“The gunboat Machias, which was some distance away, heard the sound of the firing, came up, and brought her 4-inch rifle into play, firing one shot, which failed to hit the Spaniard. This, however, brought her to, and Lieutenant Qualto and a prize-crew were put on board.”
A cablegram from Hongkong announced the capture of the American bark Saranac off Manila, by the Spanish gunboat El Correo.
By a conference of both branches of Congress a naval bill of $49,277,558 was agreed upon. It stands as the heaviest naval outlay since the civil war, providing for the construction of three battle-ships, four monitors, sixteen torpedo-boat destroyers, and twelve torpedo-boats.
The U. S. S. Newport captured the Spanish sloop Engracia, and the U. S. S. Dolphin made a prize of the Spanish schooner Lola.
April 29. The flag-ship New York was lying about two miles off the harbour of Cabanas, having just completed a cruise of inspection. With her were the torpedo-boats Porter and Ericsson. On the shore could be seen the white ruins of what may have been the dwelling of a plantation. No signs of life were visible. It was as if war’s alarms had never been heard on this portion of the island.
Suddenly a volley of musketry rang out, repeated again and again, at regular intervals, and the tiny jets of water which were sent up by the bullets told that, concealed near about the ruins of the hacienda, a troop of Spanish soldiers were making what possibly they may have believed to be an attack upon the big war-ship. It was much as if a swarm of gnats had set about endeavouring to worry an elephant, and likely to have as little effect; yet Rear-Admiral Sampson believed it was necessary to teach the enemy that any playing at war, however harmless, was dangerous to themselves, and he ordered that the port battery be manned.
Half a dozen shots from the 4-inch guns were considered sufficient, although there was no evidence any execution had been done, and the big vessel’s bow was turned eastward just as a troop of Spanish cavalry rode rapidly away from the ruin. The horsemen served as a target for a 4-inch gun in the starboard battery, and the troop dispersed in hot haste.
While this mimic warfare was being carried on off Cabanas, a most important capture was made. The Nashville, Marblehead, and the Eagle left the station on the north coast, April 25th, to blockade Cienfuegos, arriving at the latter place on the twenty-eighth.
They spent the day reconnoitring, and, next morning, in order to get better information, steamed close to the mouth of the harbour of Cienfuegos. The Eagle was to the eastward, and in the van. The Marblehead was slightly in the rear, and the Nashville to the westward.
All were cleared for action. Suddenly smoke was seen rising on the western horizon, and the Nashville, because of her position, put on all steam in that direction. Twenty minutes later she fired two shots across the bow of the coming steamer, which promptly hove to. She was the Argonauta. Ensign Keunzli was sent with a prize-crew of nine to take possession of her.
Learning that Spanish soldiers were on board, word was given to send them to the Nashville immediately as prisoners of war, and when this had been done arrangements were made to transfer the passengers and non-combatants to the shore. The women and children were placed in the first boat, and under cover of a flag of truce were soon bound toward the entrance to Cienfuegos. A second crew took the other passengers and landed them about noon.
The Argonauta had on board Colonel Corijo of the Third Spanish Cavalry, his first lieutenant, sergeant-major, seven other lieutenants, and ten privates and non-commissioned officers. The steamer also carried a large cargo of arms and Mauser ammunition. She was bound from Satabanao, Spain, for Cienfuegos, stopping at Port Louis, Trinidad, and Manzanillo.
Half an hour later the Eagle hoisted a signal conveying the intelligence that she had been fired upon by Spanish boats coming out of the river. She immediately returned the fire with the 6-pounders, and held her ground until the Marblehead came up. Both vessels then fired broadside after broadside up the entrance to the river.
The boats coming down were two torpedo-boats and one torpedo-boat destroyer. After twenty minutes of firing by the Eagle, during the last five of which the Marblehead participated, the Spanish vessels ceased firing.
April 29. A cablegram from St. Vincent, Cape Verde, reported the departure from that port of the Spanish squadron, consisting of the first-class cruisers Vizcaya, Almirante Oquendo, Infanta Maria Teresa, and Cristobal Colon, and the three torpedo-boat destroyers Furor, Terror, and Pluton, bound westward, probably for Porto Rico.
April 30. The American schooner Ann Louisa Lockwood was taken by the Spaniards off Mole St. Nicolas.
