By the last of May there were sixteen thousand men at Tampa under the
command of General Shafter, but it was not until the 14th of June
that they set sail for Cuba. On a clear, scorchingly hot morning,
June 22d, they landed at Daiquiri, twelve miles east of the entrance
to Santiago Bay. From all accounts things seem to have been wofully
mismanaged, so that our poor soldiers had no facilities for landing.
Those who loaded the ship, it would appear, must have been great
bunglers--either exceedingly ignorant in regard to such work or most
reprehensibly careless. In consequence, scarcely anything could be
found when wanted. Medical stores were scattered among twenty vessels;
so that when fever broke out in the trenches before Santiago it was
almost impossible to get the needed remedies; probably--though there
were never enough on the field--some medicines were left on the ships
and carried back to the United States. All this made the work of the
physicians doubly trying. Besides, they were too few in number, the
wounded many more than it had been expected they would be, and brought
in faster than they could be attended to; the surgeons worked all night
by the light of spluttering lamps, and there was not enough of even
surgical instruments. But the poor wounded men were wonderfully brave
and patient. Harold and Herbert Travilla felt that they had not engaged
in a cause which did not need them. After the fighting began their
labors were exhausting; all the more so because of the drain upon their
sympathies.
On the morning of July 2d our troops were found safely intrenched on
the ridge of the hill above Santiago. The day before had been one of
heavy losses to our army--many officers and men killed and wounded.
And now, just as light began to show in the east, the Spaniards opened
a heavy fire on our works. Our men made few replies, for ammunition
was getting scarce; and so anxious for it were the soldiers that
they hailed an ammunition train with great joy, though they were half
starved and knew that no provisions could come while the road was
crowded with such trains.
The war artist, Frederic Remington, tells of the delight with which the
poor hungry fellows hailed a pack-train loaded with ammunition, though
they knew that no food would be brought them that night. "The wounded
going to the rear cheered the ammunition, and when it was unpacked at
the front the soldiers seized it like gold. They lifted a box in the
air and dropped it on one corner, which smashed it open.
"'Now we can hold San Juan hill against them garlics; hey, son?' yelled
a happy cavalryman to a doughboy.
"'You bet! until we starve to death.'
"'Starve nothin'--we'll eat them gun-teams.'"
The soldiers refilled their cartridge belts, then crouched all day in
trenches, watching for an assault, and firing just often enough to
keep the enemy from advancing upon them. While doing so they could
hear the thunder of the navy's guns far away in the southwest, where
it was engaging a battery. At the same time, down in the harbor of
Santiago, Cervera was getting ready to make his rush out of the harbor
the next day.
The Spaniards made a dash at our men about half-past nine that night,
and drove them back for a few minutes from several points on their
line, but they soon returned and drove the Spaniards back with heavy
loss.
* * * * *
The next day, July 3d, was Sunday, and on the great ships of the
American squadron, floating heavily in a half-circle about the mouth
of Santiago harbor, the men were swarming on deck in fresh clean white
clothes, ready for muster. About nine o'clock the flagship _New York_
showed the signal: "Disregard flagship's movements," and steamed away
toward the east. Admiral Sampson had gone in it for a conference with
General Shafter, whose troops were then resting after their dreadful
fight on San Juan hill and El Caney.
Of our ships on watch outside of the harbor, the _Brooklyn_ was
to the southwest, the _Texas_ directly south, while the three big
battleships, _Indiana_, _Iowa_, and _Oregon_, made a curve inshore
east of the Morro. The little picket boat _Vixen_ was there also, and
the _Gloucester_ farthest east and nearest inshore. The _New York_,
now absent, was the one ship supposed to be able to compete with
the Spaniards in speed, and her departure left a broad gap in the
blockading line.
The lookouts on the fleet had reported fires burning on the hills all
the night before, and Commodore Schley, who was in command in Admiral
Sampson's absence, signalled to the _Texas_ the query: "What is your
theory about the burning of the block-houses on the hill last night?"
He sat on the deck waiting for an answer, and at the same time watching
a cloud of smoke rising from the interior of the harbor behind the
hills. It did not necessarily mean anything serious, for about that
time in the morning a tug was apt to make a visit to the Estrella
battery. Still, they watched it, and presently the quartermaster on the
forward bridge said quietly to the navigating officer, "That smoke's
moving, sir." That officer took a peep himself, and what he saw nearly
made him drop the glass. "Afterbridge there," he called loudly through
a megaphone; "tell the commodore the enemy is coming out."
