The story of the most disastrous voyage in the annals of the United
States transport service. The steamship “Siam” left San Francisco
with a cargo of three hundred and seventy three picked army horses
and mules, destined for “the front” in the Philippines. She landed
two mules alive at Manila. In this narrative Mr. Taylor, who was a
passenger on the ill-fated vessel, tells what became of the
remainder.
When the Japanese Government recently offered for sale the former Austrian
steamship _Siam_, a prize of the late war, there was concluded one of the
most remarkable romances of the United States army transport service. Four
flags have so far flown over this steamer, but her career is not likely to
conclude under the ensign of the Land of the Chrysanthemum.
Christened on the banks of the Clyde in the early ’nineties as the British
tramp steamer _Resolve_, the vessel later passed into the hands of an
Austrian corporation at Fiume, and was renamed the _Siam_. Fate and
charterers sent her to the Pacific Ocean in the second year of the
Filipino insurrection, and she was chartered by an American firm of San
Francisco, and entered the coal trade between Nanaimo and the Bay City.
In the summer of 1899 the United States War Department assembled at
Jefferson City, Missouri, one of the finest trains of experienced army
mules and horses ever organised for foreign service. From Cuba, from the
northern borders of the United States, from frontier army posts, and, in
fact, from every part of the United States where the quartermaster’s
insignia were in evidence, these animals were brought to the common
rendezvous in Missouri. They were the pick of the army--staid old mules
and horses that had been in the service for years, and knew almost as much
of military discipline as the men in blue. Their transhipment to the
Presidio at San Francisco followed in July, and then the War Department
cast about for a vessel in which to ship them to Manila, where General
Otis was even then delaying important army movements in order that these
animals might accompany the troops to “the front.”
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR, MR. A. P. TAYLOR, CHIEF OF DETECTIVES,
HONOLULU, HAWAIIAN ISLANDS.
_From a Photograph._]
The _Siam_ had just returned from Nanaimo with a cargo of coal. She was a
fine, big, ten-knot boat, with Austrian officers and sailors. The War
Department decided, although she flew the flag of the Emperor Joseph, that
she was just the vessel needed. Early in August, after several weeks of
hammering, sawing, and building of superstructures, three hundred and
seventy-three horses and mules were sent aboard and placed in separate
stalls for the long voyage to Manila. The loading of the animal cargo was
a matter of much concern to the War Department, with the result that
almost the pick of the packers and teamsters of the army--fifty-six in
all--were chosen for the voyage.
In command of these rough-and-ready plainsmen was Captain J. P. O’Neil,
25th Infantry, United States Army. Captain O’Neil was just the sort of man
to deal with the cowboys--no army dandy, but a true-blue soldier, and the
men admired and loved him.
Among the horses was the thoroughbred presented to General “Joe” Wheeler,
United States Army, by the citizens of Alabama after his return from the
Cuban campaign. “Beauty” he was called by the men, and he was given a
place of honour near the officers’ cabin. Yet another splendid animal was
the horse belonging to Miss Wheeler, daughter of the General, who was then
an army nurse in the Philippines.
The officers and crew were all Austrians, with the exception of two
engineers. The commander was Captain Sennen Raicich, sailor, gentleman,
and postage-stamp connoisseur. His hobby was rare stamps, and his cabin
was filled with cases containing valuable specimens. Every day he went
over his collection, labelling, classifying, and docketing the new ones
which he had purchased at the last port. The collection was valued at
about twelve thousand dollars, and was insured. Messrs. Xigga and
Stepanovich were his two officers. Captain, mates, and crew all hailed
from the section of Austria nearest Fiume.
Ten days after leaving San Francisco the _Siam_ reached Honolulu, and the
horses and mules were taken ashore and sent to the Government corrals,
where they recuperated for two days. During this time Captain O’Neil spent
much time considering the arrangement of the stalls. These were arranged
along the main deck and in the first hold below. Over the exposed portions
of the main deck superstructures had been raised to protect the animals
from the elements. The forward deck was loaded with hay and grain for use
during the voyage, while between decks was a stock of forage. Over the
officers’ section a deck-house was built, and used as a sleeping-place for
the cowboys.