The capture of a small Spanish schooner, the Mascota, near Havana, by the torpedo-boat Foote, closed the record of the month of April.
Anxiously awaiting some word from Manila were the people of the United States, and it was as if everything else was relegated to the background until information could be had regarding that American fleet which sailed from Mirs Bay, in the China Sea, on the afternoon of April 27th.
CHAPTER IV.
THE BATTLE OF MANILA BAY
May 1. “Manila, May 1. – The squadron arrived at Manila at daybreak this morning. Immediately engaged the enemy, and destroyed the following Spanish vessels: Isla de Cuba, Isla de Luzon, Reina Christina, Castilla, Don Antonio d’Ulloa, Don Juan d’Austria, Velasco, General Lezo, El Correo, Marques del Duero, Isla de Mindanao, and the water-battery at Cavite. The squadron is uninjured. Few men were slightly injured. The only means of telegraphing is to American consulate, Hongkong. I shall communicate with him.
“Dewey.”
All the world loves a hero, but idolises him when he performs his deeds of valour without too many preliminaries, and, therefore, when on the seventh of May the telegram quoted above was flashed over the wires to an anxiously expectant people, it was as if all the country remembered but one name, – that of Dewey.
April 25. It was known to the public that the Asiatic Squadron had sailed from Hongkong on the 25th of April to avoid possible complications such as might arise in a neutral port, and had rendezvoused in Mirs Bay, there to await orders from the government at Washington.
April 26. So also was it known that on the next day Commodore Dewey received the following cablegram.
“Washington, April 26th.
“Dewey, Asiatic Squadron: – Commence operations at once, particularly against Spanish fleet. You must capture or destroy them.
“Mckinley.”
April 27. On the twenty-seventh came information from Hongkong that the squadron had put to sea, and from that day until the seventh of May no word regarding the commodore’s movements had been received, save through Spanish sources.
Then came a cablegram containing the bare facts concerning the most complete naval victory the world had ever known. It was the first engagement of the war, and a crushing defeat for the enemy. It is not strange that the people, literally overwhelmed with joy, gave little heed to the movements of our forces elsewhere until the details of this marvellous fight could be sent under the oceans and across the countries, thousands of leagues in distance, describing the deeds of the heroes who had made their names famous so long as history shall exist.
During such time of waiting all were eager to familiarise themselves with the theatre of this scene of action, and every source of information was applied to until the bay of Manila had become as well known as the nearest home waters.
For a better understanding of the battle a rough diagram of the bay, from the entrance as far as the city of Manila, may not come amiss.
Twenty-six miles from the entrance to the bay is situated the city of Manila, through which the river Pasig runs, dividing what is known as the old city from the new, and forming several small islands.
Sixteen miles from the sea is the town and arsenal of Cavite, which, projecting as it does from the mainland, forms a most commodious and safe harbour. Cavite was well fortified, and directly opposite its fort, on the mainland, was a heavy mortar battery. Between the arsenal and the city was a Krupp battery, at what was known as the Luneta Fort, while further toward the sea, extending from Cavite to the outermost portion of Limbones Point, were shore-batteries, – formidable forts, so it had been given out by the Spanish government, such as would render the city of Manila impregnable.
Between Limbones and Talago Point are two islands, Corregidor and Caballo, which divide the entrance of the bay into three channels. On each of these islands is a lighthouse, and it was said that both were strongly fortified with modern guns. North of Corregidor, nearly opposite, but on the inner shore, is the point of San José, where was another water-battery mounting formidable guns. That channel between Corregidor and San José Point is known as the Boca Grande, and is nearly two miles wide. The middle channel, or the one situated between the two islands, is shallow, and but little used. The third, which separates Caballo Island from Limbones Point, is nearly three miles in width, at least twenty fathoms deep, and known as the Boca Chica.
All of these channels, as well as the waters of the bay, were said to have been thickly mined, and the enemy had caused it to be reported that no ship could safely enter without the aid of a government pilot.
In addition to the vessels of the American fleet, as set down at the conclusion of this chapter, were two transports, the steamers Nanshan and Zafiro, which had come into the port of Hongkong laden with coal shortly before Commodore Dewey’s departure, and had been purchased by him, together with their cargoes, in anticipation of the declaration of war.
And now, the details having been set down in order that what follows may be the better understood, we will come to that sultry Sunday morning, shortly after midnight, when the American fleet steamed along the coast toward the entrance to Manila Bay, the flag-ship Olympia leading, with the Baltimore, the Raleigh, the Petrel, the Concord, and the Boston following in the order named. In the rear of these came the two transports, the Nanshan and Zafiro, convoyed by the despatch steamer McCulloch.
The commodore had decided to enter by the Boca Grande channel, and the fleet kept well out from Talago Point until the great light of Corregidor came into view.
Then the crews of the war-vessels were summoned on deck, the men ordered to wash, and afterwards served with a cup of coffee. All lights were extinguished except one on the stern of each ship, and that was hooded. All hands were at quarters; all guns loaded, with extra charges ready at hand; every eye was strained, and every ear on the alert to catch the slightest sound.
Perhaps there was not a man from commodore to seaman, who believed it would be possible for the war-vessels to enter the bay without giving an alarm, and yet the big ships continued on and were nearly past Corregidor Island before a gun was fired.
The flag-ship was well into the bay, steaming at a four-knot speed, when from the smoke-stack of the little McCulloch a column of sparks shot up high into the air. In the run her fires had fallen low, and it became necessary to replenish them. The firemen, perhaps fearing lest they should not be in at the death, were more energetic than prudent, and thus a signal was given to the sleepy garrison of Corregidor.
“Perhaps they will see us now,” the commodore remarked, quietly, as his attention was called to this indiscretion.
A flash of light burst from the fort; there was a dull report, and in the air could be heard that peculiar singing and sighing of a flying projectile as a heavy missile passed over the Olympia and the Raleigh.
The garrison on Corregidor was awakened, but not until after the last vessel in that ominous procession had steamed past.
It was the first gun in the battle of Manila Bay, and it neither worked harm nor caused alarm.
Again and again in rapid succession came these flashes of light, dull reports, and sinister hummings in the air, before the American fleet gave heed that this signal to heave to had been heard.
Then a 4-inch shell was sent from the Concord directly inside of the fortification, where it exploded.
The Raleigh and the Boston each threw a shell by way of salute, and then all was silent.
The channel, which had been thickly mined, according to the Spanish reports, was passed in safety, and the fleet, looking so unsubstantial in the darkness, had yet to meet the mines in the bay, as well as the Spanish fleet, which all knew was lying somewhere near about the city.
On the forward bridge of the Olympia stood Commodore Dewey, his chief of staff, Commander Lamberton, Lieutenant Rees, Lieutenant Calkins, and an insurgent Filippino, who had volunteered as pilot.
In the conning-tower was Captain Gridley, who, much against his will, was forced to take up his position in that partially sheltered place because the commander of the fleet was not willing to take the chances that all the chief officers of the ship should be exposed to death on the bridge.
The word was given to “slow down,” and the speed of the big ships decreased until they had barely steerageway.
The men were allowed to sleep beside their guns.
The moon had set, the darkness and the silence was almost profound, until suddenly day broke, as it does in the tropics, like unto a flash of light, and all that bay, with its fighting-machines in readiness for the first signal, was disclosed to view.
From the masthead of the American vessels rose tiny balls of bunting, and then were broken out, disclosing the broad folds of the stars and stripes.
Cavite was hardly more than five miles ahead, and beyond, the city of Manila.
The Reina Christina, flying the Spanish rear-admiral’s flag, lay off the arsenal. Astern of her was moored the Castilla, her port battery ready for action. Slightly to seaward were the Don Juan de Austria, the Don Antonio de Ulloa, the Isla de Cuba and Isla de Luzon, the El Correo, the Marques del Duero, and the General Lezo.
They were under steam and slowly moving about, apparently ready to receive the fire of the advancing squadron. The flag-ship Reina Christina also was under way.
“Prepare for general action! Steam at eight-knot speed!” were the signals which floated from the Olympia as she led the fleet in, keeping well toward the shore opposite the city.
The American fleet was yet five miles distant, when from the arsenal came a flame and report; but the missile was not to be seen. Another shot from Cavite, and then was strung aloft on the Olympia a line of tiny flags, telling by the code what was to be the American battle-cry: “Remember the Maine,” and from the throat of every man on the incoming ships went up a shout of defiance and exultation that the moment was near at hand when the dastardly deed done in the harbour of Havana might be avenged.
Steaming steadily onward were the huge vessels, dropping astern and beyond range the transports as they passed opposite Cavite Point, until, having gained such a distance above the city as permitted of an evolution, the fleet swung swiftly around until it held a course parallel with the westernmost shore, and distant from it mayhap six thousand yards.
Every nerve was strained to its utmost tension; each man took a mental grip upon himself, believing that he stood face to face with death; but no cheek paled; no hand trembled save it might have been from excitement.
The ships were coming down on their fighting course when a shell from one of the shore-batteries burst over the Olympia; the guns from the fort and from the water-batteries vomited jets of flame and screaming missiles with thunderous reports; every man on the American fleet save one believed the moment had come when they should act their part in the battle which had been begun by the enemy; but up went the signal:
“Hold your fire until close in.”
Had the American fleet opened fire then, the city of Manila would have been laid in ashes and thousands of non-combatants slain.
The Olympia was yet two miles from Cavite when, directly in front of the Baltimore, a huge shaft of water shot high into the air, and with a heavy booming that drowned the reports of the Spanish guns.
“The torpedoes!” some one on the Olympia said, in a low tone, with an indrawing of the breath; but it was as if Dewey did not hear. With Farragut in Mobile Bay he had seen the effects of such engines of destruction, and, like Farragut, he gave little heed to that which might in a single instant send his vessel to the bottom, even as the Maine had been sent.
Then, so near the Raleigh as to send a flood across her decks, another spouting of water, another dull roar, and the much vaunted mines of the Spaniards in Manila Bay had been exploded.
The roar and crackle of the enemy’s guns still continued, yet Dewey withheld the order which every man was now most eager to hear.
The Spanish gunners were getting the range; the shells which had passed over our fleet now fell close about them; the tension among officers and men was terrible. They wondered how much longer the commodore would restrain them from firing. The heat was rapidly becoming intense. The guns’ crews began to throw off their clothes. Soon they wore nothing but their trousers, and perspiration fairly ran from their bodies.
Still the word was not given to fire, though the ships steadily steamed on and drew nearer the fort. Orders were given by the officers in low voices, but they were perfectly audible, so great was the silence which was broken only by the throbbing of the engines. The men hugged their posts ready to open fire at the word.
A huge shell from Cavite hissed through the air and came directly for the Olympia. High over the smoke-stack it burst with a mighty snap. Commodore Dewey did not raise his eyes. He simply turned, made a motion to a boatswain’s mate who stood near the after 5-inch gun. With a voice of thunder the man bellowed an order along the decks.
“Remember the Maine!” yelled a chorus of five hundred gallant sailors. Below decks in the engine-rooms the cry was taken up, a cry of defiance and revenge. Up in the turrets resounded the words, and the threatening notes were swept across the bay to the other ships.
“Remember the Maine!”
In that strange cry was loosed the pent-up wrath of hundreds of American sailors who resented the cowardly death of their comrades. It bespoke the terrible vengeance that was about to be dealt out to the defenders of a detestable flag.
“You may fire when you are ready, Gridley,” was Commodore Dewey’s quiet remark to the captain of the Olympia, who was still in the conning-tower.
The Olympia’s 8-inch gun in the forward turret belched forth, and an instant later was run up the signal to the ships astern:
“Fire as convenient.”
The other vessels in the squadron followed the example set by the Olympia. The big 8-inch guns of the Baltimore and the Boston hurled their two hundred and fifty pound shells at the Spanish flag-ship and at the Castilla.
The Spanish fleet fired fast and furiously. The guns on Cavite hurled their shells at the swiftly moving vessels; the water-batteries added their din to the horrible confusion of noises; the air was sulphurous with the odour of burning powder, and great clouds of smoke hung here and there, obscuring this vessel or that from view. It was the game of death with all its horrible accompaniments.
One big shell came toward the Olympia straight for the bridge. When a hundred feet away it suddenly burst, its fragments continuing onward. One piece struck the rigging directly over the head of Commander Lamberton. He did not wince.
The Olympia continued on. It was evident Commodore Dewey was making straight for the centre of the enemy’s line, which was the big cruiser Reina Christina.
Being the nearest ship, the Olympia received more attention from the Spaniards than any of the other vessels.
The water was now getting shallow. Commodore Dewey did not wish to run aground. He altered his course when about four thousand yards from the Spanish vessels, and swung around to give them his broadside.
A small torpedo-boat was seen to emerge from the shore near the arsenal, making for the coal-laden steamers at a high rate of speed. The secondary batteries on the ships nearest were brought to bear upon her; it was a veritable shower of shot and shell which fell ahead, astern, and either side of her. To continue on would have been certain destruction, and, turning in the midst of that deadly hail which had half disabled her, the craft was run high and dry on the beach, where she was at once abandoned, her crew doubtless fearing lest the magazines would explode.
“Open with all guns,” came the signal as the course of the American vessels was changed, and soon all the port guns were at work.
The American fleet was steaming back and forth off Cavite Bay as if bent on leaving such a wake as would form a figure eight, delivering broadside after broadside with splendid results.
All this time the enemy’s vessels were keeping up a steady fire, the smaller ships retreating inside the mole several times during the action. The forts were not idle, but kept thundering forth their tribute with no noticeable effect. The enemy’s fire seemed to be concentrated on the Baltimore, and she was hit several times.
A 4.7-inch armour-piercing shell punctured her side on the main-deck line, tore up the wooden deck, and, striking the steel deck under this, glanced upward, went through the after engine-room hatch, and, emerging, struck the cylinder of the port 6-inch gun on the quarter-deck, temporarily rendering the gun unfit for use.
In its flight it also struck a box of 3-pounder ammunition, exploding one shell, which in turn slightly wounded one of No. 4 gun’s crew.
One shell pierced her starboard side forward of No. 2 sponson, and lodged in a clothes-locker on the berth-deck; another struck her port beam a little above the water-line, and a few feet forward of, and above this, another shell came crashing across the berth-deck, striking a steam-pipe and exploding behind the starboard blower-engine, but with no serious results. A fragment of a shell went through one of the ventilators, and the colours of the mainmast were shot through.
The concussion from the 8-inch guns on the poop shattered the whaleboats, and they had to be cut adrift. A fragment of a shell that burst over the quarter-deck cut the signal halliards which Lieutenant Brumby held in his hand.
On the Boston a shell came through a port-hole in Ensign Doddridge’s stateroom, and wrecked it badly. The explosion set a fire which was quickly put out. Another shell struck the port hammock netting, where it burst, setting fire to the hammocks. This was also soon extinguished. Still another shell struck the Boston’s foremast, cutting a great gash in it. It came within twenty feet of Captain Wildes on the bridge.
The Raleigh was forced inshore by the strong current, and carried directly upon the bows of two Spanish cruisers. By all the rules of warfare she should have been sunk; but instead, her commander delivered two raking broadsides as she steamed back into place.
Three times the American ships passed back and forth, opening first with one broadside and then with another as the ship swung around, and then the Reina Christina, black smoke pouring from her stacks, and a vapour as of wool coming from the steam-pipes, gallantly sallied out to meet the Olympia.
Between the two flag-ships ensued a duel, in which the Spaniard was speedily worsted to such a degree that she was literally forced to turn and make for the shore. As she swung around, with her stern directly toward the Olympia, an 8-inch shell struck her squarely, and the explosive must have travelled directly through the ill-fated craft until it reached the after boiler, where it exploded, ripping up the decks, and vomiting forth showers of iron fragments and portions of dismembered human bodies.
A gunboat came out from behind the Cavite pier, and made directly for the Olympia. In less than five minutes she was in a sinking condition; as she turned, a shell struck her just inside the stern railing, and she disappeared beneath the waves as if crushed by some titanic force.
Navigator Calkins of the Olympia had soundings taken, and told Commodore Dewey that he could take the ship farther in toward the Spanish fleet.
“Take her in, then,” the commodore replied.
The ship moved up to within two thousand yards of the Spanish fleet. This brought the smaller guns into effective play.
The rain of shell upon the doomed Spaniards was terrific.
The Castilla was in flames from stem to stern. Black smoke poured up from the decks of the Isla de Cuba, and on the flag-ship fire was completing the work of destruction begun by the American shells.
It was 7.35 A. M. when the battle, which began at 5.41, came to a temporary close. The first round was concluded.
There was yet ample time in which to finish the work so well begun, and from the flag-ship Olympia went up the signal:
“Cease firing and follow.”
The fleet was headed for the opposite shore, and, once partially beyond range, “mess-gear” was sounded.
The only casualty worthy of mention which had occurred was the death of Chief Engineer Frank B. Randall, of the steamer McCulloch, who died from heart disease, probably superinduced by excitement, while the fleet was passing Corregidor.
There were handshakings and congratulations on every hand as smoke-begrimed friends, parted during the battle, met again, and loud were the cheers that went up from the various ships in passing.
After breakfast had been served and the ships made ready for the second round, or, in other words, at 10.15 in the forenoon, the Spanish flag-ship Reina Christina hauled down her colours, and the admiral’s flag was transferred to the Isla de Cuba.
At 10.45 a signal was made from the Olympia:
“Get under way with men at quarters.”
Again the fleet stood in toward Cavite, the Baltimore in the lead, but the latter vessel’s course was quickly changed as a strange steamer was observed entering the bay.
Not many moments were spent in reconnoitring; the signal flags soon told that the stranger was flying the English ensign.
Then came the order for the Baltimore to stand in and destroy the enemy’s fortifications, and ten minutes later the battle was on once more.
Now the fire was slow and deliberate, the gunners taking careful aim, bent on expending the least amount of ammunition with the greatest possible execution.
The Baltimore suffered most at the beginning of this second round, because all the enemy’s fire was concentrated upon her.
Soon after this second half of the engagement had begun a Spanish shell exploded on the Baltimore’s deck, wounding five of the crew, and another partially disabled three. It was as if every square yard of surface in that portion of the bay was covered by a missile from the enemy’s guns, and yet no further damage to the American fleet was done.
When the Baltimore was within twenty-five hundred-yard range she poured a broadside into the Reina Christina which literally blew that craft into fragments, and the smoke from the guns yet hung like a cloud above the deck when the ill-fated flag-ship sank beneath the waters of the bay.
The Don Juan de Austria was the next of the enemy’s fleet to be sunk, and then a like fate overtook the El Correo.
The General Lezo was run on shore and abandoned to the flames.
The cruiser Castilla was scuttled by her crew lest the fire which was raging fiercely should explode her magazine.
The Velasco went down before all her men could escape to the boats. The guns of the Don Antonio de Ulloa were fought with most desperate bravery, and even as she sank beneath the surface were the pieces discharged by the brave Spaniards who stood at their posts of duty until death overtook them.
The Concord started after the Mindanao lying close inshore, and was soon joined by the Olympia, who poured 8-inch shells into the transport until she was set on fire in a dozen places.
The entire Spanish fleet had been destroyed; not a vessel remained afloat, and Commodore Dewey turned his attention to the Cavite battery.
It was 12.45 P. M. when the magazine in the arsenal was exploded by a shell from the Olympia, or the Petrel, it is impossible to say which, and the battle of Manila had been fought and won.
Not until the thirteenth of May was Commodore Dewey’s official report received at the Navy Department, and then it was given to the public without loss of time. It is copied below:
“Flagship Olympia, Cavite, May 4, 1898.
“The squadron left Mirs Bay on April 27th. Arrived off Bolinao on the morning of April 30th, and finding no vessels there proceeded down the coast and arrived off the entrance to Manila Bay on the same afternoon. The Boston and Concord were sent to reconnoitre Point Subic… A thorough search of the port was made by the Boston and the Concord, but the Spanish fleet was not found…
“Entered the south channel at 11.30 P. M., steaming in column at eight knots. After half the squadron had passed, a battery on the south side of the channel opened fire, none of the shots taking effect. The Boston and McCulloch returned the fire.
“The squadron proceeded across the bay at slow speed, and arrived off Manila at daybreak, and was fired upon at 5.15 A. M. by three batteries at Manila and two near Cavite, and by the Spanish fleet anchored in an approximately east and west line across the mouth of Baker Bay, with their left in shoal water in Canacoa Bay.
“The squadron then proceeded to the attack, the flag-ship Olympia, under my personal direction, leading, followed at distance by the Baltimore, Raleigh, Petrel, Concord, and Boston, in the order named, which formation was maintained throughout the action. The squadron opened fire at 5.41 A. M.