His words were heard all over the ship, and commodore, officers,
sailors, powder-boys were all rushing for their station.
The cry rang out, "Clear ship for action," and gongs and bugles which
call to general quarters clanged and pealed on the quiet air. There
were echoes of the same sounds from the other ships, and the signals,
"The enemy is escaping," ran to the masthead of the _Brooklyn_, the
_Texas_, and the _Iowa_ at the same moment; for that suspicious smoke
had been watched from all the ships.
It seemed that all the vessels of the blockade had caught the alarm
at the same time, and the flagship's signal was quickly changed for
another--"Clear ship for action!"
But it was quite unnecessary. On every ship men were dropping off the
white clothes which they had donned for general muster, and hurrying
to their quarters without waiting for a command. Every wooden thing
was tumbled overboard, water-tight compartments were hastily shut,
hose was coupled up and strung along the decks ready to fight fire,
battle-hatches were lowered, and in less time than it takes to tell
of it all this was accomplished. Then at the sudden blast of a bugle
the five hundred and more men to a ship stood at their posts, each one
where he would be most needed in battle, and all perfectly silent.
Doubtless every eye was turned toward Estrella Point, where the Spanish
vessels, if indeed coming out, must first show themselves, and there
presently a huge black hull appeared. It came out far enough to show a
turret, and from that came a flash, and then the boom of a heavy shot,
instantly answered by a six-pounder from the _Iowa_. The battle had
begun, and "Fighting Bob" Evans had fired the first shot.
That ship just coming out was the _Maria Teresa_, and she was followed
by the _Vizcaya_, the _Cristobal Colon_, and the _Almirante Oquendo_.
All the American ships were standing in toward the harbor to meet
them, firing rapidly from every gun that could be brought to bear. It
was uncertain at first which way the Spaniards would turn when they
had passed the shoals that extend half a mile beyond the mouth of the
harbor. If they turned eastward they would have to run into the midst
of the most formidable ships of our squadron. If they went directly
west they might outrun the battleships and escape. The _Brooklyn_ was
the fastest ship on the blockade, and was also in the best position
to head off the Spaniards should they take that course. But it was
possible she might be lost, as she was no match for the number of the
enemy that would be in a position to engage her when she came up to
them. Commodore Schley says that the possibility of losing his ship
in that way entered very clearly into his calculations, but also that
in sinking the _Brooklyn_ the Spaniards would be delayed long enough
for the battleships to come up to them and that then there would be
no reason to fear their escape. The difficulty was that because the
_Brooklyn_ was on a parallel course with the Spaniards, and going in a
directly opposite direction, she would have to make a complete circle
in order to chase them; and had they had the speed with which they were
credited, that would have put the _Brooklyn_ out of the fight, one
of her engines being uncoupled, and in consequence her speed greatly
reduced.
But the Spanish vessels fell far behind their estimated speed, so that
the _Brooklyn_ was able to circle about and still overhaul the fleetest
of them, and the _Texas_, the slowest of our battleships, held its own
in the race.
The _Maria Teresa_ passed the shoals and turned west. The little
_Vixen_, lying near the _Brooklyn_, when she saw the _Maria Teresa_
turn toward her, fired off her six-pounders, then slipped away, while
the rest of the American ships came rushing down toward the enemy
with their funnels belching black smoke, and turrets, hulls, and tops
spurting out red flames and yellow smoke. They steamed toward the foe
as fast as possible, at the same time firing fiercely from every gun
that could be brought to bear, and paying no attention to the shore
batteries which were firing upon them. The _Indiana_ was nearest the
shore and nearest the _Maria Teresa_, the leading ship of the enemy,
when the fight began. It is said that the water fairly boiled with the
flood of projectiles from Morro and the broadside with which the _Maria
Teresa_ opened battle. As she turned toward the west the shot from the
_Indiana_ struck her more than once; but after that the _Indiana_ gave
her attention to the _Vizcaya_.
By this time all the American ships were engaged, but in the dense
smoke it was almost impossible to make out how great was the success of
any single one.
