Sunday found the ship off Block Island and Monday evening found her heading north. Just as the watch off duty was beginning to snore peacefully, the bugle sounded the call for general quarters. In a moment the gun deck lights were switched on and ladders and hatches were choked with men piling to their stations. Masters-at-arms were unceremoniously rousting out rookies from their hammocks. In barely more time that it has taken to write this paragraph the guns were cast loose, ammunition was provided and the big naval bulldog was in fighting trim. One afternoon the battalion had boat drill. Cutters were lowered and with boat guns working and the landing party armed with rifles there was a pretty bit of excitement. A day later the heavy guns belched at a signal station ashore, which crumbled to theoretic dust. Then the naval militiamen were mustered at division quarters and a day’s ration was issued to each man, a two-pound tin of canned beef to each pair of men and five or ten hard tack (or ship biscuit) to each man and a canteen full of water or coffee, as the man elected. The call came for arm and away boats. With a Colt automatic in the bow of each cutter the party landed, going into extended order, while a detail took possession of the telegraph and the telephone station. The long line of blue swarmed over a strip of sand and a bit of swale to a knoll. Then began two hours’ hard work. Through wire grass and sand grass, through bushes and brush, across swamp and swale, by farmhouses and barns, alongside lily ponds, the bending blue line advanced, officers pointing the way with swords and squad leaders attempting to keep the files at eight pace intervals. Following an advance of four miles in such manner the “enemy” was located behind the crest of a steep and high hill. The order for a charge was given and with a yell the men sprinted forward under a heavy shower of fireworks. Ensign Northam was the first up San Juan Hill and it was reported that the historian was the last to reach the summit. At this juncture the heavens opened and rain came down in buckets. After a quarter of an hour in the downpour the battalion started on the return of four miles. The hike was at route step. At the beach the oarsmen had a stiff pull against wind and tide in boats loaded to the gunwales. But the young salts were in fine spirits and when the order came to “shift to anything dry” it was received as a joke. The chief boatswain’s mate of the Panther was C. K. Claussen, the Claussen who accompanied Hobson on the Merrimac and was confined in the Spanish prison near Santiago. At the end of the week, when the Panther left the squadron, her course lay between the Olympia, Dewey’s flagship in the Battle of Manila Bay, and the Brooklyn, Schley’s in the capture of Cervera. To each was given a salute with the bugle and the lining of the rail. The Brooklyn’s band rendered a patriotic air.