The bay presented a lively appearance with the innumerable little launches and despatch boats darting about from ship to ship.  Vessels went alongside sailing colliers to have their bunkers replenished; other ships entered or left at all hours; signals were continually flying from the flagship; occasionally a Spanish launch bearing a flag of truce would come down from the town, and in the midst of it all the crews of the different men-of-war worked on in the accustomed routine, as if peace and war, drills and fighting, were all a part of man’s ordinary existence.

Over a month ago we had sailed into this harbor with the “Marblehead”; the ship cleared for action, the crews at their loaded guns, and the battle ensigns flying from fore and mainmast, as well as from taffrail.  This time we entered the bay with a feeling that we were to take part in a great naval spectacle.

As soon as we joined the fleet we became amenable to fleet discipline.  All orders for routine work came from the flagship.  “Quarters” were held but twice a day instead of three times, and then they were short and, therefore, sweet.

Each morning at eight o’clock, when a war vessel is in port, the bugler plays “colors,” while the drummer beats three rolls; those of the crew who are under the open sky stand at attention, silent, facing aft, where the flag is being hauled slowly to its place.  At the completion of the call all hands salute; then the work is carried on.  It is a beautiful ceremony.

Saluting the “colors” morning and evening is not merely a mark of respect for the Government of the nation, but is an act of worship to the God of nations—­a silent prayer for guidance and care and an expression of thankfulness.

Shortly after “colors” the morning following our arrival at Guantanamo, orders were given to “turn to” on the ammunition.  Launches and barges from other warships came alongside, and the charges of powder and the shells were transferred to them.

When this cargo of deadly explosive began to come aboard a “magazine watch” was set.  The ammunition was stowed in all parts of the ship—­forward, main, and after holds were filled.  A watch was set on each of the holds.  It was their duty to watch the temperature day and night and to report the same to the officer of the deck every half hour.  Extreme care was taken to guard against fire.  In case fire was discovered, it was the duty of the man on watch to run and turn on the water—­the key for the valve which regulated this being always carried on his wrist.  Then he must notify the officer of the deck, shouting “fire” as he went, after which he must go back and with the hose endeavor to put out the blaze.

Constant, wide-awake, alert watchfulness was necessary.  It was hot and close below, and at night it was almost impossible to keep awake.  It is difficult enough to keep wide awake for an hour’s lookout on deck, when there is much to see and the air is brisk and invigorating, but it is quite a different matter to be roused in the middle of the night to stand two hours’ watch in a close, hot hold, where nothing more interesting than cases of powder and the bare, blank sides of the ship are to be seen.