But Commodore Eaton, who was watching the fight from the tug
_Resolute_, says: "As the _Vizcaya_ came out I distinctly saw one of
the _Indiana's_ heavy shells strike her abaft the funnels, and the
explosion of this shell was followed by a burst of flame, which for
a time obscured the after part of the stricken ship." The _Iowa_ and
_Oregon_, belching forth great clouds of smoke until they looked like
huge yellow clouds on the water, steamed straight toward the fleeing
enemy. Says Mr. Abbott: "As the battleships closed in on their prey,
they overlapped each other, and careless use of the guns or failure to
make out accurately the target might have resulted in one of our ships
firing into another. But so skilfully were they handled that at no time
were they put in jeopardy from either the guns or the rams of each
other, though at one time the _Oregon_ was firing right across the deck
of the _Texas_."
The end of the _Maria Teresa_, the first ship to leave the harbor,
came upon her very swiftly, and was frightful. The shells and small
projectiles searched out every part of her, spreading death and ruin,
and soon setting her woodwork ablaze. The scarlet flames like snakes'
tongues darted viciously from her sides; but her gunners stood manfully
to their guns. Little smoke hung about her, and her bold black hulk
seen against the green background of the hills made her a perfect
target. A shot from the _Brooklyn_ cut her main water-pipe, and a
shell--probably from the _Oregon_--entered her hull and exploded in
the engine room; a six-inch shell from the _Iowa_ exploded in her
forward turret, killing or wounding every man at the guns; while the
storm of smaller projectiles swept her decks, and with the noise of
their bursting made it impossible for the men to hear their officers'
commands.
Admiral Cervera was on that vessel. One of his officers, telling of it
afterward, said: "He expected to lose most of his ships, but thought
the _Cristobal Colon_ might escape; that is why he transferred his flag
to the _Maria Teresa_, that he might perish with the less fortunate."
And this is the story told an American journalist by another officer
who stood by the admiral's side while that dreadful fight went on.
Of a shell from the _Brooklyn_ he said: "It struck us in the bow,
ploughing down amidships; then it exploded. It tore down the bulkheads,
destroyed stanchions, crippled two rapid-fire guns, and killed fifteen
or twenty men." Of a shell from the _Iowa_ he said: "It struck the
eleven-inch gun in the forward turret of the cruiser, cutting a furrow
as clean as a knife out of the gun. The shell exploded halfway in the
turret, making the whole vessel stagger and shake in every plate. When
the fumes and smoke had cleared away so that it was possible to enter
the turret, the other gunners were sent there. The survivors tumbled
the bodies which filled the wrecked turret through the ammunition hoist
to the lower deck. Even the machinery was clogged with corpses. All
our rapid-fire guns aloft soon became silent, because every gunner had
been either killed or crippled at his post and lay on the deck where
he fell. There were so many wounded that the surgeons ceased trying to
dress the wounds. Shells had exploded inside the ship, and even the
hospital was turned into a furnace. The first wounded who were sent
there had to be abandoned by the surgeons, who fled for their lives
from the intolerable heat."
The _Teresa_ came under the fire of our guns about 9.35 that morning.
Fifteen minutes later smoke was rising from her ports and hatches,
showing that she had been set afire by the American shells. The shot
from the _Brooklyn_ that cut her water-main made it impossible to
extinguish the flames, and the fire from the American ships grew more
accurate and deadly every minute; so she was beached and her flag
hauled down in token of surrender.
The men on the _Texas_ raised a shout of joy. But Captain Philip spoke
from the bridge: "Don't cheer, men; those poor fellows are dying."
For less than forty minutes Admiral Cervera had been running a race
for life, and now, clad in underclothes, he tried to escape to the
shore on a raft, directed by his son, but was captured and taken to the
_Gloucester_, where he was received with the honors due his rank. His
voyage from Santiago had been just six miles and a half, but had cost
the lives of nearly half his officers and crew.
The _Vizcaya_ had followed the _Teresa_ at a distance of about eight
hundred yards in coming out of Santiago harbor. Upon her decks, in
Havana harbor, Cuba, Spanish officers had looked down with careless
indifference upon the sunken wreck of our gallant battleship, the
_Maine_, and it may be supposed that when she came ploughing out of the
bay, Wainwright, late of the _Maine_, now on the little _Gloucester_,
aimed some shots at her with a special ill-will. But the _Vizcaya_,
under gathered headway, rushed on to the west, passing the heavier
battleships _Iowa_ and _Indiana_, but receiving terrible punishment
from their guns. A lieutenant of the _Vizcaya_, taken prisoner to the
United States, in an interview by a newspaper reporter, told of the
murderous effect of the shells from the _Indiana_.
