w
had been found necessary, and her coxswain considered that he had the
best crew in the fleet.

Excitement was daily growing, as the time approached for the great gig
race, when boats from all the ships of the fleet would enter the
contest. A valuable silver cup was to be the trophy to be raced for.
It would have a place of honor on the ship of the winning crew, where
it would remain for a year and perhaps longer--remain until some other
ship's racing crew should win it.

Each afternoon the gig's crew was turned out for a practice spin. The
men were working better and better, pulling almost as one man. Even
the ship's officers felt that they had never had a better chance to win
the cup, and were proportionately elated.

A short cruise was made up to the Maine coast; then the ship returned
to her former anchorage to complete the torpedo practice that had been
interrupted when the battleship went aground.

The first night on the anchorage proved an exciting one. Off some four
miles, behind a point of land where her cage masts could be faintly
made out, lay the flagship with the admiral of the fleet on board. He
had come in while the "Long Island" was off up the coast on her short
cruise.

When an admiral is about it behooves the commanders of other ships to
be on their guard, to keep a sharp lookout for surprises. Admirals are
prone to give most unexpected orders at any time. For that reason the
first night on the old anchorage saw more than one officer of the deck
on duty. One was placed on the bridge and one aft on the quarter-deck.

The ship settled down to silence at the usual hour; the seamen were in
their hammocks and the officers had retired to their staterooms for a
night's rest in the quiet waters of the bay.

Eight bells had just struck, midnight, when a messenger rushed down to
the captain's quarters from the quarter-deck. Without waiting to
knock, he called loudly, as he poked his head in through the curtained
doorway.

"What is it?"

"Abandon ship, sir!"

Without an instant's hesitation the commanding officer reached up over
his bed, pulling down a brass lever with a violent jerk.

Gongs began to crash all over the ship, from the stoke hole to the
navigating bridge.

"Abandon ship!" bellowed boatswain's mates and masters-at-arms.
"Abandon ship!" sang voices in the forecastle, the cry being taken up
from lip to lip from one end to the other of the great battleship.

Men tumbled from