o large boats also filled with ammunition."

"That must be brought aboard, too."

The captain turned to the lieutenant-commander, and gave the necessary
orders.

"Now, Young Glory, you and Dan Daly will come to my cabin at once. I
want to hear all that's happened."

And he sat spellbound whilst Young Glory related the whole story,
beginning with Dan's escape, and ending with the capture of the boats.

"It's a letter I had for you, sir," said Dan, "but faith, I couldn't get
out to sea."

"The letter is no good now, Dan. Tear it up."

"No, no!" exclaimed Captain Miles, eagerly, taking possession of it.
"This letter shall be preserved. It will be a memento of one of the
bravest actions ever done by an American seaman."

It was little rest that Dan and Young Glory had that night.

Their comrades insisted on hearing every detail of their marvelous
adventures, and the day had dawned before they sank to rest.

Each of them was indulged with an unusual allowance of sleep that night,
on account of their great exertions, and when they awoke and went on
deck, the shores of Cuba had faded from sight, and the gallant Cruiser
Brooklyn was steaming through the Caribbean sea in an easterly
direction.

"Where are we bound?" was the universal question now.

"Ask Young Glory. He knows everything," laughingly said one of the men.

"It's Porto Rico we're going to," cried one of the sailors. "I heard an
officer say so."

"Porto Rico! That belongs to Spain, eh?" asked one of the sailors.

"Spain! Why, no! China, of course!"

"Ha, ha!"

The men were in the highest spirits now. They had not enjoyed the work
of the past few days, cruising about off Valmosa and Monterey. Inaction
is the last thing a blue jacket appreciates.

Now there was always something to do, and Captain Miles, a first-class
officer, saw that everything was done to perfection.

"If we do go into action," he said, "it will not be our fault if we are
beaten!"

The run to Porto Rico took some days.

The lookout men were on the alert, expecting to sight land every minute.

Suddenly there was a shout from one of them.

"Porto Rico at last!" cried one of the sailors, joyfully.

"A sail!" cried the lookout man.

"Where?"

"On the port bow!"

One of the officers instantly went to the top with his binocular,
bringing it to bear on a small, far distant speck on the ocean.

"A sail, surely," he said, "but what is it?"

"Well, sir?" shouted Captain Mi