"They appeared to slide along the surface of the water and hunt for
a seam in our armor," he said. "Three of those monster projectiles
penetrated the hull of the _Vizcaya_, and exploded there before we
started for the shore. The carnage inside the ship was something
horrible and beyond description. Fires were started up constantly. It
seemed to me that the iron bulkheads were ablaze. Our organization was
perfect. We acted promptly and mastered all small outbreaks of flame,
until the small ammunition magazine was exploded by a shell. From that
moment the vessel became a furnace of fire. While we were walking the
deck, headed shoreward, we could hear the roar of the flames under our
feet above the voice of artillery. The _Vizcaya's_ hull bellowed like a
blast furnace. Why, men sprang from the red-hot decks straight into the
mouths of sharks."
But the _Vizcaya_ lasted longer than the _Almirante Oquendo_, which
followed her out of the harbor. The _Vizcaya_ turned at the mouth of
the harbor and went west, the _Brooklyn_, _Oregon_, and _Texas_ in hot
pursuit, while the _Indiana_ and _Iowa_ attacked the _Oquendo_. She
had been credited with as great speed as that of her sister ships, but
this day moved so slowly that she fared worse than any of her comrades.
She stood the fire of her foes five minutes longer than had the
_Teresa_, then with flames pouring out of every opening in her hull,
she ran for the beach, hauling down her flag as she went, in token of
surrender, while at the same time men were dropping from her red-hot
decks into the water.
Thus, in the first three-quarters of an hour two great Spanish war
vessels were destroyed, and the American fleet was concentrating its
fire on the other two.
The fighting men on the vessels were not the only ones who did noble
work for their country that day. In the engine rooms and stoke-holes
of the men-of-war, on that scorching hot July day, men worked naked in
fiery heat. They could hear the thunder of the guns above them, and
feel the ship tremble with the shock of the broadsides. How the battle
was going they could not see. Deep in their fiery prison, far below the
lapping waves that rushed along the armored hull, they only knew that
if disaster came they would suffer first and most cruelly. A successful
torpedo stroke would mean death to them, every one. The clean blow
of an enemy's ram would in all probability drown them like rats in a
cage, even if it did not cause them to be parboiled by the explosion of
their own boilers. A shot in the magazine would be their death warrant.
All the perils which menaced the men who were fighting so bravely at
the guns on deck threatened the sooty, sweating fellows who shovelled
coal and fixed fires down in the hold, with the added certainty that
for them escape was impossible, and the inspiration which comes from
the very sight of battle was denied them. They did their duty nobly.
If we had not the testimony of their commanders to that effect, we
still should know it, for they got out of every ship not only the
fullest speed with which she was credited under the most favorable
circumstances, but even more--notably in the cases of the _Texas_ and
_Oregon_, which, despite bottoms fouled from long service in tropical
waters, actually exceeded their highest recorded speed in the chase.
On the _Oregon_, when she was silently pursuing the _Colon_ at the end
of the battle, Lieutenant Milligan, who had gone down into the furnace
room to work by the side of the men on whom so much depended, came up
to the captain to ask that a gun might be fired now and then. "My men
were almost exhausted," said Milligan, "when the last thirteen-inch gun
was fired, and the sound of it restored their energy, and they fell to
work with renewed vigor. If you will fire a gun occasionally it will
keep their enthusiasm up." On most of the ships the great value of the
work the men in engine rooms were doing was recognized by the captain's
sending down every few minutes to them an account of how the fight
progressed. Each report was received with cheers and redoubled activity.
On the _Brooklyn_, when the _Colon_ was making her final race for life,
Commodore Schley sent orderlies down to the stoke-holes and engine room
with this message: "Now, boys, it all depends on you. Everything is
sunk except the _Colon_, and she is trying to get away. We don't want
her to, and everything depends on you." The _Colon_ did not get away.
