of the United States in March, 1897, it became apparent that the
disordered condition of Cuba under Spanish rule was destined
inevitably to become an issue which the United States must help to
settle. For two years a great part of the island had been in open and
determined revolt against Spanish rule. Though the forces of the King
had been able to hold the seaports, thus cutting off the insurgents
from regular communication with the outer world and making impotent
their efforts to secure recognition from foreign powers, the patriots
under Maceo and Gomez held control of the interior, established a
government of their own, enforced order, and levied taxes. Enormous
sacrifices were made by the Spanish people to re-establish sovereignty
in the island. More than 300,000 troops were sent thither to be
cruelly cut down by plague and pestilence. A nation, long on the verge
of bankruptcy, incurred uncomplainingly prodigious additional
indebtedness to save for its boy king--Alphonso XIII. was at this time
but twelve years old--its most precious possession in the west, the
Pearl of the Antilles. Queen Isabella of Spain pawned her jewels that
Columbus might have the means to press his voyage of discovery into
unknown seas, but in the closing years of this century the people of
Spain pawned their national assets, put even themselves and their
posterity in pawn to hold for Spain the last relics of the empire
which Columbus won for her.
Though we were forced to draw the sword upon Spain in the cause of
humanity and human liberty, the man of reason, and of a sense of
justice, will not withhold from the people of that sorely chastened
nation admiration for their loyalty and the sacrifices they made in
their national cause.
But the Spanish people were cruelly betrayed by their own rulers. The
generals whom they sent to Cuba gave less thought to the suppression
of the insurrection than to filling their own pockets. Out of the
millions and millions of pesetas set aside by an already impoverished
people for the needs of war, a great part was stolen by generals and
by army contractors. The young conscripts, sent from Spain to a land
where the air is pestilential to the unacclimated, were clothed and
shod in shoddy; their food invited disease, and when they fell ill it
was found that the greed of the generals had consumed the funds that
should have provided sufficient hospital service. Comparatively few
fell before the bullets or machetes of the insurgents--for, as we
shall see, the revolutionists adopted the tactics of Fabius--but by
thousands they succumbed to fevers of every kind. Death without glory
was the hapless lot of the Spanish conscript.
The Patriot generals, Maximo Gomez and Antonio Maceo, met this
situation with consummate skill. The military problem which confronted
them was one which chiefly demanded self-restraint. They were
lamentably destitute of arms and munitions of war. Cartridges were a
dearly prized acquisition, and it is worth noting, as an indication of
the venality which corrupted the Spanish army, that a considerable
share of the insurgent ammunition was obtained by direct traffic with
the Spanish soldiers. But in the main the Patriots were armed with
heterogeneous firearms and the machete--a heavy, sword-like knife,
used, in peace, for cutting cane. The latter at close quarters was a
formidable weapon, and the insurgents became singularly proficient in
its use; developing a style of machete play almost as exact and
scientific as the school of the rapier in ancient France.
This disparity in weapons, however, made it imperative that the
insurgents should avoid pitched battles with the invaders, who were
armed with Mauser rifles, that do deadly work at two miles' distance.
Accordingly, Gomez and Maceo confined themselves to harrying the
Spanish army of occupation on every side and destroying all vestiges
of Spanish authority outside the large towns. Warfare of this sort
inevitably develops into the most cruel, the most barbarous of
conflicts. So it was in this case. That Cuba might be made desolate,
unable to pay anything toward the price of its own subjection, the
insurgents relentlessly destroyed standing crops, burned great fields
of standing sugar cane, destroyed mills, dynamited railroads, tore up
roads, and demolished aqueducts. That the peaceful inhabitants--the
pacificos--might not give aid or comfort to the revolutionists,
General Weyler caused them to be driven from their farms and herded in
the towns still under Spanish rule. There they stayed, in squalid huts
or under thatched sheds, AND STARVED. Systematically, with devilish
ingenuity, Spain planned to crush Cuba, not by fighting the
revolutionists, but by starving women and children, old men and
peaceful farm hands. It is estimated, and conservatively, that more
than 500,000 people had been starved to death before the United States
interfered.
Indeed, it was upon the hapless pacificos that the horrors of war
chiefly descended. They were ruined, but that was the least. Their
property, the honor of their women, and their lives were held to be
the legitimate spoil of any Spanish soldier, and the tacit
legalization of loot, rapine, and murder was taken full advantage of.
More inhuman even than the regular soldiery were the guerrillas,
licensed free companions, who roamed the island ever in search of
spoil. The deeds of these wretches beggar description, and so foul was
the repute of their corps that prisoners from their number taken by
the Cubans were instantly put to death. It is just to say here that
the testimony of Americans who served with Gomez and Maceo proves that
those leaders enforced humane and orderly conduct upon their
followers. The death penalty was more than once imposed upon useful
and brave soldiers, who had been guilty of outrage. Nothing could more
vividly indicate the moral difference between the Cuban and the
Spaniard than the contrast between their methods of prosecuting the
war. Though outlawed, the Revolutionists observed with scrupulous
exactness the rules of civilized warfare, while the Spaniards murdered
helpless prisoners, even killing the wounded in their beds, had
recourse to torture and to nameless mutilation, in order to wreak
their hatred, and let loose a swarm of bandits and ruffians to prey
upon the defenseless people of the island.
Out of warfare such as this, waged on an island only a few hours' sail
from our coast, and in which were heavy American interests, it was
inevitable that invasion of American rights should proceed, and the
wrath of the American people be awakened. Our citizens owned large
plantations in Cuba, which were destroyed either by the Spaniards or
the insurgents. Many Americans living in the island or visiting there,
were arrested by the Spanish authorities, and one, at least, Dr. Ruiz,
was murdered in Morro Castle, while another a newspaper correspondent,
was cut to pieces by guerrillas. For Spanish outrages upon the lives
or property of American citizens, claims aggregating $60,000,000 were
on file with the United States Department of State before the
declaration of war. The general sympathy of the American people with
the insurgents, as well as the hope of profit, led to repeated efforts
by our citizens to smuggle arms and munitions of war to the Cubans,
and in time it became necessary to employ a great part of the United
States navy in police duty on the high seas for the purpose of
stopping the filibusters. This service in behalf of Spain was
exceedingly repugnant to the American mind, and contributed greatly to
the growing feeling of irritation toward Spain.
History in coming ages, however, will relate, to the unending horror
and glory of the American people, that humanitarian considerations,
rather than regard for imperiled interests, brought the United States
into a war which most emphatically their people did not desire. The
great New York newspapers, day by day, printed circumstantial accounts
of the frightful sufferings in Cuba. One journal secured a great
number of photographs of scenes amid the starving reconcentrados,
which, greatly enlarged, were publicly exhibited in all parts of the
Union. These pictures, showing the frightful distortions of the human
body as the result of long starvation, showing little children, mere
skeletons, looking mutely down on the dead bodies of their parents,
brought home to the mind of the people the state of life in a
neighboring land as no writing, however brilliant, could. A cry went
up from every part of the United States that a Christian duty was
imposed upon our nation to interfere for the alleviation of such
horrible suffering. Charity came to the rescue with free contributions
of provisions, and Congress made a heavy appropriation of money for
the relief of the Cubans. But everywhere the opinion grew that
philanthropy alone could not right this great wrong, but that the
strong hand of the United States must reach forth to pluck out the
Spaniard from the land he ravaged. And when a number of Senators and
Representatives in Congress made journeys to Cuba, and returning,
described in formal addresses at the Capitol the scenes of starvation
and misery, this opinion hardened into positive conviction.
