Watching the men is a twenty-five year old journalist from New York who has signed aboard the tugboat as an able seaman for $20 a month. Although having just published a brilliant novel about war, the young man has never seen actual warfare. This trip to Cuba will be his first chance to see real warfare for himself. However, the voyage alone will be dangerous.

The war in Cuba has been raging off and on for nearly thirty years, and many Americans have sought to aid the Cuban freedom fighters in throwing off the tyranny of Spain. But these attempts have sometimes resulted in severe consequences.

In 1873, for example, the steamer Virginius sailed from New York with arms and ammunition for the Cuban rebels, in an illegal smuggling expedition known as "filibustering".

She was intercepted by the Spanish cruiser Tornado [Tor-n-h-though], and taken captive into Santiago de Cuba.

There, her captain, Joseph Fry, and fifty-three Americans, Britons, and Cubans of her crew, were placed before a firing squad by the Spanish authorities and executed.

The British ship, H. M. S. Niobe, was quickly dispatched to Santiago, where her captain, Sir Lambton Lorraine, intervened to halt further executions. The Virginius and her survivors were released, but in return, the United States government had to agree to pass strict laws prohibiting filibustering.

From then on, filibustering was done in secret, and whenever a vessel was purchased or chartered to run a load of arms and ammunition to Cuba, all manifestations of its name were removed to protect its identity and the integrity of the American government.

The young man who has signed aboard the present tugboat is Stephen Crane. Born in 1871 in Newark, New Jersey, the young Crane was sent to attend Claverick College and the Hudson River Institute. Later, he attended a semester each at Lafayette and Syracuse Universities, but Crane left school to become a free-lance reporter in New York.

There, in the early 1890's, young Crane completed his masterpiece, the Civil War novel, The Red Badge of Courage.

Now a celebrity, Crane has continued to write articles for the New York Press, and in this year of 1896, the editor has offered Crane the opportunity to cover the war in Cuba.

Crane arrived in Jacksonville, Florida, in late November. Taking lodging at the St. James Hotel, he quickly began searching for a vessel which would take him to Cuba.

One of the first persons Crane met when he arrived in Jacksonville, is Cora Howarth Stewart, alias Cora Taylor, who serves as the hostess of a nearby night club.

Introduced to Crane by Ralph D. Paine, a native of Jacksonville and one of Crane's journalist friends, Cora had just been reading Crane's novel, George's Mother. When she learned that the young man before her was the author of the book she had just been reading, she snatched up the book and presented it to Crane for his autograph.

Crane signed the book "To an unnamed sweetheart." This meeting will blossom into the most important romance of Crane's life.

One evening in the dining room of the St. James Hotel, Crane met Edward Murphy, the captain of a tugboat which has been running filibustering expeditions for the local Cuban junta [HOON-tah] for some time. Murphy agreed to sign Crane on as an "able seaman," the vessel to leave Jacksonville after Christmas. The deal was done.

The vessel upon which Crane is about to embark is the Commodore, a sea-going, steam tug built in Philadelphia in 1882. According to her former chief engineer:

"The Commodore is by far the best of the filibustering fleet. She is staunch and seaworthy, fit for any weather, and strong enough to sink an ordinary iron steamer. She is built of wood, registers 178 tons, and can steam 12 knots an hour for a week, while none of the others can steam much over 7 miles, not knots, mind you. She is 123 feet long, 19 feet beam, and draws 11 1/2 feet she has a single engine, with a 26-inch cylinder and an 80-inch stroke."

Already this year, the Commodore has made several illegal filibustering trips to Cuba, but two were turned back by U.S. Government Revenue Cutters. Fortunately, the Commodore has been able to outrun them to return safely to Jacksonville. Other filibusterers have not been so lucky.

Recently, a similar tug, the Three Friends of Jacksonville, had to ditch her cargo and her Cuban passengers. Although the tug out-maneuvered Spanish warships, the Three Friends was escorted back to Jacksonville by the U. S. cruiser Newark and placed under confinement until a Federal court can settle her case.

