THE FINDING OF ADMIRAL CERVERA'S FLEET
"Well, this doesn't look much like fighting."
It was Paul who uttered the remark. The youngest member of the gunners'
crowd rested in the shadow of one of the long guns, half asleep. Near by
sat Walter and Si, each writing letters, although there was no telling
when the communications would be taken from the _Brooklyn_ and sent
home. At Key West Walter had looked for some word from Ben and from Job
Dowling, but none had come.
"I'd like to know if my uncle went to Boston, and if he learned anything
concerning that Deck Mumpers and the stolen heirlooms," Walter observed
to Si, after nodding to Paul, in agreement that it didn't look like
fighting.
"Well, you'll have to possess your soul in patience," answered the young
Yankee. "But oh, this is dead slow!" And thrusting his letter into an
envelope, he addressed it and laid it away.
Several days had been spent around the mouth of Santiago Bay, without
anything being brought to light. If the Spanish fleet was within the
harbor, it knew enough to keep out of sight, that was certain.
"If I was Commodore Schley, I'd rush past old Morro and make short work
of this," grumbled Paul, stretching himself and yawning. "Why, we'll all
die of laziness if this keeps on."
"I hear the _Merrimac_ has broken down," put in Caleb, who had just come
below. "That means another wait of twenty-four hours or more, even if
Cervera isn't in the harbor. Why under the sun must those dagos play
such a game of hide-and-seek? Why can't they come up and fight like
men?"
"Perhaps Admiral Cervera is bombarding some of our cities at this very
moment--" began Si, when a sudden loud hurrah caused all hands to leap
up and make for the deck.
"What's up?" came from a hundred throats.
"The _Iowa_ has just signalled that she has seen a big Spanish warship
showing her nose around the harbor point!" was the wild answer. "We've
found the Dons at last!"
And then came another hurrah and a wild yell. "Let us get at 'em! Down
with the Spaniards! Remember the _Maine_ and Dewey's victory at Manila!"
Commodore Schley was on the afterbridge of the flagship. As the yelling
broke loose, he smiled grimly. "Yes, they must be in there," he said to
Captain Cook. "And if they are, they'll never get home." Prophetic
words, as the events of just five weeks later proved.
Owing to the heavy swells of the ocean, the warships under the
commodore's command had drifted somewhat apart, but now, when it was
known definitely that Admiral Cervera's ships were in the harbor before
them, the various craft were signalled to draw closer, until they lay
within four to six miles of the entrance. This may seem a long way off
to some of my readers, but it must be remembered that guns of the
present day can carry as far as ten to twelve miles when put to it, and
a destructive fire can be maintained at seven or eight miles.
The night that followed was a trying one, for no one knew but that
Admiral Cervera's warships might come dashing out of the bay at any
instant ready to do them deadly battle. The _Brooklyn_ had long since
been stripped for action, many articles of wood being thrown overboard,
to avoid splinters when shot and shell began to fall. The small boats
were covered with strong nets, also to keep splinters away, and
everywhere throughout the ship the hoses were connected with the
water-plugs, to be used in case of fire, and all water-tubs were kept
filled for a like purpose. The magazines were kept open, and every gun,
big and little, stood ready to be fired at the word of command. Even the
wardroom tables were cleared off and covered with the sick-bay cloths,
and the surgeons saw to it in a quiet way that their bandages, knives,
and saws were ready to hand.
"Say, but that looks like war, eh?" whispered Paul, jerking his thumb in
the direction of one of the improvised operating tables. "Gracious, it's
enough to give a fellow a cold shiver."
"Then don't look that way, Paul," answered Walter. "As Si said, life
here isn't expected to be a picnic. We may gain lots of glory, but we'll
have to work for it,--and maybe suffer, too."
It was the 30th of May, Decoration Day, but no services of a special
character were had, although the Civil War was talked of by a dozen
veterans of both the North and the South, who were now standing once
more shoulder to shoulder, as Washington, Jefferson, and a hundred other
patriots of old had intended that they should stand, once and forever.
"We're under the stars and stripes to stay," said one man who had worn
the gray at Gettysburg. "Just let those Dons show themselves, and we'll
lick 'em out of their boots." The man's name was Berkeley, and he was as
good a soldier as he was a sailor, and wore both Union and Confederate
medals for bravery.
Walter had just fallen into a light doze early in the morning when a
dull booming awoke him with a start, and made him leap to his feet.
"What is that--guns firing?" he asked.
"That's it, lad," came from Caleb. "The commodore is giving his defiance
to the enemy, I reckon. There she goes again," he went on, as half a
dozen sullen reports rolled over the water. "I just wish we were in
this."
