It was only when our ship was on the top of the roll that we could make out our chase at all—­nothing but a wall of water could be seen when we lay in the trough.

“That boat is certainly doing her best to get away,” said “Bill.”  “And, holy smoke! see how she rolls.”

“She can’t trot in our heat,” said “Dye.”  “We’re gaining on her every minute.”

“She’s not a warship,” said “Long Tommy,” who was lucky enough to possess a pair of glasses.  “I wonder if we’re going to get a prize at last?”

“You forget the fishing sloops.  ‘Remember the fish,’” laughed “Hay.”

The two vessels came nearer and nearer, till finally they were within hailing distance.

“What ship is that?” called out Captain Brownson, through the megaphone.  “And where are you bound?”

The answer came faintly over the tossing waves:  “The ‘Burton,’ with coal for Santiago from Guadeloupe.”

“Ah, ha!” said Tommy, “we get a prize at last.”

“Wait a minute,” said “Stump,” “he is saying something else.”

A gust of wind came at that moment and carried most of the sound away, but we gathered that our hoped-for prize had papers from our consul allowing her free passage.

There was a universal groan of disappointment, and when the order was given to “secure,” the hose was pulled up with unnecessary violence, hatches were lowered, and gun closets closed with no gentle hands.  Such keen disappointment must somehow find a vent.

There was great excitement the following afternoon when the word was passed for all hands to get out their leggings and to wear shoes to midday quarters.  And when we were arranged into companies, and had haversacks, canteens, and knapsacks doled out to us, we concluded that a landing party would be made up for Porto Rico.

“The ‘old man’ is going to show the ‘Spinache’ that the ‘Yankee’ boys can fight on land as well as on sea,” said Tommy, as he yanked at an obstinate haversack strap.

We marched round and round the spar deck to the music of bugle and drum till we got well into the swing of it, and felt very martial and formidable indeed.

The “Dixie” hove in sight at this juncture, and after a long megaphone conversation, we learned that the “Massachusetts,” for which we had some ammunition, was on her way to Guantanamo, so we reluctantly turned around and retraced our way, the “Dixie” leading.  Porto Rico was not for us.  Alas!

We felt like

    “The King of France and his hundred thousand men
     Drew their swords and put them up again.”

The next morning we hove-to a Norwegian steamer, the “Marie,” and before we realized what was being done, we found that we had a prize at last.  A snug little steamer she was, well loaded down with coal for Cervera’s fleet.

“Cutlets” went over in a whaleboat, with a prize crew of six men.

“Well, well! this is almost too good to be true,” said an after guard.  “This is great luck.  We capture a prize and get rid of ‘Cutlets’ at the same time.”