Today, the Commodore is about to set sail for Cuba, but there is a great difference between today's sailing of the Commodore and those of her earlier voyages or those of any of the filibusters.

Because of an opinion recently given by the United States attorney general that shipping arms to Cuba is legal, there is no reason now to hide filibustering expeditions. This voyage, in fact, is being set up as a test of the attorney general's opinion. Crane describes the scene:

[CRANE] "It is broad daylight and the crowd of gleeful Cubans on the pier do not forebear to sing the strange patriotic ballads of their island.

Everything is perfectly open. The Commodore is cleared with a cargo of arms and ammunition for Cuba. There is none of that extreme modesty about the proceedings which have marked previous departures of the famous tug. She loads up as placidly as if she were going to carry oranges to New York, instead of Remingtons to Cuba. Down the river, the revenue cutter Boutwell . . . lies at anchor with no sign of excitement aboard her."

The newspapers even have a complete list of the vessel's cargo: 15 tons of arms and ammunition, including three hundred machetes, forty bundles of Remington rolling-block rifles, 203,000 rifle cartridges, over 1,000 pounds of dynamite, 14 cases of drugs, and clothing. It is a cargo worth $4,465.

It is because of this cargo, however, that Captain Murphy and the ship's officers have been detained longer than usual at the Jacksonville Customs House. Officials there still apparently have misgivings about letting the voyage go through, but they finally give their assent.

Murphy and his officers return to the Commodore at sunset. Crane joins them as they prepare to begin their fateful voyage. As a "mournful twilight" settles on the St. John's River, and as a fog rolls in, Murphy orders chief engineer James Rodigan to open up the steam valves. With three long blasts of the whistle, the heavily laded tug inches out into the dusky St. John's River.

Standing next to the river pilot, and helmsman Tom Smith, Crane feels a special excitement:

[CRANE] "At last we begin to feel like filibusters. I don't suppose that the most stolid brain can contrive to believe that there is not a mere trifle of danger in filibustering, and so as we watch the lights of Jacksonville swing past us and hear the regular thump, thump, thump of the engines, we do considerable reflecting. From cook's boy to captain, we are all enveloped in a gentle satisfaction and cheerfulness."

But, steaming through the thick fog only two miles from their starting point, the Commodore runs her bow up on the mud flats of what ironically already carries the name of "Commodore Point." The tug is stuck fast. [CRANE] "In this ignominious position we will be compelled to stay until daybreak. It is to all of us more than a physical calamity. We are now no longer filibusters; we are men on a ship stuck in the mud. A certain mental somersault is made once more necessary."

At 2:30 in the morning, the mate requests help from the revenue cutter George S. Boutwell. In the early light of New Year's Day, 1897, Captain W. F. Kilgore of the Boutwell fires up his old steam engine, and steers a course to attach a line by which to drag the Commodore out of the mud.

During the morning, the filibuster continues its trip down the St. Johns. Crane is elated by the vessel's passage:

[CRANE] "Cheers greet the old Commodore from passing ships and from the shore. It is a cheerful, almost merry, beginning to our voyage. At Mayport, we change our river pilot for a man who can take her to the open sea."

But again, the Commodore goes aground. This time, as the Boutwell maneuvers around her, the filibuster is able to pull herself off. Fairly high seas are running outside the inlet, and Captain Kilgore of the revenue cutter feels the Commodore should wait for better weather.

"Are you fellows going to sea today?" the Captain of the Boutwell calls out.

"Yes, sir!" Captain Murphy replies.

Doffing his hat in salute, Kilgore shouts out: "Well, gentlemen, I hope that you have a pleasant cruise." For the men on the Commodore, it will be their last word from shore.

At 2:00 PM, the Commodore crosses the bar and leaves through the inlet. She meets with heavy rollers as she turns her bow southward along the coast of Florida.

