pacity as
Mr. Howard in its ranks.

The heavy clerical work of that fifteenth day of February held not only
myself but Mr. Elwell as well, busy at our writing tables until late at
night. The house had grown still; the noises on the streets were dying
away, when suddenly the table shook from under our hands, the great
glass door opening onto the veranda, facing the sea, flew open;
everything in the room was in motion or out of place--the deafening roar
of such a burst of thunder as perhaps one never heard before, and off to
the right, out over the bay, the air was filled with a blaze of light,
and this in turn filled with black specks like huge spectres flying in
all directions. Then it faded away. The bells rang; the whistles blew,
and voices in the street were heard for a moment; then all was quiet
again. I supposed it to be the bursting of some mammoth mortar, or
explosion of some magazine. A few hours later came the terrible news of
the "Maine."

Mr. Elwell was early among the wreckage, and returned to give me news.

The diary goes on. "She is destroyed. There is no room for comment, only
who is lost, who has escaped, and what can be done for them? They tell
us that most of the officers were dining out, and thus saved; that
Captain Sigsbee is saved. It is thought that 250 men are lost, that one
hundred are wounded, but still living, some in hospital, some on small
boats as picked up. The Chief Engineer, a quiet, resolute man, and the
second officer met me as I passed out of the hotel for the hospital. The
latter stopped me saying, 'Miss Barton, do you remember you told me on
board the "Maine" that the Red Cross was at our service; for whenever
anything took place with that ship, either in naval action or otherwise,
_someone_ would be hurt; that she was not of a structure to take
misfortune lightly?' I recalled the conversation and the impression
which led to it,--such strength would never go out easily.

"We proceeded to the Spanish hospital San Ambrosia, to find thirty to
forty wounded--bruised, cut, burned; 