Then, almost as if planned by some all-knowing power, came a great and
inexplicable disaster, which made American intervention inevitable and
immediate.
During the latter years of the Cleveland administration the
representatives of American interests in Cuba urged that a United
States ship-of-war should be permanently stationed in Havana harbor.
The request was reasonable, the act in thorough accord with the custom
of nations. But, fearing to offend Spain, President Cleveland avoided
taking the step and President McKinley for months imitated him. In
time this act, which in itself could have had no hostile significance,
came to be regarded as an expression of hostility to Spain, and all
the resources of Spanish diplomacy were exerted to prevent any
American warship from entering Havana harbor. Ultimately, however, the
pressure of public opinion compelled the Executive to provide for
representation of American authority in the disordered island, and the
battle-ship "Maine"--a sister ship to the "Iowa," a picture of which
appears elsewhere in this volume--was sent to Havana.
The night of February 15 the "Maine" lay quietly at her anchorage in
the Havana harbor. Her great white hull, with lights shining
brilliantly from the ports aft where the officers' quarters were,
gleamed in the starlight. On the berth deck the men swung sleeping in
their hammocks. The watch on deck breathed gratefully the cool evening
air after the long tropic day. Captain Sigsbee was at work in his
cabin, and the officers in the wardroom were chatting over their games
or dozing over their books. The lights of the town and of the ancient
fortress of Morro shone brightly through the purpling light. Not far
away the Spanish man-of-war "Alfonso XIII." lay at her moorings, and
an American merchantman, brightly lighted, was near. The scene was
peaceful, quiet, beautiful. True, in the minds of many officers and
men on the American warship there was a lurking and indefinable sense
of danger. Their coming had been taken by the Spaniards in Havana as
a hostile act. Though all the perfunctory requirements of
international courtesy had been complied with, salutes interchanged,
visits of ceremony paid and returned, there was yet in the Spanish
greeting an ill-concealed tone of anger. In the cafes Spanish officers
cursed the Yankees and boasted of their purpose to destroy them. On
the streets American blue-jackets, on shore leave, were jostled,
jeered, and insulted. Yet the ill-temper of the Spaniards, though
apparent, was so ill defined that no apprehension of a positive attack
was felt. As is the practice on men-of-war, however, the utmost
vigilance was maintained. Only the employment of a boat patrol and the
use of torpedo nettings were lacking to give the "Maine" the aspect of
a ship in an enemy's harbor.
Then came the disaster that shocked the world. A disaster in which it
is impossible not to suspect the element of treachery. A disaster
which if purely accidental, occurring to a hated ship in a port
surrounded by men who were enemies at heart, was the most
extraordinary coincidence in history. The story is brief. Not until
this war is ended and the authority of the United States is employed
to clear up the mystery, can the real narrative of the destruction of
the "Maine" be told.
This much we know: At about half-past nine those on the "Maine" who
lived to tell the tale heard a sudden dull explosion, with a slight
shock, then a prolonged, deep, furious roar, which shook the ship to
its very vitals. The people on the other ships in the harbor saw the
whole forward portion of the "Maine" suddenly become a flaming volcano
belching forth fire, men, huge pieces of steel, and bursting shells.
Portions of the ship's hull rained down on decks a thousand yards
away. When the first fierce shock of the explosion was past, it was
seen that the "Maine" was on fire and was rapidly sinking.
How wonderful is the power of discipline upon the human mind! On the
great battle-ship, with hundreds of its men blown to pieces or penned
down by steel debris to be drowned in the rapidly rising waters, there
was no panic. Captain Sigsbee, rushing from his cabin door, is met by
the sergeant of marines who serves him as orderly. Not a detail of
naval etiquette is lacking. Sergeant William Anthony salutes:
"I have to report, sir, that the ship is blown up and is sinking," he
says, as he would report a pilot boat in the offing.
The captain reaches the deck to find his officers already at work, the
men who have not been injured all at their stations. Boats are
lowered and ply about the harbor to rescue survivors. Though the
flames rage fiercely, and the part of the ship which they have not yet
reached is full of high explosives, there is no panic. At the first
alarm every man has done what years of drill and teaching have taught
him to do. The after-magazines have been flooded, the boats' crews
called away. Even preparations for a fight had been attempted.
Lieutenant Jenkins, hearing the first explosion, sprang so quickly for
his station at a forward gun that he was caught in the second
explosion and slain. Though a bolt from heaven or a shock from hell
had struck the "Maine," it brought death only--not fear nor panic.
The work of rescuing survivors and caring for the wounded was pushed
apace, for the ship sunk rapidly, until only her after-superstructure
was above the water. Boats from the Spanish man-of-war joined in the
work of mercy and her officers, as though conscious that the suspicion
of treachery was first in every man's mind, exerted themselves in
every way to show solicitude for the wounded and sorrow for the
disaster. When all was done that could be done, and the roll of the
ship's company was called, it was found that 266 brave Americans were
lost in Havana harbor--a friendly port. Some lie there yet, penned
down beneath the gnarled and scorched steel which formed the gallant
"Maine"; others lie in lonely graves on the adjacent shore, where,
before this war is ended, the American flag shall be raised above them
to be their avenger and their monument.
* * * * *
It will be necessary to outline in only the most terse and condensed
form the political and military events which succeeded the destruction
of the "Maine" and led up to the declaration of war. The news of the
great disaster was received at home with horror, speedily turning to
anger. The Government, rightly desiring to proceed calmly and in
accordance with regularly ascertained facts, strove to calm the public
temper, but with little success. It gave out as Captain Sigsbee's
first report of the disaster a cable message, which contained no
charge of treachery, advised caution, and urged a suspension of
judgment. But presently it became rumored about Washington that this
dispatch was, in fact, sent under orders; that the captain's first
report formally charged the Spaniards with blowing up the ship. In the
newspapers the discussion raged and theories of the disaster were
plentiful, but, after long weeks of careful study of the evidence, the
Naval Board of Inquiry presented the following report:
When the "Maine" arrived at Havana, she was conducted by the
regular Government pilot to buoy No. 4, to which she was moored
in from five to six fathoms of water.
The state of discipline on board, and the condition of her
magazines, boilers, coal-bunkers, and storage compartments, are
passed in review, with the conclusion that excellent order
prevailed, and that no indication of any cause for an internal
explosion existed in any quarter.
At eight o'clock on the evening of February 15 everything had
been reported secure, and all was quiet. At 9.40 o'clock the
vessel was suddenly destroyed.
There were two distinct explosions, with a brief interval between
them. The first lifted the forward part of the ship very
perceptibly; the second, which was more open, prolonged, and of
greater volume, is attributed by the Court to the partial
explosion of two or more of the forward magazines.
The evidence of the divers establishes that the after-part of the
ship was practically intact, and sank in that condition a very
few minutes after the explosion. The forward part was completely
demolished.
Upon the evidence of a concurrent external cause the finding of
the Court is as follows:
At frame 17 the outer shell of the ship, from a point eleven and
one-half feet from the middle line of the ship and six feet above
the keel when in its natural position, has been forced up so as
to be now about four feet above the surface of the water;
therefore, about thirty-four feet above where it would be had the
ship sunk uninjured.
The outside bottom plating is bent into a reversed V-shape, the
after-wing of which, about fifteen feet broad and thirty-two feet
in length (from frame 17 to frame 25), is doubled back upon
itself against the continuation of the same plating extending
forward.
