WE BECOME COAL HEAVERS.
The little strip of North American coast between Delaware Breakwater and
Block Island is very interesting, and, in places, beautiful. The long
beaches and bare sand dunes have a solemn beauty all their own.
Though the boys on the "Yankee" took in and appreciated the loveliness
of this bit of coast, they were getting rather familiar with it and
somewhat bored. They longed for "pastures new."
Summer had almost begun, but still the fog and rain held sway. The ship
crept through the night like a big gray ghost--dark, swift, and, except
in the densest fogs, silent. Pea-coats were an absolute necessity, and
woolen gloves would have been a great comfort. All this in the blooming,
beautiful month of May!
One bleak morning the starboard watch was on duty. We of the port watch
had turned in at four (or, according to ship's time, eight bells). We
were glad to be between decks, and got under way for the land of Nod
without delay. It seemed as if we had been asleep but a few minutes,
when "Scully," chief boatswain's mate, came down the gun deck gangway,
shouting loud enough to be heard a mile away: "All hands, up all
hammocks;" then, as the disposition to get up was not very evident,
"Show a leg there; ham and eggs for breakfast." This last was a little
pleasantry that never materialized into the much-coveted and long
abstained from delicacy.
The hammocks were lashed up and stowed away in the "nettings," as the
lattice-like receptacles are called, leaving the deck clear for the work
of the day.
Mess gear for the "watch below" had just been piped, and we were glad;
even the thought of burnt oatmeal and coffee without milk was pleasant
to us.
The ports were closed and the gun deck was dark and dismal. The fog
oozed in through every crack and cranny, and all was very unpleasant.
Of a sudden there was a sharp reverberation that sounded so much like
the report of a big gun that all hands jumped.
The course of the ship was changed, and the jingle bell sounded. The
"Yankee" forged on at full speed in the direction from which the sound
had come.
We all stood in expectant attitudes, listening for another report. We
had about made up our minds that our ears had deceived us, when another
explosion, louder and nearer than the first, reached us.
On we rushed--toward what we knew not--through a fog so thick that the
water could be seen but dimly from the spar deck.
The suspense was hard to bear, and the desire to do something almost
irresistible. The men unconsciously took their regular stations for
action, the guns' crews gathered round their guns, the powder divisions
in the neighborhood of the ammunition hoists.
"I wish Potter was here," said "Stump." "I rather think he would be
white around the gills. This sort of business would give him a bad case
of 'cold feet.'"
"Oh, he had 'cold feet' a few days after we left New York, and wrote to
his friends to get his discharge," said "Bill." "Got it and quit two
weeks after we left New York, the duffer," added "Hay."
The "Yankee" still steamed on into the bank of fog.
"Cupid," the ship's bugler, began to play the call for general
quarters, but was stopped by a sharp command from the bridge.
What was it all about? Was it to be tragedy or farce?
Then Scully came down the starboard gangway, a broad smile on his ruddy
face.
A clamoring group gathered round him instantly. "What is it?" "Is the
'old man' playing a joke on us?" "Do you suppose Cervera has got over to
this side?" "Scully," overwhelmed with questions, put up his hands
protestingly.
"No, no; none of those things," said he. "What do you suppose we have
been doing for the last twenty minutes?"
We confessed we did not know.
"Chasing thunder claps--nothing more nor less than thunder claps! And
we'll see nothing worse on this coast," he added sententiously, as soon
as he could get his breath.
The wind rose, and while it blew away the fog in part, it kicked up a
nasty sea, in which the "Yankee" wallowed for hours, waiting for the fog
to clear enough to make the channel and enter New York harbor. It seemed
we had been heading for New York, and we did not know it. It was not the
custom aboard that hooker to give the men any information.
[Illustration: "THE 'YANKEE' DROPPED HER ANCHOR OFF TOMPKINSVILLE"]
When we learned for sure that we were bound for New York, our joy was
beyond measure.
Shore leave was the chief topic of conversation. And every man not on
duty went down into his black bag, fished out his clean blues, and set
to work sewing on watch marks and cap ribbons. For Jack must be neat and
clean when he goes ashore.
The mud-hook was dropped in the bay off Tompkinsville, Thursday, May
26th, seventeen days after we left the navy yard. It seemed seventeen
months.
An "anchor watch" of sixteen men was set for the night, and most of us
turned in early to enjoy the first good sleep for many weary days.
All hands were turned out at five o'clock. We woke to find a big coal
barge on either side of the ship.
