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Foamy bones in their fresh grey teeth, 90 U. S. men-o'-war rolled out of the sunswept Gulf of Gonaives last week, skirted the heat-hazy shores of Haiti, furrowed their way up toward the Atlantic Coast. Far out in the empty sea, bos'ns' whistles suddenly piped all hands to the rails. Drums ruffled, trumpets flourished and while junior officers manned bridges with stadimeters to keep the vast armada precisely in line, bands crashed out the national anthem. Twenty-one times gunners tripped the breech blocks of the 6-pounders....

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