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FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS
OR
UNDER SCHLEY ON THE BROOKLYN
Old Glory Series
BY EDWARD STRATEMEYER
AUTHOR OF "UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA" "A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA" "RICHARD
DARE'S VENTURE" "OLIVER BRIGHT'S SEARCH" "TO ALASKA FOR GOLD" ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY_
A. B. SHUTE
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
1899
COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY LEE AND SHEPARD.
_All Rights Reserved._
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
[Illustration: "THE FLAGSHIP BEGAN THE FIRING."]
PREFACE
"FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS," although a complete story in itself, forms
the third volume of the "Old Glory Series," tales depicting the various
campaigns in our late war with Spain.
In "Under Dewey at Manila" we followed Larry Russell's adventures on
board of the flagship _Olympia_ during the memorable contest off Cavite;
in "A Young Volunteer in Cuba" we marched and fought with Ben Russell in
that notable campaign leading up to the surrender of Santiago; and in
the present volume are narrated the haps and mishaps of Walter Russell,
who joins Commodore Schley's flagship, the _Brooklyn_, and sails with
the Flying Squadron from Hampton Roads to Key West, thence to
Cienfuegos, and at last succeeds in "bottling up" Admiral Cervera's
fleet in Santiago Bay. The long blockade and the various bombardments
are described, and then follow the particulars of that masterly battle
on the part of the North Atlantic Squadron which led to the total
destruction of the Spanish warships.
Walter Russell's bravery may seem overdrawn, but such is far from being
a fact. That our sailors were heroes in those days we have but to
remember the sinking of the _Merrimac_, the _Winslow_ affair, and a
score of deeds of equal daring. "The hour makes the man," and the
opportunity likewise makes the hero. Walter was brave, but he was no
more so than hundreds of others who stood ready to lay down their lives
in the cause of humanity and for the honor of Old Glory. Like his two
brothers, his religious belief was of the practical kind, and he went
into battle convinced that so long as he did his duty according to the
dictates of his conscience, an all-wise and all-powerful Providence
would guide him and watch over him.
The author cannot refrain from saying a word about the historical
portions of the present work. They have been gleaned from the best
available authorities, including the reports of Admiral Sampson,
Commodore Schley, and a number of captains who took part in the contest;
also the personal narratives of one man who was on board the _Merrimac_
at the time that craft was sunk, and of a number who have made the
_Brooklyn_ their home for several years past, and who will probably
remain on the pride of the Flying Squadron for some time to come.
In presenting this third volume, the author begs to thank both critics
and the public for the cordial reception accorded to the previous
volumes, and trusts that the present story will meet with equal
commendation.
EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
NEWARK, N.J.,
March 1, 1899.
CONTENTS
I. WALTER DETERMINES TO ENTER THE NAVY
II. A VISIT TO THE NAVY-YARD
III. A CHASE AND ITS RESULT
IV. ON THE WAY TO THE "BROOKLYN"
V. SOMETHING ABOUT WAR AND PRIZE MONEY
VI. A GLIMPSE OF THE PRESIDENT
VII. A TALK ABOUT SPANISH SAILORS
VIII. THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS
IX. COMMODORE WINFIELD SCOTT SCHLEY
X. WALTER SHOWS HIS PLUCK
XI. THE SAILING OF THE FLYING SQUADRON
XII. AN ADVENTURE OFF CHARLESTON
XIII. IN WHICH THE GOLD PIECE COMES TO LIGHT
XIV. KEY WEST, AND THE LAST OF JIM HASKETT
XV. FROM CIENFUEGOS TO SANTIAGO BAY
XVI. THE FINDING OF ADMIRAL CERVERA'S FLEET
XVII. IN WHICH THE "MERRIMAC" IS SUNK
XVIII. WALTER'S ADVENTURE ON SHORE
XIX. CARLOS, THE REBEL SPY
XX. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
XXI. THE FLIGHT TO THE SEACOAST
XXII. THE LANDING OF THE MARINES AT GUANTANAMO
XXIII. IN A SPANISH PRISON
XXIV. BACK TO THE "BROOKLYN" AGAIN
XXV. THE BOMBARDMENT OF THE SANTIAGO BATTERIES
XXVI. IN WHICH THE ARMY OF INVASION ARRIVES
XXVII. THE SPANISH FLEET AND ITS COMMANDER
XXVIII. "THE ENEMY IS ESCAPING!"
XXIX. THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SPANISH FLEET
XXX. FINAL SCENES OF THE GREAT FIGHT
XXXI. TOGETHER ONCE MORE--CONCLUSION
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"The flagship began the firing"
"He bent over Walter again"
"The President bowed in return"
"'See here, I want to talk to you!'"
