received and shown all over. The great battleship was as clean and neat as a new pin.

She looked as if she had just come out of her builders' hands. Paint work spotless, bra.s.s work shining, engines fairly dazzling in their brightness. The crew contented and full of enthusiasm for their ship and commander--gallant Captain Clark!

We saw the guns that helped to lay low Cervera's splendid fleet and we saw "the men behind the guns."

Our attention was called to a Jacky sewing on a blue shirt.

"Do you see that man over there?" said our guide.

We answered "Yes."

"Well, that's the chap that blew up one of the torpedo boats."

"Is that so? Tell us about it." We gazed open-mouthed at the gunner as he sat cross-legged on the deck, sewing with all his might.

"Yes, that's the chap. You see, the Spaniard was coming in our direction, and coming like greased lightning. The six-pounders on the superstructure had not been able to stop her, and things began to be interesting--"

"Yes," we gasped, breathlessly, as he stopped to light his pipe.

"Well, as I was saying, the blooming torpedo boat came nearer and nearer, and did not seem to mind the hail of six-pounders any more than a duck does the rain. I dunno why, for she had no protection that a sixer would not penetrate.

"It got to be blamed exciting, when the officer of the division said to that feller over there, who was a captain of an eight-inch rifle, 'Try your hand at it.'

"Bill said, 'Aye, aye, sir, give me time and I'll plunk her sure.' All this time the sneaking craft was coming nearer and nearer. Bill adjusted his sight and looked and looked, but still did not fire.

"'For heaven's sake, hurry up!' said the division officer, getting nervous.

"'In a minute, sir,' said Bill. 'As soon as I get a good bead.'

"He was as cool as an ice machine, and as deliberate as an old hen, but he could shoot, so we held ourselves in as best we could and watched.

After waiting for what seemed an hour, Bill pulled the lanyard and the old gun roared. As soon as the smoke cleared away, we looked to see the result of the shot. There was some wreckage floating where the torpedo boat had been--that was all. Bill's shot went home, and exploded in the boiler room, and the whole craft went up in an instant."

We looked again admiringly at the man sitting there so unconcernedly, and then in obedience to the boatswain's call, went aft and aboard our cutter.

All the ammunition for the fleet was unloaded by Tuesday. We still carried a small quant.i.ty of both powder and sh.e.l.l for the "Ma.s.sachusetts."

Tuesday afternoon we anch.o.r.ed alongside the sailing collier "Frank A.

Palmer," and began to coal. The "Yankee's" sister ship "Prairie,"

manned by the Ma.s.sachusetts Naval Reserves, lay on the other side; we exchanged visits and found them good fellows, and we yarned away to our heart's content.

We had now become, in a degree, used to coaling; our muscles were hardened and some long-needed labor-saving devices had been introduced, so the work was a little easier.

Coaling continued till Friday night. During the morning of that day we were told that if two hundred tons were put aboard, a chance would be given us on the morrow to see the wrecks of Cervera's once fine vessels.

It was all the incentive we needed, and the coal came aboard in a steady stream. A little after seven the required amount was in the bunkers, and by eight o'clock the stages and other coaling paraphernalia were stowed away and the "Yankee" had cast loose and was anch.o.r.ed by herself.

The following morning dawned bright and clear. Admiral Sampson came aboard at 8:30. We manned the "cat falls" and got under way at once.

On the way down to the wrecks, the ship was cleaned, so by the time we reached the ruins of the Spanish vessels, the "Yankee" was spick and span.

We pa.s.sed the wrecks of the two torpedo boats, pa.s.sed the mouth of Santiago harbor, till finally we came to the "Almirante Oquendo" and the "Maria Teresa," fifteen miles west of old Morro.

The two wrecks lay close together. They were a melancholy sight; the "Almirante Oquendo," badly listed to port, a great rent in her side, rusted, almost completely demolished. The "Maria Teresa" seemed in better shape, but many shot holes were visible in her side.

It was a dreary though gratifying sight. The great green-clothed mountains looked down serenely on these two examples of man's handiwork and man's destructiveness; the blue sea dashed itself to foam against the coral-bound coast; and the bright sun shone over all.

The admiral went over in our gig, together with the captain and executive officer. Several other boats went along, carrying, beside the regular crews, commissioned and chief petty officers.

As we watched the boats bobbing in the short billows on their way, we, who were left behind, could not help comparing these battered hulks before us with our magnificent ships in Guantanamo Bay.

All hail to the American seamen, "the men behind the guns"!

CHAPTER XIX.

HOPE DEFERRED.

For a few days there was little to do beyond the never-ending routine work: scrubbing decks, cleaning paint, and polishing bright work on guns and equipments.

We were beginning to wonder if we were to lie at anchor indefinitely, and if our last chance of seeing any active service had gone by.

On the morning of Monday, August 1st, we had orders to get under way and go to sea. Tongues began to wag at once, and before we had fairly cleared the harbor a dozen different destinations had been picked out.

It would seem as if there could be no great danger in letting the men have some knowledge of where they are bound when fairly at sea, with no beings to whom the secret might be told, save sharks and dolphins, but

"Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why."

The navy has little use for Jacky's brains; only his trained muscles and sinews. There is no life that can be depended upon to take the pride of intellect out of a man like that of a sailor, as Rudyard Kipling has shown in the case of Harvey Cheyne. We of the crew could think of many a cad on whom we would like to try the discipline.

The most popular rumor ran to this effect: we are bound for Porto Rico to take part with the "Ma.s.sachusetts," "New Orleans," "Dixie," and other ships of the fleet in a bombardment of San Juan.

By the time land had faded from view, we knew that we really were bound for Porto Rico, but for what purpose we knew not. The rumor was correct in part, at least.

We were glad to get to sea again. There is an undefinable feeling of relief, almost of joy, when the regular throbbing of the engines begins and the ship rolls and heaves to the swell.

The spirits of the men rise; smiles lighten up their faces, and s.n.a.t.c.hes of song can be heard as they work coiling down lines, lashing movables, and preparing the vessel for the rough-and-tumble conflict with the sea.

As the sun sank, the waves rose. By the time the first night watch went on duty, the old steamer was tossing like a chip.

The guns' crews of the watch on deck were ordered to sleep by their posts, and all was in readiness for instant action.

At eleven o'clock we were roused by the call for "general quarters," and in a minute, all hands were in their places. We looked vainly, at first, for the cause of this commotion, but finally made out off our port bow the dim outlines of a steamer.

It was only when our ship was on the top of the roll that we could make out our chase at all--nothing but a wall of water could be seen when we lay in the trough.

"That boat is certainly doing her best to get away," said "Bill." "And, holy smoke! see how she rolls."

"She can't trot in our heat," said "Dye." "We're gaining on her every minute."