The Honolulans took great interest in the horses, and hundreds examined
the stalls, which were arranged along the sides of the steamer, the
animals facing inward. Small chains hasped to the supports on either side
led to the rings of the halters. Cleats were nailed to the flooring to
give the animals a footing during storms. The leisure time of the cowboys
was spent in making canvas “slings,” intended to be placed beneath the
bellies of the animals during bad weather, the ends fastened to rings in
the deck above, to assist the animals in keeping on their feet should the
vessel roll awkwardly. The transport service had much to learn, and the
use of slings was a costly lesson.
For several days the voyage toward the Philippines was delightful.
Half-cloudy days and trade winds maintained an even temperature throughout
the ship. Officers, crew, cowboys, the few passengers, and the animals
were on the best of terms. Captain O’Neil cheerfully looked forward to the
day when the _Siam_ should steam into Manila Bay and he could report the
voyage successfully ended and without the loss of an animal. Captain
O’Neil’s enthusiasm was communicated to the cowboys, and they resolved to
make a reputation for the voyage and land their animals safe and sound.
Alas for human hopes! That voyage was to prove the most disastrous in the
annals of the American transport service.
[Illustration: GENERAL WHEELER’S HORSE “BEAUTY” BEING TAKEN ON BOARD THE
“SIAM.”
_From a Photograph._]
On the morning of September 17th came a change in the direction of the
wind. The officers consulted the barometer, and the land-lubbers, taking
amateurist observations of their own, saw that it was falling. Then came a
few gusts, the sky changed, and in a little while a terrific storm burst
over the steamer. The vessel rolled, and the horses, unused to such a
motion, had difficulty in retaining their feet. Clouds of spray dashed
over the bridge and tons of water broke upon the decks. The stalls were
flooded and became slippery, and the animals frequently fell. Sometimes a
lurch threw at least fifty from their feet. Instantly there was a
struggling, kicking mass of horse and mule flesh on the decks. The
cowboys, although experiencing the first real nausea during the voyage,
bravely went among the helpless brutes and assisted them to their feet.
For two days and nights this went on, and few men were able to sleep.
Finally things got so bad that Captain O’Neil sent a written request to
Captain Raicich to change the course of the vessel to any direction that
would give the least motion to the ship.
Those who have never been to sea may not know the danger of putting a
vessel about in a sea which is piling up angrily from every direction. The
order was sent through the ship that she was to go about, and everyone
clung to a support during the manœuvre. Gradually the vessel answered her
helm; the roaring wind beat against her hull, heeling her far over, until
the landsmen clung desperately to anything handy to prevent them sliding
into the boiling sea. At length the manœuvre was safely executed, and all
hands breathed a sigh of relief. The vessel scudded before the wind,
riding more easily, though she was going far out of her course.
[Illustration: “A TERRIFIC STORM BURST OVER THE STEAMER.”]
When the sun broke through the clouds a tropical-looking island loomed up
on the horizon, which proved to be the island of Saipan, of the Ladrones
group, just to the north of Guam. Whether it was inhabited those aboard
did not know, for there was not on the ship a chart or book bearing upon
the island. A mysterious column of smoke shot up from a grove of trees as
the vessel passed by, followed by a second and a third. A “council of war”
was held. Were the mysterious smoke signals sent up by shipwrecked sailors
or by natives with questionable intentions? Captain Raicich cut the
Gordian knot with the statement that the _Siam_ was under contract to the
United States Government at six hundred dollars a day, and as considerable
time had already been lost he could not for a moment think of detaining
the vessel while an investigating committee went ashore.
After that storm the ship was a hospital, for two hundred and thirty-three
horses and mules were more or less injured, and every man devoted his
whole time to caring for them. Strange to say, many of the cowboys and
mules had been associated for years in Government work, and they were
therefore old friends, and the men were sympathetic veterinarian nurses.
Six animals died of their injuries.
That storm was a heartrending set-back to the ambitions of Captain O’Neil.
However, he made the best of the experience by preparing for similar
episodes. One day the engines gave out, and the vessel lay to for several
hours while the engineers and firemen worked like Trojans to repair the
damage. At first it was decided that the vessel, being then near the
Philippines, could make port with the one uninjured engine, but it was
finally decided that it would be best to repair the damage at sea. It was
well that this decision was arrived at, otherwise the _Siam_ would never
have reached port.