Night falls as the vessel lunges at the great black waves. All that can be heard is the rhythmical and mighty pounding of the engines.

Thoroughly excited by the trip and finding the ride a bit rough, Crane cannot sleep. Each time the ship lurches, he expects to be fired through a bulkhead. Crane finally gets up and heads for the vessel's galley.

As Crane enters the galley, the cook, Charles B. Montgomery, awakens. He tells Crane that he doesn't feel right about the ship and that he is sure something is going to happen to them. He assures Crane, however, that they will survive the catastrophe. Crane leaves to visit the pilot house.

Entering the dark pilot house, Crane can hardly see the face of Tom Smith the helmsman except when Smith bends over and the dim light from the compass plays across his weather-beaten face. The helmsman tells Crane that although the pay on these filibustering trips has been good, he plans to retire after this voyage.

Crane sits down in the corner of the pilot house and almost goes to sleep, as the captain comes on duty.

Captain Murphy and Crane talk, but are soon interrupted. The Captain explains:

[MURPHY] "James Rodigan, the engineer, reports to me, about midnight, that the vessel is gaining water in her hold and that he is unable to get the pumps to work. They have tried to get the water out, but the pumps will not heave the water. The pipe is evidently choked or the suction gone. It is customary to keep the water clear of the hold. All necessary before has been to run the steam pumps now and then. If the water is allowed to get up into the coal, the coal is washed down and chokes the pumps."

Captain Murphy orders the engineer to return to the engine room and organize a bucket brigade to manually bail out the vessel. He also orders the engineer to stoke the engine with all the wood, oil, and alcohol he can. They need to build up sufficient steam to give the vessel a chance of running into Mosquito Inlet, 18 miles away, before they sink.
Murphy calls down into the cabin behind the pilot house, urging Paul Rojo, leader of the Cubans, to enlist the aid of his men in bailing out the vessel. Rojo yells to his men that they need all hands down in the engine room.

Rojo also calls out to Crane in the pilot house and asks for his help. Crane responds quickly and follows Rojo down into the cabin.

In the engine room, Crane finds a scene he will never forget:

[CRANE] "The engine room represents a scene from the middle kitchen of hades. It is insufferably warm, and the lights burn faintly in a way to cause mystic and gruesome shadows." " There is a quantity of soapish sea water swirling and sweeping and swishing among machinery that roars and bangs and clatters and steams, and it is a devil of a ways down below."

"Here I first come to know a certain young oiler named Billy Higgins. He is sloshing around this inferno filling buckets with water and passing them to a chain of men that extends up the ship's side. I hear much talk of pumps out of order and many other statements of a mechanical kind, which I do not altogether comprehend but understand to mean that there is a general and sudden ruin in the engine room."

Despite the desperate attempts, the water steadily gains on the men. The Commodore has covered only three miles before the water reaches the boiler fires and quenches them.

By three o'clock in the morning, there is no hope of saving the vessel. Captain Murphy orders the anchor to be dropped to hold the tug's bow into the waves and tells the men to prepare to lower the boats.

Meanwhile, Crane, overcome from the heat, has to seek relief on deck. Going forward, he hears talk of lowering the boats and of sending off a distress rocket. Crane returns below to retrieve an overcoat from his cabin.

He returns to the deck with the coat and a pair of binoculars. Charles Montgomery, the cook, sees him:

[MONTGOMERY] "Crane stands on the bridge with glasses in hand, sweeping the horizon in an effort to get a glimpse of land. He has one of the sailor lads above him on the short mast, and once he mounts to the rigging to get a better view. I fear that he will be swept off the vessel."

As the Cubans prepare to lower a boat, it swings hard over, hitting Captain Murphy, knocking him down. Murphy's shoulder is hurt in the accident. Crane rushes over to aid the stricken captain.

With some difficulty, the first boat is successfully lowered with 12 men aboard. Murphy, yells to the men to steer southwest for the lighthouse at Mosquito Inlet, which they should soon be able to see.

