The night was dark and muggy--an ideal time for torpedo-boat work, and extra lookouts were posted by order of the captain. Nothing of interest occurred, however, until early next morning. The ship was ploughing along at a steady gait, and those of the watch who were not on actual duty were snatching what sleep they could in out-of-the-way corners, when suddenly the call to "general quarters" was sounded. Long practice caused prompt obedience, and the various guns' crews were soon ready for action. Very few of us knew just what was on foot until the "Kid," in passing, contrived to convey the interesting information that a big Spanish fleet had been sighted dead ahead. "That's funny," remarked "Stump," trying to peer from the port. "We are not changing our course any. Surely the 'old man' doesn't intend to tackle them alone." "I guess the 'Kid' is 'stringing' us," observed Tommy, sagely. "He's up to that trick every time. We're not chasing Spanish fleets alone. The captain knows his business all right, all right." Word was brought from the upper deck presently, that we were in pursuit of a strange steamer which had been discovered lurking on the horizon. She failed to respond to our signals, and chase was made forthwith. The "Yankee's" speed soon proved superior to that of the stranger, and within an hour we had her close aboard. "It's an English tramp from the looks of her," reported "Hay," who had a choice position near the gun port. "She's got a dozen people on the bridge and they are badly scared." A blank six-pounder was fired, but she did not heed it, so a shot was fired across the stranger's bows, and she hove-to in short order. "Steamer ahoy!" came faintly to our ears from on deck. "What steamer is that?" The answer reached us in disjointed sentences, but we heard enough to set us laughing. Tommy smacked his hand upon the breech of the gun and chuckled: "It's one of those everlasting press boats. The sea is full of 'em." "What in the deuce did they run for, I wonder?" exclaimed Kennedy. "Afraid of us, I suppose. It's ticklish times around here, and I don't blame them. Press boats are not made to fight, you know." "That idea doesn't carry out their motto," drawled "Dye." "How's that?" asked Flagg, innocently. "Why, they claim that the pen is mightier than the sword, don't they?" After the laugh had subsided, "Morrie," one of the Rochester detail, who acted as a shellman in the crew of Number Eight, said seriously: "I am a great admirer of the press representatives down here, fellows. They are capable, good writers, and there is not a branch of the whole outfit that has been more faithful to duty. They were sent here to get the news, and they get it every time. There has never been a war more ably reported than this, and, although the correspondents have to hustle day and night, they still find time to keep us informed, and to give us an occasional paper from home. They are good fellows all." "Amen!" said "Hay."