On September 29th the steamer was close to Cape Engano, on the northern
coast of the island of Luzon. On the morning of September 30th the sky
became overcast, the wind freshened, and the barometer fell. In the
afternoon there was a peculiar glow in the clouds, which behaved most
curiously; they seemed caught in currents of wind and were stretched out
across the heavens in orderly lines, parallel with the horizon. To the
landsmen none of the signs were ominous, but the ship’s officers sent
orders quietly among the crew.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN SENNEN RAICICH, OF THE “SIAM.”
_From a Photo. by Antonio Funk._]
A passenger, going into the chart-room, from which an officer had made a
hurried exit, saw a book on navigation lying there. It was open at a
chapter on typhoons, and there were under-scorings where “China Sea,” “The
Philippines,” “Yellow Sea,” etc., occurred in the text. The passenger
looked at the barometer again, saw that it had fallen, and began to
understand. There was an ominous silence throughout the vessel, and a
peculiar stagnant feeling impregnated the air. The growing sense of menace
affected every living thing aboard; the plainsmen had long since stopped
chaffing and the animals stamped uneasily.
Meanwhile the crew were very busy. Canvas shields were taken in, rigging
was examined, and the captain went below to the engine-room and consulted
with the engineers.
Evening came on, the sea began to stir, and the crests of little waves
broke sharply. The _Siam_ was now in sight of the northernmost portion of
Luzon, and as Cape Engano was approached she was slowed down, but the
captain and officers looked in vain for the lighthouse on the cape. At ten
o’clock the commander changed the course of the vessel from west to north,
thereby keeping out of the channel above the cape, for he would not risk
entering the waterway without first picking up the light.
It was well that he formed this decision, for at eleven o’clock the
heavens and the sea seemed to meet in a mighty clash. There was one mighty
reverberating roar, the steamer heeled over, the wind howled through the
rigging, and the stern, lifting high out of the water, permitted the
propeller to race, shaking the vessel from stem to stern. The gong and
bells rang sharply in the engine-room, the propeller stopped racing,
stopped altogether, spun again. The tramping of feet sounded along the
decks; orders were shouted from the bridge in Austrian. The cowboys
gathered on the main deck and waited anxiously--for what, they did not
know. Then the passenger transmitted the knowledge of the open book in the
chart-room to the landsmen. A typhoon was on, perhaps, he suggested.
“Typhoon” in the China Sea, “hurricane” in the Atlantic, “pampero” off the
South American coast, “cyclone” on land--all mean much the same thing. The
most terrifying storm a vessel could encounter held the _Siam_ in its
mighty grip.
Then, almost without warning, a demoniacal sea and a fearful wind, with
legions of horrible, never-to-be-forgotten night terrors, appeared to leap
upon the ship from the darkness.
A sickening dread crept into my heart. In fifteen minutes the whole fury
of the typhoon was upon us. It was almost midnight of September 30th when
we realized, by a glance at the captain’s face as he rushed into the
chart-room, that a battle for our lives was upon us. It was human science
matched against the ungovernable fury of the elements. Which would win?
I made my way to the bridge, clinging now to a rope, and now down upon my
knees with my arms around a stanchion. By main force I held on to the
wheel-house, where the captain and his two mates directed the course of
the stricken ship. Their faces were set with grim determination, their
eyes staring fiercely now at the compass and then at the boiling seas,
which pitched and rolled us about like a paper box. The wheel flew round
from side to side. One end of the bridge rose and towered above me until I
leaned over almost upright against the ascending deck, and as suddenly it
fell until it seemed to plough the water. The wind, blowing at eighty
miles an hour, tore canvas and rigging to shreds.
Suddenly the bow lifted high upon a monster wave. Higher, higher, higher
it rose, while the stern sank down into a yawning chasm. Simultaneously a
huge wave struck us abeam. Down came the bow, and over heeled the steamer
upon her side. From below came the nerve-racking bellowing and screaming
of the terrified animals as they strove madly to keep their feet. Hoarse
shouts came up from the lower decks, where the cowboys were endeavouring
to help their charges. Now and then there was a crash as an animal was
flung bodily out of its stall across the deck, where it smashed stalls and
set other animals loose. Each time the ship rolled I set my teeth, for
each swing seemed about to plunge us into the boiling black abyss below.
Often my heart seemed to stand still, and I waited for the moment when our
devoted band would be hurled into eternity.
Presently half-a-dozen of us descended to the stokehold in order to send
ashes up to the deck to be spread under the hoofs of the struggling
animals. Out of that stifling hole bucketful after bucketful was hoisted
until the deck was strewn with _débris_. But the heat of the stokehold and
the unusual labour caused the amateur stokers to sicken, and, exhausted
and nauseated, we climbed to the deck again and lay there gasping.
