vapor like flashes of lightning athwart a gloomy sky.

[Illustration: THE BOMBARDMENT OF MORRO CASTLE, SANTIAGO]

The noise was terrific. It seemed to gather at times in such an
overwhelming, soul-stunning clamor of sound, that the very air was rent
and split and shattered, and the senses refused further burden. There
was no possibility of hearing the human voice, save at odd intervals
when a brief cessation occurred in the firing. Orders were transmitted
by gestures.

The smoke was thick and stifling, the saltpetre fumes filling the throat
and lungs, until breathing was difficult. The dense bank of vapor
enveloping the ship also rendered it almost impossible to aim with any
accuracy. We of Number Eight gun were early impressed with this fact,
and "Hay," the second captain, exclaimed during a lull:

"It's that fellow in charge of Number Six. He won't give us any show.
Just look how he's working his crew. Did you ever see the beat of it?"

The captain of Number Six, a broker of considerable note in New York, a
member of the Calumet Club, and the son of a distinguished captain in
the Confederate navy, was fighting his gun with savage energy. Under his
direction, and inspired by a running fire of comments from him, the
different members of Number Six crew were literally pouring a hail of
steel upon the batteries. The firing was so rapid, in fact, that it kept
our port completely filled with smoke, much to our sorrow.

Notwithstanding that fact, "Hay," the second captain of Number Eight,
did such marvellous shooting, that word presently came from Captain