to send one of the Spaniards to the bottom."

"It may be a Dago after all," suggested "Bill," glancing from the port.
"The flag doesn't mean anything. They might be flying Old Glory as a
_ruse de guerre_. By George! That craft looks just like the 'Pluton.'"

We, who were watching, saw Potter's face lengthen. He peered nervously
at the rapidly approaching torpedo boat, and then tried to laugh
unconcernedly.

"You can't 'string' me," he retorted. "That's one of your Uncle Samuel's
boats all right. See! they are going to hail us."

A bell clanged in the engine room, then the throbbing of the machinery
slackened to a slow pulsation. The rudder chains rattled in their
fair-leaders, and presently we were steaming along, with the torpedo
craft a score of yards off our midships.

On the forward deck of the latter stood two officers clad in the uniform
of the commissioned service. One placed a speaking trumpet to his lips
and called out:

"Cruiser ahoy! Is that the 'Yankee'?"

"You have made a good guess," shouted Captain Brownson. "What boat is
that?"

"'Talbot' from Newport. Any news? Sighted you and thought we would speak
you."