"If you fellows think you can tell the story better than I can, go
ahead," retorted "Stump," in disgust. "You are like a lot of old maids
at a sewing circle. I give--"

"What was that?" suddenly cried "Hay," springing to his feet. "If it
wasn't a flash of light I'll eat my--"

A figure hastily emerged from the gloom aft.

"Go to your stations at once, you men," called out a voice. "General
quarters!"

As we scurried toward the hatch a great shaft of light appeared off the
port beam, and began sweeping back and forth across the black of the
horizon.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed "Hay," "it's a searchlight on some man-of-war.
We're in for it now!"

CHAPTER XIII.

A NARROW ESCAPE.

The finger of light sweeping the heavens above the distant horizon meant
to us the presence either of friend or foe, and the question was one we
had little desire to solve at that moment. Rumors of Spanish warships
lurking in the waters adjacent to Cuba were rife, and it had even been
stated that another squadron inferior only to Cervera's fleet was
somewhere in the neighborhood.

We of the "Yankee" were willing, and I may say, without undue boasting,
eager to meet any vessel of equal size or even larger, but to give
battle to a whole fleet was a little too much. Nevertheless, when the
word was passed to go to "general quarters," there was no sulking nor
hesitancy.

The battery was ready in record time.

Our gun was placed in trim, ammunition hatches opened, cartridges
whipped on deck, and the piece prepared for instant use so rapidly that
the officer of the division, Lieutenant Greene, gave us warm praise.

Then we waited.

It is difficult for a layman--a citizen who has not experienced the test
of action and danger in battle--to understand or appreciate our feelings
that night. It is hard to describe them, to paint with mere words the
intense seriousness and gravity of the situation. You can imagine a dark
night at sea--a night so black that the senses feel oppressed. You can
add to these a thrill of impending danger and a vision of capture by a
cruel enemy and the thought that the very next second will sound the
signal for an uproar and outbreak of combat, but your impressions will
fall far short of the reality--that must be experienced to be
appreciated.

As we stood at our stations surrounding Number Eight gun, I tried to
read the faces of my companions, to see if I could find in them traces
of worry or anxiety, or of