A Spanish warship, the _Christobal Colon_, had again showed herself at
the entrance to Santiago Bay, and the _Iowa_, the _Massachusetts_, and
the _New Orleans_, had been ordered to move to within seven thousand
yards and open fire. Away they darted, and passed and re-passed the
harbor entrance twice, firing as they sailed. What damage was done it
was impossible to tell, but that the _Colon_ was hit seemed very
probable, for she soon disappeared. The shore batteries also took part,
and sent one big shell directly over the _Iowa_, where it burst with a
noise that was deafening, but without doing any damage.
"Gracious! what a racket!" exclaimed Walter, as he watched the
bombardment from afar.
"Racket!" repeated Caleb, who stood beside him. "Why, lad, this is
nothing to what we'll have when we get mixed up. I only hope the
commodore signals us to line up for the scrap," he went on, for
Commodore Schley had left the _Brooklyn_ temporarily, and hoisted his
pennant on the _Massachusetts_. But the signal did not come, much to the
old gunner's disappointment.
By dark the bombardment was at an end. It had been brought about by the
commodore with the view to ascertain the strength of the enemy, his
ability to shoot straight, and the number and location of the shore
batteries. Now this information was gained, and it was likely to be of
great value in the near future.
It had been decided, should Admiral Cervera's fleet be discovered in
Santiago Bay, that Commodore Schley should unload the collier _Merrimac_
as quickly as possible, and then sink the craft directly across the
channel at the narrow entrance. If this was accomplished, it would make
it impossible for the Spanish warships to escape until the sunken wreck
was blown up and cleared away, and in the meantime several other
available American vessels could be hurried to the scene of action. A
number of spies had been sent ashore, and at last the commodore was
positive that the enemy was just where he wanted him. "And now we'll
sink the _Merrimac_ and bottle him up," he said.
The _Merrimac_ was an iron steamboat of five thousand tons' burden. She
had previously been a "tramp" steamer; that is, one going from port to
port, picking up any cargo that came to hand. She carried a large
quantity of coal for the various ships, and, as we already know, had
followed the Flying Squadron from Key West to Cienfuegos and the present
ocean territory. She was a heavily built craft, carrying two masts, and
just the right sort for the plan now at hand.
A heavy salute on the morning of June 1 announced the coming of Admiral
Sampson with a number of additional warships,--the _New York_, _Oregon_,
_Mayflower_, _Porter_, and others. The _New York_, it may be added here,
was a cruiser, similar to the Brooklyn, only somewhat smaller. The
_Oregon_ was a battleship of the first class, of over ten thousand tons'
displacement, and carried four 13-inch, eight 8-inch, and four 6-inch
guns in her main battery, over twenty guns in her secondary battery,
besides several Gatling guns and three torpedo tubes. This noble vessel
had just made a record for herself by steaming, at full speed, from San
Francisco, around Cape Horn, to our eastern coast, without a
break-down,--a journey without precedent for a heavy battleship, so far
as our own navy was concerned. In the past, foreign critics had imagined
that our vessels were not quite as good as theirs in thoroughness of
build; now these critics were silenced, and they stood looking on, and
wondering what those "clever Yankees" would do next.
The _Merrimac_ had been under the command of Captain James Miller, but
now she was eased of a large quantity of her coal, and turned over to
Lieutenant Richmond P. Hobson, an assistant naval constructor. Hobson
had his plans arranged in detail for sinking the _Merrimac_, and all he
asked for was a crew of six or seven men, to aid him in running the
collier into the harbor channel. "I know it looks like certain death to
go in," he said, "and therefore I want only volunteers with me."
"You can get them easily enough," said Rear-Admiral Sampson, with a
smile. "I know a hundred men on the _New York_ who will be only too
anxious to go, no matter how dangerous the mission." Volunteers were
called for, and, to the credit of our navy, be it said, that the crews
of the different ships offered themselves almost to a man.
"We can die only once," said one old gunner; "take me!"
"I'd like to go, captain," said Caleb, appealing to Captain Cook. "Can't
you put me on the list somehow?"
"I'll go," said Walter, readily, and Si said the same. Paul was so young
that he knew they would not take him.
Of course where only seven men were wanted and hundreds had begged to be
allowed to go there were numerous disappointments. At last the list was
made up of the following--names to be remembered by every patriotic
young American: Lieutenant Hobson, in command; O. W. Deignan, helmsman;
G. F. Phillips, engineer; F. Kelley, fireman; J. Murphy, coxswain; G.
Charette, mine batteries; D. Montague, anchor hand; R. Clausen, extra
wheelman. The men were all experienced sailors, and fully realized the
extreme peril which awaited them, when they should run the _Merrimac_ in
directly under the fire of Morro Castle and the La Zocapa battery.
A start was made late on Wednesday night, the _Merrimac_ cruising up and
down before the harbor entrance, trying to gain a favorable opportunity
for entering. But none showed itself, and by orders of the rear-admiral
the attempt was postponed until the night following. In the meantime a
catamaran was built and attached to the _Merrimac's_ side, to be used in
getting away in case the small boats became disabled when the craft was
wrecked.