a hand was suddenly placed upon my shoulder and I heard a
familial voice exclaim sternly:

"Lookout, what do you mean by sleeping on post? Why did you not report
that light?"

It was Captain Brownson!

Asleep on post! The accusation was grave enough to startle me, and I
lost no time in stammering a denial. Luckily, the discovery of the
strange light, which was just faintly visible dead ahead, occupied the
commander's attention for the moment and I escaped further rebuke.

Captain Brownson hurried to the bridge and presently word was passed to
go to quarters at once. The ports were opened, ammunition made ready
for both the main and secondary batteries, and the crew stood at their
guns in readiness for action. It was a very impressive sight, the grim
weapons just showing in the dim lantern light, the great cartridges
standing close to the breeches, the men quiet and steady, their faces
showing anxiety but perfect self-control.

I was proud to belong to such a crew, for the majority thought that an
action was imminent, and perhaps a superior foe to be fought, yet there
was no sign of that fear which is supposed to attack the novice in
battle. It was a convincing proof of American bravery and self-reliance.

In the meantime the engines had been called on for full speed, and the
ship throbbed and swayed with the increased power. Extra men were
presently sent below to the fire room, and it soon became evident that
we were in actual chase of the suspicious vessel. From my station at the
after port gun I was enabled to catch an occasional glimpse of the sea
through the open port.

The squall had passed in part and the night was growing lighter. The
rain still fell, though fitfully, and at times a dash of water entered
the port, besprinkling gun and crew and fighting tackle, leaving great
drops that glistened like dew in the waning light of the lanterns.
Alongside, white-capped waves raced with the ship.

As the gloom lightened, the horizon spread, and presently, away in the
distance, a dark spot, like a smudge upon a gray background, became
visible. "Long Tommy," attached to my gun, leaned far out of the port
with an exclamation of excitement.

"By George! it's another ship," he added.

"We are in a nest of the Dagoes," cried young Potter, rather wildly. "We
have run into an ambuscade."

"You've got a great chance to become a dead hero," remarked the first
gun captain dryly.

Word was passed from above to break