The stretch of blue sea, edged by the tumbling surf-beaten beach, and the uprising of foliage-covered hills, all brought out clearly by a tropical sun, formed a picture as far removed from the usual setting of war as could be. But war was there, and the scenery appealed to few. There was more interest in the drab hulls of the fleet and the outward reaching of the mighty guns.
That evening—the evening of June 3d—the "Yankee's" decks presented an animated spectacle. The novel surroundings and the prospect of action kept the boys interested. The "Rumor Committee" was in active session, and one of its principal members, the captain's orderly, brought the news forward that the auxiliary cruiser would surely lead a procession of battleships into Santiago harbor the following day.
This was a little too strong for even the marines to swallow. We lay down by our loaded guns that night, feeling that it was well to be within easy reach of our defenders.
Hammocks were laid on the deck close to each five-inch breechloader, and the regular watch was doubled. Lack of experience made all these warlike preparations very impressive, and it was some time before the boys fell asleep. For my part, such a restlessness possessed me that, after trying to woo slumber for a half hour, I left my place and crawled over nearer the open port.
"Hello, Russ," whispered a voice, apparently from the outside. "Just lean out here if you want to cool off. Isn't the night air fine?"
A small figure wriggled in from where it had been hanging over the port sill, and in the faint light I recognized "Kid," as we called him, the smallest boy on board, and so pleasant and popular that we had unanimously elected him the mascot of the ship.
I was glad to see that it was "Kid." His fund of ready wit and his never-failing good-nature made him a welcome companion at all times. He did not belong to my gun, being a "powder monkey" on No. 16, a six-pounder on the spar deck, but "Kid" was privileged, and he could have penetrated to the captain's cabin with impunity.
"Thought I'd drop down here for a rest," he began, stretching himself and yawning. "Too much tramping about on deck to sleep. Say, looks as if we were going to have a little rain, doesn't it?"
The moon had just passed behind a scurrying cloud, causing the silvery sparkle of its reflection to suddenly fade from the surface of the water. The lights and shadows on the nearby beach changed to a streaky dark smudge. There was a damp touch to the air.
"This would be a proper night for one of those sneaking torpedo boats to give us a scare," resumed "Kid," thoughtfully. "Funny ways of fighting those Dagoes have, eh? It's like prisoner's base that I played when I was a boy."