After breakfast the order "turn to" was given. "All hands coal ship,
starboard watch on the starboard lighter, port watch on the port
lighter." From seven o'clock in the morning till twelve o'clock that
night, the crew of the "Yankee"--aforetime lawyers, physicians, literary
men, brokers, merchants, students, and clerks--men who had never done
any harder work than play football, or row in a shell--coaled ship
without any rest, other than the three half hours at meal times. About
the hardest, dirtiest work a man could do.
The navy style of coaling is different from that customary in the
merchant service. In the latter, the dirty work is done in the quickest,
easiest way possible. The ship is taken to a coal wharf and the coal is
slid down in chutes, or barges are run alongside and great buckets,
hoisted by steam, swing the black lumps into the hold or bunker.
The navy style, as practised on the "Yankee," was quite different. The
barges were brought alongside, the men divided into gangs--some to go in
the hold of the barge, some to go on the platforms, some to carry on the
ship herself. The barge gang shovelled the coal into bushel baskets;
these were carried to the men on the stages; and the latter passed them
from one to the other, to the gun deck; finally, the gang on the vessel
carried the baskets to the bunker holes, and dumped them. The ship was
well provided with hoisting machines, but, for some reason, this help
was not permitted us.
It was a long, inexpressibly dreary day's work, and though undertaken
cheerfully and with less complaining than would have been believed
possible, the drudgery of it was a thing not easily forgotten. Before
the day had ended, all hope of getting ashore was lost, for we were
told that no liberty would be given.
The following day and half of our stay in New York harbor was spent in
the same way--shovelling, lifting, and carrying coal. The eyes of many
of us were gladdened by the sight of friends and relatives, who were
allowed aboard when mess gear was piped, and put off when "turn to"
sounded. We were pleased to see our friends, but our friends, on the
contrary, seemed shocked to see us. One dainty girl came aboard, and, as
she came up the gangway, asked for a forecastle man. The word was passed
for him. He had just finished his stint of coaling, and was as black as
a negro. In his haste to see his sister, he neglected to clean up, and
appeared before her in his coal heaver's make-up.
"You, Will? I won't believe it! I won't, I won't, I won't!" And for a
second she covered her face with her hands. Then she picked out the
cleanest spot on his grimy countenance and kissed him there, while we
looked on in envy.
The "Yankee" at last receiving orders to sail for the front, left
Tompkinsville May 29th. We passed out of the Narrows with a feeling of
relief. The work we had just finished was the hardest we had ever
experienced. It was particularly tantalizing because we were almost in
sight of our homes, but could not visit them. A starving man suffers
more from hunger if pleasant food is placed within sight, but beyond his
reach.
However, we were to go to the front at last, and we rejoiced at the
prospect of being really useful to our country.
The following day, Decoration Day, dawned pleasantly, both wind and
weather being all that could be desired.
Directly after dinner we were sent to quarters for target practice. The
target was dropped astern, and the ship steamed ahead to the required
distance. Word was given to the marines manning the six-pounders to
prove their skill.
The port forecastle six-pounder, using a shell containing cordite, a
powerful English explosive, was in charge of a marine corporal named
J.J. Murray, who acted as captain of the gun. After firing several
rounds with marked success, Murray saw that the gun was loaded for
another trial.
Standing at the breech, he steadied the gun with his left arm and
shoulder, seized the pistol-grip, placed his finger on the trigger, and
then slowly and carefully brought the target within the sighting line in
readiness to fire.
The other members of the gun's crew were at their proper stations.
Numbers 2 and 3, respectively second captain and first loader and
shellman, were directly behind the corporal. They saw him steady the
piece again, take another careful aim, then noted that his finger gave a
quick tug at the trigger.
The result was a dull click but no explosion.
The corporal stepped back from his place in vexation. He had succeeded
in getting a fine "bead" just as the cartridge failed.
"Blast the English ammunition!" he exclaimed. "It's no good."
The other men at the gun nodded approval. Their experience bore out the
corporal's assertion. They also knew that the cordite cartridges were
not adapted to American guns, and should not have been used. But they
were marines and they were accustomed to obey orders without comment.
Captain Brownson had noticed the incident and he sent word to delay
opening the breechblock until all danger of explosion had passed. After
waiting some time, Corporal Murray proceeded to extract the shell. He
took his place at the breech, while No. 2 unlocked the plug and swung it
open.