"'I'll get square on all of you!'"
"With a final lurch the _Merrimac_ went down"
"'Surrender, or I'll shoot you where you stand!'"
"Rammer in hand, Walter edged close to the muzzle"
FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS
CHAPTER I
WALTER DETERMINES TO ENTER THE NAVY
"Well, Walter, I suppose the newspapers are going like hot cakes this
morning."
"They are, Mr. Newell. Everybody wants the news. I ran out of 'Globes'
and 'Heralds' before seven o'clock, and sent Dan down for fifty more of
each."
"That was right. It's a windfall for us newsdealers, as well as a
glorious victory to match. It makes me think of my old war days, when I
was aboard of the _Carondelet_ under Captain Walke. We didn't sink so
many ships as Dewey has at Manila, but we sank some, and smashed many a
shore battery in the bargain, along the banks of the Mississippi. What
does that extra have to say?" and Phil Newell, the one-legged civil-war
naval veteran, who was also proprietor of the news-stand, took the
sheet which Walter Russell, his clerk, handed out.
"There is not much additional news as yet," answered Walter. "One of the
sensational papers has it that Dewey is now bombarding Manila, but the
news is not confirmed. But it is true that our squadron sunk every one
of the Spanish warships,--and that, I reckon, is enough for one
victory."
"True, my lad, true; but there is nothing like keeping at 'em, when you
have 'em on the run. That is the way we did down South. Perhaps Dewey is
waiting for additional instructions from Washington. I hope he didn't
suffer much of a loss. Some papers say he came off scot free, but that
seems too good to be true."
"The news makes me feel more than ever like enlisting," continued the
boy, after a pause, during which he served out half a dozen newspapers
to as many customers. "What a glorious thing it must be to fight like
that and come out on top!"
"Glorious doesn't express it, Walter. Why, if it wasn't for this game
leg of mine, and my age being against me, I'd go over to the navy-yard
to-day and reenlist, keelhaul me if I wouldn't!"
"But what of the stand?"
"The stand could take care of itself--until the Dons were given the
thrashing they deserve for making the Cubans suffer beyond all reason."
Phil Newell threw back his head and gave a laugh. "That puts me in mind
of something that happened when the Civil War started. A young lawyer in
New York locked up his office and pasted a notice on his door: 'Gone to
the front. Will be back when the war is over.' I'd have to put up
something similar, wouldn't I?"
"I wish you and I could go together, Mr. Newell."
"So do I, Walter, but I'm over sixty now, and they want young blood. By
the way, what of that brother of yours down in New York?"
"Ben has joined the militia of that State, and is now at Camp Black
waiting to be sworn into the United States service. I wish he had come
on to Boston."
"Well, Uncle Sam wants soldiers as well as sailors, or he wouldn't call
for a hundred and twenty-five thousand volunteers. But give me the deck
or gun-room of a warship every time. Nothing finer in the world. I
served for nearly ten years, and I know."
Walter smiled, and then waited on several additional customers. "My
youngest brother, Larry, takes to the ocean," he answered. "He is out on
the Pacific now, somewhere between the Hawaiian Islands and Hong Kong.
He was always crazy for a boat when we were at home in Buffalo together,
and spent all his spare time on Lake Erie."
"Going to Hong Kong, eh? That's not so far from the Philippines. It is a
pity he is not with Commodore Dewey. It would be a feather in his cap
when he got home."
A steady stream of customers for five minutes broke off the conversation
at this point, and throwing down his newspaper, Phil Newell--he never
wanted to be called Philip--entered the stand to help his young
assistant. The stand was situated in the heart of Boston, just outside
of one of the leading hotels, and trade at this hour in the morning,
eight o'clock, was always brisk.
