Off Key West — April 24th, 1898.
On Board Smith, Herald Yacht.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
I wrote you such a cross gloomy letter that I must drop
you another to make up for it. Since I wrote that an hour ago
we have received word that war is declared and I am now on
board the Smith. She is a really fine vessel as big as
Benedict's yacht with plenty of deck room and big bunks. I
have everything I want on board and The Herald men are two
old Press men so we are good friends. If I had had another
hour I believe I could have got a berth on the flag ship for
Roosevelt telegraphed me the longest and strongest letter on
the subject a man could write instructing the Admiral to take
me on as I was writing history. Chadwick seemed willing but
then the signal to set sail came and we had to stampede. All
the ships have their sailing pennants up. It is as calm as a
mirror thank goodness but as hot as hell. We expect to be off
Havana tomorrow at sunset. Then what we do
no one knows. The crew is on strike above and the mate is
wrestling with them but as it seems to be only a question of a
few dollars it will come out all right. We expect to be back
here on Sunday but may stay out later. Don't worry if you
don't hear. It is grand to see the line of battleships five
miles out like dogs in a leash puffing and straining. Thank
God they'll let them slip any minute now. I don't know where
"Stenie" is. I am now going to take a nap while the smooth
water lasts.
DICK.
