"Kid's" chuckle came to a sudden stop, and he leaned out through the port.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Thought I saw something moving over there near the beach."
"Must have been a shadow."
"Guess so. Still, it looked like some kind of a—"
Bang!
The sharp report of a rapid-fire gun cut short his words. Another followed almost instantly, then came a regular volley. The effect on the crew of the "Yankee" was instantaneous. The men sleeping at the guns scrambled to their feet, hammocks were kicked out of the way, and before the word to go to general quarters was passed, every member of the crew was at his station.
"I thought I saw something moving inshore," cried "Kid," as he scurried away.
"It's a Spanish torpedo boat," muttered "Stump." "Great Scott! just listen to the 'New Orleans.' She's firing like a house afire."
Suddenly there came a deep, thunderous roar. It was the voice of a thirteen-inch gun on the "Massachusetts." Sixty seconds later the six-pounders on the "Yankee's" forecastle joined in the chorus, and the action became general.