The coal was in the after hold and was needed in the bunkers forward, so every piece had to be shovelled into bushel baskets, hoisted to the gun deck, and carried by hand to the chute leading to the port and starboard bunkers.

A dirty job it was, that not only blackened the men, but covered the deck, the mess gear, the paint work, and even the food, with coal dust.
Number Eight's crew had been at this pleasant occupation for about an hour, with the cheerful prospect of another hour of the same diversion.
"Hay" was running the steam winch, "Stump" was pulling the baskets over the hatch coaming as they were hauled up by the winch, and the other five were carrying.
"Say, this is deadly slow, tiresome work," said "Flagg," who was carrying with me.

"I'd give almost anything for a little excitement." The last word had scarcely been uttered when there came the sounds of 'commotion on deck.

A voice cried out in sharp command, the rudder chains creaked loudly, the ship heeled over to starboard, and then we who were at the open port saw a long, snaky object shoot out from the edge of the haze and bear down upon us.
"My heaven!" shouted "Stump," "it's a torpedo boat!" The commotion on deck had given us some warning, but the sudden dash of the long, snaky torpedo boat from out the haze came as a decided shock.
For one brief moment we of the after port stood as if turned to stone, then every man ran to his quarters and stood ready to do his duty.

With a cry, our second captain sprang to the firing lanyard.