mouthfuls and immediately became wretchedly sick. The example seemed to be popular.
On the succeeding day we were each given an unopened can of the meat, which was supposed to last us for twenty-four hours. Most of the men threw their portions overboard at once; a few packed away the "corpse' — as we already called it — for purposes of trade with the unsophisticated Cubans; and I kept my can as a souvenir. I did not, however, keep it long; for, chancing to drop it upon the deck, the contents exploded with a distinct report, startling me not a little and covering my person with the debris. At the time I thought this experience was going to be altogether unique, but I discovered afterward that the same thing happened in a great many other instances.
Having abandoned the beef, we were forced to subsist on hard tack and tomatoes for the rest of the voyage, and hailed with joy our anchorage at Daiquiri. But we were too previous. During our ten days' stay in Cuba we found the "corpse" still waiting for us in the mess, and we carried the ghastly burden along when we finally steamed away for Puerto Rico.
We landed at Guanica on the 25th of July, which meant that we had been half-starved for twenty-two days. We had forgotten the "Maine" and would have greeted Weyler himself with a glad sweet smile, had he come bearing in his hands food fit for a human being. Once more disembarked, we lost sight of the canned roast beef for good — save at extremely rare intervals