"Now we'll see what is the matter," he began. "I guess it is another
case of--"
He never finished the sentence. With a frightful roar the defective
cartridge exploded, sending fragments of shell and parts of the
breech-block into the corporal's face and chest. He was hurled with
terrific force to the deck, where he lay motionless, mortally wounded.
Numbers 2 and 3 of the unfortunate gun's crew did not escape, the former
being struck down with the hand lever, which penetrated his arm. The
injured men received prompt attention from the surgeon and his
assistants, but Corporal Murray was beyond mortal aid. He died ten
minutes after the accident.
He was a good soldier, jolly and light-hearted, and a great favorite
with the crew. The peculiar feeling of antagonism which is supposed to
exist between the sailors and marines did not obtain in his case.
In the navy the hammock which serves the living as a bed by night is
also their coffin and their shroud. It so served Corporal Murray.
[Illustration: "WITH A FRIGHTFUL ROAR THE DEFECTIVE CARTRIDGE EXPLODED"]
Shortly after four bells (six o'clock) on the evening of the day on
which the accident occurred, the boatswain's mate sent the shrill piping
of his whistle echoing through the ship, following it with the words,
doleful and long drawn out:
"All hands shift-ft-ft into clean-n-n blue and stand by to bury the
dead-d-d!"
When the crew assembled on the gun deck in obedience to the call, the
sun was just disappearing beyond the edge of the distant horizon. Its
last rays entered the open port, showing to us the dead man's figure
outlined under an American flag. The body had been placed upon a grating
in front of an open port, and several men were stationed close by in
readiness to launch it into the sea.
The ceaseless swaying of the ship in the trough of the sea, the engines
having been stopped, set the lines of blue uniformed men swinging and
nodding, and, as the surgeon, Dr. McGowan, read the Episcopal service,
it seemed in the half light as if every man were keeping time with the
cadence.
The words of the service, beautiful and impressive under such novel
circumstances, echoed and whispered along the deck, and at the sentence,
"We commit this body to the deep," the grating was raised gently and,
with a peculiar _swish_, the body, heavily weighted, slid down to the
water's edge and plunged sullenly into the sea. A moment more and the
service was finished, the bugler sounding "pipe down." A salute, three
times repeated, was fired by sixteen men of the marine guard.
* * * * *
The voyage down the coast was utilized in making good men-o'-war's men
of the "Yankee's" crew. Captain Brownson believes thoroughly in the
efficacy of drill, and he lost no time in living up to his belief. When
all the circumstances are taken into consideration, the task allotted to
the captain of the "Yankee" by the fortunes of war, was both peculiar
and difficult.
On his return from Europe, where he had been sent to select vessels for
the improvised navy, he was ordered by the Navy Department at Washington
to take command of the auxiliary cruiser "Yankee." This meant that he
was to assume charge of a ship hastily converted from an ordinary
merchant steamer, and to fight the battles of his country with a crew
composed of youths and men whose whole life and training had hitherto
followed totally different lines.
It was a "licking of raw material into shape" with a vengeance.
When the "Chesapeake" sailed forth to fight her disastrous battle with
the British ship "Shannon," her crew was made up of men untrained in
the art of war. The result was the most humiliating naval defeat in the
history of the United States. The same fate threatened Captain Brownson.
There was this difference in the cases, however. The "Chesapeake" had
little time for drilling, while the "Yankee" was fully six weeks in
commission before her first shot was fired in action. Every minute of
those six weeks was utilized.
During the trip down the coast from New York general quarters were held
each day, and target practice whenever the weather permitted. In
addition to these drills the crew was exercised in man and arm boats,
abandon ship, fire drill, infantry drill, and the many exercises
provided by the naval regulations. Before the "Yankee" had been in the
Gulf Stream two days, the various guns' crews were almost letter-perfect
at battery work. As it happened, the value of good drilling was soon to
be demonstrated.
As we neared Cuba, the theatre of our hopes and expectations, we were
scarcely able to control ourselves. The bare possibility of seeing real
war within a few days made every man the victim of a consuming
impatience. Rumors of every description were rife, and the many weird
and impossible tales invented by the ship's cook and the captain's
steward--the men-o'-war oracles--would have put even Baron Munchausen to
the blush.
The Rumor Committee, otherwise known as the "Scuttle-butt Navigators,"
to which every man on board was elected a life member the moment he
promulgated a rumor, was soon actively engaged, and it was definitely
settled that the "Yankee" was to become the flagship of the whole fleet,
our captain made Lord High Admiral, and the whole Spanish nation swept
off the face of the globe, in about thirteen and a half seconds by the
chronometer.