"Taps" sounded at nine o'clock, and we were glad enough to turn in.
When all hands were called, I rubbed my eyes in astonishment, for as I glanced out of the deadlight near which my hammock swung, I saw that we were under way and well out to sea. I put on my togs in a hurry, and after lashing and stowing my "dream bag," rushed on deck.
Yes, sure enough, we were at sea.
"Stump" came and grabbed me round the waist—he could hardly reach higher. "We're bound for New York," said he. "We met the 'St. Paul' going in and the signal boys say we signalled, 'We have urgent orders to proceed to New York.' What do you think of that?" he added, breathlessly.
"With eighty bags of mail for the Santiago fleet," said I, thinking of the poor fellows who were longing with all their hearts for those same bags.
"Regular navy style," added "Stump."
Though it was hard on our friends off Santiago we could not be cast down, and the near prospect of liberty—of an opportunity to see home and friends, of again setting foot on shore—transformed the entire crew.
Everywhere could be seen smiling faces. Laughter and merry chatter filled the air, and the rollicking songs written by "Steve" and others were more in evidence than ever. The daily routine of work seemed lighter. There was no grumbling, no fault finding; even the interminable task of shifting coal was carried on with actual cheerfulness. Grimy hands and blackened faces and tired bodies were forgotten.
"There's a mighty good dinner waiting for me in the dear old house," exclaimed "Stump," unctuously. "I can sniff it afar. And say, fellows, won't we forget—for a few hours at least—that such things as reveille and scrub and wash clothes and coal humping and salt-horse exist on earth?"
"Oh, good Mr. Captain, how long will it be before we hear the welcome call, 'Shift into clean blue, the liberty party!' and find ourselves piling over the side," groaned "Hay."