officers on board the ship that a long sojourn on shipboard under such
conditions would have a very bad effect on the men.

The ship dropped down the bay to the quarantine station, starting
about noon, and there lay to, waiting, as was supposed, for the
remainder of the fleet. Suddenly, about 8 p. m., one of the torpedo
cruisers came tearing down the bay under full steam, and we heard the
message sounded through the megaphone: "Return to port. Three Spanish
cruisers within three hours' sail of the offing." It was a thrilling
moment. Officers and men were lounging, taking, as they supposed,
their last view of the American shores, without a suspicion of present
danger, when they were rapidly brought to a realizing sense that "war
is hell," by a notice that the enemy was upon them. Whether they were
in danger or not, the danger was deadly real and imminent to them at
the time.

The Cherokee had been anchored pretty well inside. She immediately got
up steam and went out to warn other vessels farther out in the offing,
and then made safely for the harbor. Officers and men behaved with
perfect coolness. It was hopeless to attempt to escape by concealment,
so Col. Comba ordered out the band of the 17th Infantry and the good
ship fled up the bay, in momentary expectation of a smashing shot from
the enemy, to the strains of "There'll be a hot time." What little
excitement there was displayed itself in a feverish searching of the
bay with field-glasses for signs of the enemy. The older officers,
upon whom the responsibility was resting, sat upon the quarter-deck,
smoking their pipes and discussing the situation. The captains quietly
moved about, assigning stations to their companies, in case of attack,
with the view of trying the effect of the modern rifle upon the
armored sides of a Spanish man-of-war, and two of the younger officers