The night broke rapidly.  In the east a rosy tinge proclaimed the coming sun.  Just as the first glitter of the fiery rim appeared above the horizon, a gray, damp mist swept across the water, coming like an impenetrable wall between the “Yankee” and the chase.

[Illustration:  “Stand by, men.  Be ready for instant action".]

CHAPTER V.

A wild goose chase.

A howl of disappointment went up from the crew.

“Oh, if she was only within range,” cried “Hay,” smiting the breech of the five-inch rifle with his hand.  “Just one shot, just one shot.”

“Guns’ crews will remain at stations,” ordered the first lieutenant from near the ladder.  “Stand by, men.  Be ready for instant action.”

“Hurray! the old man won’t give it up,” cheered “Stump,” under his voice.  “That’s the stuff.  Now, if only that measly fog lifts and we get a trifle nearer, we’ll do something for the old flag.”

The minutes passed slowly.  It was heartbreaking work, this waiting and watching, and there was not one of the “Yankee’s” crew but would have given a year’s pay to have seen the mist lift long enough to bring us within range.

Suddenly, just as the fervent wish was trembling on our lips, “Hod Marsh,” who was near the port, cried out joyfully: 

“She’s fading, fellows, she’s fading!”

Like a theatre curtain being slowly raised, the mist lifted from the surface of the water.  Little by little the expanse of ocean became visible, and at last we, who were watching eagerly, saw the hull of a steamer appear, followed by masts and stack and upper rigging.  An exclamation of bitter disappointment came from Tommy.  “Durned if it ain’t an old tramp!” he groaned.  “Fellows, we are sold.”

And so it proved.

The fog lifted completely in the course of an hour and we secured a good view of our “will o’ the wisp” of the night’s chase.  It was a great lumbering tramp, as high out of the water as a barn, and as weather-stained as a homeward-bound whaler.  She slouched along like a crab, each roll of the hull showing streaks of marine grass and barnacles.  There was little of man-o’-war “smartness” in her make-up, of a verity.

For several days the “Yankee” cruised up and down the coast between Delaware Breakwater and Block Island.  Many vessels were sighted, and on two occasions it was considered expedient to sound “general quarters,” but nothing came of it.  We finally concluded that the enemy were fighting shy of the vicinity of New York, and all began to long for orders to the southward.

Drill followed drill during these waiting days.  Target practice was held whenever practicable, and the different guns’ crews began to feel familiar with the rapid-fire rifles.

The men, accustomed to a life of ease and plenty, found this first month’s work an experience of unparalleled hardship.