“Well, how did you get out of it?” said I, when “Stump” paused to breathe.

“I was nearly scared to death,” he continued, after a minute or two.  “My name was not called, and the rank thinned out till there were only a few of us left.  I began to think that some special punishment was being reserved for me, and that the captain was waiting so he could think it over.  What my offence was I could not imagine; my conscience was clear, I vow.  As I stood there in the sun I thought over the last few days, and made a confession to myself, but couldn’t think of anything very wicked.  Had I unintentionally blocked a marine sentry’s way and thus interfered with him in the performance of his duty?  I had visions at this point of myself in the ‘brig,’ existing on bread and water.  Had I inadvertently gone into ‘Cutlet’s’ pet after wheel-house?  I was in a brown study, conjuring up imaginary misdeeds, when a voice sounded in my ear:  ’Here, my man; what do you want?’ I looked around, dazed, at the captain, who stood by, the closed report book in his hand.  Then I realized that my being there was a mistake, so I saluted and said, ‘Nothing, sir.’”

“That’s a very nice tale,” said “Dye.”  “We’ll have to get ‘Mac’ to verify it.”

“It’s straight,” protested “Stump.”  “Ask the skipper himself if you want to.”

The old boat ploughed her way through the blue waters of the Gulf Stream at the rate of from fourteen to fifteen knots an hour.  The skies were clear and the sun warm and bright—­cool breeze tempered its heat and made life bearable.  The ship rolled lazily in the long swell and the turquoise wake boiled astern.  We steamed for days without sighting a sail or a light; we were “alone on a wide, wide sea.”  At times schools of dolphins would race and shoot up out of the water alongside, much to our glee.  All the beauties of these tropical waters were new to us.  Every school of flying fish and flock of Mother Carey’s chickens brought crowds to the rail.  The sunsets were glorious, though all too short, and the sunrises, if less appreciated, just as fine.

At night the guns’ crews of the “watch on deck” slept round their loaded guns, one man of each crew always standing guard.  The men of the powder divisions manned the lookout posts.

All hands were in good spirits, calmed somewhat, however, by the thought that soon we might be in the thick of battle, the outcome of which no man could tell.

It was during this voyage that friendships, begun on the Block Island-Barnegat cruise, were cemented.  The life aboard ship tended to “show up” a man as he really was.  His good and bad qualities appeared so that all might see.  Was he good-natured, even-tempered, thoughtful, his mates knew it at once and liked him.  Was he quick-tempered, selfish, uncompanionable, it was quite as evident, and he had few friends.  Sterling and unsuspected qualities were brought out in many of the men.

Every man felt that we must and would stand together, and with a will do our work, be it peaceful or warlike.