At frame 18 the vertical keel is broken in two and the flat keel
bent into an angle similar to the angle formed by the outside
bottom plates. This break is now about six feet below the surface
of the water and about thirty feet above its normal position.
In the opinion of the Court, this effect could have been produced
only by the explosion of a mine situated under the bottom of the
ship, at about frame 18, and somewhat on the port side of the
ship.
The conclusions of the Court are:
That the loss of the "Maine" was not in any respect due to fault
or negligence on the part of any of the officers or members of
her crew.
That the ship was destroyed by the explosion of a submarine mine,
which caused the partial explosion of two or more of her forward
magazines; and,
That no evidence has been obtainable fixing the responsibility
for the destruction of the "Maine" upon any person or persons.
[Illustration: Partial View of the Wreck of the "Maine."]
To-day, in the midst of war with Spain, we have no more definite, no
more authoritative knowledge of the cause of this disaster than this.
Spain, indeed, through her official commission, decided that the
explosion was wholly internal, but the American people is not
convinced. Battleships are not in the habit of blowing themselves up,
and it is the expectation that the establishment of American authority
in Cuba will be followed by the unraveling of this murderous plot.
Undoubtedly an anecdote told of Captain Robley D. Evans (Fighting Bob)
of the navy expresses the popular conviction:
"The admiral in command of the United States fleet at Key West should
have sailed for Havana on getting news of the 'Maine's' destruction,"
said Evans. "He should have reduced the forts, seized the city,
discovered the assassins, and hanged them."
"But that would have been defiance of the orders of the Navy
Department," responded his auditor, aghast.
"Perhaps so," admitted Evans, "but the man who did it would have been
the next President of the United States."
While the "Maine" Court of Inquiry was in session measures looking
toward war were rapidly taken. March 9, a bill, which had passed both
houses of Congress without a dissenting voice, became a law,
appropriating $50,000,000 to be expended for the national defense. Out
of this sum the Navy Department bought two Brazilian cruisers building
in England, which were rechristened the "New Orleans" and "Albany." A
flotilla of yachts, seagoing tugs, and merchantmen was bought and
refitted. The great American liners "St. Paul," "City of Paris," "City
of New York," and "St. Louis" were chartered and made into auxiliary
cruisers. All Europe was ransacked for purchasable warships and
torpedo boats, with the result of proving that no nation, however
rich, can equip itself with a navy in an emergency. Not one
battle-ship was available for purchase, and only four cruisers, of
doubtful quality. And while this work of preparation was going
hurriedly on the country was drifting into war with what seemed at the
time inexplicable slowness, but to the calmer backward glance of
history will appear dangerously swift in the face of our great lack of
preparation. What might be termed the milestones on the march to
battle were these:
_April 5._--Consul General Fitz Hugh Lee recalled from Havana.
_April 11._--Message of the President on Cuba, recommending that we
have power to intervene forcibly without "recognizing at this time the
independence of the present insurgent government."
_April 13._--The House passed a resolution directing the President to
intervene in Cuba at once, and authorizing him to use the land and
naval forces of the United States to stop the war.
_April 16._--The Senate passed a joint resolution, as a substitute for
the House resolution, declaring the island to be free, recognizing the
republic, demanding relinquishment of authority in Cuba by Spain, and
withdrawal of Spanish forces; directing the President to call out the
militia in addition to regular land and naval forces, and, finally,
disclaiming any intention to annex the island.
_April 19._--Senate resolution adopted by the House, with the proviso
recognizing the republic of Cuba stricken out. Both houses agreed to
the report in this form.
_April 20._--Ultimatum to Spain, cabled at 11 A.M.--a formal demand
that Spain at once relinquish its authority and government in the
island of Cuba, and withdraw its land and naval forces from Cuba and
Cuban waters.
President signed Cuban joint resolutions at 11.24.
Senor Polo y Bernabe, the Spanish Minister, was notified. He at once
requested his passports.
_April 21._--General Woodford, the American Minister at Madrid, left
Spain.
The President directed the Secretary of the Navy to order the vessels
of the North Atlantic squadron to proceed without delay to Cuban
waters to blockade Havana and other ports of the island.
_April 23._--President McKinley signed the proclamation calling for
125,000 volunteers.
_April 25._--Formal declaration of war recommended by the President,
and a bill "declaring that war exists between the United States of
America and the Kingdom of Spain," passed by both houses.
And so the United States embarked on its first war with any European
Power, save England--a war forced upon us by every consideration of
humanity--a war which shall be of great advantage or of great harm to
our Republic, according as its fruits are wisely or wrongly
administered.
CHAPTER II.
THE OPENING DAYS OF THE WAR. -- THE FIRST BLOW STRUCK IN THE
PACIFIC. -- DEWEY AND HIS FLEET. -- THE BATTLE AT MANILA. -- AN
EYE-WITNESS' STORY. -- DELAY AND DOUBT IN THE EAST. -- DULL TIMES
FOR THE BLUE-JACKETS. -- THE DISCOVERY OF CERVERA. -- HOBSON'S
EXPLOIT. -- THE OUTLOOK.
Strangely enough the first warlike stroke at Spain was not delivered
in or about Cuba, where the quarrel arose, but in the other
hemisphere, in the far-away waters of the Asiatic Pacific, where the
American flag is almost a stranger and the power and wealth of the
great American Republic are unknown. In the Philippine Islands Spain
retains one of the colonies with which she once encircled the globe.
More than 7,000,000 people--a peace-loving, kindly, intelligent
race--are there ruled by the Spaniards, and as the rule was of the
characteristic Spanish kind, with all the accompaniments of slaughter,
dishonor, and extortion, the natives--as in Cuba--were in a chronic
state of rebellion. One uprising, which had assumed very considerable
proportions, was reported by the Spaniards as suppressed just before
our declaration of war. That event, however, aroused the
revolutionists again and, as we shall see, they were of the greatest
service to us as allies.
When war was declared an American squadron of six warships lay at Hong
Kong. The vessels were the "Olympia," protected cruiser; "Raleigh,"
"Baltimore," and "Boston," cruisers; "Concord" and "Petrel," gunboats,
and the revenue cutter "McCulloch." Not a very powerful fleet--not a
battle-ship nor even an armored cruiser among them--but the ships
carried crews of as sturdy Yankee blue-jackets as ever trained a gun,
and when the time came for daring an enemy's fire the little "Petrel"
was as dashing and defiant as the stoutest of steel-clads could be. In
command of the squadron was Admiral George Dewey, a Vermonter, who
served with Farragut and had his baptism of fire at the forts below
New Orleans. In time of peace the war record of a subaltern is quickly
forgotten, and Dewey patiently climbed the ladder of promotion until
1898 found him a commodore and in command of the Asiatic squadron,
without anybody's remembering particularly that this officer in far
Hong Kong had seen fighting and knew how to bear himself under fire.
It is a significant fact that when he had won the first great victory
of the war, and the newspapers were searching everywhere for stories
illustrative of his character, it was discovered that he had chiefly
impressed himself on the Washington mind by his excessive
punctiliousness in matters of dress.
