d of youths and men whose whole life and training had hitherto
followed totally different lines.

It was a "licking of raw material into shape" with a vengeance.

When the "Chesapeake" sailed forth to fight her disastrous battle with
the British ship "Shannon," her crew was made up of men untrained in
the art of war. The result was the most humiliating naval defeat in the
history of the United States. The same fate threatened Captain Brownson.
There was this difference in the cases, however. The "Chesapeake" had
little time for drilling, while the "Yankee" was fully six weeks in
commission before her first shot was fired in action. Every minute of
those six weeks was utilized.

During the trip down the coast from New York general quarters were held
each day, and target practice whenever the weather permitted. In
addition to these drills the crew was exercised in man and arm boats,
abandon ship, fire drill, infantry drill, and the many exercises
provided by the naval regulations. Before the "Yankee" had been in the
Gulf Stream two days, the various guns' crews were almost letter-perfect
at battery work. As it happened, the value of good drilling was soon to
be demonstrated.

As we neared Cuba, the theatre of our hopes and expectations, we were
scarcely able to control ourselves. The bare possibility of seeing real
war within a few days made every man the victim of a consuming
impatience. Rumors of every description were rife, and the many weird
and impossible tales invented by the ship's cook and the captain's
steward--the men-o'-war oracles--would have put even Baron Munchausen to
the blush.

The Rumor Committee, otherwise known as the "Scuttle-butt Navigators,"
to which every man on board was elected a life member the moment he
promulgated a rumor, was soon actively engaged, and it was definitely
settled that the "Yankee" was to become the flagship of the whole fleet,
our captain made Lord High Admiral, and the whole Spanish nation swept
off the face of the globe, in about thirteen and a half seconds by the
chronometer.

CHAPTER VII.

WE ENTER THE "THEATRE OF WAR."

The shrill pipe of the bosun's whistle, followed by the order "All hands
to muster," reached our ears a day or two out from New York. We were
enjoying an hour of well-earned leisure, so it was with reluctance that
we obeyed and went aft on the gun deck. All hands are seldom called to
muster, so we knew that something of importance was in the win