"This is war," said Caleb, as he read the news from the paper that one of the gunners had just brought on board. "Those fellows on the _Winslow_ caught it hot. Think of running right into that harbor and having a shell drop and smash your boiler and send the live steam all over you. I tell you Ensign Bagley was a plucky one, all honor to his memory." The next day brought even more important news. Dewey had gained a foothold in the Philippines, the main city of Cuba was in a state of blockade, and now Rear-Admiral Sampson had shifted the scene of action to Porto Rico, by shelling the forts of San Juan, the principal city of Spain's only other possession in the West Indies. "We're getting there!" cried Caleb, excitedly. "We'll soon give the Dons all they want." "If Sampson succeeds in making the San Juan forts surrender, the whole city will be at our mercy," said Walter. "Hurrah for the American navy, and every ship and man in it." "We are bound to get them on the run," put in Si. "Here is another report about a fight at Cienfuegos. Where is that?" "On the southern coast of Cuba," answered Walter, who had always had a good head for geography, and who, since the war had started, had studied the map of Cuba closely. "Havana, San Juan, and Manila! Say, but this is becoming a war of magnificent distances." "It's a naval war, that's what it is," said Caleb. "If we--hullo! Did any of you see this telegram?" He pointed to his newspaper. "The Spanish Squadron under Admiral Cervera has slipped away from Cape Verde Islands and is undoubtedly bound westward." "And here is another report that some strange vessels, supposed to be warships, have been sighted off Martinique, Windward Island," added Walter, quickly. "I'll wager we leave soon!" "But where to--the Windward Islands?" queried Si. "That's for Commodore Schley to decide. Rest assured he'll find this Admiral Cervera sooner or later, just as Dewey found old Admiral Montojo." The news was spreading, and officers and men gathered in knots to discuss the situation. As for Commodore Schley and Captain Cook, they smiled knowingly, but said nothing. Everybody in the Flying Squadron remembered what Dewey and his men had accomplished, and all were on their mettle accordingly. CHAPTER XI THE SAILING OF THE FLYING SQUADRON "We are off at last!" It was Walter who broke the news, as he came tumbling down the stairs to the berth deck, where Si and Caleb were engaged in a friendly game of checkers on the top of a ditty-box. "Off!" cried the old gunner, and leaped up, scattering the men on the checkerboard in all directions. "Who told you?" "The signal has just been hoisted on the military mast. I couldn't read it, but Sandram could and he translated it for me."