d back to
the deck to watch the exciting race. The Oregon and the Brooklyn were
gaining steadily on the Colon. Suddenly the Brooklyn signaled to the
Oregon: "She seems built in Italy." And the Oregon signaled back: "She
may have been built in Italy, but she will end on the coast of Cuba."

While some of the ships were chasing the Colon, and others were
rescuing the wounded and drowning Spaniards, the Indiana, according to
orders, returned to watch the harbor entrance. Suddenly an excitement
was caused on the Indiana by news that a large Spanish battleship was
coming from the eastward. Captain Taylor at once made ready for
another fight, and sent his men to their guns. The officers on the
bridge looked through their field-glasses at the strange ship, three
miles away. "Yes, it is a Spanish ship." "Yes, she has Spanish
colors." The stranger drew near, the guns of the Indiana were just
about to open fire, but the foreign ship signaled her name and
country--"Kaiserin Maria Theresa, Austria"--in time to save both
parties from further trouble.

That Sunday morning the chaplain of the New York was preparing to hold
service when the sound of a gun caused the ship to turn in her course
and speed back to Santiago. The ship was cleared for action, and the
pulpit was hastily thrown aside. As the ship sped along, some of her
men saw a Spanish sailor struggling in the water. One of the men
quickly picked up the pulpit--a clumsy, awkward affair, with a gilt
cross on the side of it--and heaved it overboard, at the same time
yelling to the poor Spaniard: "Cling to the cross, my lad, cling to
the cross and you'll be saved." The struggling sailor clung to the
cross and was afterward picked up by one of the small boats.

This story is told of two gunners on the Oregon. One was an old fellow
whose name has been on the navy list for thirty years, the other was a
young seaman gunner.

When Admiral Cervera led his ships out of the harbor of Santiago, in
that brave dash for the freedom of the open sea, the veteran was
engaged in his usual occupation of polishing the sleek coat of one of
the big thirteen-inch guns. When the cry went up that the enemy was
escaping, he gave a finishing touch to the muzzle and quickly took his
station in the turret. Presently he turned to a young gunner near him
and said: "Charley, I bet you a month's pay that I make a better shot
at the dago beggars than you. What d'you say?"

"'Done,' was the prompt reply.