“The sight I saw when I opened the outer door of the little house almost knocked me silly,” broke in Tom, rather excitedly. “There in the other room gleamed—”
“When Patrick reached the second floor,” interrupted Bill, raising his voice, “he felt something strike him full in the chest; then two hairy arms clasped him about the throat and—”
“In the other room gleamed two—”
“Oh, give a fellow a chance, will you?” cried Bill. “You want the whole floor. What do you think—”
“Sh-h-h! here comes the executive officer,” hastily whispered “Stump.” “We’ve made too much racket. Let’s go into the after wheel-house.”
“We must be quiet about it,” spoke up the “Kid,” warningly. “‘Cutlets’ is chasing around to-night, and if he catches us in there he’ll raise Cain.”
“All right,” replied Bill. “And I’ll finish that story if I have to stay up all night.”
“Same here,” retorted Tom, with evident determination. “Come on.”
And we all followed the twain.
CHAPTER X.
We bombard Santiago de Cuba.
The after wheel-house on board the “Yankee” was a round structure of steel built on the spar deck directly over the counter. It contained a steering wheel to be used in case the wheel in the pilot-house should be disabled. When the chill winds of May and early June were blowing off the northern coast during the “Yankee’s” period of cruising in that vicinity, the after wheel-house formed a snug and comfortable retreat for the men of the watch.