BY YATES STIRLING, JUN.
The officer of the deck is pacing his last hour of a very dull forenoon watch upon the bridge of the U. S. S. Minneapolis. The tropical sun beats down with unflinching savageness upon his head; his eyes are restlessly scanning the horizon at every turn, but nothing has disturbed the monotony of its outline, as his sullen pacing bears witness. The sentries and men on lookout are at their stations, and are listlessly walking to and fro on the small patch of deck called their posts. Small knots of men are gathered together here and there on the spar-deck, under the shade of a boat or a gun-shield, spinning yarns or playing at sailor games. Some of the younger officers can be seen aft on the quarter-deck gazing fixedly over the wide expanse of ocean, as if they expected an enemy to rise up before them from the sea. Some of the more impulsive ones occasionally lift their voices in expostulation at the dull life they are leading, while others are seeing active service on fighting-ships. The great hull of the cruiser is slowly forging ahead in the quiet sea; her huge and powerful engines are barely turning over.
Like a picture in a kinetoscope, all this has changed. Every man on board has awakened from his lethargy. All hands are alert and gazing at the horizon to the eastward. What is the cause of this sudden awakening? Two words from the lookout in the foretop: "Sail ho!" Yes, broad on the port-bow can be seen a low line of black smoke that to any but a sailor's eye would appear to be a cloud on the distant horizon. Scarcely a quarter of an hour, and with all speed the cruiser is cutting the sea in the direction of the fast-approaching smoke.
Eager young officers have ascended into the tops to be the first to make out the character of the stranger. In the foretop are two midshipmen, still in their teens, class-mates at the Naval Academy, and stanch friends. Scarcely a thought has one the other does not share. With that reckless ambition that is one of the attributes of youth they are both longing for excitement. Their dreams of battle and glory have toppled like a castle of cards.
As yet the Minneapolis has seen no fighting; she has been doing the work cut out for her without bloodshed. Merchantman after merchantman has been overhauled and captured or ransomed in the last six months, and the cruiser's name has become the terror of the enemy's merchant marine.
Once only, while coming out of a neutral port, she had to run the gauntlet of two of the enemy's cruisers, but with her superior speed two hours sufficed to put the enemy hull-down astern, with but slight damage to the commerce-destroyer. Her orders were, on the outbreak of the war "to capture or destroy the enemy's commerce wherever met; refuse battle," and this order had been faithfully carried out. All hands had grown rich in prize-money; fresh provisions were obtained in abundance.
Coal was the problem. It had been attempted to coal at sea from captured vessels, but this mode could not be relied upon to replenish the bunkers of a ship with such a tremendous expenditure. So a certain amount of risk had to be run in coaling in neutral ports.
The Minneapolis and her two sister ships were the prizes coveted of all the enemy's cruisers. When the United States was building them other nations laughed at the idea, and put their dock-yards at work building ships of greater armament but less speed. But now they saw too late the awful advantage of these beautiful toys, as the foreign press were wont to call them, that could give or refuse battle at pleasure.
Ship after ship of the enemy's navy was in search of these "freebooters," but very few had even had the honor of coming within signal distance. One of these was the Whistle, a cruiser of a little heavier armament, but several knots less speed. The Minneapolis was in the port of St. Thomas, coaling, when this warlike hull hove in sight. Very little time was lost in putting to sea, but not before two or three shots had been exchanged, and some very taunting signals had been displayed by the disappointed ship.
All the officers and men would gladly have accepted battle, with but small fear of the result, but each and every one knew what awful odds would be on the Whistle's side. America had but a few handfuls of ships; if these were pitted against the navy of the enemy, they would be overwhelmed, annihilated. No; the quickest way to humble the foe is through her commerce. So the bitter pill had to be swallowed in silence. But the mere thought of the occurrence brought a hot flush to the cheek of every man aboard.