No; neither my name nor the name of my vessel can I give. Our navy has a way of courtmartialing its officers who wax garrulous.”

It was just as the Lieutenant called for the creme de menthe, that may properly succeed a dinner well ordered and well stowed.

“But you are welcome to the raw facts,” continued the Lieutenant. “It was during those anxious days that went before the penning in of Cervera at Santiago. We had been ordered on a ticklish service. Schley was over south of the island on a prowl for the Spanish fleet. Sampson was, or should have been, off the Windward Passage similarly employed. Cervera was last heard of two weeks before at Barbadoes. Then he disappeared like a ghost; no one knew where his smoke would be sighted next. The one sure thing, of which all were aware, was that with Sampson anywhere between the Mole and Cape Mazie, and Schley searching the wide seas south of Cuba, Cervera might easily with little luck and less seamanship dodge either and appear off Havana. There the cardboard fleet left on blockade wouldn't, with such heavy odds, last as long as a drink of whiskey.

“It stood thus when our orders came to my Captain to proceed to Bayou Hondu, some seventy miles west of Havana, and there stand off and on, like a policeman walking his beat, in what would be the path of Cervera should he work to the rear of Schley and to the north of Cuba by the way of St. Antonio.

“Our vessel was detailed on this duty because of her perfect order and speed of seventeen knots. Our heavy armament was eight 4-inch broadside guns, with a 6-inch rifle forward and another mounted aft. Our orders were: If Cervera came upon us to fight!—steam as slowly as might be for Havana and fight!—and to keep fighting until sunk or sure that the block-aders off Havana were warned, whether by our signals or our racket, of Cervera's coming.

“It was a grinding task, this lonely patrol off Bayou Hondu. The rains had just begun, the weather was a dripping hash of fog and squall and rain. If Cervera didn't come, it meant discomfort; and if he did, it meant death. Take it full and by, the outlook was depressing.

“At night no light burned and the ship was dark as a coffin. This, with the service, contributed to keep us all in a mood of alert nervousness. Cervera's ships would also be dark. We didn't care to be crept upon, and get our first notice of his advent from the broadside that sent us to the bottom like an anvil.

“We had been on this dreary duty some ten days. It was a dark, heavy night. I myself had the bridge, and the captain, whose anxiety kept him up, was seated in the starboard corner, dozing. His sea cloak was thrown over his head to keep out the weather. We were working to the eastward, with engines at quarter speed, and with a head sea running, were making perhaps three knots.

“The ship's bells were not being struck for the hours, and I had just looked at my watch by the light of the binnacle. It was half-past two in the morning.

“'How's your head?' I asked of the man at the wheel, as I put up my timepiece.

“'East by south, half south,' he replied.

“This was taking us too much inshore. 'Starboard for a point!' I said.

“As I turned from the wheel I saw that which sent a thrill over me and brought me up all standing. It was the murky loom of a great ship, black and dim and dark and silent as ourselves. She was off our port quarter and not five hundred yards away. It gave me a start, I confess. None of our ships should be that far to the west of Havana. It was a sword to a sheath knife she was one of Cervera's advance.

“Instantly I reached for the electric button; and instantly the red and white lights, which stood for the letter of that night, burned in our semaphore. The stranger replied with a red over two white lights. It was the wrong letter.

“With my first motion, the captain was on his feet; his hand gripped the lever that worked the engine bells.

“'Try her again!' he said.

“Again I flashed the proper letter, and again came a queer reply.

“The next moment the captain jammed the lever 'Full steam, ahead!' and a general call to quarters went singing through the ship.

“'Starboard!' shouted the captain to the man at the wheel; 'starboard! pull her over!'

“There was a vast churning from the propellers; the vessel leaped forward like a horse; the sailor climbed the wheel like a squirrel. We surged forward with a broad sheer to port. The next instant we opened on our dark visitor with every gun in the larboard battery. It wasn't ten seconds after she gave us the wrong signal when she got our broadside.

“The result was amazing. With the first crash of our guns the stranger went from utter darkness to the extreme of light. She flashed out all over like a Fall River steamer. Knowing who we were—for they bore orders for us—and realizing that there had been some mixing of signals, the officer on her bridge had the wit to turn on every light in his ship. It was an inspiration and saved them from a second broadside.

“Who was she? One of our own vessels. Cervera was locked in Santiago and she had come up to tell us the news. Her officer blundered in giving out the wrong letter for the night, and thereby sowed the seed of our misunderstanding.

“No, beyond peppering her a bit, our fire did no harm. We were so close that most of our shot went over her. Still, I don't believe that vessel will ever get her signals fouled again. And it's just as well that way. If she had made the wrong talk to some one of our heavy-weights, the Oregon, for instance, she would have gone down like so much pig-iron.”