Stewart saw away up the harbor a speck of light, as if from a lantern, which moved rapidly, as though it were being carried by some one running along a deck. Then it paused and disappeared from view. In a second a tremendous flame shot up hundreds of feet into the air, and the glare of it was so intense that it seemed close aboard. The flash and shock were so stupendous that the guard-ships, though far out to sea, trembled and shivered like the men who watched and were blinded. The sound of the explosion which followed seemed to shake sea and sky. It was like a hundred thunder-claps, and they could hear the echoes of it go rolling down across the water until it was swallowed up in the silence of the night. That was all. The officers and the men looked at one another in mute horror. Could anything have lived in the area of that dreadful explosion? The tension upon the men of the little fleet was almost at the breaking point. Every eye was strained towards the harbor and every ear caught eagerly at the faintest sound. Officers and men frequently asked one another the question, “Have you heard anything yet?” with always the same reply. The vessels beat to and fro between the harbor-entrances, firing rockets and guns for the guidance of possible fugitives. And the doleful sound of that gun made the silences the more depressing. All night long did the fleet keep vigil, but not a shot, a voice, or even a splash came from the harbor. With the first streaks of dawn the Americans were aloft with their glasses. On the rocks at the northern entrance, through which the “Intrepid” had passed, they saw a mast and fragments of vessels. When the mist cleared they saw that one of the enemy’s largest gunboats had disappeared and two others were so badly shattered that they lay upon the shore for repairs. The details of the occurrence were never actually known, but it is thought that Somers, being laid aboard by three gunboats before actually in the midst of the shipping, and feeling himself overpowered, fired his magazine and destroyed himself and his own men in his avowed purpose not to be taken by the enemy. Thus died Richard Somers, Henry Wadsworth, the midshipman, Joseph Israel, and ten American seamen, whose names have been inscribed on the navy’s roll of fame. Nothing can dim the honor of a man who dies willingly for his country. THE PASSING OF THE OLD NAVY OLD SALTS AND NEW SAILORS Since ballad-mongering began, the sea and the men who go down to it in ships have been a fruitful theme; and the conventional song-singing, horn-piping tar of the chanteys is a creature of fancy, pure and simple. Jack is as honest as any man. Aboard ship he goes about his duties willingly, a creature of habit and environment, with a goodly respect for his “old man” and the articles of war. Ashore he is an innocent,--a brand for the burning, with a half-month’s pay and a devouring thirst.