Four days after the declaration of war there was a commotion on the
ships of Dewey's squadron. The signal to weigh anchor flew from the
foremast of the "Olympia," and everybody knew that the admiral had
received fighting orders. For some days past the ships had been in
their battle rigging. The white paint had been covered by a dull
greenish-gray. All woodwork, railings, and unnecessary hamper had been
stripped off and sent ashore. The officers' baggage was reduced to the
barest necessities. Nothing was left anywhere on board which could be
turned into a cloud of flying splinters by a shell, or which cumbered
the decks to the inconvenience of the gunners. The warships which, in
time of peace, were as bright and sparkling as a well-kept yacht, had
put on the sullen, vicious air of war.
Dewey's objective point when he set sail from the harbor of Hong Kong
was the Asiatic squadron of Spain, under the command of Admiral
Montojo. There was every reason to believe that he would find the
enemy under the protecting guns of the forts that guarded the harbor
of Manila. In themselves the Spanish ships were no match for the
American fleet. Three good ships had Admiral Montojo--the "Reina
Cristina," the "Castilla," and the "Don Antonio de Ulloa"; but his
others were old-fashioned and lacking in modern armament. But should
they take positions under the guns of the Spanish forts, at the end of
a channel plentifully guarded by mines and torpedoes, the disparity in
forces would disappear. As it occurred this was precisely what they
did, giving Admiral Dewey opportunity to put into practice tactics
which it seems he had studied for months in anticipation of exactly
such an emergency.
On the night of April 30 the American ships arrived at the entrance of
Manila harbor, unseen by the sentries on the forts. It was known that
Montojo was inside, and every light was extinguished and every noise
hushed on the Yankee ships, for the admiral had planned a midnight
entrance to the stronghold. The ships were stripped for action, boats
covered with canvas, nettings spread to prevent splinters from flying,
partitions removed, and ammunition hoists and bullet shields put up.
At midnight the entrance to the harbor began, the ships steaming in
single column at about six knots an hour, with the "Olympia" leading.
Strangely enough not a single torpedo or mine in the channel was
exploded, though the Spaniards discovered the advance of the ships and
opened fire from the forts. The first shot in answer was fired by a
gunner on the "Boston," without orders. He saw the flash of a gun on a
shore battery and instantly fired his piece without altering its
elevation. That dismantled a gun in the Spanish works and killed
thirty men.
For a few hours after passing the forts the wearied blue-jackets slept
at their guns. With the approach of day came the signal from the
flagship to prepare for action. In the gray dawn the Spanish fleet
could be seen about two miles distant, at such a point that their fire
could be re-enforced by the guns of the forts. A most graphic story of
the action that followed, as seen from the view-point of "the man
behind the gun," whom Captain Mahan eulogizes, is told by Chief Gunner
Evans of the "Boston," from whose narrative I quote the following
paragraphs:
[Illustration: Dewey at Manila.]
"We were steaming very slowly, but increasing speed as the dawn
increased. In the gray daylight we could make out a line of ships
anchored in front of the city. Then we steamed ahead faster. The
ships ahead proved to be merchantmen, and at daylight we could
discern the Spanish fleet further down the bay, and then it was
'Full ahead!' The Spanish fleet did not advance to meet us, and
apparently made no move on the defensive. Possibly our audacity
had for the moment paralyzed them. But it was not for long. In
twenty minutes or so they opened a terrific cannonading at long
range. The batteries and forts around Manila opened fire at
the same time. Every man on the ship was now wide awake and at
his post. I knew that it would not be long before there would be
some hot work, and I served my men with a cup of coffee and a
piece of hardtack, and a little later gave them each a drink of
whisky and water.
"According to orders, we did not respond to the Spanish guns
until our ships came into position. Then the flagship opened
fire, and then I followed with two hours of cannonading which I
do not believe has ever been equaled in naval warfare. The shots
from the 'Olympia' were the prearranged signal for the other
ships to do the same.
"We soon discovered that the batteries of Cavite were very
heavily mounted, and the ordnance included several ten-inch guns,
and we were not long in finding out that the 'Don Antonio de
Ulloa' and the 'Reina Cristina,' the flagship, carried much
heavier guns than we thought. We began to fear that our ships had
met their match. As hot as the battle was, the heat of the sun
was equally so, and I had my men who were bringing up the
ammunition throw off every vestige of clothing except their
shoes.
"The Spanish guns had opened upon us at 5.10 A.M., and it was
fully 5.40 before we began to reply. But when we did, we made
every shot tell, for our gunners demonstrated that their
opponents were no match for them in accuracy, although the
Spaniards had every advantage and should have known the exact
range of every point in the harbor, while of the American fleet
not a single gunner had ever as much as been in the harbor
before.
"By 6.30 we had circled three times, and were starting for the
fourth when the Spanish admiral came out in the 'Reina Cristina'
and gallantly assailed us; but we made it hot for him. I don't
know how in the world he escaped with his life. While he was
standing on the bridge a shot from one of our ships--I think it
was the 'Concord'--blew the bridge clean over; in fact, shot it
right from under him, but the Admiral was apparently uninjured,
for a few minutes later I saw him walking the deck as calmly as
though he was on parade. It was getting too hot for him, and he
evidently saw that his ship was no match for us, and he turned to
get back to his fleet.
"Just as the 'Reina Cristina' swung around an eight-inch shell
from the port battery, which I was tending, struck her square
astern, and set her on fire. By this time other gunners had got
the range, and if ever a ship was riddled it was the 'Reina
Cristina.' I do not think it was fifteen minutes from the time
the shell from the 'Boston' struck her when she went down with,
it is said, over two hundred men. The Admiral, however, had
escaped in a small boat and made for the 'Isla de Cuba,' where he
again hoisted his flag.
"After we had circled five times, we withdrew. The smoke was so
dense that we could hardly distinguish friend from foe. Our men
had worked three long hours with scarcely a mouthful of food. I
had, however, kept my men well supplied with whisky and water. I
gave each a small drink about every twenty minutes.
"After we had withdrawn, and the clouds of smoke had lifted
enough so that we could see, Admiral Dewey signaled the ships to
report the number of killed and wounded. It would have done your
heart good to have heard the shouts and cheers that went up as
ship after ship ran up the signal to indicate that she had no
killed and none wounded worth reporting. It was one of the most
thrilling moments of the entire battle.
"It was a wise move on Admiral Dewey's part in withdrawing at
that moment, for our men were rapidly becoming exhausted. For my
own part I do not think I could have held out another half hour,
and neither could my men. We were not only wearied physically,
but the nervous strain was something awful. I called my men into
the gunroom and served each with a good stiff drink of whisky and
told them to take all the rest they could get. I went into the
chartroom, as it was about the coolest place on the ship, and
threw myself on the chart table. I was too nervous to sleep and
too exhausted to move. I just lay there sort of dazed.
"Soon after ten o'clock we advanced again, and the 'Baltimore'
opened the fight. As many of the Spanish ships had been disabled,
what we most feared now was the forts. The 'Baltimore' sailed
right into the very teeth of the guns, any one of which could
have annihilated her, and only bad marksmanship of the Spanish
gunners saved her from destruction, and she did not retreat until
she had practically silenced the fort.
"My ship, the 'Boston,' was perhaps struck oftener during the
battle than any of the American ships, but in every instance it
was small shot or shell, making a glancing blow that did no
particular harm. After the first hour or so of the battle, if we
had received a damaging shot, the chances are that we would have
all gone down, for out of all the ship's boats, only two were of
any value, the others having been shattered to pieces.
"We were circling in line with the other ships when the 'Isla de
Cuba' swung around to give us a broadside. The guns in the port
battery got the range on the 'Isla de Cuba,' and sent in a shot
that struck in amidships and made her tremble from stem to stern.
