SOMETHING ABOUT COMMODORE DEWEY
Larry found Commodore Dewey a well-built and well-preserved man of
sixty, with black, piercing eyes, and hair and mustache which had once
been dark but which were now tinged with gray. The face was a stern but
kind one, and the boy had not been in the commander’s presence more
than a few minutes before he felt at home in spite of the difference in
their respective positions.
As the commodore, afterwards admiral, is to play such an important part
in the future course of our story, it will not be amiss to ascertain a
few facts concerning his past career,――a career full of dash, fire, “I
will,” and patriotism.
The future commander of the seas was born in the town of Montpelier,
Vermont, on December 26, 1837. He was the son of Doctor Julius Dewey, a
man who fought his own way into the world, first by teaching school to
earn enough to take a course in medicine, and then by earnest efforts
to help not only himself but those around him. The doctor was the
founder of the Christ Episcopal Church of Montpelier, and a man of deep
religious convictions.
When George Dewey was but five years old he lost his mother, as tender
and true a parent as ever boy had, and henceforth his companions of
the household were his sister Mary, two years his junior, and his
father. He lived in a modest cottage on a side street, and the Onion
River swept through the fields in the back. It is on record that George
Dewey, barefooted and ofttimes hatless, loved to play in and around
that stream, and who knows but that there his first naval battles were
fought, with rude wooden boats of his own jack-knife designing?
When the proper time came the boy was sent to the village school, a
bare enough place, with stiff wooden benches and rough desks, upon
more than one of which he surreptitiously carved the initials G. D.,
and received for this what was considered, in those days of the
ever-present birch rod, his just reward.
Whether it be a good or bad trait, it is said that the schoolboy
was of rather a quick temper, and if anything went wrong he was for
settling the dispute with his fists, and it is further related that he
was generally victorious in his battles. Thus was the man’s natural
fighting nature shown from the start, but lest some of my young
readers take this as a justification to “pitch in” at the slightest
provocation, let me add that George Dewey was never known to fight
unless he was positive in his own mind that he was in the right.
From his home school, the lad was sent, at the age of fifteen, to a
Military Academy at Norwich, in his native State. Here he was for the
first time brought into contact with things military, and he had not
been at the Academy long before he wrote home that he should like to
go to either West Point or Annapolis, with a preference for Annapolis.
This communication caused his father much worry, for the doctor had
hoped that the boy would take up the study of either medicine, the law,
or the ministry. But the parent believed in letting his son choose his
own future, and so he consented to George’s wishes.
To get into either West Point or Annapolis is, as most boys must know,
no easy matter, appointments being made either by United States
senators or by the President. For a long while the lad tried in vain,
but at last he was chosen as alternate to another boy. The other boy,
when the time came, failed to appear for examination, and George Dewey
was duly appointed.
At the Naval Academy it was found that the boy made a bright student,
but that he had brought his old-time quickness of temper with him.
There was a line drawn between the boys from the South and those from
the North, and George was singled out as a butt for the Southern boys’
jokes. It can be imagined that he stood this only for a short while.
The battles that followed were short, sharp, and decisive, and after
that the newcomer was left alone, although before the class graduated
many of those who had been his enemies became Dewey’s warmest friends.
The graduation at the Naval Academy was a trying affair, how trying my
young readers will understand when I state that only fourteen out of a
class of over sixty received their diplomas. Of those who passed George
Dewey stood fifth――showing that he could do something else besides
taking his own part.
As a midshipman the young man was assigned to the _Wabash_, and spent
two years cruising in the Mediterranean, visiting at the same time many
places of interest, including the Holy Land. He returned to Annapolis,
to receive his final examination, in which he won third place, and then
returned to his native home.
When Dewey was twenty-three years old the great Civil War broke
out, and he was assigned a lieutenancy on board of the steam sloop
_Mississippi_, of the West Gulf Squadron, a noble fleet of vessels
commanded by Admiral Farragut. The first work of the fleet was to
attempt to reach New Orleans by running past the formidable batteries
near the entrance to the Mississippi River, and then by engaging the
fleet beyond. This was a tremendous task, and for seven days our young
lieutenant was subjected to the hottest kind of fire, which, as it was
afterwards stated, he endured like a veteran. He himself is reported
to have told a fellow-officer that he never enjoyed anything so much
in his life. It was during this engagement that, as executive officer,
he gave the quick commands which enabled the _Mississippi_ to fire a
broadside into the ram _Manassas_ and sink her. A year later found
Dewey again on the great river, and this time his craft ran aground
directly in front of the Port Hudson battery and had to be abandoned.
