the full moon rode overhead, the American ships steamed to the southeast
across the heaving China Sea. The Stars and Stripes fluttered in the
breeze and there was a feeling of expectancy on board the grim engines
of war, that had laid aside every possible encumbrance, and like
prize-fighters were stripped to the buff and eager for battle.

The run was a smooth one, and as the sun was sinking in the sky
Commodore Dewey, peering through his glass, caught the faint outlines of
Corregidor Island, and dimly beyond the flickering haze revealed the
Spanish fleet in the calm bay. The Commodore had been in that part of
the world before, and while waiting at Hong Kong had gathered all the
knowledge possible of the defences of Manila. He knew the fort was
powerfully fortified and the bay mined, and knowing all this, he
remembered the exclamation of his immortal instructor in the science of
war, the peerless Farragut, when he was driving his squadron into Mobile
Bay. Recalling that occurrence, Commodore Dewey joined in spirit in
repeating the words:

"D---- the torpedoes!"

It was still many miles to the entrance, and night closed in while the
squadron was ploughing through the sea that broke in tumbling foam at
the bows and spread far away in snowy wakes at the rear. All lights were
put out, the full moon again climbed the sky and the shadowy leviathans
plunged through the waters straight for the opening of the bay, guarded
by the fort and batteries, with the Spanish fleet beyond, defiantly
awaiting the coming of the American squadron.

Suddenly from Corregidor Island the darkness was lit up by a vivid
flash, a thunderous boom traveled across the bay, and the heavy shot