A-S-S-O-C-I-A-T-E-D P-R-E-S-S D-E-S-P-A-T-C-H S-T-A-T-E-S T-H-A-T P-E-A-C-E P-R-O-T-O-C-O-L H-A-S B-E-E-N A-G-R-E-E-D U-P-O-N.
We Jackies would have liked to yell, but our lessons had been too well learned, and we restrained ourselves. We put the officer from the "Indiana" aboard his own ship and then returned to the "Yankee."
As soon as the boat was secured for the night, I went around waking some of my particular friends to tell them the great news, forgetting that they could see it quite as well as I. All were too good-natured, however, to object; on the contrary, they seemed glad to talk about it. There was some dispute as to the meaning of the word "protocol"; but all agreed that, whatever its meaning, it must be good, coupled as it was with "peace."
As we talked quietly, we heard faintly, softly, a verse of "Morse's" song:
"Our fighting cruise will soon be o'er, Hurrah! Hurrah! We'll be happy the moment our feet touch shore, Hurrah! Hurrah! And 'Cutlets' and 'Hubbub' and all the rest May stick to the calling they're fitted for best, But _we'll_ all feel gay when The 'Yankee' goes sailing home."
In spite of the peace news we got orders to go out with the "Dixie" and blockade the Crooked Island Passage. So about four o'clock we hauled up the anchor and went to sea. All were gay, and many shook their hands in farewell to Guantanamo Bay.
We were instructed to keep a sharp lookout for the steamer "Monserrat," which had gained fame as a blockade runner. It was rumored that she carried Captain-General Blanco; that she was well armed, and had a captain noted for his unscrupulousness and for his fighting qualities.
"I'd like to meet that ship," said "Hay," "have a good 'scrap' with her, get a couple of shot holes in our upper works and battle flags, and then bring her triumphantly into Key West or, better still, New York."
"Want to go out in a blaze of glory, do you?" said Tommy, the long.
"Sure. I'd like to burn some of that powder we took such trouble to load."
This expressed the sentiments of the whole ship's company.
To have one more good fight--in which we were to come out victorious, of course--get a few souvenir shot holes where no harm would be done, and then go home. This would just about have suited us.