"Lieutenant Longstreet of the Nebraska."
"Thank you."
"Captain Winstanley, commander of the Georgia," added Longstreet for Winstanley.
"Will you give me your word of honor?"
Longstreet gave his, but Winstanley shook his head and said: "You can do what you like with me; I refuse to give my word of honor."
The Jap shrugged his shoulders and disappeared.
"Longstreet, nursed in San Francisco, is that what the Jap said? Then San Francisco must be in their hands." At these words the wounded captain of the Georgia burst into bitter tears and sobs shook the body of the poor man, who in his ravings fancied himself back on board his ship giving orders for the big guns to fire at the enemy. Longstreet held his friend's hand and stared in silence at the white ceiling upon which the sunbeams painted myriads of quivering lines and circles.
At one o'clock the Ontario came in sight of the Golden Gate, where the white banner with its crimson sun was seen to be waving above all the fortifications.
While the Japanese were attacking San Francisco early on the morning of May seventh, their fleet was stationed off San Diego on the lookout for the two American maneuvering fleets. The intercepted orders from the Navy Department had informed the enemy that Admiral Perry, with his blue squadron of six battleships of the Connecticut class, intended to attack San Francisco and the other ports and naval-stations on the Pacific, and that the yellow fleet, under command of Admiral Crane, was to carry out the defense. The latter had drawn up his squadron in front of San Francisco on May second, and on May fifth Admiral Perry had left Magdalen Bay. From this time on every report sent by wireless was read by harmless looking Japanese trading-vessels sailing under the English flag.