fy it."

"It's straight," protested "Stump." "Ask the skipper himself if you want
to."

The old boat ploughed her way through the blue waters of the Gulf Stream
at the rate of from fourteen to fifteen knots an hour. The skies were
clear and the sun warm and bright--cool breeze tempered its heat and
made life bearable. The ship rolled lazily in the long swell and the
turquoise wake boiled astern. We steamed for days without sighting a
sail or a light; we were "alone on a wide, wide sea." At times schools
of dolphins would race and shoot up out of the water alongside, much to
our glee. All the beauties of these tropical waters were new to us.
Every school of flying fish and flock of Mother Carey's chickens brought
crowds to the rail. The sunsets were glorious, though all too short, and
the sunrises, if less appreciated, just as fine.

At night the guns' crews of the "watch on deck" slept round their loaded
guns, one man of each crew always standing guard. The men of the powder
divisions manned the lookout posts.

All hands were in good spirits, calmed somewhat, however, by the thought
that soon we might be in the thick of battle, the outcome of which no
man could tell.

It was during this voyage that friendships, begun on the Block
Island-Barnegat cruise, were cemented. The life aboard ship tended to
"show up" a man as he really was. His good and bad qualities appeared so
that all might see. Was he good-natured, even-tempered, thoughtful, his
mates knew it at once and liked him. Was he quick-tempered, selfish,
uncompanionable, it was quite as evident, and he had few friends.
Sterling and unsuspected qualities were brought out in many of the men.

Every man felt that we must and would stand together, and with a will do
our work, be it peaceful or warlike.

Where were we bound? Were we to join the Havana blockading fleet? Were
we destined for despatch and scout duty? Or were we to take part in
actual conflict?

It was while we were settling these questions to our own satisfaction on
the morning of June 2d, that a hail came from the lookout at the
masthead forward.

"Land O!" he shouted, waving his cap. "Hurray! it's Cuba!"

The navigator, whose rightful surname had been converted by the
facetious Naval Reserves into "Cutlets," for reasons of their own, lost
no time in rebuking the too enthusiastic lookout.

"Aloft, there, you measly lubber! What in thunder do you mean? Have you
sighted land?"

"Ye-es, sir-r,