War is a costly thing, boys." When the quartermaster on duty came off watch he joined us in the gangway, and reported that we were steering a straight course to the southward.
"If we keep it up we'll land somewhere near the Antarctic Ocean," remarked Kennedy, doubtfully.

"I wonder--" "I know, I know," broke in the "Kid," eagerly.

"We're going for ice." The burning question was solved at daybreak.

The morning sun brought into view a stretch of highland which proved to be Cuba.

We had steamed out to sea on scouting duty, and had doubled on our tracks, as it were.
The port we found to be Guantanamo, a small place some forty miles to the eastward of Santiago.
The town itself lies on a bay connected with the sea by a tortuous and winding channel.