Crane stops to chat for a moment with the chief engineer, who is leaning out of his window, and it is now that Crane hears the orders to get away the lifeboat which is stowed on top of the deck house.

The journalist climbs up to find First Mate Frank Grane and several men wrestling with the boat. The boat will not budge until the mate attaches a tackle to it. At length, the boat begins to move. Just at this juncture, the whistle of the Commodore lets out a gruesome wail. Crane can't help but notice it:

[CRANE] "If ever there was a voice of despair and death, it is in the voice of this whistle. It is to each of us probably a song of man's end."

The men swing the boat out. On the deck below, Murphy directs the lowering. As Crane climbs down and goes aft, the captain hands him a 5-gallon jug of water. Murphy orders Crane to go forward and prepare to launch the ten-foot dinghy.

Charles Montgomery is standing by the ten-foot dinghy as Crane approaches from the stern, followed by the Captain. The three men launch the dinghy. Crane clambers down into the boat and fends it off the side of the tug with an oar. Murphy and Montgomery hand the water jug down to Crane. As the Captain goes back to make sure the last life boat is away safely, Montgomery clambers down the tug's lunging sides to get in the dinghy with Crane.

Carrying about forty yards of line, Murphy returns and begins to climb over the rail towards the dinghy when Billy Higgins appears and asks to come along. The Captain sends Higgins down into the boat, and then after having tied the end of the line to the rail of the ship, Captain Murphy, the last man on the ship, clambers down to take a seat against the water jug in the bow of the boat.

As they shove off, Murphy says: "Boys, we will stay right near the ship, till she goes down." The line keeps them headed into the wind and waves, and as they pay out the tethering line,. .

. . . they watch the bobbing of the old tug's lights until at length a gray dawn begins to silhouette her. Perhaps she won't sink. Maybe they have been hasty in abandoning her.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten, seven men appear on the stern of the Commodore. The First Mate's boat has foundered alongside the tug, and his men have climbed back aboard to build rafts by which to get ashore. Murphy has the dinghy pulled in close to the Commodore in the hopes of towing the rafts away from the dying ship.

Three men jump overboard and clamber onto the rafts, but First Mate Grane leaps to a suicide death. Three men remain on board the Commodore, standing in complete silence.

One of the men on a raft, throws a line to the dinghy. Montgomery, in the stern, grasps the line as the men in the dinghy attempt to tow the raft. Suddenly, the dinghy starts going backwards. The man is frantically hauling in on the line, pulling himself to the relative safety of the already over-loaded dinghy. The weight of his hand on the gunwale will doom the dinghy and all its inhabitants. Montgomery quickly throws off the line. The dinghy now has to get away from the vessel quickly. The Commodore suddenly sinks.

[CRANE] "The rafts are swallowed by the frightful maw of the ocean. And then by the men on the ten-foot dinghy are words said that are still not words -- something far beyond words. . . and then silence."

The vessel is gone, and so are First Mate Grane and the six men with him. There is nothing to do but try to reach the shore, some twelve miles away.

Montgomery, squatting in the center of the boat and leery of the water splashing into it, begins to bail. In the stern, Higgins tries to steer the dinghy into the waves with an oar, rising now and then to keep himself clear of the water which swirls in around him over the stern. Crane, on the center seat, takes the other oar and tries to help steady the boat. Montgomery notices that:

[MONTGOMERY] "Crane rows well, but he is so worn out that he can hardly hold his oar straight in the terrific seas."

Higgins, who has just worked a double shift in the engine room to say nothing of the stress of the recent sinking, is tired also. In fact, they all are exhausted.

In the bow, injured Captain Murphy sits in the profound dejection and indifference of a captain who has just lost his ship. The entire episode has been unbelievable and seemingly beyond all the comprehension of reality. Finally, grasping the situation, Murphy calls out to Higgins to steer more to the southwest direction of the Mosquito Inlet Lighthouse and safety.

