DESTRUCTION OF THE SPANISH SHIPS
As the _Speedy_ rounded the first headland those on board saw the great
war-ship they were to intercept coming leisurely down the coast, not
more than a mile away. The yacht fired a gun to call attention to her
momentous signal, and within a few seconds an answer, showing that it
was seen and understood, was displayed from the _New York_. At the
same time the latter began to turn, so as to retrace her course. She
had hardly begun the movement before the _Speedy_ slipped up under her
quarter.
"Where did you get your information?" called out Captain Chadwick
through a megaphone.
"Messenger from the Commanding General," was the answer.
"All right. Keep on, and warn the fleet, if you reach them before we
do."
"Ay, ay, sir!" and then the swift yacht had moved beyond range even of
a megaphone.
All at once the little group of officers gathered on the _Speedy's_
bridge, of course including Lieutenant Ridge Norris, knew that they
were not to have the honor of warning the fleet; for a line of smoke,
evidently moving seaward, appeared above the hills from the direction
of Santiago Bay.
"They are coming out!" cried the _Speedy's_ Captain; "and, if they have
the pluck to keep on, we are about to witness one of the greatest
sea-fights of the century."
If the entire American blockading fleet had been on hand the coming
contest would have been too unequal to be interesting. As it was, the
_Massachusetts_, _New Orleans_, and _Newark_ had gone to Guantanamo
after coal, while the _New York_ was too far away to take any active
part in the fighting. This left only the _Brooklyn_, _Oregon_, _Iowa_,
_Indiana_, and _Texas_ on guard, with the converted yachts _Gloucester_
and _Vixen_ acting as picket-boats.
The American ships lay some three miles off shore under low steam, and
their crews were preparing for Sunday morning inspection. Two of the
battle-ships were overhauling their forward turrets, and repairing
damages received during a bombardment of the forts on the previous day.
The _Brooklyn_ lay farthest to the westward, and the _Indiana_ at the
eastern end of the line, with the _Texas_, _Iowa_, and _Oregon_ between
them. Inshore of these were the two yachts.
In Santiago Bay, about to rush out on these unsuspecting ships, were
four of the finest cruisers in the world, possessed of greater speed
than any of the Americans except the _Brooklyn_, and under a full head
of steam: with them were two torpedo-boat destroyers, ranking among the
most powerful and swiftest of their class.
At half-past nine o'clock of that peaceful Sunday morning, as the
_Speedy_ was still some five miles to the eastward of Santiago Bay,
with the _New York_ just completing her turn, two miles farther down
the coast, a shot from the _Iowa_ drew attention to her fluttering
signal, "The enemy is escaping."
Almost at the same moment the same startling signal broke out from a
masthead of the _Texas_, which opened the battle with the mighty roar
of a twelve-inch shell. The _Brooklyn_ was also flying signal
250--"The enemy is escaping"--and within three minutes from the
discovery of that moving smoke behind the Morro her forward eight-inch
battery was in full play against the _Maria Teresa_, first of the
Spaniards to show her glistening hull around the point.
Dashing at full speed from the harbor-mouth, outlined by the smokeless
flames of her forward turret and port batteries, Admiral Cervera's
flag-ship was quickly headed to the westward, and for the most open
point of the blockade. Behind her steamed the _Vizcaya_, _Colon_,
_Oquendo_, and the torpedo-boats _Furor_ and _Pluton_.
During the whole long blockade, the one standing order given by Admiral
Sampson to cover an emergency like the present had been, "Should the
enemy come out, close in and engage."
Now the ships that he had left on guard did close in with what speed
they could command, while their sweating stokers toiled like demons in
the hideous heat of the fire-rooms to produce still greater heat and
more steam. As the on-rushing Spaniards cleared the harbor's mouth,
every American ship was moving towards them and delivering a fire so
incredibly terrific and of such deadly accuracy that its like was never
known in the whole history of naval warfare.
At the outset the little _Gloucester_, commanded by
Lieutenant-Commander Richard Wainwright, who had been navigating
officer of the _Maine_ at the time of her destruction, made a dash for
her legitimate opponents, the two torpedo-boats. They in turn sought
shelter behind the _Oquendo_, and for a minute it looked as though the
yacht were about to attack the big cruiser. Then the _Texas_ began to
pay particular attention to the _Oquendo_; and, seemingly content to
leave her in such good hands, the Gloucester again started after the
destroyers. Suddenly a great shell from the _Indiana_, hurled over the
yacht, struck one of them fairly amidships, and, with a roar heard high
above the din of firing, the unfortunate boat plunged to the bottom,
carrying with her all on board.
The _Gloucester_ now directed her energies against the remaining
destroyer, running well within range of the shore batteries to get at
her, and within ten minutes had so riddled her with a storm of small
projectiles that she lowered her colors, turned in towards the beach,
struck on a reef, and in another moment was being helplessly pounded to
pieces by the surf. At the same time small boats from the plucky yacht
that had placed her in this sad plight were busily engaged in rescuing
such of her crew as could be reached.
