pped his marine-glasses to his eyes. Yes, there were
two _Dreadnoughts_ out there, evidently saluting. But why at such a
distance?

"Gibson," he called down the staircase.

"Come on, Ben!" came the impatient answer from below.

"I can't, I wish you'd come up again for a minute, I'm sure something's
wrong!"

The gun-shots were booming loudly across the water as Lieutenant Spencer
reached the gallery, covered with perspiration.

"I suppose they're saluting," exclaimed Spencer somewhat uncertainly.

Ben Wood said nothing, but with a quick jerk turned the telescope to the
right and began examining the transport-ships.

"Heavens," he shouted, "they mean business. I can see shells splashing
into the water in front of the _Olympia_--no, there in the middle--away
back there, too-- One of the transports listed. What can it mean? Can
they be Japanese?"

Again the roar of guns rolled across the quiet waters.

"Now the _Olympia_ is beginning to shoot," cried Ben Wood. "Oh, that
shot struck the turret. Great, that must have done some good work! But
what in Heaven's name are we going to do?"

Lieutenant Spencer answered by pushing the light-house keeper, who was
in abject fear, aside, and rushing to the telephone. Trembling with
excitement, he stamped his foot and swore loudly when no notice was
taken of his ring.

"All asleep over there as usual! Ah, at last!"

"Halloo! what's up?"

"This is the light-house. Notify the commander at Corpus Christi at once
that the Japanese are in the roads and are attacking the transports."

Over in Corpus Christi people began to collect on the piers, the bells
stopped ringing, but the sound of bugles could still be heard coming
from the encampments.

Now the light-house telephone rang madly and Spencer seized the
receiver. "They are, I tell you. Can't you hear the shots?" he shouted
into the instrument. "There are two large Japanese ships out in the
roads shooting at the _Olympia_ and the transports. Impossible or not,
it's a fact!"

Suddenly a thick column of smoke began to ascend from the funnel of the
little American gunboat _Marietta_, which was lying among the transports
out in the roads. The whistles and bugle-calls could be heard
distinctly, and the crew could be seen on deck busy at the guns. The
steam-winch rattled and began to haul up the anchor, while the water
whirled at the stern as the vessel made a turn. Even before the anchor
appeared at the surface the gunboat h