After hammocks had been given out, boats hoisted—all the work of the day finished, in fact—most of the men gathered aft to hear the band of the "Oregon" play. It was a volunteer band; that is, the musicians were enlisted men, not assigned for the band. They played with vim and precision.
It was almost dark; only the ships' outlines could be made out. The red and white signal lights twinkled at intervals at the mastheads of different vessels, while beams of light showed on the still, dark water from open ports. The whole fleet lay quiet while the men listened to the strains of music from the "Oregon." It was more like the rendezvous of a cruising yacht club than a fleet of warships gathered in the enemy's country.
The music from the battleship ceased, and for a moment all was still save for the lapping of the water against the ships' sides and the splash of a fish as it leaped out of water.
Suddenly and together, a shrill piping on all the ships broke the silence, followed by the hoarse cry, "All the anchor watch to muster."
On all men-of-war at eight o'clock, the anchor watch is mustered. It consists of sixteen men—eight on duty from nine till one o'clock, the other eight from one till "all hands" at 5:30. The first part always calls its relief at one o'clock.
The mustering over, all flocked aft to hear the band again, but were disappointed, for the concert was over.
However, the men had come aft for music and music they must have in some shape.
So "Steve" the modest was dragged out, and after some persuasion sang the following to the tune of "Lou, Lou, How I Love Ma Lou." "Baron," the gunner's mate, accompanied him on the mandolin, and Eickmann, the marine corporal, helped out with his guitar.
"'Way down at the Brooklyn navy yard,
Where ships are rigged for sea,
Three hundred little 'heroes'
Went aboard the old 'Yankee.'
Oh! we were young and foolish,
We longed for Spanish gore,
And so they set us working
As we never worked before.
CHORUS:
"Hard-tack and salt-horse every day,
Work, slave, for mighty little pay;
And just before we get to sleep
We hear the bosun pipe like this
(Whistle),
'Up all hammocks, all hands.'