I was watching at the porthole at the time. The other guns of the
'Boston' followed the example of the port gunner, and for a few
minutes it seemed that the 'Isla de Cuba' was crumbling to pieces
like a falling building in an earthquake. We turned, and the
starboard guns did equally good work, and when the Spanish flag
came tumbling down we let out a yell that was heard around the
world, figuratively speaking, if not literally.
"I can never forget the scene after the battle. The forts were
smoking, and scattered all through the bay were the hulks of once
magnificent Spanish ships. Some were drifting helplessly about,
as though the men on board seemed not to know what to do and had
lost their heads entirely. Rigging was trailing in the water and
only remnants remained of the lifeboats. Over at one end of the
bay was the wreck of the once magnificent 'Reina Cristina.'
Further along were smoking hulks, and here and there could be
seen only the masts and rigging above water.
"To add to the horror of the scene, hundreds of corpses came
floating by, and it seemed as though the bay was full of dead
Spaniards, although I believe less than a thousand were killed. I
really think that the sight in the harbor that afternoon
impressed men more with the horrors of war than did anything
which occurred during the actual battle.
"During all the fight my men, except for a little while during
the interval for breakfast, were stripped to the bare skin and
wore only their shoes. The thermometer was over one hundred, and
to this was added the heat of the fire of the guns, until it made
one's blood fairly boil."
The plan of action was for the fleet to revolve in a great circle or
ellipse before the delivering their fire from starboard and port
batteries alternately. The first shot from the "Olympia" was a
250-pound shell, aimed at the Cavite fort, and discharged with a shout
from all hands, "Remember the Maine!" After two hours' fighting the
fleet withdrew for breakfast, returning to action in about two hours,
and after the Spanish surrender the little "Petrel" was sent in to
destroy, by boats' crews, the ships in the inner harbor.
Commodore Dewey's official report of the action is a model of modesty
and brevity. It came in these two cable messages:
MANILA, May 1.--Squadron arrived at Manila at daybreak this
morning. Immediately engaged the enemy, and destroyed the
following Spanish vessels: "Reina Cristina," "Castilla," "Don
Antonio de Ulloa," "Isla de Luzon," "Isla de Cuba," "General
Lezo," "Marquis de Duero," "Cano," "Velasco," "Isla de Mindanao,"
a transport, and water battery at Cavite. The squadron is
uninjured, and only a few men are slightly wounded. Only means of
telegraphing is to American Consul at Hong Kong. I shall
communicate with him.
DEWEY.
CAVITE, May 4.--I have taken possession of naval station at
Cavite, on Philippine Islands. Have destroyed the fortifications
at bay entrance, paroling the garrison. I control bay completely,
and can take city at any time. The squadron is in excellent
health and spirits. Spanish loss not fully known but very heavy.
One hundred and fifty killed, including captain of "Reina
Cristina." I am assisting in protecting Spanish sick and wounded;
250 sick and wounded in hospital within our lines. Much
excitement at Manila. Will protect foreign residents.
DEWEY.
It is little short of marvelous that no lives were lost on the
American ships--though a month later Captain Gridley of the "Olympia"
died from the effect of the concussion of his own guns. The vessels
were handled with a daring amounting almost to bravado, yet so poor
was the marksmanship of the Spaniards that little or no damage was
suffered. It is to be kept in mind that, despite the disparity in the
armament of the fleets, the Spanish works at Cavite mounted guns of
twice the weight of any that Dewey's ships bore. Yet, when the action
was over, the American vessels were practically uninjured, and
perfectly capable of fulfilling the threat sent by Admiral Dewey,
that if another shot was fired he would lay Manila in ashes.
At the time these words are written, that threat alone keeps order in
Manila bay. Dewey with his ships is there, holding the town at the
muzzles of his guns and waiting for the re-enforcements of troops,
which were dispatched to his aid from San Francisco almost a month
after his victory--an unconscionable delay. Some 25,000 troops will be
sent to his aid, and with the insurgents, who were greatly encouraged
and strengthened by the American victory, will forever destroy Spain's
power in the Philippines.
* * * * *
In the waters of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea, where it
was expected the fighting would come first and be most decisive, the
war lagged languidly for weeks. For a few days the jackies found some
excitement and some hope of profit in capturing unsuspecting Spanish
merchantmen, but soon the dull and deadly monotony of the peaceful
blockade settled down upon the fleet, and Sampson's men grilled grimly
under a blazing sun by day and slept uneasily by their guns at night,
week after week, without a touch of battle to vary the dull round. The
Spanish ships "Vizcaya" and "Oquendo," which had been in the harbor of
Havana when war was declared, had slipped away, and there was no enemy
afloat in the neighborhood save puny gunboats and torpedo boats that
clung close to the protecting guns of the fortresses. Blockading is
the most trying duty the blue-jacket has to discharge. Destitute
wholly of glory, the element of danger is still ever present in a form
which is particularly trying to the nerves. Every night brought danger
of an attack by torpedo boats. These swift and sinister craft might at
any time dart out of Havana harbor, discharge their fatal bolt, and
send a good ship to the bottom as speedily as went the "Maine." That
the Spaniards at no time even seriously attempted a torpedo-boat
attack on the blockading squadron seems to reflect on their courage.
But what they lacked apparently in courage they made up in shrewdness.
For weeks the best efforts of our board of strategy and our board of
naval intelligence were baffled by the mysterious movements of the
Spanish fleet under Admiral Cervera. This squadron, which numbered
among its vessels the powerful armored cruisers "Vizcaya," "Maria
Teresa," "Cristobal Colon," and "Almirante Oquendo," was reported now
at the Canaries, then at Cadiz, then dashing through the Suez Canal to
overwhelm Dewey at Manila, then off the coast of New England,--whereat
Boston and Portland were mightily alarmed,--then bound South to
capture or destroy the "Oregon,"--which was painfully making the
voyage around Cape Horn,--then at Martinique, and, in short, at every
conceivable point of menace. As a result of these conflicting reports,
two American fleets were reduced to impotence. The "flying squadron"
of fast cruisers under Commodore Schley was kept for weeks at moorings
in Hampton Roads ready to be dispatched for protection of our northern
coasts, while the squadron of battle-ships under Admiral Sampson was
made to steam hither and yon in the Caribbean Sea looking for an
enemy's fleet which much of the time lay snugly on the other side of
the Atlantic. Accordingly, up to June 15, the results of naval
operations in West Indian waters were almost _nil_. Powder had been
burned indeed as when, on April 27, the Spanish works at Matanzas were
bombarded and silenced by the "New York," "Puritan," and "Cincinnati,"
of Admiral Sampson's squadron, and on May 13 the works at San Juan,
Porto Rico, were similarly tested. Deeds of conspicuous gallantry,
too, were done, as when Ensign Worth Bagley lost his life while
gallantly engaging Spanish gunboats and shore batteries with the
torpedo boat "Winslow" at Cardenas. But these actions, though seized
upon eagerly by a public hungry for war news, were inconclusive and
trivial. The shore batteries were quickly repaired and strengthened,
and the great object of capturing Havana seemed at the middle of June
even further off than it had when war was declared.
Nevertheless, May and June saw a marked progress in the work of
preparation for active hostilities. The army was mobilized and a great
camp established at Tampa, Fla. Schley's flying squadron, finally
relieved from apprehension as to the course of the Spanish fleet, left
Hampton Roads to increase the naval strength in West Indian waters.