The _Vizcaya_ was still making a gallant running fight, and in some
degree protecting the magnificent _Cristobal Colon_. While these
fled, disaster fell upon the two torpedo-boat destroyers, _Pluton_
and _Furor_. Instead of dashing at the nearest American ship--which
would have been their wisest course--both followed the example of the
cruisers, and turned along the shore to the westward. Either of them
would have been more than a match for the little _Gloucester_, but her
commander, Richard Wainwright, sped forward in a cloud of smoke from
her own guns, receiving unnoticed shots from the batteries and the
nearer Spanish cruisers, though one six-inch shell would have destroyed
her. The batteries of the _Pluton_ and _Furor_ were of twice the power
of the _Gloucester's_, and they had, besides, the engine of destruction
which they could send out from their torpedo tubes. But in a few
minutes Wainwright was engaged with them both at short range and under
the fire of the Socapa battery. The other American battleships had been
firing at them, but desisted when they perceived that the _Gloucester_
alone was capable of managing them. In a very few minutes they both
began to smoke ominously, and their fire became much less rapid. Then
the _Furor_ moved as if her steering gear had been cut. Wainwright and
his men redoubled their efforts at the guns. Suddenly, on the _Furor_,
amidships, there shot up a great cloud of smoke and flame, with a
deafening roar and shock that could be felt across the water, even
amid the thunders of the guns. A shell from one of the battleships had
struck her fairly, and broken her in two, exploding either the magazine
or the boilers, or both, and she sank like a stone.
Wainwright pursued the other torpedo boat, the _Pluton_, more
vigorously. She was already badly crippled, and tried hard to escape;
but at last, fairly shot to pieces, she hauled down her flag, and ran
for the line of breaking surf, where her men leaped overboard to
escape the fierce flames that were sweeping relentlessly below from bow
to stern.
The sight of their danger and distress changed Wainwright from a
pitiless foe to a helping friend. He manned his boats and went to the
rescue of those still alive on the burning ship. Many were saved, and
the Americans had hardly left the smoking ship when it blew up with a
resounding roar, and vanished as had its companion. Just forty minutes
they had lasted under the American fire, and without being at any time
a serious menace to our ships.
The battle had now lasted for about three-quarters of an hour. The
_Infanta Maria Teresa_ and the _Oquendo_ were blazing on the beach
with their colors struck. The battleship _Indiana_ had been signalled
to turn in toward the shore and give aid to the survivors on the
burning ships. Only two Spanish vessels were left--the _Vizcaya_,
running and fighting bravely in a hopeless struggle for life, and the
_Cristobal Colon_, which was rushing at great speed down the coast to
the westward. In the chase of these two vessels the _Brooklyn_ held
the place of honor. Her position on the blockade at the time that the
enemy came out was a commanding one, and her speed kept her well to
the front. At the beginning of the fight the _Texas_ was next her. In
this battle she developed marvellous speed, and fought with reckless
gallantry. The _Oregon_ was third at the start, but by a wonderful dash
passed the _Texas_ and actually caught up with the _Brooklyn_, whose
tars turned out on deck to cheer her--the wonderful fighter from the
Pacific coast dockyard. The _Iowa_ was only a short distance in their
rear, and the fire of the four was now concentrated upon the unhappy
_Vizcaya_, which had escaped serious injury while the attention of the
entire American fleet was given to the _Oquendo_ and the _Teresa_,
but now with four of the best fighting machines in the world devoting
their entire attention to her, she began to go to pieces. The heavy
shells and smaller projectiles that struck her made a great clangor,
and caused her great frame to quiver. When an hour had passed the
_Brooklyn_, _Oregon_, and _Texas_ were the only ones still pursuing
her. The _Indiana_ had been left behind, and the _Iowa_ had stopped to
aid the burning and drowning men on the blazing warships. The fire of
the three warships was concentrated on the _Vizcaya_. Word was passed
to the turrets and tops of the _Brooklyn_ to aim at the _Vizcaya_ only.
They were scarcely more than half a mile from her, and the effect of
the shots began to tell. One of the _Brooklyn_ gunners reported to the
lieutenant who had charge of that turret that he didn't see any of the
shots dropping into the water. "Well, that's all right," replied the
officer; "if they don't drop into the water they are hitting." And
so they were. The beautiful woodwork inside of the vessel was all in
a blaze. The hull was pierced below the water line, the turrets were
full of dead and wounded men, and the machinery was shattered. Captain
Eulate, her commander, was a brave officer and a gentleman, but he
found himself compelled to abandon the fight, so turned his ship's prow
toward that rocky shore on which lay the wrecks of the _Oquendo_, the
_Teresa_, and the _Furor_.
As the _Vizcaya_ swung about, a shell from the _Oregon_ struck her
fairly in the stern. An enormous mass of steel, charged with explosives
of frightful power, it rushed through the steel framework of the
ship, shattering everything in its course, crashed into the boiler,
and exploded. Words are powerless to describe the ruin that resulted.
