That night every ship in the fleet was provided with telephone service. I appointed the _Olympia_ to be the central office, so that I might myself control all the messages, or at least hear them as they passed to and fro. In the absence of ladies from the fleet, I appointed a somewhat effeminate subaltern to the post of "Hello Officer," with complete control over the switch-board. And, as it transpired, this was a very wise precaution, because the central office was placed in the hold, and the poor little chap's courage was so inclined to ooze that in the midst of the fight he was content to sit below the water-line at his post, and not run about the promenade-deck giving orders while under fire. I have cabled the President about him, and have advised his promotion. His heroic devotion to the switch-board ought to make him a naval attaché to some foreign court, at least. I trust his bravery will ultimately result in his being sent to the Paris Exposition as charge d'affaires in the Erie Canal department of the New York State exhibit. But to return to my despatch--which from this point must disregard space and move quickly. Passing Cape Bolinao, we soon reached Subig Bay, fifty miles from Manila. Recognizing the cape by the crop of hemp on its brow, I rang up the _Boston_ and the _Concord_. "Search Subig Bay," I ordered. "Who's this?" came the answer from the other end. "Never mind who I am," said I. "Search Subig Bay for Spaniards." "Hello!" said the _Boston_. "Who the deuce are you?" cried the _Concord_. "I'm seventeen-five-six," I replied, with some sarcasm, for that was not my number. "I want sixteen-two-one," retorted the _Boston_. "Ring off," said the _Concord_. "What do you mean by giving me seventeen-five-six?" "Hello, _Boston_ and _Concord_," I put in in commanding tones. "I'm Dewey." This is the only false statement I ever made, but it was in the interests of my country, and my reply was electrical in its effect. The _Boston_ immediately blew off steam, and the _Concord_ sounded all hands to quarters. "What do you want, Commodore?" they asked simultaneously. "Search Subig Bay for Spaniards, as I have already ordered you," I replied, "and woe be unto you if you don't find any." "What do you want 'em for, Commodore?" asked the _Boston_. "To engage, you idiot," I replied, scornfully. "What did you suppose--to teach me Spanish?" Both vessels immediately piped all hands on deck and set off. Two hours later they returned, and the telephone subaltern reported, "No Spaniards found." "Why not?" I demanded. "All gone to Cuba," replied the _Boston_. "Shall we pipe all hands to Cuba?" "Wires too short to penetrate without a bust," replied the _Concord_. "On to Manila!" was my answer. "Ding the torpedoes--go ahead! Give us Spaniards or give us death!"