be listening to the thunder of our American naval guns at Vera
Cruz, Tampico, or some other port on the shores of the Gulf of
Mexico."

"Hurrah!" came from the throats of a dozen officers, but the cheer
was not a very confident one. Too long had the United States
been patient in the face of one insult or injury after another.
General Huerta, in Mexico City, and Carranza and Villa, in the
west and north of that country, had headed factions, neither of
which seemed to care about Mexico's good name in the world at
large. Maltreated Americans demanded punishment of the Mexican
offenders, but the United States had been engaged in patiently
waiting and watching, only once in a while sending a feeble protest
either to the Federal or the Constitutionalist leaders in that
murder-ridden country of Mexico.

Mess-call sounded to breakfast. The officers filed into their
places at table; then, on observing that the executive officer
was not in his place at the head of the table, they remained standing
by their chairs.

A minute afterward Commander Bainbridge entered with brisk stride,
going to his place and giving the seating signal as he said:

"Pardon my tardiness, gentlemen; the captain detained me on a
most urgent matter."

After that the buzz of conversation broke loose. Breakfast orders
were taken by the white-coated, noiseless Filipino servants. When
all had been served, the executive officer glanced up, then rose.