"REMEMBER THE FISH."
The following morning, after "all hands," the "Yankee" started westward
along the coast. Cienfuegos was passed, and presently the cruiser was
taken nearer shore. The lookouts were told to keep watch for horsemen
riding near the beach. This order aroused our flagging interest, and the
majority of men on board maintained a careful scrutiny of the white
strip of land just beyond the breakers.
It was not until noon, however, that our search was rewarded. It was
just after passing a deep inlet that one of the lookouts espied a group
of men gathered near the water's edge. There seemed to be a number of
them, and not far away could be seen a blue and white flag flying from a
small staff.
The engines were stopped, and a boat officered by Lieutenant Duncan, and
carrying "Hay" as interpreter, went ashore. "Hay" had spent several
years in the West Indies and was thoroughly familiar with the Spanish
language. As he was unique in that respect on board the ship, he often
did duty as interpreter.
The boat landed in a little cove. After parleying for a while, one of
the landing party was seen to wigwag. A few moments later the boat
returned, bringing three Cubans, one of whom was the Cuban governor of
Matanzas. The others were a captain and commander respectively. "Hay"
was immediately surrounded and asked to describe what he saw ashore.
"I have had the honor of photographing a detachment of the Cuban Army of
Liberation," he replied, quizzically. "To tell the truth, it looked like
a part of Coxey's army. There were about thirty of them, and the
clothing of the whole outfit wouldn't supply a New England farmer with a
season's scarecrow. They carried guns of all descriptions, some of them
with the barrels sawed off short like cavalry carbines; and not one of
the men looked as if he knew the meaning of a square meal."
"Like Washington's army at Valley Forge, eh?" observed LeValley, joining
the group.
"Yes, and they are fighting for their liberty, too."
"How did they like being photographed?" asked Tommy.
"Tickled to death. When I asked them to line up they almost fell over
each other. Next to eating, I think the poor devils love to have their
pictures taken. They were just like children, and when I pressed the
button they stood round waiting for the photograph to drop from the
kodak."
"Reminds me of the Cubans of Puerto Principe when the railway was built
to that place," put in "Zere," the chief quartermaster. "A temporary
roundhouse had been constructed, and when the first locomotive reached
the city and was placed in it to be cleaned, all the natives from miles
around gathered there. They crowded the windows and doors and were
evidently waiting for something. Finally the engineer asked one of them
what he wanted to see. 'We watch for mule to come out,' was the
startling reply."
"Mule?" echoed Flagg.
"Yes, that was the only motive power known to them," grinned "Zere."
"They thought even a Yankee engine must have a mule somewhere inside."
"That's like the natives of Guatemala," spoke up "Hop," the messenger.
"When the street cars were introduced it was the usual thing for a
native wishing to ride, to mount the platform and knock politely on the
door. Some one inside would rise and open it, and then the native would
enter and shake hands all round."
"Fancy doing that on a Broadway cable car," laughed "Stump."
Our imagination was not strong enough for that.
The Cuban guests remained with us for several hours, then went ashore,
together with a boat-load of provisions contributed by the ship.
The whaleboat returned to the ship when the watch on deck had just been
piped to supper. The other watch, therefore, had the job of pulling her
up. The steady tramp, tramp, began and the boat slowly rose up foot by
foot, till it was level with the rail, then there was a sudden jar and a
crash. In an instant six men of the crew were in the water, while the
boat floated away by itself.
There was a rush of feet on deck, loud shouts and cries of "Throw them a
rope," "Set adrift the life buoy," "Where's that life belt?" and the
like.
The men at mess jumped up, overturning cups and plates and dishes of
food. One forecastle man pulled off his jumper and dove in to help.
The sea ladder was put over the side and "Long Tommy" went down it,
taking with him a piece of line; this he slipped under the arms of
Rowland, the forecastle man, who had struck an oar on the way down, and
was hurt. The man was soon hauled up on deck. The other four were also
rescued. One went floating calmly off on the life buoy and was picked up
by the gig, and the rest caught rope-ends and were safely hauled aboard,
none the worse for their involuntary bath.
Lines were coiled down again, the sea ladder unshipped and put in its
place, and soon all was quiet and shipshape again--but we discovered
that two spit kits and a monkey-wrench had been thrown overboard to aid
the sinking sailors.
"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," quoted the "Kid," who
happened to be sweeper that week. "I won't have to polish the brass on
_those_ kits again."
Shortly after the return of the last boat, smoke was sighted to seaward.
The crew was called to general quarters without delay, and our ship
steamed out to investigate. After a brief but exciting chase, we
discovered that the supposed enemy was the auxiliary cruiser "Dixie," a
sister ship of the "Yankee." She was manned by the Maryland Naval
Reserves, and her armament was composed of six-inch breechloading
rifles, not of the rapid-fire class.
