Our ocean voyage from the Atlantic coast to the Fortress of Gibraltar was beset with difficulties, due to a severe storm we encountered the second day out, in which one of our cutters or life-boats was washed away. This it seems was picked up by a “liner” _en route_ to Havre, France, and, as we were four days overdue at Gibraltar, it was believed that the cruiser had gone down with all on board. Some time later along the African coast, it was amusing to read, in the Paris edition of the New York _Herald_, our own obituary, and to see the picture of the “flag-ship” and her crew going down to “Davy Jones’s locker.” The storm abated as we came in sight of the Madeira Islands, but, owing to our being overdue at the “Rock,” we were compelled to pass this beautiful place without stopping. The voyage from the Madeiras to the straits was quite calm, and we were again able to eat soup without the aid of a dipper. When off duty I spent a great deal of time playing chess and reading. We had an excellent library stocked with the best editions from the pens of the most famous authors; besides a piano and excellent performers, among these being the ship’s printer, E. Ludwig, well known prior to his enlistment by the author. As outlines of the “Pillars of Hercules” appeared on the horizon, it was evident that in a very few hours we would be plowing the waters of the great Mediterranean Sea. The quartermaster and signal-men were busy getting their signal-flags in shape, ammunition was hoisted for the salute, and the marine guard and band were busy policing themselves for the part they had to play in entering a foreign port. Passing through the Straits of Gibraltar, which separate the mainland of Europe and Africa, we beheld, looming into the clouds, the most magnificent and impregnable fortress of the world, Gibraltar. As we entered the bay of Algesiras, the huge guns of the fortress and battleships of various nations belched forth an admiral’s salute of thirteen guns; these were responded to by the American “flag-ship.” Gibraltar is an impregnable promontory fortress, seven miles around at the base, and forms the southern extremity of Spain. It is fourteen hundred and forty feet high at its highest point, is studded with disappearing guns, and its honeycombed caverns contain munitions of war for a campaign of many years. The population of Gibraltar is composed of English, Spaniards, Jews, and Moors. A causey separates the town from the mainland of Spain. The British side is patrolled by British soldiers, who are so close to the Spanish sentries that the challenge can be heard at night by either side. We remained in Gibraltar ten days, and had the pleasure of meeting a large number of English soldiers and sailors at the “Royal Naval Canteen,” where we swapped stories over a can of “shandy gaff,” which is a mixture of stout and ginger ale.