The applause which followed the reading of the Dooley Dialogue showed
very clearly that, among the diners at least, neither Dooley nor Dolly
had waned in popularity. If the dilution, the faint echo of the
originals, evoked such applause, how potent must have been the genius of
the men who first gave life to Dooley and the fair Dolly!
"That's good stuff, Greenwich," said Billie Jones. "You must have eaten
a particularly digestible meal. Now for the tenth ball. Who has it?"
"I," said Dick Snobbe, rising majestically from his chair. "And I can
tell you what it is; I had a tough time of it in my dream, as you will
perceive when I recite to you the story of my experiences at the battle
of Manila."
"Great Scott, Dick!" cried Bedford Parke. "You weren't in that, were
you?"
"Sir," returned Dick, "I was not only _in_ it, I was the thing itself. I
was the war correspondent of the Sunday _Whirnal_, attached to Dewey's
fleet."
Whereupon the talented Mr. Snobbe proceeded to read the following cable
despatch from the special correspondent of the _Whirnal_:
MANILA FALLS
THE SPANISH FLEET DESTROYED
THE SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT OF THE _WHIRNAL_
AIDED BY COMMODORE DEWEY AND HIS FLEET
CAPTURES THE PHILIPPINES
[Illustration: THE SHIP'S BARBER AT WORK]
MANILA, _May 1, 1898_.--I have glorious news. I have this day destroyed
the Spanish fleet and captured the Philippine Islands. According to my
instructions from the City Editor of the _Whirnal_, I boarded the
_Olympia_, the flag-ship of the fleet under Commodore Dewey at
Hong-kong, on Wednesday last. Upon reading my credentials the Commodore
immediately surrendered the command of the fleet to me, and retired to
his state-room, where he has since remained. I deemed it well to keep
him there until after the battle was over, fearing lest he should annoy
me with suggestions, and not knowing but that he might at any time
spread dissension among the officers and men, who, after the habit of
seamen, frequently manifest undue affection and sympathy for a deposed
commander. I likewise, according to your wishes, concealed from the
officers and crew the fact that the Commodore had been deposed,
furthering the concealment by myself making up as Dewey. Indeed, it was
not until after the battle this morning that any but Dewey and the
ship's barber were aware of the substitution, since my disguise was
perfect. The ship's barber I had to take into my confidence, for
unfortunately on leaving Hong-kong I had forgotten to provide myself
with a false mustache, so that in concealing the deposition of the
Commodore by myself assuming his personality I was compelled to have the
gentleman's mustache removed from his upper lip and transferred to my
own. This the barber did with neatness and despatch, I having first
chloroformed the Commodore, from whom some resistance might have been
expected, owing to his peculiar temperament. Fortunately the fellow was
an expert wig-maker, and within an hour of the shaving of Dewey I was
provided with a mustache which could not fail to be recognized as the
Commodore's, since it was indeed that very same object. When five
hundred miles at sea I dropped the barber overboard, fearing lest he
should disturb my plans by talking too much. I hated to do it, but in
the interest of the _Whirnal_ I hold life itself as of little
consequence, particularly if it is the life of some one else--and who
knows but the poor fellow was an expert swimmer, and has by this time
reached Borneo or some other bit of dry land? He was alive when I last
saw him, and yelling right lustily. If it so happen that he has swum
ashore somewhere, kindly let me know at your convenience; for beneath a
correspondent's exterior I have a warm heart, and it sometimes troubles
me to think that the poor fellow may have foundered, since the sea was
stressful and the nearest dry point was four hundred and sixty knots
away to S.E. by N.G., while the wind was blowing N.W. by N.Y.C. & H.R.R.
But to my despatch.
Dewey done for, despoiled of his mustache and rifled of his place, with
a heavy sea running and a dense fog listing to starboard, I summoned my
officers to the flag-ship, and, on the evening of April 30th, the
fog-horns of Cavite having indicated the approach of the Philippine
coast, gave them, one and all, their final instructions. These were, in
brief, never to do anything without consulting with me.
"To facilitate matters, gentlemen," said I, ordering an extra supply of
grog for the captains, and milk punches for the lieutenants, "we must
connect the various vessels of the fleet with telephone wires. Who will
undertake this perilous duty?"