It soon became evident that her commanding officer, Commander Davis, was
superior in rank to Commander Brownson, and he took charge of affairs at
once. Captain Brownson was rowed over to the "Dixie" to pay his
respects, and on his return a rumor that we were to be relieved of coast
patrol duty by the "Dixie" and to proceed to Key West, went through the
ship like wildfire.
Tom LeValley brought the news to a group of us gathered on the after gun
deck. We were just discussing the peculiar, and apparently ridiculous,
degrees of etiquette found among naval officers in general, as
exemplified by the ranking of Commander Davis over Commander Brownson.
"They are both commanders," Tommy was explaining, "but Commander Davis
happens to rank Commander Brownson by sixteen numbers in the official
list. Both entered the service November 29, 1861, and--"
"Whoop!"
Down the ladder charged LeValley, wildly flourishing his cap. He stopped
in front of us and gasped: "Hurrah! we're going--going to the United
States, fellows."
"What's up?" demanded "Stump."
"The 'Dixie'--"
"Yes?"
"She's to relieve us, and we are ordered to Key West and then to New
York. We're going--"
"Rats!" broke in "Hay," in disgust. "You can't give us any game like
that. It's a rumor, my boy. We're never going home. The 'Yankee' is the
modern 'Flying Dutchman,' and--"
At that moment the "Kid" appeared in sight, and his beaming face
convinced us. It was glorious news, but not one of us felt like
cheering. Our emotions were too deep for that. The mere prospect of
seeing home again was enough pleasure for the moment, and we were
content to talk quietly over the welcome possibility of soon meeting
relatives and friends.
The "Yankee" was destined, however, to experience a little more service
before dropping anchor in home waters.
For several days we cruised along the coast between Casilda and
Cienfuegos. We came to know it very well; every ravine in the mountains
was familiar, every inlet in the coral-bound shore known to us. It began
to grow monotonous.
Time lay rather heavy on our hands, but not too heavy, for we were put
to work, two guns' crews at a time, coaling in a new and torrid fashion:
the coal in the after hold had not all been taken out during the
northern cruise, so it was decided to pack it in bags, two hundred
pounds to a bag, carry it forward and stack it in an unused ballast
tank.
Number Six and Number Eight guns' crews were among the first to engage
in this pleasant occupation.
We found heat enough below to supply a good-sized house all winter, so
clothing seemed unnecessary. We stripped to the waist, "Cumming," a
member of Number Six gun's crew, remarking that he thought a cool glance
and a frozen smile would be sufficient in such a warm climate.
The work was hard and dirty and the heat terrific. We saw no necessity
for the transfer. Jack never can see the need of work unless it happens
that some other crew is doing it.
We cheered ourselves, however, by singing "There's a hot time in the old
ship to-day."
While we lay close inshore, the "Dixie" cruised outside, and toward
evening the two vessels met, and together we went to Casilda, a port
near Trinidad. We stood by while the "Dixie" threw a few shells into
the fort. Two days later the "Yankee" parted from her consort and
proceeded to the Isle of Pines.
It was here one of the most laughable incidents of the cruise occurred.
While steaming past one of the outlying islands, a small fleet of
fishing sloops was discovered at anchor inshore. Under ordinary
circumstances such unimportant craft would not have been molested, but
in the present case it was suspected that they formed part of the fleet
supplying fish to the Havana market. To destroy them was our bounden
duty.
"Man the starboard fo'c'sle six-pounder and fire a shell in their
direction," ordered the captain from the bridge.
The gun was loaded in short order, and presently a projectile went
screeching across the water, dropping with a splash near the largest
sloop. Several small rowboats were seen to pull away from the smacks,
and it was evident the crews had fled in terror. Directly after dinner,
the "Yankee's" first cutter and the second whaleboat were ordered away,
manned and armed. A Colt machine gun was placed in the bow of the
former, and each carried an extra squad of armed marines.
When the expedition returned it had in tow five decked sloops, one of
which contained a quantity of fresh fish. Orders were given to attach
the latter to our stern, and to fire the others and set them adrift.
Before this was done, however, enough fish to supply the wardroom and
cabin messes were taken out.
"The crew can have its share to-morrow," quoth the captain.
The "crew" waited impatiently, but when the morrow came it was found
that, through some one's blunder, the sloop containing the fish had been
burned, and an empty one towed to sea with us. The joke, if it might be
so termed, was on the crew.
The watchword heretofore on the "Yankee," as on every one of Uncle Sam's
ships, had been "Remember the Maine." Hereafter it was "Remember the
fish." This was done so persistently that the officer who was
responsible for the blunder was dubbed "Fish," and whenever he went near
any member of the crew he was likely to hear, in a low tone, "Remember
the fish."
