The "Yankee" forged on at full speed in the direction from which the sound had come.
We all stood in expectant attitudes, listening for another report.

We had about made up our minds that our ears had deceived us, when another explosion, louder and nearer than the first, reached us.
On we rushed--toward what we knew not--through a fog so thick that the water could be seen but dimly from the spar deck.
The suspense was hard to bear, and the desire to do something almost irresistible.

The men unconsciously took their regular stations for action, the guns' crews gathered round their guns, the powder divisions in the neighborhood of the ammunition hoists.
"I wish Potter was here," said "Stump." "I rather think he would be white around the gills.

This sort of business would give him a bad case of 'cold feet.'" "Oh, he had 'cold feet' a few days after we left New York, and wrote to his friends to get his discharge," said "Bill." "Got it and quit two weeks after we left New York, the duffer," added "Hay." The "Yankee" still steamed on into the bank of fog.
"Cupid," the ship's bugler, began to play the call for general quarters, but was stopped by a sharp command from the bridge.
What was it all about?
Was it to be tragedy or farce?
Then Scully came down the starboard gangway, a broad smile on his ruddy face.
A clamoring group gathered round him instantly.

"What is it ?" "Is the 'old man' playing a joke on us ?" "Do you suppose Cervera has got over to this side ?" "Scully," overwhelmed with questions, put up his hands protestingly.
"No, no; none of those things," said he.