The great battle-ship "Oregon," after a record-beating voyage around
Cape Horn, in which her machinery met and withstood every imaginable
strain, arrived at the rendezvous. And finally it was definitely
learned that Admiral Cervera, with Spain's principal effective fleet,
was actually in West Indian waters, and had entered the port of
Santiago de Cuba for coal and repairs. There he was trapped by an
exploit which has conferred new glory on the United States Navy and
has added a new name to the roster of dashing heroes like Somers and
Gushing.
The harbor of Santiago de Cuba is one of the most easily defended in
the world. Steep hills rise abruptly from either side of the harbor's
mouth, which is scarce half a mile wide, with a channel so narrow that
two vessels could scarcely pass in it. Into the brow of the hills are
built batteries which, with plunging shot, command the entrance
completely. An abrupt turn in the interior shore line makes the whole
inner bay invisible from without, so for days the officers and men of
the United States blockading fleet outside were ignorant whether
Cervera's entire fleet was cooped up within. To send in a boat to make
a reconnoissance would have been suicidal, for the channel, difficult
at all times, was blocked by mines and torpedoes. For this reason,
too, there could be no repetition of Dewey's exploit at Manila.
Accordingly, Admiral Sampson was confronted with a problem which
seemed likely to tax the patience rather than the daring of his men.
There seemed to be no opportunity for more exciting duty than a long
blockade, unless the Spaniards should conclude to come out and
fight--a most unlikely decision for them to reach. The forts, in all
probability, could be reduced by the ships' cannon, but, even with
that done, to enter the harbor in single file, so that the undisturbed
fire of Cervera's fleet could be directed upon the Americans, ship by
ship, as they entered the bay, would have been a most hazardous
undertaking. The situation was not made more pleasing to the admiral
by the fact that he was not sure of having all the Spanish ships in
the trap. Some might not have entered Santiago, but might be at that
very time devastating portions of the coast of the United States.
While the admiral was considering the problem thus presented to him,
there appeared at his cabin a young lieutenant, Richmond P. Hobson, a
graduate of the Naval Academy in 1889. The scientific side of naval
duty had always chiefly attracted this young man. Graduating at the
head of his class, he studied naval construction for two years in
British dockyards. Above all things a student, a contributor to
magazines, a delver into mathematical and structural problems, this
young officer outlined to the admiral an exploit of reckless daring
and volunteered himself to perform it.
[Illustration: The "Zealandia" leaving San Francisco with Troops for
the Philippines. (Drawn, after a photograph, by William Ritschel.)]
It was folly, urged Hobson, to keep the entire American fleet watching
at the door to that harbor. The Spaniards, doing nothing and daring
nothing themselves, were still reducing Admiral Sampson's powerful
squadron to complete impotence. If the entrance to the harbor were
obstructed one or two ships would serve to prevent the Spaniards from
escaping, and the remainder of the American fleet would be released to
take part in more vigorous warfare. By sinking a vessel, an old
collier heavily laden, in the channel this could be accomplished, and
Hobson volunteered to perform the feat. It was an invitation to almost
certain death, for the fire of three batteries and part of the Spanish
fleet, besides the explosion of the mines, must be braved before the
narrow spot in which the ship was to be sunk could be reached. But
Hobson thought he could do this, scuttle his ship, and escape with his
men by swimming to a launch which should accompany him at a distance.
"Do you really expect to escape alive?" asked one of the officers as
he outlined his project.
"Ah! that is another thing," replied the lieutenant. "I suppose the
Estrella battery will fire down on us a bit, but the ships will throw
their searchlights in the gunners' faces and they won't see much of
us. Then, if we are torpedoed, we should even then be able to make the
desired position in the channel. It won't be so easy to hit us, and I
think the men should be able to swim to the dingey. I may jump before
I am blown up, but I don't see that it makes much difference what I
do. I have a fair chance of life either way. If our dingey gets shot
to pieces, we shall then try to swim for the beach right under Morro
Castle. We shall keep together at all hazards. Then we may be able to
make our way alongside, and perhaps get back to the ship. We shall
fight the sentries or a squad until the last, and we shall only
surrender to overwhelming numbers."
The plan being approved by the admiral, volunteers were asked from the
fleet, by signal, to accompany Hobson. Practically the whole fleet
responded. One man was wanted from each ship, but on the "Brooklyn"
150 and on the "Texas" 140 pleaded to be taken. Finally these seven
were selected:
Osborn Deignan, a coxswain of the "Merrimac"; George F. Phillips, a
machinist of the "Merrimac"; John Kelly, a water-tender of the
"Merrimac"; George Charette, a gunner's mate on the flagship "New
York"; Daniel Montague, a seaman of the cruiser "Brooklyn"; J. C.
Murphy, a coxswain of the "Iowa"; Randolph Clausen, a coxswain of the
"New York."
To man the launch which was detailed to follow the "Merrimac "--the
ship chosen--four men and Naval Cadet Joseph W. Powell were taken. In
the end they, too, proved to be heroes.
The steel steamer "Merrimac," loaded with 2,000 tons of coal, was then
given to Hobson and prepared for sinking. An eye-witness, who followed
the "Merrimac" as nearly as safety would permit, thus tells the story
in the New York _Sun_:
"Cadet Powell and his crew saw the 'Merrimac' head straight for
Estrella Point, which is on the east side of the harbor, back of
the Morro. They knew that just before she reached that point the
engines were to be stopped and the momentum allowed to carry her
on. Then the flimsy wooden props holding the bonnets of her
sea-valves in place were to be kicked aside, the helm put hard to
starboard, and the starboard bower anchor let go. This would
steer the ship directly across the channel and check her headway.
"At the same time seven reduced eight-inch charges, containing
eighty pounds of brown powder in copper cases and protected by
pitch from water, were to be set off separately. These charges
were suspended about ten feet below the water-line at intervals
of thirty feet, and connected by a series of dry batteries. As
the ship steered across the channel the forward port powder
charge was to be exploded. Then, as the stern swung into
position, the anchor lashed on the starboard quarter was to be
let go and the other six charges exploded in succession. A
catamaran and lifeboat were slung aft on the starboard side ready
for the seven men to drop into them.
"The crew in the steam launch watched the course of the old
collier with eyes strained. The moon had sunk behind the horizon.
It was 3.20 o'clock. On, on the heroes went. Lieutenant Hobson
stood on the bridge of the old collier, dressed in full uniform.
The other six men were at their posts, clad in tights, to aid
their escape in case they had to swim a long distance.
"The watchers saw her head straight for Estrella Point, saw her
swing hard across the channel, apparently undiscovered, heard
five of the seven charges explode, and then began a screaming,
flashing, death-dealing fire from the Spanish ships and batteries
that hid the rest from view.
"The battery on Dead Man's Point, square in the center of the
harbor, opened the fire and soon directed its guns against the
launch. In the face of this hell, with ten-and twelve-inch guns
blazing at them at this short range, Cadet Powell and the crew of
his launch continued to search for the men of the 'Merrimac.'
[Illustration: Morro Castle, Santiago De Cuba.]
"They saw then the guns of the 'Cristobal Colon,' Admiral
Cervera's flagship, and of the old cruiser 'Reina Mercedes,'
which had been considered gunless, trained on them and thundering
in their ears. "Still they searched with never as much as a
faint cry for help or the sign of a single arm raised in mute
appeal to guide them. Those on the battle-ship looking into the
mouth of the harbor saw only a sheet of flame which, with the
roar of the guns, lasted thirty-five minutes. By this time dawn
had tinged the land and sky with light, and the tiny launch could
be seen loitering by the shore. On the west side of the harbor,
in the center of the channel, just where Hobson had promised to
sink his vessel, could be seen the tops of the 'Merrimac's'
masts. The harbor was blocked."
