CHAPTER III.
IN WHICH THE "YANKEE" CRUISES FOR PRIZES.
It was evening, the evening of the day on which the "Yankee" sailed from Tompkinsville bound out on her maiden cruise as an auxiliary ship of war.

The afternoon had passed without event, save that which attacks the amateur sailor when he first feels the heaving swell of old ocean.

The crew had shaken into its place, and the men of the watch on deck were commencing to appreciate their responsibilities.
The ship was quiet, save for the faint chug-chug of the propeller under the stern and the occasional clang of a shovel in the fire room deep down in the innermost reaches of the ship.

The sun had vanished in a hazy cloud which portended a stiff breeze, but the wind was still gentle, and, as it swept across the decks from off the port quarter, it seemed grateful indeed to those who came from below for a breath of air.
Orders had been issued to darken the decks.

The running lights of red and green were still in the lamp room, and, except for a soft, rosy glow from the binnacle-bowl, there was a blackness of night throughout the upper part of the ship.