n complied with, salutes interchanged,
visits of ceremony paid and returned, there was yet in the Spanish
greeting an ill-concealed tone of anger. In the cafes Spanish officers
cursed the Yankees and boasted of their purpose to destroy them. On
the streets American blue-jackets, on shore leave, were jostled,
jeered, and insulted. Yet the ill-temper of the Spaniards, though
apparent, was so ill defined that no apprehension of a positive attack
was felt. As is the practice on men-of-war, however, the utmost
vigilance was maintained. Only the employment of a boat patrol and the
use of torpedo nettings were lacking to give the "Maine" the aspect of
a ship in an enemy's harbor.

Then came the disaster that shocked the world. A disaster in which it
is impossible not to suspect the element of treachery. A disaster
which if purely accidental, occurring to a hated ship in a port
surrounded by men who were enemies at heart, was the most
extraordinary coincidence in history. The story is brief. Not until
this war is ended and the authority of the United States is employed
to clear up the mystery, can the real narrative of the destruction of
the "Maine" be told.

This much we know: At about half-past nine those on the "Maine" who
lived to tell the tale heard a sudden dull explosion, with a slight
shock, then a prolonged, deep, furious roar, which shook the ship to
its very vitals. The people on the other ships in the harbor saw the
whole forward portion of the "Maine" suddenly become a flaming volcano
belching forth fire, men, huge pieces of steel, and bursting shells.
Portions of the ship's hull rained down on decks a thousand yards
away. When the first fierce shock of the explosion was past, it was
seen that the "Maine" was on fire and was rapidly sinking.

How wonderful is the power of discipline upon the human mind! On the
great battle-ship, with hundreds of its men blown to pieces or penned
down by steel debris to be drowned in the rapidly rising waters, there
was no panic. Captain Sigsbee, rushing from his cabin door, is met by
the sergeant of marines who serves him as orderly. Not a detail of
naval etiquette is lacking. Sergeant William Anthony salutes:

"I have to report, sir, that the ship is blown up and is sinking," he
says, as he would report a pilot boat in the offing.

The captain reaches the deck to find his officers already at work, the
men who have not been injured all at their stations. Boats are
lowered and