Cupid," the ship's bugler, played "Home, Sweet Home," and instead of
mobbing him as we would have done had he played it three hours earlier,
we applauded. He also played "America," and then "Dixie," in honor of
our Maryland friends on our sister ship of that name. It pleased them
mightily, as was evidenced by the cheer that came over the quiet water
to us. Their bugler returned the compliment soon after by playing
"Yankee Doodle."

There was much good feeling when the men went below, to turn in, but not
to sleep; we were too happy for that.

As the talk and laughter gradually died down (the order, "Turn in your
hammocks and keep silence," was not very strictly observed that night),
a voice would be heard singing--not always the same voice:

"But we'll all feel gay when
The 'Yankee' goes sailing home."

The following morning Scully did not have to repeat "up all hands," for
he had hardly got the words out of his mouth before every man was
scrambling into his clothes as fast as he could.

Soon after breakfast the order was given to hoist up the catamaran, and
then the rest of the boats were pulled up one by one. The boat's falls
were run away with in a fashion that made the officers smile. The
tackle-blocks fairly smoked.

The only thing that marred our perfect joy was the departure of some of
the marines to the "New Orleans." We had grown to like them all very
much, and especially a pleasant fellow we dubbed "Happy," because of his
unvarying cheerfulness. We had hoped to bring them all back with us, and
were sorry to see them go.

We listened with eager ears for the final order before sailing, "All
hands on the cat falls," and just before noon we heard it. In ready
response the men came tumbling up, and in a jiffy the anchor was pulled
up as if it weighed five hundred, instead of five thousand pounds.

The leadsman stood on his little platform and sang out, as he heaved the
lead, the number of fathoms. It was the last touch we had of Cuban soil.

As the old ship gathered headway, cheer after cheer rang out from the
ships that were left behind, and in answer to each, our crew, which had
gathered on the forecastle, gave three rousing hurrahs and a tiger.

So we sailed out of Guantanamo Bay for the last time.

It was with a feeling of sadness mixed with joy that we watched the
headland, that stands like a guard on one side of the bay, disappear in
the haze. We were one of the first ships to enter its the