"Say, this is deadly slow, tiresome work," said "Flagg," who was carrying with me. "I'd give almost anything for a little excitement."
The last word had scarcely been uttered when there came the sounds of 'commotion on deck. A voice cried out in sharp command, the rudder chains creaked loudly, the ship heeled over to starboard, and then we who were at the open port saw a long, snaky object shoot out from the edge of the haze and bear down upon us.
"My heaven!" shouted "Stump," "it's a torpedo boat!"
The commotion on deck had given us some warning, but the sudden dash of the long, snaky torpedo boat from out the haze came as a decided shock. For one brief moment we of the after port stood as if turned to stone, then every man ran to his quarters and stood ready to do his duty. With a cry, our second captain sprang to the firing lanyard. Before he could grasp it, however, the officer of the division was at his side.
"Stop!" he exclaimed authoritatively.
The interruption was fortunate, for, just then, a swerve of the oncoming torpedo boat revealed a small flag flying from the taffrail staff. It was the American ensign.
The reaction was great. Forgetting discipline, we crowded about the port and laughed and cheered like a lot of schoolboys. Potter, in his joy and evident relief, sent his canvas cap sailing through the air. A rebuke, not very stern, however, came from the lieutenant in charge of the division, and we shuffled back to our stations.
"Cricky! what a sell," exclaimed the second rifleman, grinning. "I was sure we had a big job on our hands this time. I'm rather glad it is one of our fellows after all."
"I'm not," spoke up young Potter, blusteringly. "What did we come out here for, hey? I say it's a confounded shame. We might have had a chance to send one of the Spaniards to the bottom."
"It may be a Dago after all," suggested "Bill," glancing from the port. "The flag doesn't mean anything. They might be flying Old Glory as a ruse de guerre. By George! That craft looks just like the 'Pluton.'"