They rose up as one man, and, with the precision of a grand-opera
chorus, replied: "Commodore"--for they had not penetrated my
disguise--"call upon us. If you will provide the wires and the 'phones,
we will do the rest." And they followed these patriotic words with
cheers for me.
Their heroism so affected me that I had difficulty in frowning upon the
head-butler's suggestion that my glass should be filled again.
"Gentlemen," said I, huskily--for I was visibly affected--"I have
provided for all. I could not do otherwise and remain myself. You will
find ten thousand miles of wire and sixty-six telephones in the larder."
That night every ship in the fleet was provided with telephone service.
I appointed the _Olympia_ to be the central office, so that I might
myself control all the messages, or at least hear them as they passed to
and fro. In the absence of ladies from the fleet, I appointed a somewhat
effeminate subaltern to the post of "Hello Officer," with complete
control over the switch-board. And, as it transpired, this was a very
wise precaution, because the central office was placed in the hold, and
the poor little chap's courage was so inclined to ooze that in the midst
of the fight he was content to sit below the water-line at his post, and
not run about the promenade-deck giving orders while under fire. I have
cabled the President about him, and have advised his promotion. His
heroic devotion to the switch-board ought to make him a naval attache to
some foreign court, at least. I trust his bravery will ultimately result
in his being sent to the Paris Exposition as charge d'affaires in the
Erie Canal department of the New York State exhibit.
But to return to my despatch--which from this point must disregard
space and move quickly. Passing Cape Bolinao, we soon reached Subig Bay,
fifty miles from Manila. Recognizing the cape by the crop of hemp on its
brow, I rang up the _Boston_ and the _Concord_.
"Search Subig Bay," I ordered.
"Who's this?" came the answer from the other end.
"Never mind who I am," said I. "Search Subig Bay for Spaniards."
"Hello!" said the _Boston_.
"Who the deuce are you?" cried the _Concord_.
"I'm seventeen-five-six," I replied, with some sarcasm, for that was not
my number.
"I want sixteen-two-one," retorted the _Boston_.
"Ring off," said the _Concord_. "What do you mean by giving me
seventeen-five-six?"
"Hello, _Boston_ and _Concord_," I put in in commanding tones. "I'm
Dewey."
This is the only false statement I ever made, but it was in the
interests of my country, and my reply was electrical in its effect. The
_Boston_ immediately blew off steam, and the _Concord_ sounded all hands
to quarters.
"What do you want, Commodore?" they asked simultaneously.
"Search Subig Bay for Spaniards, as I have already ordered you," I
replied, "and woe be unto you if you don't find any."
"What do you want 'em for, Commodore?" asked the _Boston_.
"To engage, you idiot," I replied, scornfully. "What did you suppose--to
teach me Spanish?"
Both vessels immediately piped all hands on deck and set off. Two hours
later they returned, and the telephone subaltern reported, "No Spaniards
found."
"Why not?" I demanded.
"All gone to Cuba," replied the _Boston_. "Shall we pipe all hands to
Cuba?"
"Wires too short to penetrate without a bust," replied the _Concord_.
"On to Manila!" was my answer. "Ding the torpedoes--go ahead! Give us
Spaniards or give us death!"
These words inspired every ship in the line, and we immediately strained
forward, except the _McCulloch_, which I despatched at once to Hong-kong
to cable my last words to you in time for the Adirondack edition of your
Sunday issue leaving New York Thursday afternoon.
The rest of us immediately proceeded. In a short while, taking advantage
of the darkness for which I had provided by turning the clock back so
that the sun by rising at the usual hour should not disclose our
presence, we turned Corregidor and headed up the Boca Grande towards
Manila. As we were turning Corregidor the telephone-bell rang, and
somebody who refused to give his name, but stating that he was aboard
the _Petrel_, called me up.
"Hello!" said I.
"Is this Dewey?" said the _Petrel_.
"Yes," said I.
"There are torpedoes ahead," said the _Petrel_.
"What of it?" said I.
"How shall we treat 'em?"
"Blow 'em off--to soda water," I answered, sarcastically.