When there came a lull later on, Walter turned again to his employer.
"Mr. Newell, what if I do enlist? Can you spare me?" he questioned.
"What! do you really mean it, Walter?"
"I do, sir. As you know, I've been thinking the matter over ever since
this war with Spain started."
"But you've got to have your guardian's consent, or they won't take
you."
"I've got it in my pocket now. I wrote to him last week, and he answered
that, as Ben had already joined the soldiers, I could do as I pleased,
but I mustn't blame him if I was killed."
"Which you wouldn't be likely to do, if you were killed dead, so to
speak," laughed Phil Newell. Then he slapped Walter on the back, for
twenty odd years on land had not taken his "sea-dog" manners from him.
"Enlist, my lad, enlist by all means, if you feel it your duty. Of
course I don't like to lose such a handy clerk, but Uncle Sam can have
you and welcome."
"Didn't you say there was a young man named Gimpwell looking for this
position?"
"Yes, and he wants it badly, for he has a sick sister to support."
"Has he any experience?"
"Oh, yes; he tended a railroad stand for several years."
"Then, perhaps you could break him in without much trouble--if I went
away."
"Do you want to go at once?"
"If I am to enlist, then it seems to me the quicker the better. I see by
the papers that some of our warships are still at Hampton Roads and Key
West, but there is no telling when they will start for Cuban waters.
Besides, I've been thinking that if I could manage it, I should like to
get aboard of the _Brooklyn_, the flagship of Commodore Schley's Flying
Squadron, which is now at Hampton Roads awaiting orders."
"It's not so easy to pick your ship, my lad. However, if you wish, you
can go over to the navy-yard this afternoon and see what you can
do,--and I'll go along and leave Dan in charge here," concluded Phil
Newell.
Walter Russell was one of three brothers, of whom Ben was the eldest and
Larry the youngest. Their home had been in Buffalo, where at the death
of their mother, a widow, they had been turned over to the care of their
step-uncle, Mr. Job Dowling, an eccentric old bachelor, whose prime
object in life was to hoard up money.
In the two volumes previous to this, entitled respectively, "Under Dewey
at Manila," and "A Young Volunteer in Cuba," I related how the boys
found it impossible to remain under Job Dowling's roof, and how they ran
away, each to seek fortune as he might find it. Larry drifted first to
San Francisco and then to Honolulu, the principal city of the Hawaiian
Islands, where he shipped on a vessel bound for Hong Kong. From this
ship he was cast overboard with a Yankee friend named Luke Striker, and
both were picked up by the flagship _Olympia_ of the Asiatic Squadron
and taken to Manila Bay, there to serve most gallantly under the naval
commander whose name has since become a household word everywhere. As
Walter had intimated, Larry was a sailor by nature, and it was likely
that he would follow the sea as long as he lived.
Ben and Walter had gone eastward, but at Middletown, in New York State,
they had separated, Walter to drift to Boston, and Ben to make his way
to New York. At the latter city the eldest of the Russell brothers had
secured employment in a hardware establishment, but this place was
burned out, and then Ben enlisted in the 71st Regiment of New York,
while his intimate friend, Gilbert Pennington, joined Roosevelt's Rough
Riders, and both went to Cuba, there to fight valorously in that
campaign which led to the surrender of Santiago and caused Spain to sue
for peace.
As Walter had written to Larry, the recital of the former's adventures
in getting from Middletown to Boston would fill a volume. He had stolen
a ride on the cars from Middletown to Albany, and during this wild trip
his hat blew off and was not recovered. He was put off the train just
outside of the capital city; and, stopping at a farmhouse to inquire the
way, had his clothing torn by a bull-dog that was more than anxious to
get at what was beneath the garments. Walter hardly knew what to do,
when a tramp put in an appearance, and sent a well-directed stone at the
dog's head, causing the beast to slink away. The tramp introduced
himself as Raymond Cass, a bricklayer, out of luck, and bound for Boston
on foot. He proposed that they journey together, and Walter rather
hesitatingly consented. They moved eastward in company for two days,
when, on awakening one morning, Walter found Raymond Cass missing. The
boy's coat was also gone, and with it his entire capital,--forty-seven
cents.