Sea gulls flock around the little boat, and one, in particular, shows an unusual interest in the captain's head. The men yell at it, and Murphy wards the bird off with his hand, carefully avoiding any sudden movement which might capsize the tiny dinghy.

[CRANE] "The very ticklish part of the business is when the time comes for the reclining one in the stern to take his turn at the oars. It is easier to steal eggs from under a hen than it is to change seats in the dinghy. First, the man in the stern slides his hands along the gunwale and moves with care. Then the man in the rowing seat moves his hands along the other gunwale. It is all done with the most extraordinary care. As the two sidle past each other, the whole party keeps watchful eyes on the coming wave, and the captain cries: 'Look out now! Steady there!'"

Higgins believes that he and Crane can row the dinghy better from the same seat, so he changes place with Montgomery, and then Crane and Higgins row. When Crane tires, he goes back to sit with Montgomery, and Higgins rows alone. When Higgins tires, he and Crane trade places, and Crane rows. The act of changing places in the tossing dinghy is a travail that Crane will relive in terrifying hallucinations on his death bed.

At length, rearing cautiously in the bow, after the dingy soars on a great swell, Captain Murphy spots the lighthouse at Mosquito Inlet. Murphy declares his discovery to the others and they strain to see the tiny object so far away on the horizon. To Crane:

[CRANE]

"It is precisely like the point of a pin. It takes an anxious eye to find a lighthouse so tiny."

Meanwhile, at around 10 o'clock that morning, after successfully coming ashore north of the Lighthouse, the first life-boat-load of Cubans arrives at the Lighthouse. There, Keeper Thomas O'Hagan takes care of the men. He will soon transport them in the Lighthouse boat to New Smryna, where they will take the afternoon train to Jacksonville. They neglect to tell anyone that other boats remain out in the ocean.

At sea, the four men in the dinghy continue to row towards the lighthouse, their only landmark of land and safety.

[CRANE] "Meanwhile the lighthouse has been growing larger. It has now almost assumed color, and appears like a little gray shadow on the sky. " "Although at the oars, I cannot be prevented

from turning my head often to try for a glimpse of this little grey shadow."

Crane rows on. He wonders about this activity called rowing:

[CRANE] "How in the name of all that is sane can there be people who think it is amusing to row a boat; it is a diabolical punishment, and even a genius of mental aberrations can never conclude that it is anything but a horror to the muscles and a crime against the back."

After a while, it becomes clear to Murphy that both Crane and Higgins are wearying of the rowing. He suggests that they use his overcoat as a sail on one of the oars. Montgomery comes forth to help Crane attach the coat to an oar and hold it overhead. With the men using one hand to hold the oar and the other to spread out the bottom of the coat, the makeshift sail does its job, and the tiny dinghy continues its course towards safety.

Late in the afternoon, the dinghy finally approaches shore. The men can see houses and hear the roar of the surf on the beach. The wind has veered to the southeast and blows the men north of Mosquito Inlet. The captain knows that they cannot now get in the inlet to the lighthouse, so he orders Higgins to row more to the north, parallel to the beach, hoping that someone will see them and send a boat out to rescue them. It would be suicide to take the small dinghy through the breakers to shore. They continue to parallel the shore, away from the monstrous breakers.

