CHAPTER XIII.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
The finger of light sweeping the heavens above the distant horizon meant to us the presence either of friend or foe, and the question was one we had little desire to solve at that moment.

Rumors of Spanish warships lurking in the waters adjacent to Cuba were rife, and it had even been stated that another squadron inferior only to Cervera's fleet was somewhere in the neighborhood.
We of the "Yankee" were willing, and I may say, without undue boasting, eager to meet any vessel of equal size or even larger, but to give battle to a whole fleet was a little too much.

Nevertheless, when the word was passed to go to "general quarters," there was no sulking nor hesitancy.
The battery was ready in record time.
Our gun was placed in trim, ammunition hatches opened, cartridges whipped on deck, and the piece prepared for instant use so rapidly that the officer of the division, Lieutenant Greene, gave us warm praise.
Then we waited.
It is difficult for a layman--a citizen who has not experienced the test of action and danger in battle--to understand or appreciate our feelings that night.

It is hard to describe them, to paint with mere words the intense seriousness and gravity of the situation.

You can imagine a dark night at sea--a night so black that the senses feel oppressed.