After leaving the Isle of Pines the eastern shore of Cuba was rounded
and a straight run made for Key West. At noon on the 27th of June, just
twenty-nine days after the "Yankee" sailed from New York, we again
entered a home port. The time was brief as time goes, but our varied
experiences in foreign waters made the sight of the stars and stripes
flaunting over American soil particularly pleasing.
As we neared our anchorage the most entrancing rumors were rife. We were
to get shore liberty without doubt, and the ship was to be coaled by
outside labor. We took no stock in the latter rumor till an officer
voiced it--then we believed. Our clean blues were furbished up, lanyards
scrubbed, and money counted. We understood that there was little to see
at Key West; that it was a dull and uninteresting place. Still it was
land, and we had not set foot ashore for almost three months.
If we had not been so anxious to get ashore we might have been able to
appreciate the marine picture.
The harbor, if it could be called a harbor, was full of war vessels,
prizes, and colliers. Three grim monitors tugged at their anchor chains,
apparently impatient at the restraint, while a few graceful, clean-cut,
converted yachts swung with the tide.
The gunboat "Wilmington," and the cruisers "Newark" and "Montgomery,"
floated with a bored air. In ship's language they said, Why are we
loafing here? Why not be up and doing?
The "Lancaster," a fine old frigate, the flagship of the commodore, had
a fatherly air and seemed to say: "Be good and you will all have a
chance."
Once more we got our shore-going clothes ready, only to be disappointed,
and again the promises made to us proved elusive. The day following our
arrival, we were told that no shore liberty would be given at Key West,
and while the reasons were all sufficient, a man who has set his mind on
an outing ashore after a hundred days at sea, finds it somewhat hard to
reconcile himself to the inevitable.
One of the hardest, if not the hardest, thing we had to bear was the
lack of letters and news from home. When one has been deprived of all
tidings from his own people for so long the longing for word of them
becomes almost unbearable.
In the midst of our toughest work we felt that a letter from home would
act like a strong tonic and brace us for the effort, and it would have
done so. But no such balm came, though we eagerly scanned every incoming
vessel for the signal "We have mail for you." Now at last, though there
might be tons on tons of coal to be put in at Key West, though the ship
might have to be scrubbed and painted from truck to water line, we felt
certain we would get letters from home. Letters that we ached for. And
so when we sighted the fleet and old fort, and realized that we had
reached Key West and mail at last, our joy was too great for utterance.
The whaleboat went ashore and brought back two bags of precious
missives, with the sad news that eight bags had been sent on a despatch
boat to the "Yankee" at Santiago.
We were glad enough to get two bags, yet we almost gnashed our teeth
when we thought of the eight fat pouches that were chasing us around the
island of Cuba.
The mail was brought to the wardroom and dumped out on the table for the
commissioned officers to sort and pick out their own letters. A
news-hungry group stood the while at the doors, watching and mentally
grumbling that such an awfully long time was being taken to accomplish
so simple a thing.
Finally the master-at-arms was sent for and the worth-its-weight-in-gold
mail turned over to him to distribute. To the gun deck poured the eager
throng. The master-at-arms backed up against the scuttle-butt for
protection, then shouted out: "Let one man from each mess get the mail;
the rest of you stand off, or you won't get any till to-morrow." The
rest of us stood to one side then, realizing that time would be thus
saved.
"Jimmy Legs" called out the names, and the representatives of the
different messes took them. We heard Kennedy's name called, and a murmur
of sympathy spread around. "Poor chap," said one, "he would give the use
of his wounded arm for that letter."
"Yes," said another; "he has to suffer homesickness as well as pain, and
a letter from home would brace him up as nothing else could."
Every man took his treasures to a quiet place, a place apart, if such
could be found, to enjoy them alone. The few who got none--well! may I
never see such disappointed, sorrowful faces again.
The letters read and pondered over awhile, tongues began to be loosened,
and soon all over the ship was heard the buzz of conversation. Chums
told each other the little items of news that to them seemed the most
important things in the world. And after all had been told and retold,
the men gathered in groups and discussed their past months' experiences.
"Do you know," said Craven (a descendant of that famous line of naval
heroes, a seaman and member of Number Thirteen six-pounder gun's crew),
"I think we are wonderfully fortunate to come through this experience
as well as we have. Just think! We have been under fire five times, and
only one man has been injured. Why," he continued, and his hearers
nodded assent, "I used to have the most awful visions--thought I saw the
men lying round our gun in heaps, while fresh ones jumped to take the
places of the fallen."
"And they would," said messenger "Hop," who happened to be passing on
his way aft to deliver an order.
The "Yankee" had seen some spirited fighting, though most of her crew
had anticipated nothing more exciting than patrol duty.
Moreover, it was almost certain that we had not seen the end of active
service. At present, however, the crew settled down once more to the
monotony of ship life in port--which is about equivalent to garrison
duty for a soldier.