BY LIEUTENANT YATES STIRLING, JUN., U. S. N.
The night is dark and cloudy, and a heavy mist hovers over the entrance to the highly fortified port of ——. Like gigantic aquatic ghosts a fleet of American men-of-war is cautiously and silently approaching this strong-hold of the enemy. Every light on board the vessels is masked, and the lookouts are vigilantly peering into the darkness, for fear that one of the swift and unmerciful torpedo-boats of the enemy steal unseen and unheard upon their ship and launch its deadly charge of destruction.
The American squadron, six huge battle-ships and four fast cruisers, accompanied by ten sea-going torpedo-boats, have been detailed by the commander-in-chief to attack and capture this important naval station. Within safe distance from the forts on the harbor's entrance the squadron's mighty engines are stopped, and the ships soon cease to forge ahead in the quiet sea. One of the swift little crafts, then another and another, noiselessly runs alongside the Admiral's ship, and an officer from each climbs the precipitous side of the battle-ship. They make their way at once to the cabin of the Admiral.
"I have dangerous work for you and your little vessels, gentlemen," is their commander's quiet explanation, as the lieutenants remove their caps, and group themselves in respectful attention around their gray-haired superior. "Your small flotilla is to make an attack on the enemy's fleet in the harbor yonder; the entrance is narrow, and too early a discovery means failure to the expedition if not annihilation to yourselves. No. 5 will lead the column, for her commanding officer is familiar with the harbor, and will be a valuable guide on this dark night. The plan is to make a simultaneous attack on the fleet, and unless they are very much on the alert and ready with their guns, you should render a good account of the night's work. After your purpose has been accomplished, or you have been driven off, join me at the entrance to the bay. I will move to the attack as soon as you are discovered. The army is co-operating with us, and even now we should hear the distant roar of their guns."
Many an eye is dim and voice husky with emotion as the officers grasp the Admiral's hand in parting, and listen to his kind and encouraging words. When the torpedo lieutenants reach the deck, their small commands are lying alongside the flag-ship, steam pouring from their miniature escape-pipes, a dumb protest to be off.
As the Lieutenant of No. 5 reaches the conning-tower of his little boat, the flotilla is going at full speed, nearly twenty-five knots an hour, in column, his vessel in the lead. They are heading for the sombre outline of the distant land where he knows is the entrance to the harbor.
By his side stands a young ensign, his assistant, looking fixedly out into the night. Not a word is spoken. Each knows his life is to be staked at awful odds for his country.
Death has always seemed of little consequence to these young lives. They have in the few years of their lives barely given it a thought, but now in the little tomb of the conning-tower they are almost face to face with the grewsome intangible hereafter. They think of the time when as children they have whispered their prayers at their mothers' knees—prayers almost forgotten; but they come back to them now with startling clearness, and are mentally repeated, coming like a soothing draught of water to a thirsty mortal. On flies the little craft, while behind her noiselessly follow her nine sisters. The big battle-ships have long since been swallowed up in the black night.
The ever-watchful officers, as they stand in the confined space of the wheel-house, protected by three inches of steel from the cool breeze that the speed of the boat makes as she rushes madly along, are gazing through the small apertures in the metal, straining their eyes to see the first obstacle that dare be in their way. They see naught but darkness. They have been into the harbor before, to a great naval review given in commemoration of some important event in history. How different were the circumstances! Then the holders of the naval station were friends, and held out a cheerful welcome. Lights were upon the rugged and dangerous coast to show the mariner the many hidden dangers, and to navigate him clear of the many treacherous shoals and rocks. But now a difference had arisen between the two nations that could not be arbitrated, so they had resorted to cruel war to settle their difficulties. No lights are visible save now and then a small flicker from a fisherman's hut, and it is doubtful whether the small visitors will reach the harbor, even though they escape the steel from the guns that are surely soon to play upon them. The Lieutenant is the first to break the silence.
"We have tough work ahead, Church. Heaven only knows whether we will ever come out of this death-trap alive."