The pair had made their bed in the haymow of a large barn, and while
Walter was searching for the tramp, the owner of the place came up and
demanded to know what the youth was doing on his premises. Walter's tale
was soon told, and Farmer Hardell agreed to give him a week's work in
his dairy, one of the dairymen being sick. For this Walter received four
dollars, and an old hat and a coat in addition.
Leaving Cornberry, the name of the hamlet, Walter had struck out once
more for Boston, but this time steering clear of all tramps, of the
Raymond Cass type or otherwise. He was sparing of his money, and the
first day out earned his dinner and a packed-up lunch for supper, by
putting in two panes of glass for an old lady who had waited for a week
for a travelling glazier to come around and do the job. In addition to
this, the lad worked for two days at a village blacksmith's
establishment during the absence of the regular helper who had gone to
his aunt's funeral in another place, and also found a regular position
with a florist, who had a number of large greenhouses up the Charles
River. Walter was not used to working where there was so much glass, and
on the third day he allowed a step-ladder he was using to slip. The
ladder crashed through several hot-bed frames, and poor Walter was
discharged on the spot, without a cent of pay.
The boy's next move had been to the river, where he had obtained a
position on a freight steamboat. His duty was to truck freight on and
off, and the work blistered his hands and gave him many a backache. But
he stuck to it for two weeks, thereby earning fourteen dollars, and with
this capital entered Boston.
Walter had not expected an easy time finding a situation in the Hub, but
neither had he anticipated the repeated failures that one after another
stared him in the face. For over a week he tramped up and down, without
so much as a "smell of an opening," as he afterwards wrote to his
brothers. In the meanwhile his money diminished rapidly, until more than
two-thirds of it was gone.
A deed of kindness had obtained for him the position with Phil Newell.
Chancing to walk along School Street one afternoon, he had seen two boys
beating a small boy unmercifully. The small boy had turned into Province
Street, and the big boys had followed, and here they had thrown the
little fellow down, and were on the point of kicking him, when Walter
rushed up and flung both back. "You brutes, to attack such a small boy!"
he had cried. "Clear out, or I'll call a policeman, and have you both
locked up."
"We told him to keep back at de newspaper office," growled one of the
big fellows. "Do it again, Dan Brown, and we'll give it to you worse,"
and then as Walter advanced once more, both took to their heels and
disappeared.
Dan Brown had been very grateful, and questionings had elicited the
information that the lad worked for Phil Newell, as a paper carrier and
to do errands. "His regular clerk, Dick Borden, left yesterday," Dan had
continued; "perhaps you can get the job." And Walter had lost no time in
following the small youth to Newell's place of business. Here Dan's
story was told, and the lad put in a good word for Walter, with the
result that the youth was taken for a week on trial. How well Walter
pleased the old naval veteran we have already seen. He had now occupied
the place as head clerk for nearly two months, and his salary had been
increased from four dollars a week to six. He boarded with Dan's mother,
in a little suite of rooms on a modest side street, not a great
distance from the Common.
It must not be supposed that Job Dowling, who held a good deal of money
in trust for the boys, had allowed them to run off without making an
effort to bring them back. Larry was out of his reach, but Ben and
Walter were not, and the miserly man had descended upon Ben in New York
and tried his best to "make things warm," as Ben had mentioned in a
letter to Larry. But Job Dowling had overreached himself by attempting
to sell a watch and some jewelry which had belonged originally to Mr.
and Mrs. Russell, heirlooms which were not to be disposed of under any
circumstances. On his trip to New York after Ben, the articles had been
stolen from him at the Post-office--something that had so frightened Job
Dowling that he had consented to Ben's enlisting in the army with
scarcely a murmur, fearful the youth might otherwise have him brought to
book for what had happened. A vigorous search had been made for the
thief, but he was not found. Later on, when Ben was in the army, Job
Dowling received information that caused him to reach the conclusion
that the thief had gone to Boston. The miserly guardian of the boys
returned to his home in Buffalo and, as much worried as ever, wrote to
Walter to keep an eye open for the missing property. Walter did as
requested, but in such a large place as the Hub the youth had little
hope of ever seeing the precious heirlooms again.