it was. Ol'
Cervera's fleet was in th' harbor an' bottled up, as th' man says.
Shafter he says to Sampson: 'Look here, me bucko, what th' divvle
ar-re ye loafin' ar-round out there f'r,' he says, 'like a dep'ty
sheriff at a prize fight?' he says. 'Why don't ye go in, an' smash th'
Castiles?' he says. 'I'm doin' well where I am,' says Sampson. 'Th'
navy iv th' United States,' he says, 'which is wan iv th' best, if not
th' best, in th' wurruld,' he says, 'was not,' he says, 'intinded f'r
sthreet fightin',' he says. 'We'll stay here,' he says, 'where we
ar-re,' he says, 'until,' he says, 'we can equip th' ships with
noomatic tire wheels,' he says, 'an' ball bearin's,' he says.

"'Well,' says Shafter, 'if ye won't go in,' he says, 'we'll show ye
th' way,' he says. An' he calls on Cap Brice, that was wan iv th'
youngest an' tastiest dhressers in th' whole crool an' devastatin'
war. 'Cap,' he says, 'is they anny hay in th' camp?' he says.
'Slathers iv it,' says th' cap. 'Onless,' he says, 'th' sojers et it,'
he says. 'Th' las' load iv beef that come down fr'm th' undhertakers,'
he says, 'was not good,' he says. 'Ayether,' he says, ''twas
improperly waked,' he says, 'or,' he says, 'th' pall-bearers was
careless,' he says. 'Annyhow,' he says, 'th' sojers won't eat it; an',
whin I left, they was lookin' greedily at th' hay,' he says. 'Cap,'
says Gin'ral Shafter, 'if anny man ates a wisp, shoot him on th'
spot,' he says. 'Those hungry sojers may desthroy me hopes iv
victhry,' he says. 'What d'ye mane?' says Cap Brice. 'I mane this,'
says Gin'ral Shafter. 'I mane to take yon fortress,' he says. 'I'll
sind ye in, Cap,' he says, 'in a ship protected be hay,' he says. 'Her
turrets 'll be alfalfa, she'll have three inches iv solid timithy to
th' water line, an' wan inch iv th' best clover below th' wather
line,' he says. 'Did ye iver see an eight-inch shell pinithrate a bale
iv hay?' he says. 'I niver did,' says Cap Brice. 'Maybe that was
because I niver see it thried,' he says. 'Be that as it may,' says
Gin'ral Shafter, 'ye niver see it done. No more did I,' he says.
'Onless,' he says, 'they shoot pitchforks,' he says, 'they'll niver
hur-rt ye,' he says. 'Ye'll be onvincible,' he says. 'Ye'll pro-ceed
into th' harbor,' he says, 'behind th' sturdy armor iv projuce,' he
says. 'Let ye'er watchword be "Stay on th' far-rm," an' go on to
victhry,' he says. 'Gin'ral,' says Cap Brice, 'how can I thank ye f'r
th' honor?' he says. ''Tis no w