rialized into the much-coveted and long
abstained from delicacy.

The hammocks were lashed up and stowed away in the "nettings," as the
lattice-like receptacles are called, leaving the deck clear for the work
of the day.

Mess gear for the "watch below" had just been piped, and we were glad;
even the thought of burnt oatmeal and coffee without milk was pleasant
to us.

The ports were closed and the gun deck was dark and dismal. The fog
oozed in through every crack and cranny, and all was very unpleasant.

Of a sudden there was a sharp reverberation that sounded so much like
the report of a big gun that all hands jumped.

The course of the ship was changed, and the jingle bell sounded. The
"Yankee" forged on at full speed in the direction from which the sound
had come.

We all stood in expectant attitudes, listening for another report. We
had about made up our minds that our ears had deceived us, when another
explosion, louder and nearer than the first, reached us.

On we rushed--toward what we knew not--through a fog so thick that the
water could be seen but dimly from the spar deck.

The suspense was hard to bear, and the desire to do something almost
irresistible. The men unconsciously took their regular stations for
action, the guns' crews gathered round their guns, the powder divisions
in the neighborhood of the ammunition hoists.

"I wish Potter was here," said "Stump." "I rather think he would be
white around the gills. This sort of business would give him a bad case
of 'cold feet.'"

"Oh, he had 'cold feet' a few days after we left New York, and wrote to
his friends to get his discharge," said "Bill." "Got it and quit two
weeks after we left New York, the duffer," added "Hay."

The "Yankee" still steamed on into the bank of fog.

"Cupid," the ship's bugler, began to play the call for general
quarters, but was stopped by a sharp command from the bridge.

What was it all about? Was it to be tragedy or farce?

Then Scully came down the starboard gangway, a broad smile on his ruddy
face.

A clamoring group gathered round him instantly. "What is it?" "Is the
'old man' playing a joke on us?" "Do you suppose Cervera has got over to
this side?" "Scully," overwhelmed with questions, put up his hands
protestingly.

"No, no; none of those things," said he. "What do you suppose we have
been doing for the last twenty minutes?"

We confessed we did not know.

"Chasing thunder claps--nothing more nor les