In one of these, Ireland, represented as a broad shouldered, strapping young woman, with a suspiciously rubicund countenance (especially about the tip of her nose), dressed in green silk—decolleté—had thrown her brawny arms around the neck of Uncle Sam, who obligingly bent over, half way across the Atlantic, to permit this trans-oceanic caress. This transparency was wildly cheered, and was followed by a tremendous crowd of shouting and yelling men and boys, until the candles went out, and the bar-rooms closed for the night.
The newspapers of the 13th of May, in all parts of the country, indulged in the wildest jubilations, and the "croakers," who had theretofore called attention to the weakness of the American navy, and the defenseless condition of American seaports, were ridiculed and abused in the most unmeasured terms throughout the length and breadth of the land. American ingenuity was lauded to the skies, as being equal to every emergency, and able to bid defiance to all the antiquated Old World methods of war-making. The American Eagle—never a very modest bird—flapped its wings, and screamed in a manner which put to shame its most extravagant previous efforts in that line.
In England the situation was exactly reversed. The French cable had of course carried the news of the British defeat to Paris; and from them it had been wired to London, with such additions and exaggerations as French unfriendliness to England could suggest; and London was in an uproar. Lord Randolph Churchill was burned in effigy in various parts of the city and country, and a general chorus of "I told you so's," coupled with estimates of the cost in pounds, shillings and pence, of the destroyed fleet, went up like a National wail, from one end of Great Britain to the other. Bonfires were lighted on every hill-top in Ireland, and the streets of Dublin and Cork were fairly green with millions of Irish flags. The continental newspapers, especially the German and French ones, all contained labored articles, giving various accounts of the battle, and paying the highest tribute to the inventive genius of "those wonderful Americans," and condoling with England in rather a sarcastic vein upon her loss of prestige as a naval power. For a wonder, the French and German journals had at length a subject upon which they could agree, and they seemed to vie with each other in the publication of articles in which their intense hatred and jealousy of England, was but thinly disguised, under the most polite expressions of sympathy for her fall from a place among the highest, to a position among the third or fourth-rate powers of the world. The immediate dissolution of the "so called British Empire" was spoken of as a matter of course, and while it was generally conceded that Australia would be able to maintain itself as an independent power, the probable fate of British India was a subject upon which these writers displayed for three or four days, the customary combination of ignorance and ingenuity, for which the continental press of Europe is to justly renowned.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET.
On the 13th and 14th of May, there was a thick fog, which rendered it impossible to see anything at a greater distance than a few yards. It did not extend more than a mile or two inland, but shrouded the whole coast in an impenetrable darkness.
The rejoicings and congratulations still continued in New York and Brooklyn; but in a diminished degree. Even patriotism requires breathing spells, and the citizens were fairly worn out with their celebration.
A quiet air of cheerful contentment, under which was plainly evident a feeling of serene self-satisfaction, had replaced the boisterous and exuberant manner of the previous two days; and when the sun rose clear and bright on the morning of the 15th of May, aside from the super-abundance of American flags, which gave the city a holiday look, there was nothing to indicate any unusual excitement.
Although the weather was perfectly clear in the city, the fog still continued very thick in the lower bay, and outside of Sandy Hook, so that until nearly noon, when it began to clear away, nothing could be seen from the Highlands.
About noon, however, despatches began to arrive from the operator there, describing the gradual lifting of the fog.