noon
The only thing that marred our perfect joy was the departure of some of the marines to the `` New Orleans . '' We had grown to like them all very much , and especially a pleasant fellow we dubbed `` Happy , '' because of his unvarying cheerfulness . We had hoped to bring them all back with us , and were sorry to see them go . We listened with eager ears for the final order before sailing , `` All hands on the cat falls , '' and just before noon we heard it . In ready response the men came tumbling up , and in a jiffy the anchor was pulled up as if it weighed five hundred , instead of five thousand pounds . The leadsman stood on his little platform and sang out , as he heaved the lead , the number of fathoms . It was the last touch we had of Cuban soil .