Notwithstanding our own inaction (the gun deck battery was not used), there was a certain exhilaration in even listening to the sounds of conflict, and the eager, tense faces surrounding the guns reflected in the dim light of the deck lanterns such a fierce desire to fight that they were absolutely transfigured. "Can't stand this much longer," muttered "Hay," the second captain, as a peculiarly vicious report came from the direction of the "Massachusetts." "Why don't they give a fellow a chance?" [Illustration: "THE SIX-POUNDERS ON THE 'YANKEE'S' FORECASTLE JOINED IN THE CHORUS"] "Steady, men," admonished Lieutenant Greene. "Don't be impatient. Our turn will come soon. Steady!" A turn of the hull--we were under way at half speed--brought the land on the port bow just then. The moon suddenly emerged from behind the clouds, and we who were nearest the port, distinctly saw a long, black object fade into the obscurity of the coast almost directly under Morro Castle. "She's escaped!" groaned "Stump." "It's the torpedo boat, and she is safe again." As if to prove the truth of his words the guns on the "New Orleans" and "Massachusetts" became silent; then word was sent below to "secure." Our first action was disappointing, but there was little grumbling. We knew full well that momentous events were bound to occur before long. The following morning, shortly after daybreak, the torpedo boat "Porter" steamed alongside. Her coming created some excitement, and the "Yankee's" crew promptly lined the railing. "What's that object on the deck?" asked "Stump," pointing to a long brass cylinder lying abaft the after conning tower. "It's a torpedo, but not like those used in our navy," replied "Hay." Captain Brownson leaned over the end of the bridge and waved his hand to Lieutenant Fremont, the "Porter's" commander. The latter was smiling, and as we watched, he made a gesture toward the mysterious brass cylinder. "See that thing, Brownson?" he called out. The captain nodded. "It almost paid you a visit last night." "What----" "We picked it up near shore this morning and sunk another. That Spanish torpedo boat made a great attempt to sink one of our ships, and, if I am not mistaken, the 'Yankee' was her intended prey. Congratulations." As the "Porter" steamed away we felt very much like congratulating ourselves. This was grim war of a certainty. Like the boy who was blown a mile in a cyclone without injury, we experienced a certain pride that we really had been in danger. About the middle of the afternoon a signal was seen on the flagship. It was read at once, and immediately the boatswain's mate passed a call that sent a thrill of anticipation through us. It was: "All hands clear ship for action!" [Illustration: "CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION!"] CHAPTER IX. CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION.