War had begun, but the majority of the American people had hardly
considered seriously how they were to fight. Fortunately their navy
already existed, and it was upon it that they had to rely in the opening
moments of hostility. Ton for ton, gun for gun, it stood on fairly even
terms with that of Spain. Captain, later Admiral, Mahan, considered that
the loss of the Maine shifted a slight paper advantage from the United
States to Spain. In personnel, however, the American Navy soon proved
its overwhelming superiority, which was due not solely to innate ability
but also to sound professional training.
The Secretary of the Navy, John D. Long, had a thorough appreciation
of values. Although Congress had not provided for a general staff,
he himself appointed a Naval War Board, which served many of the same
purposes. Upon this Board he appointed Rear Admiral Sicard, who but
for ill health would have commanded the main fleet; Captain A. S.
Crowninshield; and, most important, Captain A. T. Mahan, whose equal as
master of the theory and history of naval warfare no navy of the world
could show. The spirit of the fighting force was speedily exhibited by
such exploits as that of Lieutenant Victor Blue in boldly plunging into
the Cuban wilderness to obtain information regarding the position of
Admiral Cervera's fleet, though in this dangerous sort of work the
individual palm must be given to Lieutenant A. S. Rowan of the army,
whose energy and initiative in overcoming obstacles are immortalized
in Elbert Hubbard's "Message to Garcia," the best American parable of
efficient service since the days of Franklin.
Efficient, however, as was the navy, it was far from being a complete
fighting force. Its fighting vessels were totally unsupplied with
that cloud of servers--colliers, mother ships, hospital ships, and
scouts--which we now know must accompany a fleet. The merchant marine,
then at almost its lowest point, was not in a position entirely to fill
the need. The United States had no extensive store of munitions. Over
all operations there hung a cloud of uncertainty. Except for the short
campaign of the Chino-Japanese War of 1894, modern implements of sea war
remained untested. Scientific experiment, valuable and necessary as
it was, did not carry absolute conviction regarding efficient service.
Would the weapons of offense or defense prove most effective? Accidents
on shipboard and even the total destruction of vessels had been common
to all navies during times of peace. That the Maine had not been a
victim of the failure of her own mechanism was not then certain. Such
misgivings were in the minds of many officers. Indeed, a report of the
total disappearance of two battling fleets would not have found the
watchful naval experts of the world absolutely incredulous. So much the
higher, therefore, was the heroism of those who led straight to battle
that complex and as yet unproved product of the brain--the modern
warship.
While negotiations with Spain were in their last stages, at the orders
of Secretary Long a swift vessel left San Francisco for Honolulu. There
its precious cargo was transferred to the warship Baltimore, which
then made hurriedly for Hongkong. It contained the ammunition which
was absolutely necessary if Commodore George Dewey, in command of the
Asiatic squadron, was to play a part in the war. The position of his
squadron, even after it received its ammunition, was indeed singular.
After the war began, it was unable to obtain coal or other supplies from
any neutral port and at the same time it was equally unable to remain in
any such port without being interned for the duration of the war. There
remained but one course of action. It must not be forgotten that the
Spanish empire stretched eastward as well as westward. Already William
Pitt, when he had foreseen in 1760 the entrance of Spain into the war
which England was then waging with France, had planned expeditions
against both Cuba and the Philippines. Now in 1898 the Navy Department
of the United States, anticipating war, saw in the proximity of
the American squadron to the Spanish islands of the Philippines an
opportunity rather than a problem. Commodore George Dewey, the commander
of the Asiatic squadron, was fully prepared to enter into the plan.
As early as the seventies, when the Virginius affair * threatened war
between Spain and the United States, Dewey, then a commander on the west
coast of Mexico, had proposed, in case war were declared, that he sail
for the Philippines and capture Manila. Now he was prepared to seek in
the hostile ports of those islands the liberty that international law
forbade him in the neutral ports of Asia. How narrow a margin of time he
had in which to make this bold stroke may be realized from the fact that
the Baltimore, his second vessel in size, reached Hongkong on the 22d of
April and went into dry dock on the 23d, and that on the following day
the squadron was ordered either to leave the port or to intern.
* A dispute between the United States and Spain, arising out of
the capture of the Virginius, an American vessel engaged in
filibustering off the coast of Cuba, and the execution at Santiago of
the captain and a number of the crew and passengers. The vessel and the
surviving passengers were finally restored by the Spanish authorities,
who agreed to punish the officials responsible for the illegal acts.
The little armada of six vessels with which Dewey started for the
Philippines was puny enough from the standpoint of today; yet it was
strong enough to cope with the larger but more old-fashioned Spanish
fleet, or with the harbor defenses unless these included mines--of
whose absence Dewey was at the moment unaware. If, however, the Spanish
commander could unite the strength of his vessels and that of the coast
defenses, Dewey might find it impossible to destroy the Spanish fleet.
In that case, the plight of the American squadron would be precarious,
if its ultimate self-destruction or internment did not become necessary.
