The Elfrida steamed out of the bay as the storm was breaking, on her way to Sandy Hook and the yacht races with Governor Chamberlain on board. The sou’wester rose into a gale. Seas broke high over the weather rail to fly across the engine room skylight. The officers on the bridge and the quartermaster on watch were soon soaked to the skin in spite of oilskins and pea coats. It was a fierce night and the brave little ship had a nervy tussle with the gale. At 3 o’clock in the morning the Elfrida put into Huntington Bay and dropped anchor, finding that five large steamers were there riding out the night, among them the Tremont of the Joy Line, and the Shinnecock. Stormbound sailing craft were also in the bay. Soon after the hook went down it was found to be dragging, then the ship was taken farther inshore and both starboard and port anchors were let drop, with a good length of cable. Later a distress sign was sighted on a yacht out in the open water. A volunteer boat crew pulled out and found the vessel to be the schooner Rosina, from New Haven, owned by an amateur who had a sailing master, three women and a cook on board. The owner seasick, the sailing master called the cook for a moment to the wheel, while he stepped down into the cabin for a chart. The cook lost his head and, while in the wind, the schooner’s main-topmast snapped and her fore-topsail carried away. The rescuing boat crew found the women hysterical and with life preservers adjusted. The men from the Elfrida cleared away the wreckage. Early in the fall the division entertained members of H Company, Naval Brigade, M. V. M., of Springfield, at Camp Parker with an old-time shore clambake. The camp had become increasingly popular and for a number of years nearly every Saturday or Sunday afternoon in midsummer attracted division men to the place, and in “whites” the boys kept busy making things snug in the galley or policing the grounds or taking a spin in a pulling boat below. November 18 brought an extraordinary spectacle—a book bee. At our bell in the first watch, Librarian Palmer and Jack-o’-the-Shelf McDonald broke out their accessioning system and the smoking lamp was lighted. The books given made a startling list. Tolstoy’s “Resurrection” was found sandwiched between “Alice in Wonderland” and a volume of Lighthouse Reports. General Miles, Kipling, Morgan Robertson and Roosevelt were popular authors. This is history, not romance. An entertainment followed the book bee. Clog dancing on the foc’s’le head, nautical songs, selections on cordage and dead eyes by a banjo quintet and a sword dance by Coxswain Watson made up the backbone of the evening. It was seven bells when the rejoicing ceased and the merrymakers heaved out of the armory, all on soundings and under easy canvas, except the supposed contributor of “Resurrection,” who scudded away under a double-reefed fore-topsail.