They played with vim and precision.
It was almost dark; only the ships' outlines could be made out.

The red and white signal lights twinkled at intervals at the mastheads of different vessels, while beams of light showed on the still, dark water from open ports.

The whole fleet lay quiet while the men listened to the strains of music from the "Oregon." It was more like the rendezvous of a cruising yacht club than a fleet of warships gathered in the enemy's country.
The music from the battleship ceased, and for a moment all was still save for the lapping of the water against the ships' sides and the splash of a fish as it leaped out of water.
Suddenly and together, a shrill piping on all the ships broke the silence, followed by the hoarse cry, "All the anchor watch to muster." On all men-of-war at eight o'clock, the anchor watch is mustered.

It consists of sixteen men--eight on duty from nine till one o'clock, the other eight from one till "all hands" at 5:30.

The first part always calls its relief at one o'clock.
The mustering over, all flocked aft to hear the band again, but were disappointed, for the concert was over.
However, the men had come aft for music and music they must have in some shape.
So "Steve" the modest was dragged out, and after some persuasion sang the following to the tune of "Lou, Lou, How I Love Ma Lou." "Baron," the gunner's mate, accompanied him on the mandolin, and Eickmann, the marine corporal, helped out with his guitar.
"'Way down at the Brooklyn navy yard, Where ships are rigged for sea, Three hundred little 'heroes' Went aboard the old 'Yankee.' Oh! we were young and foolish, We longed for Spanish gore, And so they set us working As we never worked before.
CHORUS: "Hard-tack and salt-horse every day, Work, slave, for mighty little pay; And just before we get to sleep We hear the bosun pipe like this (Whistle), 'Up all hammocks, all hands.' "They turn us out each morning, To scrub our working clothes; To polish guns and bright work, To 'light' along the hose.
To wash down decks and ladders, To coil down miles of rope, To carry coal in baskets, To live on air and hope.
CHORUS: "Hard-tack and salt-horse every day, Work, slave, for mighty little pay; And when we think our work is done We hear the bosun pipe like this (Whistle), 'Turn to.' "Way down at Santiago, We fit the forts one day.
The shells were bursting o'er us, There was the deuce to pay.
We hid our inclination To run and hide below, Because we're little 'heroes,' They've often told us so.
CHORUS: "Hard-tack and salt-horse every day, Work, slave, for mighty little pay; And just as all the fight was over We heard the bosun pipe like this (Whistle), 'Gun-deck sweepers, clean sweep fore and aft.
Sweepers, clean your spit kits.' "One Saturday we anchored Just off the Isle of Pines, To load up with pineapples, And look for Spanish signs.
We called away the cutters, With seamen filled them up, And captured five small sailboats, Two Spaniards and a pup.
CHORUS: "Hard-tack and salt-horse every day, Work, slave, for mighty little pay; And when we'd like to talk it over We heard the bosun pipe this (Whistle), 'Pipe down.'" "That's great!" said one and all.
"There is just time for the 'Intermezzo' before tattoo, 'Baron,'" said "Pair o' Pants," the signal boy.