"And where are you bound ?" The answer came faintly over the tossing waves: "The 'Burton,' with coal for Santiago from Guadeloupe." "Ah, ha!" said Tommy, "we get a prize at last." "Wait a minute," said "Stump," "he is saying something else." A gust of wind came at that moment and carried most of the sound away, but we gathered that our hoped-for prize had papers from our consul allowing her free passage.
There was a universal groan of disappointment, and when the order was given to "secure," the hose was pulled up with unnecessary violence, hatches were lowered, and gun closets closed with no gentle hands.

Such keen disappointment must somehow find a vent.
There was great excitement the following afternoon when the word was passed for all hands to get out their leggings and to wear shoes to midday quarters.

And when we were arranged into companies, and had haversacks, canteens, and knapsacks doled out to us, we concluded that a landing party would be made up for Porto Rico.
"The 'old man' is going to show the 'Spinache' that the 'Yankee' boys can fight on land as well as on sea," said Tommy, as he yanked at an obstinate haversack strap.
We marched round and round the spar deck to the music of bugle and drum till we got well into the swing of it, and felt very martial and formidable indeed.
The "Dixie" hove in sight at this juncture, and after a long megaphone conversation, we learned that the "Massachusetts," for which we had some ammunition, was on her way to Guantanamo, so we reluctantly turned around and retraced our way, the "Dixie" leading.

Porto Rico was not for us.

Alas! We felt like "The King of France and his hundred thousand men Drew their swords and put them up again." The next morning we hove-to a Norwegian steamer, the "Marie," and before we realized what was being done, we found that we had a prize at last.