With morning the storm grew worse. At nine o’clock Captain Raicich
determined to heave the ship to, but the plan had to be abandoned, owing
to stress of weather. The steamer was compelled to head directly into the
wind, which eddied in dizzy concentric circles around a larger
circumference. My diary contains the following notes jotted down on the
afternoon of October 1st, written mainly in shorthand while I lay ill in
my bunk:--
“Good heavens! Another such day and night as we have been having and I
believe I shall become insane. Buffeted and tossed about like a feather,
careening, rolling, and pitching, the _Siam_ seems ready to take her final
plunge. Just now a great wave lifted the bow until it seemed the vessel
would stand straight upon her stern; the stern went down and threw us up
again with a terrific lift. A wave strikes the bow and races the full
length of the vessel, tearing everything loose it can rip from its
fastenings. It is sickening. I am writing this in the very midst, the
centre, of the worst kind of storm one can encounter at sea. The men are
shouting and cursing, the animals pawing and uttering plaintive sounds.
“We don’t know where we are. We know we are heading north-east to get away
from ragged reefs which lie to the north of Luzon. We are steaming
directly in the face of the typhoon and make no progress. The barometer
has fallen twelve points since noon. May Heaven have mercy on us!
“7 a.m., October 2nd.--What terrible sights I have witnessed during this
awful time! The storm increased every hour of the night, the barometer
going down from 82 to 30, disclosing the fact that we were heading
directly toward the centre of the typhoon. We have rolled so heavily that
the rail goes under at each dip. The men remained at their posts in the
stable division, striving to keep the animals from plunging out of their
stalls from sheer terror. Suddenly a mule falls. Men hurry to raise it. A
return lurch, and down go a score--a mass of maddened, screaming brutes.
From every part of the ship whistle-signals are heard calling for help.
None can be offered, and there the poor beasts lie piled up on each other,
sliding upon their sides and backs from one side of the ship to the other,
tearing strips of flesh from their bodies, causing them to groan piteously
in their helplessness. The ship is tossed every way, up and down, side to
side. Heavy seas break across the decks.
“Crash! There goes the cowboys’ bunk-house on the poop deck. It is
flooded, and the men’s belongings are sweeping into the sea. The water is
pouring down into our cabins. Destruction everywhere. Another crash--the
rending of timbers in the stable sections. I hear the men shouting
warnings and hear their feet tramping across the decks. The stalls have
given way entirely. Horses are plunging through the hatchways into the
lower stable divisions. A thud, a groan, and they are dead. The rest are
piled up in sickening, agonizing masses, rolling, snorting, kicking, and
endeavouring to get upon their feet. No man dare move from his
holding-place. One has to stand almost upon the cabin wall to keep erect.
“There they lie, all our pets, the captain’s thoroughbred, General
Wheeler’s own charger. There are twenty horses dead in one heap. A mule
has plunged right down into the engine-room, breaking its legs. It lay
there for two hours before Captain O’Neil could shoot the suffering beast.
The engineers crawled over the carcass as they stood at the throttles to
ease the engines down as the propeller races.
“The terrific battle of the elements outside beggars any description from
me. Intensify any storm you have experienced on land a couple of thousand
times, add all the terrors that darkness can furnish, add the thoughts of
terrible death staring you in the face every minute, with the sights and
sounds of Dante’s Inferno, and then perhaps you can gain some idea of our
misery.
[Illustration: “A MASS OF MADDENED, SCREAMING BRUTES.”]
“At daylight the seas swept across and filled up our decks. Then it was
that Spartan measures had to be taken. The hatches were ordered to be
battened down, thus confining in a death-trap nearly two hundred mules. We
knew it meant death by suffocation to those that were still living, but
our own lives were at stake, and to save our own the animals must be
sacrificed.
“I am now writing in the chart-room. If we sink, I don’t want to be
caught like a rat down in my cabin, although there will be no chance for
life in any case if we go down.
