The fort, showing signs of reanimation, was treated to another bombardment, which effectually settled it.

A small fishing hamlet composed of a dozen flimsy huts of bamboo was set on fire and burned to the ground.

When we left Guantanamo shortly after dark, bound back for Santiago, we had the satisfaction of knowing that one more blow had been struck against Spanish rule in the fair isle of Cuba.
At dawn the following day, Santiago was sighted.

The fleet was still lying off the entrance like a group of huge gray cats watching a mouse hole.

As we passed in, the flagship began signalling, and it soon became noised about the ship that we had received orders to leave for Mole St.
Nicholas after dark.
"It looks as if the 'Yankee' will come in handy as a messenger boy," said "Stump." "When the admiral wants 'any old thing' he tells his flag officer to send the Naval Reserve ship." "It's a good thing to be appreciated," grinned "Dye." "To tell the truth, though, I'd rather be on the move than lying here watching the land." "We don't want to be away when Cervera comes out," remarked Flagg.
"When he comes out," retorted "Stump," emphasizing the first word meaningly.