The rolling crests of the swells would be whitened with the gleam of thousands of diamonds. The reflection of the light beams made bands of purple and deep green upon the water. The stars lost their brightness. It was as if the Yankee ships had reached out and stolen a good share of the strength of the sun--which actually was the case from the standpoint of science--had stored it in their holds and then had sprung it at night, just to show what could be done in the way of robbing the powers of darkness of their evil aspect. For half an hour the thrilling exhibition continued and just as you were preparing to throw up your hat and give three cheers for Uncle Sam and his navy an officer brought you back to you feet with the quiet remark: "Why, that isn't a patch compared with the real thing! This was just a sort of tuning up process, no more to be compared with the real thing than the tuning of a piano is to be compared with a Paderewski performance." You thought him a little strong in his analogy until of a sudden all the lights went out and there were sixteen battleships quietly sailing along a sea as smooth as Long Island Sound in the summer time, with only regulation lights showing, distances kept perfectly and nothing to indicate that there had been anything out of the ordinary in a sedate and peaceful passage from one port to another. An unexpected use of the searchlights followed about thirty hours after this first display. It was 2:30 o'clock of the second morning after when the unforeseen happened. A gun on the Missouri boomed out. It was the signal for a man overboard. At once the life buoys were cast off from the ship, their lights burning brightly, and the Missouri and the entire eight ships of the second squadron, running parallel with the squadron that Admiral Evans was leading, burst into a blaze of light. In two minutes the entire fleet was stopped. Boats were lowered from the Missouri, the Illinois and Kearsarge following. The searchlights were thrown upon the water and upon the boats, showing the men at work rowing about and searching for the lost man. It made a brilliant scene in the dead of night. Carefully and systematically the boats were rowed about for half an hour. Then, when it was evident that if a man had fallen overboard he had been lost, perhaps by striking a propeller or being hit by some other part of the ship, recalls were given and the boats returned to the ships and the squadron proceeded. At that time the Missouri signalled that she was not sure she had lost a man, but a sentry had thought he had seen one fall overboard. Later the facts came out. The alarm was given by a man who had a sailor's nightmare. No one was found missing at roll call the next morning and every one felt so sheepish that no formal report was made.