At length, the captain decides they must try their luck in running the breakers to shore. Higgins, at the oars, turns the dinghy's bow towards the shore, but the breakers are bigger than they had figured, and as the waves become larger, Higgins knows that the dinghy will not last three minutes more. He asks the captain if he should reverse their course. Murphy agrees, and Higgins "by a series of quick miracles, and fast and steady oarsmanship," manages to turn the dinghy seaward once again, out of the reach of the hungry breakers. The stranded men finally see a few people on the beach. There is a man waving.
Captain Murphy sees a stick floating in the water. As Higgins rows over to it, the Captain retrieves it and ties a towel to it to make a make-shift flag to warn the man on the beach of their distress. But it is no good. The man simply walks away. The men in the dinghy hope someone will come out to save them. but the people on the beach think the boaters are merely out fishing and send no help. As the daylight wanes, the survivors in the dinghy know that they have no choice for survival but to row back out to sea for the night. No help will come to them from the land. The breeze becomes cold. The men shiver as they drift off to sleep. After dark, Crane, rowing, sees something: "There is a long, loud swishing astern of the boat, and a gleaming trail of phosphorescence, like a blue flame, is furrowed on the black waters. It seems to have been made by a monstrous knife." Crane has seen . . . . A SHARK! The young journalist wishes his companions were awake to keep him company in the presence of this new menace, but they are sound asleep, and he is too considerate of them to awaken them. Through the night, Crane and Higgins spell each other at the oars while the cook sleeps. The captain soon awakens Montgomery and asks him to use an oar in the stern to keep the boat merely pointed into the waves, so that Crane and Higgins can sleep. The two "sleep once more the dead sleep" and are unaware that they have "bequeathed to the cook the company of another shark, or perhaps the same shark." A new dawn arrives. Crane awakens and scans the shoreline. [Crane] "On the distant dunes are set many little black cottages. No man, nor dog, nor bicycle appears on the beach. The cottages might have formed a deserted village."

The men are now all awake, and the Captain holds a conference. It seems clear that no one will come out for the men, so the decision is made to rush through the breakers. They all know that the boat will surely swamp as they do so, but they hope they can get through far enough to then make it on to shore on their own. If they wait much longer, they will be too weak to survive the attempt. Higgins takes to the oars. They decide to back the dinghy in to keep its pointed bow against the monstrous rollers which are now thrusting the small boat towards its doom on the beach.

[CRANE] "Finally, a huge wave comes forth, huge, furious, implacable. It fairly swallows the dinghy, and almost simultaneously the men tumble into the sea. The January water is icy, and I reflect immediately that it is colder than I expect to find it off the coast of Florida."

Despite the cold water which numbs and saps the men's strength, Crane holds and presses to his chest a piece of cork life belt which had lain under a seat in the dinghy. Crane's clothing and the $700 worth of Spanish gold in his money belt are dragging him down. Desperately Crane struggles out of his clothes and releases this ballast. To his right Crane sees Higgins swimming hard for the shore. To his left he sees the "cook's great white and corked back," and a little further back is the captain holding onto the keel of the capsized dinghy.

Murphy calls out to the cook to use a nearby oar for floatation, and the cook does so. The men struggle on towards shore. They find themselves in a riptide current, and the going is difficult.

As the men struggle towards the shore, a man appears, flinging off his clothes and

preparing to dash into the surf to assist the stricken men. It is John Kitchell, a resident of Daytona.

On this Sunday morning, as other citizens of Daytona begin to gather in astonishment on the beach, Kitchell drags ashore the just barely conscious Montgomery.

The intrepid Daytonian dashes back out into the surf to retrieve Captain Murphy, but Murphy waves Kitchell over to Crane who is now suffering from cramps. Kitchell grasps Crane's hand and helps him to shore. The brave, young man returns once again to help Murphy to shore. The men are glad to be saved, but the jubilation is tempered by the sight of Billy Higgins lying face down, dead, on the sand.

[CRANE] "It seems that instantly the beach is populated with men and women with blankets, clothes, and flasks, and coffee-pots. The welcome of the land to the men from the sea is warm and generous, but a still and dripping shape is carried up the beach, and the land's welcome for it can only be the different and sinister hospitality of the grave."