Commodore Dewey belonged to that school of American naval officers who
combine the spirit of Farragut's "Damn the torpedoes" with a thorough
knowledge of the latest scientific devices. Though he would take all
precautions, he would not allow the unknown to hold him back. After a
brief rendezvous for tuning up at Mirs Bay near Hongkong on the Chinese
coast, Dewey steered straight for Subig Bay in the Philippines, where
he expected to meet his opponent. Finding the Bay empty, he steamed on
without pause and entered the Boca Grande, the southern channel leading
to Manila Bay, at midnight of the 30th of April. Slowly, awaiting
daylight, but steadily he approached Manila. Coming within three miles
of the city, he discovered the Spanish fleet, half a dozen miles to the
southeast, at the naval station of Cavite. Still without a pause, the
American squadron moved to the attack.
The Spanish Admiral Montojo tried, though ineffectually, to come to
close quarters, for his guns were of smaller caliber than those of the
American ships, but he was forced to keep his vessels for the most part
in line between the Americans and the shore. Commodore Dewey sailed back
and forth five times, raking the Spanish ships and the shore batteries
with his fire. Having guns of longer range than those of the Spaniards,
he could have kept out of their fire and slowly hammered them to pieces;
but he preferred a closer position where he could use more guns and
therefore do quicker work. How well he was justified in taking this risk
is shown by the fact that no man was killed on the American fleet that
day and only a few were wounded. After a few hours' fighting, with a
curious interval when the Americans withdrew and breakfasted, Dewey
completed the destruction or capture of the Spanish fleet, and found
himself the victor with his own ships uninjured and in full fighting
trim. By the 3d of May, the naval station at Cavite and the batteries at
the entrance of Manila Bay were in the hands of Commodore Dewey, and
the Asiatic squadron had wrested a safe and commodious harbor from the
enemy.
Secure for the moment and free, Dewey found himself in as precarious a
strategic position as has ever confronted a naval officer. With his
six war vessels and 1707 men, he was unsupported and at least a month's
voyage from America. It was two months, indeed, before any American
troops or additional ships reached him. Meanwhile the Spaniards held
Manila, and a Spanish fleet, formidable under the circumstances, began
to sail for the Philippines. Nevertheless Dewey proceeded to blockade
Manila, which was besieged on the land side by the Filipino insurgents
under Aguinaldo. This siege was indeed an advantage to the Americans as
it distressed the enemy and gave an opportunity to obtain supplies from
the mainland. Dewey, however, placed no confidence in Aguinaldo, and
further was instructed by Secretary Long on the 26th of May as follows:
"It is desirable, as far as possible, and consistent for your success
and safety, not to have political alliances with the insurgents or any
faction in the islands that would incur liability to maintain their
cause in the future." Meanwhile foreign nations were rushing vessels
to this critical spot in the Pacific. On the 17th of June, Dewey sent a
cable, which had to be relayed to Hongkong by boat, reporting that there
were collected, in Manila Bay, a French and a Japanese warship, two
British, and three German. Another German man-of-war was expected, which
would make the German squadron as strong as the American.
The presence of so large a German force, it was felt, could hardly fail
to have definite significance, and therefore caused an anxiety at home
which would, indeed, have been all the keener had Admiral Dewey not kept
many of his troubles to himself. European sympathy was almost wholly
with Spain. The French, for instance, had invested heavily in Spanish
bonds, many of which were secured on the Cuban revenues. There was also
perhaps some sense of solidarity among the Latin races in Europe and a
feeling that the United States was a colossus willfully exerting itself
against a weak antagonist. It was not likely that this feeling was
strong enough to lead to action, but at least during that summer of
1898 it was somewhat unpleasant for American tourists in Paris, and an
untoward episode might easily have brought unfriendly sentiment to
a dangerous head. Austria had never been very friendly to the United
States, particularly since the execution of the Emperor Maximilian in
Mexico, which his brother Francis Joseph believed the United States
could have prevented, and was tied to Spain by the fact that the Queen
Regent was an Austrian Hapsburg.
It was evident, moreover, that in Europe there was a vague but
nevertheless real dread of the economic potentialities of the United
States--a fear which led, in the next few years, to the suggestion that
the American invasion of trade should be resisted by a general European
economic organization which would even overrule the natural tendency
of powers to group themselves into hostile camps. In 1898 it seemed
possible that the United States was consciously planning to become a
world military power also, and a feeling, not exactly like Blaine's
"America for the Americans" but rather of "the world for Europeans,"
gathered force to meet any attempt at American expansion.
Even before war had broken out between Spain and the United States, this
sentiment had sufficiently crystallized to result in a not quite usual
diplomatic action. On April 6, 1898, the representatives of Great
Britain, Germany, France, Austro-Hungary, Russia, and Italy, presented a
note to the Government of the United States making "a pressing appeal
to the feelings of humanity and moderation of the President and of the
American people in their differences with Spain. They earnestly hope
that further negotiations will lead to an agreement which, while
securing the maintenance of peace, will afford all necessary guarantees
for the reestablishment of order in Cuba."
