"Well," replied Greene, thoughtfully, "a man does get awfully excited when the guns begin to bark."
And every one of us knew exactly how he felt.
We maintained a close vigil until the sixteenth of June—two days later—then sailed for Santiago. Shortly after entering port we were informed that the Spanish gunboat with which we had been engaged off Cienfuegos had sunk, sent to the bottom by our fire; a bit of news highly appreciated.
Our stay in Santiago was short, the "Yankee" leaving for Guantanamo the next day at eleven o'clock. On reaching the latter port we found evidences of a considerable change in the condition of affairs. On our former visit, as the reader will remember, we had engaged in an interesting argument with a gunboat, a blockhouse, and a fort, driving the boat back into the harbor and silencing the fort. The good work done that day had borne fruit.
On entering the bay we found several of our vessels quietly riding at anchor—the "Oregon," "Marblehead," "Dolphin" (of railway-train fame), the ambulance ship "Solace," the "Panther," "Suwanee," and three or four colliers and despatch boats.
But that which attracted our instant attention and brought an involuntary cheer from us, was the sight of Old Glory, flaunting proudly from a tall flagstaff erected on the site of the former Spanish blockhouse.
"Hurray!" shouted "Stump," "it's the first American flag to fly over Cuba. And we dug the hole to plant it."
"That's right," assented "Dye." "We are the people."
"What's that camp on top of the hill?" queried Flagg, indicating a number of tents gleaming in dots of white against the background of green foliage.
"It is the marine camp," explained "Hay." "Didn't you hear about it in Santiago? Why, man, it's the talk of the fleet. The marine corps has been adding to its laurels again. The other day eight hundred of them landed from the 'Panther' and fairly swept the place of Spaniards, fighting against three times their number. It was great."