The decks were in what to a landsman would have seemed hopeless confusion. Yet, underlying all was the system that has made our navy what it is. Orders were passing rapidly, bos’uns’ pipes screaming shrilly, and Jackies running hither and thither like so many ants when their nest has been disturbed.
High up on the lofty bridge, Commander Dunham and the admiral surveyed the scene.
“I think we are ready, sir,” said the admiral at length.
The captain saluted and turned to the executive officer who stood beside him.
“All ready, Mr. Jenks,” he said.
The executive officer saluted, and then came a hoarse hail through his megaphone while the wig-waggers on the Manhattan transmitted the signal, “Up anchor,” to the other ships of the squadron.
“Up anchor!” bellowed Mr. Jenks.
The band crashed out into “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” swinging into “Nancy Lee,” “Auld Lang Syne” and other favorites. The blue-jackets grabbed each other around the waist and pirouetted about on the foc’scle like schoolboys. Some sang with the band until “Boom! Boom! Boom!” the stately measured farewell to San Francisco began to boom from the steel mouths of the big guns.
“Anchors shipped, sir!” sang out a middy from the forepart of the ship.
“Slow speed ahead!” ordered the captain to the ensign at the engine-room telegraph.