Higgins will be buried in the nearby Pinewood Cemetery until his body can be

later returned to his family in Salem, Massachusetts. Crane and the others are taken first to "Surfcrest," the beach-side cottage home of the Spaulding family, where Murphy and Montgomery will find shelter and spend the night. Crane, however, is anxious to get back to Cora in Jacksonville. Unfortunately, today is Sunday, and no trains are running from Daytona to Jacksonville. Crane cannot get back to Cora, but he knows that he must send a message to her. Already, newspaper articles have been published claiming that Crane has been drowned. Mr. and Mrs. Laurence Thompson invite Crane to stay at their house, "Lilian Place," which is located across a bridge from the Daytona train station where the telegraph office is located. Thompson offers to help Crane send the message. Months later, Crane will send the Thompson family an autographed book in thanks for their aid.

Crane's message to Cora is rushed across the bridge to the station where Fred Niver, the station manager and telegrapher, sends the message. Within hours, Cora returns a jubilant telegram:

[CORA] "Telegram received. Thank God you are safe, Have been almost crazy. - - Cora Taylor."

Cora tries to get the officials of the East Coast Railway to send a special train to Daytona to pick up Crane, but they are unable to grant her request.

Undaunted, the next morning, Cora takes the first train to Daytona, . . . . . and at about noon, Monday, January 4th, 1897, Cora and Stephen Crane are reunited in the Daytona train station. Fred Niver, the

station master and telegrapher, is there and sees them. He thinks to himself:

[NIVER]

"I guess they'll just sit over in that corner of the sitting room with their arms around one another, hugging and kissing like lovebirds until time for the afternoon northbound train to leave."

Crane and Cora return at last to Jacksonville. As they enter the St. James Hotel, nine-year-old Lillian Barrett is there to greet them. Having earlier idolized Crane as the "Savior of Cuba," the little girl presents Crane with her autograph book. Crane grasps it and writes: "Stephen Crane, able seaman, S. S. Commodore, January 4, 1897."

The incredible experience is over, but for Crane the effects will be long-lasting. To escape the inquiries by Federal officials and the crowd of curious celebrity seekers, the author returns briefly to New York, where he begins work on a short story of his recent adventure which he will entitle "The Open Boat." It is a story which H. G. Wells will declare to be one of Crane's best writings, and Ralph Paine will call it "the finest short story ever written in the English language."

In February, Crane returns to Jacksonville to try another trip to Cuba. But the filibusters are all bottled up in port, and Crane and Cora retire to the "swamps below Daytona" for a while.

Crane and Cora will have many adventures together, covering the Greco-Turkish War, and then settling in England. They will be together for the next three years except during . . . . . . a period when Crane is covering the Spanish-American War in Cuba for the New York Journal and living aboard the old filibuster tug, the Three Friends.
However, Crane's ordeal in the cold waters off Daytona Beach has inflicted him with the beginnings of tuberculosis, and on June 5, 1900, he dies at a spa in Germany. His last conscious thoughts are nightmares of changing places in the open boat. Crane is buried in what is now Hillside, New Jersey.

After Crane's death, Cora returns to Jacksonville to the life she had led before, but when she dies in 1910, her will requests her tombstone to read "Cora Crane."

The filibustering efforts such as those in which Crane was involved would bear fruit. Encouraged by American support, the Cuban rebels fight on until, after the American battleship Maine is blown up in Havana Harbor, and the United States declares war on Spain in 1898.

The conclusion of that war brings the United States into its position as a global power, and leads to Cuban independence.

For nearly seventy years, the wreck of the Commodore has held her secrets, but in the 1960's a diver from Daytona Beach, Don Serbousek, locates a wreck in 80 feet of water, some 12 miles off Daytona Beach. In 1986, a teacher, Elizabeth Friedmann of Jacksonville, seeks to locate the wreck of the Commodore. She contacts Serbousek, and from the location of the wreck and the unique cargo which still lies on the bottom, Friedmann and Serbousek are able to determine that Serbousek's wreck is indeed that of the Commodore.

Today, as the remains of the Commodore continue to rest on the bottom of the ocean, they are being surveyed and studied by archaeologists and members of the Volusia County Reef Research Dive Team.