Hobson and his gallant men were not lost. A shot from one of the
batteries destroyed the boat in which they had expected to reach the
launch, but on a raft they escaped from their sinking vessel, only to
be captured by the Spaniards. With sailor-like chivalry and hearty
admiration for a gallant deed Admiral Cervera sent word to the fleet
of their safety and offered to exchange them as soon as the necessary
formalities could be complied with.
* * * * *
The closing words of this chapter must be penned just as the decisive
action of the war seems to be at hand. Cervera is hemmed in at
Santiago with a vastly superior force confronting him. The batteries
at the harbor's mouth have been demolished by the fire of the fleet.
At Caimanera, thirty miles away, the United States flag is flying on
the shore and a battalion of United States marines--"soldiers and
sailors, too"--are there installed and have twice beaten back the
attack of Spaniards in double their number. On great transports
General Shafter's army of 20,000 men is steaming from Key West to
Caimanera, where the invasion of Cuba will begin. The order has gone
forth to reduce Porto Rico, and by the time these words reach the
reader, General Coppinger's army may be landed there. Fitzhugh Lee,
the gallant, is held in reserve for Havana, where he served his
country as Consul General during the trying days that led up to the
war. Hesitation and doubt have vanished. The dreary days of delay are
over. The end is near--the end of Spanish misrule in the West Indies.
CHAPTER III.
THE SPANISH FLEET MAKES A DASH FROM THE HARBOR. -- ITS TOTAL
DESTRUCTION. -- ADMIRAL CERVERA A PRISONER. -- GREAT SPANISH
LOSSES. -- AMERICAN FLEET LOSES BUT ONE MAN.
When the event was least expected the Spaniards made a desperate dash
from the harbor, seeking freedom but finding only death.
July 3d the land forces of General Shafter were closing in on
Santiago. There had been hard fighting for two days, in which both
sides had shown dogged courage, but the Spaniards had been beaten back
into the city, which the Americans almost completely invested. Though
Shafter had but few heavy siege guns, many of the shells from his
field artillery fell in the streets of the town and produced a panic
there.
Admiral Cervera had landed some of his rapid-fire guns in aid of
General Linares, and his marines fought with the Spanish soldiers. But
as the American advance continued he saw that he would be caught in a
trap and ground to pieces between Shafter and Sampson. So he made up
his mind to the desperate chance of slipping out and trying to run
past the American squadron.
[Illustration: The Protected Cruiser "Olympia," Admiral Dewey's
Flagship.]
[Illustration: Admiral George Dewey.]
[Illustration: Acting Rear Admiral W. T. Sampson.]
[Illustration: Rear-admiral Montgomery Sicard.]
[Illustration: Commodore W. S. Schley.]
[Illustration: Captain A. S. Barker, _Late of the "Oregon"; Now of the
"Newark."_]
[Illustration: Captain "Jack" Philip, _Of the Battle-Ship "Texas."_]
[Illustration: Commodore J. Crittenden Watson. _Second in Command of
the Gulf Squadron._]
[Illustration: Ensign Worth Bagley Of The "Winslow." _The first
American Officer killed by the Enemy._]
[Illustration: Cadet George T. Pettengill. _Who fired the first Shot
of the War._]
[Illustration: Captain F. W. Dickins. _Chief of Bureau of
Navigation._]
[Illustration: Commodore John A. Howell. _Commanding inner Line of
Coast Defenses._]
[Illustration: Brig.-Gen. H. C. Hasbrouck. _Commandant of Fort
Monroe._]
[Illustration: Captain C. E. Clark. _Of the Battle-Ship "Oregon."_]
[Illustration: Admiral F. M. Bunce. _Commandant of Brooklyn Navy
Yard._]
[Illustration: Bombardment of Spanish Ports and Fleet at Santiago De
Cuba, July 6, 1898.]
[Illustration: "Maria Teresa" and "Vizcaya" burning on the Beach near
Santiago.]
[Illustration: The Flagship "New York," followed by the "Vixen,"
closing on the "Cristobal Colon," while the Latter was being run
Ashore West of Santiago.]
[Illustration: Effect of a single Spanish Shot on Upper Deck of the
Battle-Ship "Texas".]
[Illustration: _Part of Crew of "Texas"_ Band of the "Oregon" playing
Funeral March after the Defeat of the "Colon".]
[Illustration: Engineer Battalion unloading Tools at Siboney.]
[Illustration: "St. Louis." A Transport. "Suwanee." "Vixen." Auxiliary
Cruisers Protecting Landing.]
[Illustration: Commodore Watson's Fleet for Service in Spanish
Waters.]
At 9.30 on the morning of the 3d the lookout on the "Texas" saw smoke
rising above Morro Castle. Immediately after, the black prow of a
warship appeared in the channel coming out at full speed. It was the
"Almirante Oquendo." Instantly the "Texas" broke out with bunting
signaling to all the vessels of the fleet that the Spaniards were
coming out. On every side rung out the bugles and clattered gongs
calling the crews of the American ships to quarters. Admiral Sampson
with the "New York" was far away, and Commodore Schley with the
"Brooklyn" commanded the fleet. The odds were not so greatly in favor
of the Americans, for the Spaniards had four armored cruisers and two
torpedo-boat destroyers, while the Americans had five battle-ships,
one armored cruiser and a yacht. The superiority of the Spaniards in
rapid-fire guns was very great.
The "Brooklyn," thinly clad with armor, dashed first into the fray and
was soon engaged with four armored vessels, each her superior; the
"Iowa," "Texas" and "Oregon" rushed to her aid. It was soon apparent
that the Spaniards were more intent on running than fighting.
Nevertheless, they kept up a rapid fire, but showed the bad
marksmanship which characterized Montojo's gunners at Manila. One
shell from the "Oquendo" crashed through the pilot-house of the
"Texas" just after Captain Philip had left it for the securer retreat
of the conning tower, and one exploded in the smokestack. These were
about the most effective shots aimed by the enemy.
A correspondent of the New York "Journal" and the "Sun" stationed
aboard the "Texas" sent the most graphic account of the battle which
has at this date, July 6, been printed. Some extracts from it will
give a clear account of the fighting:
"Almost before the leading ship was clear of the shadow of Morro
Castle the fight had begun. Admiral Cervera started it by a shell
from the 'Almirante Oquendo,' to which he had transferred his
flag. It struck none of the American vessels. In a twinkling the
big guns of the 'Texas' belched forth their thunder, which was
followed immediately by a heavy fire from our other ships. The
Spaniards turned to the westward under full steam, pouring a
constant fire on our ships, and evidently hoping to get away by
their superior speed.
"The 'Texas,' still heading in shore, kept up a hot exchange of
shots with the foremost ships, which gradually drew away to the
westward under the shadow of the hills. The third of the Spanish
vessels, the 'Vizcaya' or 'Infanta Maria Teresa,' was caught by
the 'Texas' in good fighting range, and it was she that engaged
the chief attention of the first battle-ship commissioned in the
American Navy. The 'Texas' steamed west with her adversary, and
as she could not catch her with speed she did with her shells.