"Thank you, sir," the _Petrel_ replied, as she rang off.
Then somebody from the _Baltimore_ rang me up.
"Commodore Dewey," said the _Baltimore_, "there are mines in the
harbor."
"Well, what of it?" I replied.
"What shall we do?" asked the _Baltimore_.
"Treat them coldly, as they do in the Klondike," said I.
"But they aren't gold-mines," replied the _Baltimore_.
"Then salt 'em," said I, dryly. "Apply for a certificate of
incorporation, water your stock, sell out, and retire."
"Thank you, Commodore," the _Baltimore_ answered. "How many shares shall
we put you down for?"
"None," said I. "But if you'll use your surplus to start a
life-insurance company, I'll take out a policy for forty-eight hours,
and send you my demand note to pay for the first premium."
I mention this merely to indicate to your readers that I felt myself in
a position of extreme peril, and did not forget my obligations to my
family. It is a small matter, but if you will search the pages of
history you will see that in the midst of the greatest dangers the
greatest heroes have thought of apparently insignificant details.
At this precise moment we came in sight of the fortresses of Manila.
Signalling the _Raleigh_ to heave to, I left the flag-ship and jumped
aboard the cruiser, where I discharged with my own hand the
after-forecastle four-inch gun. The shot struck Corregidor, and,
glancing off, as I had designed, caromed on the smoke-stack of the
_Reina Cristina_, the flag-ship of Admiral Montojo. The Admiral,
unaccustomed to such treatment, immediately got out of bed, and,
putting on his pajamas, appeared on the bridge.
[Illustration: A CLEVER CAROM]
"Who smoked our struck-stack?" he demanded, in broken English.
"The enemy," cried his crew, with some nervousness. I was listening to
their words through the megaphone.
"Then let her sink," said he, clutching his brow sadly with his clinched
fist. "Far be it from me to stay afloat in Manila Bay on the 1st of May,
and so cast discredit on history!"
The _Reina Cristina_ immediately sank, according to the orders of the
Admiral, and I turned my attention to the _Don Juan de Austria_. Rowing
across the raging channel to the _Baltimore_, I boarded her and pulled
the lanyard of the port boom forty-two. The discharge was terrific.
"What has happened?" I asked, coolly, as the explosion exploded. "Did we
hit her?"
"We did, your honor," said the Bo's'n's mate, "square in the eye; only,
Commodore, it ain't a her this time--it's a him. It's the _Don Juan
de_--"
"Never mind the sex," I cried. "Has she sank?"
"No, sir," replied the Bo's'n's mate, "she 'ain't sank yet. She's
a-waiting orders."
"Fly signals to sink," said I, sternly, for I had resolved that she
should go down.
They did so, and the _Don Juan de Austria_ immediately disappeared
beneath the waves. Her commander evidently realized that I meant what I
signalled.
"Are there any more of the enemy afloat?" I demanded, jumping from the
deck of the _Baltimore_ to that of the _Concord_.
"No, Commodore," replied the captain of the latter.
"Then signal the enemy to charter two more gunboats and have 'em sent
out. I can't be put off with two boats when I'm ready to sink four," I
replied.
[Illustration: SINKING THE _CASTILLA_]
The _Concord_ immediately telephoned to the Spanish commandant at the
Manila Cafe de la Paix, who as quickly chartered the _Castilla_ and
the _Velasco_--two very good boats that had recently come in in ballast
with the idea of loading up with bananas and tobacco.
While waiting for these vessels to come out and be sunk, I ordered all
hands to breakfast, thus reviving their falling courage. It was a very
good breakfast, too. We had mush and hominy and potatoes in every style,
beefsteak, chops, liver and bacon, chicken hash, buckwheat cakes and
fish-balls, coffee, tea, rolls, toast, and brown bread.
Just as we were eating the latter the _Castilla_ and _Velasco_ came out.
I fired my revolver at the _Castilla_ and threw a fish-ball at the
_Velasco_. Both immediately burst into flames.
Manila was conquered.
The fleet gone, the city fell. It not only fell, but slid, and by
nightfall Old Glory waved over the citadel.
The foe was licked.
To-morrow I am to see Dewey again.