“To make our terror worse the Austrian firemen have mutinied. They heard
that the captain had given up the ship. They were right, for he told us to
prepare for the worst. Think of knowing that we have got to drown! Our
boats are all smashed and hanging in bits at the davits. The firemen
tumbled up on the deck looking like demons from the underworld. Then
Captain O’Neil showed his true nature. He became the hard, steel-like
soldier. He sternly ordered them below, but the men did not move. The
cowboys knew instinctively that without steam to turn the engines we must
surely founder. Two of the cowboys seized the ringleader, and, placing the
ends of a lasso about his wrists and thumbs, started to draw the rope over
a guy wire, threatening to string him up by the thumbs. Captain O’Neil had
turned away when these men took the prisoner in charge. Immediately the
frightened crew turned and fled down to the stokehold.
“Who can blame the poor beggars? Life is as sweet to them as to us. Two
hours later they came up again, but the display of an army revolver in
Captain O’Neil’s hand caused them to retreat.
“The chief engineer, an Englishman, has gone insane. Thirty-three years at
sea, and now he has gone to pieces! The terror of the long vigils at the
throttle unnerved him. I passed him a little while ago; he was sitting in
his cabin wailing piteously, his face blanched with terror. The little
Scotch second engineer has been on duty almost every hour since the night
of the 30th. His whole back was scalded by steam. Dr. Calkins bound it up
in cotton and oil, and he is working as if nothing had happened, brave
little fellow.
“6 a.m., Tuesday morning, October 3rd.--Another chapter in my experience
of Hades. No one is on duty except the ship’s officers. It is a ship of
the dead. I have just taken a look down the upper stable division, and the
sight sickened me. The poor brutes of horses and mules, mangled and torn,
lay in heaps, the live ones trying to extricate themselves from the dead.
“At last the typhoon has spent itself, and by to-morrow morning we shall
probably be able to get back on our course and make a fresh start for
Manila. Nearly all the horses and about two hundred mules are wounded as
far as we can ascertain. Soon the hatches will be taken off, and we can
learn the horrible truth.
“October 4th.--All morning long the dead animals have been hoisted out and
thrown overboard. How horrible it all is! The men working in the lower
holds are overpowered and compelled to come up on deck every few minutes.
We have three steam-winches going. We found only one live mule in the
lower hold. Captain O’Neil has been shooting most of the live animals, for
they are beyond hope in their terrible condition.
“Captain Raicich told me to-day that for four hours yesterday he did not
know whether the ship would pull through. The _Siam_ got into the trough
and could not be steered. He said he was prepared then for death. He said
he has never before experienced such a terrible storm. We don’t know just
where we are yet, as we can take no observations.
“What a terrible change in Captain Raicich’s appearance! He never left the
bridge for three days and nights. He, as well as the two men at the wheel,
were lashed to stanchions. He wore two oil ‘slickors,’ but they are in
ribbons, and the tar from them has sunk into his hair and beard and deep
into his skin. He is dirty and wretched-looking. His cheeks are sunken and
there is an almost insane glare in his eyes. He looks like a wreck, but in
spite of his terrible ordeal he is as decisive in manner as before. Poor
fellow, he hardly ate anything during the whole of the typhoon. He saved
our lives.
“We have just located our position. We are a hundred miles north of Luzon,
and close by are the dreaded coral-teeth we tried to avoid.
“October 5th.--We are now nearing Manila Bay and have cleared up the
vessel fairly well and thrown most of the carcasses overboard. The ship is
a wreck; everything seems to have been twisted, broken, torn, or damaged
in some way. Up to last night we got overboard three hundred and
fifty-five carcasses. This morning four more were found dead and two
others had to be shot. We now have only twelve animals left, some of which
we may land at Manila alive. This is all we have left out of three hundred
and seventy-three. Dozens of sharks follow in the wake of the vessel. The
_Siam’s_ expedition has been the most disastrous in the transport
service.”
As a matter of fact, the _Siam_ actually landed only two animals at
Manila. They were little Spanish mules which had been thrown into the
coal-hold and, strange to say, had not a scratch upon them. They were and
are still known in and about Manila as the “Million-Dollar Beauties” of
the quartermaster’s department.
[Illustration: “HE NEVER LEFT THE BRIDGE FOR THREE DAYS.”]
I accompanied Captain O’Neil to General Otis’s head-quarters in the
ancient Spanish palace in old Manila. When informed of the disaster the
General was greatly grieved, and remarked that it would have a serious
effect on the plans he had made. Captain O’Neil then presented him with
the following report of the voyage, which, although an official document,
contains much of the romance connected with the disastrous expedition:--