We listened with eager ears for the final order before sailing, “All hands on the cat falls,” and just before noon we heard it.  In ready response the men came tumbling up, and in a jiffy the anchor was pulled up as if it weighed five hundred, instead of five thousand pounds.

The leadsman stood on his little platform and sang out, as he heaved the lead, the number of fathoms.  It was the last touch we had of Cuban soil.

As the old ship gathered headway, cheer after cheer rang out from the ships that were left behind, and in answer to each, our crew, which had gathered on the forecastle, gave three rousing hurrahs and a tiger.

So we sailed out of Guantanamo Bay for the last time.

It was with a feeling of sadness mixed with joy that we watched the headland, that stands like a guard on one side of the bay, disappear in the haze.  We were one of the first ships to enter its then hostile portals.  We had gained renown there; we had seen the American flag raised on its beautiful shores, and but a few minutes ago we heard a ringing American cheer come over its clear waters, bidding us Godspeed and a joyful home coming.

The voyage home was like a triumphal journey.  All hands were in high spirits.  The gloom of a few hours before was dispelled by the talismanic words, “‘Yankee’ and ‘Niagara’ will sail for Tompkinsville.”

Though we were exceedingly glad, there was a good deal of quiet thinking going on.

One and all realized that we had been exposed to no ordinary dangers.  Danger from the enemy’s fire; danger from a deadly climate; danger from the effects of unaccustomed labor; danger from wind and raging sea.  We had been brought through safe and sound by an all-wise God to lead peaceful, useful, and, it is hoped, helpful lives at home.

This same thought had been in our minds many times before, and with the feeling of thankfulness would come a sense of surprise that we should pass through it all without harm.

We sped on and on, the ship’s prow ever pointed North.  We watched the water to note the change in color; to see when the blue water of the Gulf Stream should be left behind and the green northern sea should be entered.

As we neared New York our impatience grew with every added mile, and this eagerness was felt by officers as well as men.

We sometimes forgot that our officers were capable of feeling disappointment, impatience, and joy; that they also had to stand watch and get along on short allowance of sleep; that they, too, were subject to annoyances as well as we.  If we had not felt this before, we fully realized, now, how much our officers had done for us.

Lieutenants Duncan, Greene, and Barnard, Dr. McGowan, Ensigns Dimock and Andrews, always treated us fairly and honestly.

Every man has a deep-seated feeling of loyalty and affection for them that will last as long as life shall last.