In the mean time both the _Teresa_ and _Oquendo_ had received so
frightful a fire from the _Indiana_, _Iowa_, and _Texas_, that within
six miles of Santiago Harbor the former, enveloped in flames, and no
longer capable of defending herself, was also headed for the beach,
where the gallant little _Gloucester_ soon afterwards came to her
assistance and rescued hundreds of her perishing crew, including brave
old Admiral Cervera.
A few minutes later the _Almirante Oquendo_, with colors lowered and
flames pouring from her open ports, also turned slowly inshore, and was
beached within half a mile of the Spanish flag-ship. It was only forty
minutes since the fight began; but in that short space four of the
Spanish squadron had been destroyed, without loss of life to the
Americans, and but slight damage to their ships. With the burning
_Teresa_ and _Oquendo_ stayed the battle-ship _Indiana_, her men
working in eager emulation with those of the _Gloucester_ to save the
lives of their recent enemies.
The next victim to succumb beneath the terrible American fire was the
superb _Vizcaya_, which, pounded to death by the _Brooklyn_, _Oregon_,
and _Texas_, was run on the beach at Aserraderos, seventeen miles west
of Santiago Bay, a few minutes after eleven o'clock. Like her
unfortunate consorts, she also was a mass of flame, and had no sooner
struck than scores of her people leaped overboard to escape being
roasted alive. Among these swimmers a body of Cuban troops poured a
cowardly fire from the beach; but Captain Evans of the _Iowa_ quickly
put a stop to that, and stood by the blazing wreck so long as there was
a Spaniard left to be rescued from flame or flood.
Of all Cervera's powerful squadron only a single ship was now left, the
swift _Cristobal Colon_, which, by keeping behind the others, had as
yet come to little harm. When the _Vizcaya_ was run ashore, the
_Colon_ was more than four miles ahead of her leading pursuer, the
_Brooklyn_. Close on the heels of the latter came the wonderful
battle-ship _Oregon_, which had unexpectedly developed such
extraordinary speed that, although starting next to the last of the
American ships, she now very nearly led the chase. Next behind her
came the _Texas_, while the superb _New York_, though still far in the
rear, was overhauling all three, and had the race been long enough
would eventually have exchanged broadsides with the _Colon_.
But she was not to be granted that satisfaction; for shortly after one
o'clock, when the chase had lasted two hours, the _Oregon_ threw a
couple of great thirteen-inch shells, at a range of five miles, so
close to the flying Spaniard that they deluged her with tons of water.
Upon this, to the surprise of every one, and without making any sort of
a fight, the finest ship of the Spanish navy lowered her flag and was
headed in for the beach. After she had thus surrendered, and before
the Americans could board, she was wrecked by her own crew, who opened
sea-valves, smashed out dead lights, threw overboard the breech-blocks
of their great guns, and in many other ways worked what destruction
they could in the time allotted. As a result of this vandalism, the
fine ship rolled over on her side soon after striking, and would have
slipped off into deep water had not the _New York_ rammed her to a
better position higher up the beach.
Thus was destroyed the fine squadron that had been a menace to the
Americans ever since the war began. Spain's loss was 600 human lives,
1200 prisoners, and six ships, valued at $12,000,000; while that of the
Americans was one man killed and three wounded, all on the _Brooklyn_,
together with a few trifling injuries to the _Brooklyn_, _Iowa_, and
_Texas_.
And Ridge Norris, from the deck of the little _Speedy_, had been a
spectator of the whole affair from beginning to end. Thrilled with
such excitement as he had never before known, he had seen ship after
ship wearing the proud colors of Spain driven helplessly to the beach
by the withering blasts of Yankee gunnery, until all were destroyed.
Never before had our young American been so proud of his country and
his countrymen. Now his wonderful day was to be crowned with a great
honor; for, no sooner was it certain that the _Colon_ had surrendered,
than a message from the flag-ship bade the _Speedy_ return with all
haste to Siboney and land the army officer whom she had brought out,
that he might convey the glorious news to General Shafter and the men
in the trenches before Santiago.
"That's you, old man!" cried Ensign Comly, "And I envy you your present
job a heap more than I did the one you were undertaking the last time
we set you ashore."
So back past the blazing wrecks of Cervera's squadron and on to Siboney
dashed the despatch-boat. The transport from which Ridge had been
rescued that morning still lay in the harbor, and her Captain, hailing
the _Speedy_, eagerly asked for news; but none was given him, and he
was treated to a contemptuous silence that caused him to grow more
purple-faced than ever.
As Ridge was rowed ashore he directed Ensign Comly's attention to a
large steam-yacht painted lead-color in imitation of the war-ships, but
flying a Red Cross flag, that had evidently just arrived.
"She looks a little like Rollo Van Kyp's _Royal Flush_," he said; "but
what is her name? G-r-a-y--Gray man? Gray mare? Oh no, _Gray Nun_.
Queer name for a yacht, isn't it?"
"Yes; and those nurses on her deck don't look a bit like nuns," replied
Ensign Comly. "Believe I'll make a call if we lie here this evening,
for I understand that some of the nicest girls in the country have
enlisted under the Red Cross since you chaps were sent to Santiago."
"Wish I could join you," sighed Ridge; "only I haven't spoken to a girl
in so long that I shouldn't know what to say."