The task of getting the sailors off in safety under a galling fire was
a perilous one, but the brave lieutenant commander remained aboard
until no one but his captain and himself were left.
After the loss of the _Mississippi_, the future admiral was assigned
to one of Farragut’s gunboats, and fought at Donaldsonville, and
from there he took part in the bombardment of Fort Fisher, acting
as lieutenant on the _Colorado_, and it was here that he aided so
vigorously in a rush in shore to silence a part of the enemy’s works
that he gained a special mention for bravery.
It was in 1870 that he received his first command as captain of the
_Narragansett_. He was now a married man, having one son; and two years
later the one great cloud of his life came, in the loss of his beloved
wife. From the _Narragansett_ the captain was transferred to serve on
the United States Lighthouse Board, an exacting office which he filled
to the satisfaction of all. From here he went to the Asiatic Squadron,
and received full command of the _Dolphin_, one of the first vessels
belonging to what has since been known as the famous White Squadron,
because during the times of peace these great ships are all painted
pure white. When war is declared, every warship is painted some dark
color, usually a brown-green or gray or black.
Leaving the _Dolphin_, the energetic captain next took charge of the
_Pensacola_, the flagship of the European Squadron, and it was on this
vessel that Striker served under him. Never was a captain more beloved
by his men than was Dewey, although he was strict and made every one
under him “toe the mark.” One thing he could not abide, and that was
sullenness. An anecdote which is vouched for will not come amiss,
to show the character of the commander as well as to illustrate the
strictness of discipline on board of a man-o’-war.
While in command of the _Dolphin_, the lieutenant came to Dewey and
told him that there was a paymaster’s assistant on board who had
refused to obey a certain order given to him, his reason being that
it was outside of his line of duty. The black eyes of the commander
snapped fire.
“Where is he?” he asked.
“On the main-deck, sir.”
“Have you tried argument with him?”
“I have, sir, for ten minutes.”
The commander said no more, but stalked to the quarter mentioned, where
he found the man sulking against the mast. Going up quietly, he caught
the fellow by the shoulder.
“You have refused to obey such-and-such an order,” he said, mentioning
the order in question.
“It ain’t in my line of duty,” grumbled the paymaster’s assistant.
Again the eyes of the commander flashed fire, but he kept his temper.
“I have been in the navy for twenty-six years, and have made naval
affairs the study of my life. I tell you that it is the duty of every
man to obey the orders of his superior officers. Do you intend to obey?”
The eyes of the man dropped, and he shifted his feet uneasily. “It
ain’t in the line of my duty――I didn’t enlist for it,” he muttered
doggedly.
Without waiting a moment, Captain Dewey turned to the corporal standing
by.
“Call the guard,” he said briefly. “Order them to load with ball.”
The necessary orders were given, there was a scurry of feet and a
clicking of rifles, and a line of marines were drawn up on one side of
the deck, while the man who would not obey orders was marched to the
other.
“In refusing to obey orders you are guilty of mutiny,” said the
commander, sternly. “The penalty of mutiny on the high seas is death.
If that order is not obeyed inside of five minutes, I will order the
marines to fire upon you.”
The man turned white and began to tremble. Dewey calmly took out his
watch and counted off the minutes, “One――two――three――four――”
“Stop――don’t shoot――I’ll obey!” cried the sullen one, and rushed off to
do as bidden. It took him a week to get over his fright, but in the end
there was no better hand on board of that ship, nor one that thought
any more of the “old man,” as a commander is familiarly termed.
After a term upon the _Dolphin_, Dewey returned to the Lighthouse Board
and was connected with the Pacific Coast Survey. It was at this time
that he was promoted to be a commodore. On the first of the year which
was to see the breaking out of our war with Spain, the commodore was
assigned once more to the Asiatic Squadron, and he made, as my readers
already know, the _Olympia_ his flagship.
And now, with this rather long, but, I trust, interesting introduction,
we will join him in his cabin, where he is interviewing Larry and our
down-east friend, Striker.