CHAPTER XIX.
HOPE DEFERRED.
For a few days there was little to do beyond the never-ending routine work: scrubbing decks, cleaning paint, and polishing bright work on guns and equipments.
We were beginning to wonder if we were to lie at anchor indefinitely, and if our last chance of seeing any active service had gone by.
On the morning of Monday, August 1st, we had orders to get under way and go to sea.

Tongues began to wag at once, and before we had fairly cleared the harbor a dozen different destinations had been picked out.
It would seem as if there could be no great danger in letting the men have some knowledge of where they are bound when fairly at sea, with no beings to whom the secret might be told, save sharks and dolphins, but "Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why." The navy has little use for Jacky's brains; only his trained muscles and sinews.

There is no life that can be depended upon to take the pride of intellect out of a man like that of a sailor, as Rudyard Kipling has shown in the case of Harvey Cheyne.

We of the crew could think of many a cad on whom we would like to try the discipline.
The most popular rumor ran to this effect: we are bound for Porto Rico to take part with the "Massachusetts," "New Orleans," "Dixie," and other ships of the fleet in a bombardment of San Juan.
By the time land had faded from view, we knew that we really were bound for Porto Rico, but for what purpose we knew not.

The rumor was correct in part, at least.
We were glad to get to sea again.