There were volun

trouble the bold American tars. teers enough eager to undertake the perilous task to form a ship's crew, and to the six seamen chosen Coxswain Clausen added himself as a stowaway. The love of adventure was stronger than fear of death or captivity.

It was the morning of June 3, 1898. During the night before an attempt to go in had been made, but the hour was so late that the admiral called the vessel back. Now an earlier start was made, and there was no hinderance to the adventurous voyage. Heavy clouds hid the moon as the "Merrimac' glided in towards the dark line of coast. Not a light was shown, and great skill was needed to strike the narrow channel squarely in the gloom. From the “New York" eager eyes watched the collier until its outlines were lost beneath the shadow of the hills. Eyes continued to peer into the darkness and ears to listen intently, while a tense anxiety strained the nerves of the watching crew. Then came a booming roar from Morro Castle and the flash of a cannon lit up for an instant the gloom. Other flashes and booming sounds followed, and for twenty minutes there seemed a battle going on in the darkness. "Merrimac'' was under fire. She was meeting her doom. What was the fate of Hobson and his men?

The

Cadet J. W. Powell had followed the collier with a steam launch and four men, prepared to pick up any fugitives from the doomed ship. He went daringly under the batteries and hung about until daylight revealed his small craft, but not a man was

seen in the ruffled waters, and he returned disappointed at 6.15 A. M., pestered by spiteful shots from the Spanish guns. He had followed the "Merrimac' until the low-lying smoke from the roaring guns hid her from view. Then came the explosion of the torpedoes. Hobson had done his work. Powell kept under the shelter of the cliffs until full day had dawned, and before leaving he saw a spar of the "Merrimac" rising out of the water of the channel. The sinking had been accomplished, but no one could say with what result to Hobson and his men.

Let us now leave the distant spectators and go on board the "Merrimac," seeking the company of her devoted crew. It was Hobson's purpose to sink her in the narrowest part of the channel, dropping the anchor and handling the rudder so as to turn her across the stream. Her length was sufficient to close up completely the deeper channel. He would stop the engines, let fall the anchor, open the traps made for the sea-water to flow in, and explode the torpedoes. Ten of these lay on the port side of the ship, each containing eighty-two pounds of powder, and they were connected so that they could be fired in train. There were two men below, one to reverse the engines, the other to break open the sea-traps with a sledge hammer. Those on deck were to let fall the anchor and set the helm. Then Hobson would touch the electric button and fire the torpedoes, and all would leap overboard and swim to the dingy towing astern, in which they hoped to

escape. Such were their plans; but chance, as it so often does, set them sadly astray.

On through the darkness they went, hitting the channel squarely, and steaming in under the frowning walls of the Morro through gloom and deathlike silence. But the Spaniards were not asleep. A small picket-boat came gliding out under the collier's stern and fired several shots at the suspicious craft. One of these carried away the rudder and spoiled one important item of the plans. The dingy, which was trusted to for escape, disappeared, perhaps hit by one of these shots. The picket-boat, having done this serious mischief, then hurried ashore and gave the alarm, and quickly the shore batteries were firing on the dark hull. The ships in the harbor echoed the shots with their guns. The Spaniards were alert. They thought that an American battleship was trying to force its way in, perhaps with the whole fleet in its wake, and were ready to give it a hard fight.

Through the rain of balls the "Merrimac' drove on, unhurt by the bombardment, and even by a submarine mine which exploded near her stern. The darkness and her rapid motion rendered her hard to hit, and she reached the desired spot, in the narrowest spot of the channel, none the worse for the shower of iron hail.

So far all had gone well. ment had arrived.

Now the critical moHobson gave the signal fixed upon, and the men below reversed the engine and opened the sea connections. They then dashed for

the deck. Those above dropped the anchor and set the helm. Only then did Hobson, to his bitter disappointment, discover that the rudder had been lost. The ship refused to answer her helm, and the plan of setting her lengthwise across the channel failed. The final task remained. Touching the electric button, the torpedoes went off with a sullen roar and the ship lurched heavily beneath their feet. The sharp roll threw some of the men over the rail. The others leaped into the sea. Down went the "Merrimac" with a surge at the bow, cheers from the forts and the ships greeting her as she sank. The gunners thought they had sent to the depths one of the hostile men-of-war.

At the last moment of leaving the "New York" an old catamaran had been thrown on the "Merrimac's' deck, as a possible aid to the crew in extremity. This float lay on the roof of the midship house, a rope fastening it to the taffrail, with enough slack to let it float loose after the ship had sunk. It was a fortunate thought for the crew, as it afforded them a temporary refuge in place of the lost dingy. We may let Lieutenant Hobson speak for himself at this point in our narrative. He says, "I swam away from the ship as soon as I struck the water, but I could feel the eddies drawing me backward in spite of all I could do. This did not last very long, however, and as soon as I felt the tugging cease I turned and struck out for the float, which I could see dimly bobbing up and down over the sunken hull.

"The 'Merrimac's' masts were plainly visible, and I could see the heads of my seven men as they followed my example and made for the float also. We had expected, of course, that the Spaniards would investigate the wreck, but we had no idea that they would be at it as quickly as they were. Before we could get to the float several row-boats and launches came around the bluff from inside the harbor. They had officers on board and armed marines as well, and they searched that passage, rowing backward and forward, until the next morning. It was only by good luck that we got to the float at all, for they were upon us so quickly that we had barely concealed ourselves when a boat with quite a large party on board was right beside

us.

An event which they thought unlucky now proved to be the salvation of the fugitives, who very likely would have been shot on the spot by the marines if they had then been seen from the boats. The rope which fastened the float to the ship was too short to let it swing free, and one of the pontoons that supported it was dragged partly under water, lifting the other above the surface. If the raft had lain flat on the water they would have had to climb on top and would have made an excellent mark for the marines. As it was they got under its lifted side, and by thrusting their hands through the slats that formed the deck they kept their heads above the water, and had a chance to breathe.

Luckily for them the Spaniards paid no atten