"The din of the guns was so terrific that orders had to be yelled
close to the messengers' ears, and at times the smoke was so
thick that absolutely nothing could be seen. Once or twice the
12-inch guns in the turrets were swung across the ship and fired.
The concussion shook the great vessel as though she had been
struck by a great ball, and everything movable was splintered.
The men near the guns were thrown flat on their faces.
"Meanwhile the 'Oregon' had come in on the run. She passed the
'Texas' and chased after Commodore Schley, on the 'Brooklyn,' to
head off the foremost of the Spanish ships. The 'Iowa' also
turned her course westward, and kept up a hot fire on the running
enemy.
"At 10.10 o'clock the third of the Spanish ships, the one that
had been exchanging compliments with the 'Texas,' was seen to be
on fire and a mighty cheer went up from our ships. The Spaniard
headed for the shore and the 'Texas' turned her attention to the
one following. The 'Brooklyn' and 'Oregon,' after a few parting
shots, also left her contemptuously and made all steam and shell
after the foremost two of the Spanish ships, the 'Almirante
Oquendo' and the 'Cristobal Colon.'
"Just then the two torpedo-boat destroyers 'Pluton' and 'Furor'
were discovered. They had come out after the cruisers without
being seen, and were boldly heading west down the coast. 'All
small guns on the torpedo boats' was the order on the 'Texas,'
and in an instant a hail of shot was pouring all about them. A
6-pounder from the starboard battery of the 'Texas,' under Ensign
Gise, struck the foremost torpedo boat fairly in the boiler.
"A rending sound was heard above the roar of battle. A great
spout of black smoke shot up from that destroyer and she was out
of commission. The 'Iowa,' which was coming up fast, threw a few
complimentary shots at the second torpedo-boat destroyer and
passed on. The little 'Gloucester,' formerly a yacht, then sailed
in and finished the second boat."
The "Gloucester" of which the correspondent speaks was in command of
Lieutenant-Commander Wainwright, who had been the executive officer of
the "Maine." For two months after the disaster to that vessel
Wainwright lived on a United States ship in the harbor of Havana,
refusing to set foot on shore until he could go "with a landing party
of marines." In his attack on the torpedo-boat destroyers--vastly
superior to his craft in weight and armament--he threw prudence to the
winds and fought with a fierceness bred of bitter hatred for the Dons.
His was the most stirring display of personal courage shown on a day
when all were brave.
To return to the correspondent's account:
"Gun for gun and shot for shot the running fight was kept up
between the Spanish cruisers and the four American vessels. At
10.30 o'clock the 'Infanta Maria Teresa' and 'Vizcaya' were
almost on the beach, and were evidently in distress. As the
'Texas' was firing at them a white flag was run up on the one
nearest her. 'Cease firing,' called Captain Philip, and a moment
later both the Spaniards were beached. Clouds of black smoke
arose from each, and bright flashes of flame could be seen
shining through the smoke. Boats were visible putting out from
the cruisers to the shore. The 'Iowa' waited to see that the two
warships were really out of the fight, and it did not take her
long to determine that they would never fight again. The Iowa'
herself had suffered some very hard knocks.
"The 'Brooklyn,' 'Oregon' and 'Texas' pushed ahead after the
'Colon' and 'Almirante Oquendo,' which were now running the race
of their lives along the coast. At 10.50 o'clock, when Admiral
Cervera's flagship, the 'Almirante Oquendo,' suddenly headed in
shore, she had the 'Brooklyn' and 'Oregon' abeam and the 'Texas'
astern. 'The Brooklyn' and 'Oregon' pushed on after the
'Cristobal Colon,' which was making fine time and which looked as
if she might escape, leaving the 'Texas' to finish the 'Almirante
Oquendo.' This work did not take long. The Spanish ship was
already burning. At 11.05 o'clock down came a yellow and red flag
at her stern. Just as the 'Texas' got abeam of her she was shaken
by a mighty explosion.
"The crew of the 'Texas' started to cheer. 'Don't cheer, because
the poor devils are dying,' called Captain Philip, and the
'Texas' left the 'Almirante Oquendo' to her fate to join in the
chase of the 'Cristobal Colon.'
"That ship in desperation was plowing the waters at a rate that
caused the fast 'Brooklyn' trouble. The 'Oregon' made great speed
for a battle-ship, and the 'Texas' made the effort of her life.
Never since her trial trip had she made such time.
"The 'Brooklyn' might have proved a match to the 'Cristobal
Colon' in speed, but she was not supposed to be her match in
strength.
"It would never do to allow even one of the Spanish ships to get
away. Straight into the west the strongest chase of modern times
took place. The 'Brooklyn' headed the pursuers. She stood well
out from the shore in order to try to cut off the 'Cristobal
Colon' at a point jutting out into the sea far ahead. The
'Oregon' kept a middle course about a mile from the cruiser. The
desperate Don ran close along the shore, and now and then he
threw a shell of defiance. The old 'Texas' kept well up in the
chase under forced draught for over two hours.
"The fleet Spaniard led the Americans a merry chase, but she had
no chance. The 'Brooklyn' gradually forged ahead, so that the
escape of the 'Cristobal Colon' was cut off at the point above
mentioned. The 'Oregon' was abeam of the 'Colon' then, and the
gallant Don gave it up.
"At 1.15 o'clock he headed for the shore, and five minutes later
down came the Spanish flag. None of our ships was then within a
mile of her, but her escape was cut off. The 'Texas,' 'Oregon'
and 'Brooklyn' closed in on her and stopped their engines a few
hundred yards away.
"Commodore Schley left the 'Brooklyn' in a small boat and went
aboard the 'Cristobal Colon' and received the surrender. Meantime
the 'New York,' with Admiral Sampson on board, and the 'Vixen'
were coming up on the run. Commodore Schley signaled to Admiral
Sampson; 'We have won a great victory; details will be
communicated.'
"Then for an hour after the surrender in that little cove under
the high hills was a general Fourth of July celebration, though a
little premature. Our ships cheered one another, the captains
indulged in compliments through the megaphones, and the 'Oregon'
got out its band, and the strains of the 'Star-Spangled Banner'
echoed over the lines of Spaniards drawn up on the deck of the
last of the Spanish fleet, and up over the lofty green-tipped
hills of the Cuban mountains.
"Commodore Schley, coming alongside the 'Texas' from the
'Cristobal Colon' in his gig, called out cheerily, 'It was a nice
fight, Jack, wasn't it?'
"The veterans of the 'Texas' lined up and gave three hearty
cheers and a tiger for their old commander-in-chief. Captain
Philip called all hands to the quarter-deck, and with bared head,
thanked God for the almost bloodless victory.
"'I want to make public acknowledgment here,' he said, 'that I
believe in God the Father Almighty. I want all you officers and
men to lift your hats and from your hearts offer silent thanks to
the Almighty.' "All hats were off. There was a moment or two of
absolute silence, and then the overwrought feelings of the ship's
company relieved themselves in three hearty cheers for their
beloved commander."
By this victory the naval power of Spain was effectively and finally
crushed. She lost four fine armored ships and two large destroyers. In
killed, wounded and prisoners her loss exceeded eighteen hundred men,
while but one American was slain. Among the prisoners was Admiral
Cervera, whose dignified bearing in the presence of disaster won for
him the high regard of the Americans, his foes. The value of the
property lost to bankrupt Spain exceeded thirteen million dollars, and
it is probable that before these words reach the reader the final
price of Cervera's daring dash will be paid by the surrender of
Santiago.