Men, guns, projectiles, ragged bits of steel and iron, splinters, and
indescribable _débris_ were hurled in every direction, while flames
shot up from every part of the ship. A fierce fire raged between her
decks, and those who were gazing at her from the decks of the American
men-of-war could see what looked like a white line reaching from her
bow to the water, which was in fact the naked men dropping one after
another over the side to seek the cool relief of the ocean from the
fiery torment they were enduring.
The _Colon_ was now left alone, and was doing her utmost to escape.
The men on our foremost pursuing ships soon perceived that there
could be no hope of escape for her. Commodore Schley saw it, and
began to lighten the strain on his men. They were called out on the
superstructure to see what had been done by the guns of the fleet and
to watch the chase. They came pouring out from the turrets, up from
the engine rooms and magazines--stalwart fellows, smoke-begrimed and
sweaty. Almost abeam they saw the _Vizcaya_ with men dropping from
every port. Far astern were the smoking wrecks of the _Teresa_ and
_Oquendo_, ahead on the right was the _Colon_, fleeing for her life,
while the _Brooklyn_ rushed after her relentlessly.
As the men crowded on along the decks and on the turret top, they
suddenly and spontaneously sent up a cheer for Admiral Schley. The
admiral, on the bridge above them, looked down upon them with moistened
eyes. "They are the boys who did it," he said to one who stood beside
him, and he spoke truly.
Then the men cheered the _Oregon_, which was coming up gallantly,
and her men returned the cheer. Now all felt that even the last of
Cervera's vessels was sure to be soon taken, and signals of a social
and jocular character were exchanged. One from the _Brooklyn_ suggested
to the _Oregon_ that she try one of her thirteen-inch guns on the
chase. The great cannon flashed and roared from the forward turret, and
the shell, which rushed past the _Brooklyn_ with a noise like a railway
train, fell short. On they rushed, the _Oregon_ visibly gaining on the
fastest ship of the Spanish navy; a battleship built for weight and
solidity overhauling a cruiser built for speed! Another shell was sent,
and fell so near the _Colon_ that the captain seemed to read in it the
death-warrant of his ship. He turned her toward the shore and beached
her, hauling down his flag as she struck. Captain Cook went in a boat
to take possession of the prize, his crew being ordered not to cheer
or exult over the vanquished. The _Colon_ surrendered at 1.10 P.M.,
ending a naval battle that lasted less than four hours, and possessed
many extraordinary and unique qualities. It completed the wreck of
Spanish naval power and dealt the decisive stroke that deprived Spain
of her last remnant of American colonies. It was of absorbing interest
to naval experts in all parts of the world, and it was unique in
that while the defeated fleet lost six ships, more than six hundred
men killed and drowned, and eighteen hundred prisoners, many of them
wounded, the victors had but one man killed and one wounded.
No wonder that when the fight was over, the victory won--such a victory
too--a Christian man, such as Captain Philip of the _Texas_, whose crew
were cheering in a very delirium of joy, should call them about him,
and, uncovering his head, say in a reverential tone: "I want to make
public acknowledgment here that I believe in God the Father. I want you
all to lift your hats and from your hearts offer silent thanks to the
Almighty."
And truly they had abundant reason for great thankfulness, having
escaped with so few casualties, while the foe suffered so terribly,
scores of them being literally roasted alive, for the whole interior
of the ships, _Vizcaya, Oquendo_, and _Teresa_ became like iron
furnaces at white heat. Even the decks were red hot, and the wounded
burned where they lay. So crazed by the sight of the agony of men
wounded and held fast by the jamming of gratings, were some of those
otherwise unhurt, that they could hardly be induced to respond to
efforts for their own rescue. They would cling to a ladder or the side
of a scorching hot ship and have to be literally dragged away before
they would loose their hold and drop into a boat below. Our sailors
worked hard on blistering decks, amid piles of ammunition that were
continually being exploded by the heat, and under guns that might
at any minute send out a withering blast, risking life and limbs in
succoring their defeated foes; for it is not too much to say that in
that work of mercy the bluejackets encountered dangers quite as deadly
as those they had met in the fury of battle.
The poor marksmanship of the Spaniards saved our ships from being much
damaged. A good many shots struck: the _Brooklyn_ bore in all some
forty scars of the fight, twenty-five of them having been shells; but
she was so slightly injured that she could have begun all over again
when the _Colon_ turned over on the shore. The _Iowa_ was hit twice,
the _Texas_ three times, one shell smashing her chart-house and another
making a hole in her smokestack. The injuries to the other ships were
of even less importance.