Of all the European powers none was more interested than Germany in the
situation in the Western Hemisphere. There seems to be no doubt that the
Kaiser made the remark to an Englishman with reference to the Spanish
American War: "If I had had a larger fleet I would have taken Uncle Sam
by the scruff of his neck." Though the reason for Germany's attitude
has never been proven by documents, circumstantial evidence points
convincingly to the explanation. The quest for a colonial empire, upon
which Bismarck had embarked rather reluctantly and late, had been taken
up with feverish zeal by William II, his successor in the direction of
German policy. Not content with the commercial conquests which German
trade was making in all countries of the earth, the Kaiser wanted a
place in the sun exclusively his own. The world seemed, however, as
firmly closed to the late-comer in search of colonies as it was open to
him as the bearer of cheap and useful goods. Such remnants of territory
as lay on the counter he quickly seized, but they hardly made an empire.
It is not, therefore, a daring conjecture that the Kaiser was
as carefully watching the decrepit empire of Spain as he was the
traditional sick man of Europe, the empire of Turkey. In 1898
revolutions were sapping both the extremities of the Spanish dominions.
The Kaiser, while he doubtless realized that Cuba would not fall to
him, in all probability expected that he would be able to get the
Philippines. Certain it is that at the close of the Spanish American War
he bought all the remaining Spanish possessions in the Pacific. If such
had been his expectations with regard to the Philippines, the news of
Dewey's victory must have brought him a bitter disappointment, while at
the same time the careless and indiscreet remark of an American official
to certain Germans--"We don't want the Philippines; why don't you take
them?"--may well have given him a feeling that perhaps the question was
still open.
Under such circumstances, with Europe none too well-disposed and the
Kaiser watching events with a jealous eye, it was very important to
the United States not to be without a friend. In England sympathy for
America ran strong and deep. The British Government was somewhat in
alarm over the political solitude in which Great Britain found herself,
even though its head, Lord Salisbury, described the position as one of
"splendid isolation." The unexpected reaction of friendliness on the
part of Great Britain which had followed the Venezuela affair continued
to augment, and relations between the two countries were kept smooth by
the new American Ambassador, John Hay, whom Queen Victoria described
as "the most interesting of all the ambassadors I have known."
More important still, in Great Britain alone was there a public who
appreciated the real sentiment of humanity underlying the entrance of
the United States into the war with Spain; and this public actually had
some weight in politics. The people of both Great Britain and the United
States were easily moved to respond with money and personal service
to the cry of suffering anywhere in the world. Just before the Spanish
American War, Gladstone had made his last great campaign protesting
against the new massacres in Armenia; and in the United States the
Republican platform of 1896 had declared that "the massacres in Armenia
have aroused the deep sympathy and just indignation of the American
people, and we believe that the United States should exercise all the
influence it can properly exert to bring these atrocities to an end."
John Hay wrote to Henry Cabot Lodge, of the Senate Committee on Foreign
Affairs, April 5, 1898, as follows: "For the first time in my life
I find the drawing-room sentiment altogether with us. If we wanted
it--which, of course, we do not--we could have the practical assistance
of the British Navy--on the do ut des principle, naturally." On the 25th
of May he added: "It is a moment of immense importance, not only for
the present, but for all the future. It is hardly too much to say the
interests of civilization are bound up in the direction the relations of
England and America are to take in the next few months." Already on the
15th of May, Joseph Chamberlain, the Colonial Secretary, had said to the
Birmingham Liberal Unionists: "What is our next duty? It is to establish
and to maintain bonds of permanent amity with our kinsmen across the
Atlantic. There is a powerful and a generous nation.... Their laws,
their literature, their standpoint upon every question are the same as
ours."
In Manila Harbor, where Dewey lay with his squadron, these distant
forces of European colonial policy were at work. The presence of
representative foreign warships to observe the maintenance of the
blockade was a natural and usual naval circumstance. The arrival of two
German vessels therefore caused no remark, although they failed to pay
the usual respects to the blockading squadron. On the 12th of May
a third arrived and created some technical inconvenience by being
commanded by an officer who outranked Commodore Dewey. A German
transport which was in the harbor made the total number of German
personnel superior to that of the Americans, and the arrival of
the Kaiser on the 12th of June gave the Germans distinct naval
preponderance.
The presence of so powerful a squadron in itself closely approached an
international discourtesy. Disregarding the laws of blockade, as Dewey,
trained in the Civil War blockade of the South, interpreted them, the
German officers were actively familiar both with the Spanish officials
of Manila and with the insurgents. Finally they ensconced themselves in
the quarantine station at the entrance of the Bay, and Admiral Diedrichs
took up land quarters. Further, they interfered between the insurgents
and the Spaniards outside of Manila Bay. In the controversy between
Diedrichs and Dewey which grew out of these difficulties, Captain
Chichester, commanding the British squadron, supported Dewey's course
unqualifiedly and, moreover, let it be clearly known that, in the event
of hostilities, the British vessels would take their stand with the
Americans.