The Spanish-American War at Sea: Naval Action in the Atlantic 0275951065, 9780275951061

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THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR AT SEA

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THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR AT SEA Naval Action in the Atlantic A. B. Feuer Foreword by James C. Bradford

RRAEGER

Westport, Connecticut London

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Feuer, A. B. The Spanish-American War at sea : naval action in the Atlantic / A. B. Feuer ; foreword by James C. Bradford, p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-275-95106-5 (alk. paper) 1. Spanish-American War, 1898—Naval operations. I. Title. E727.F48 1995 973.8'95—dc20 95-19748 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright © 1995 by A. B. Feuer All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 95-19748 ISBN: 0-275-95106^5 First published in 1995 Praeger Publishers, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. Printed in the United States of America

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The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48-1984). Copyright Acknowledgments The author and publisher gratefully acknowledge permission for use of the following material: Excerpts from the Victor Blue Paper, the Worth Bagley Paper, and the Roxana Worth items in the John M. and Ruth Hodges Collection. Used by permission of the North Carolina State Archives. Excepts from materials of Littleton Waller Tazewell Waller from the Joynes Family Papers. Used by permission of the Virginia Historical Society. P In order to keep this title in print and available to the academic community, this edition was produced using digital reprint technology in a relatively short print run. This would not have been attainable using traditional methods. Although the cover has been changed from its original appearance, the text remains the same and all materials and methods used still conform to the highest book-making standards.

Contents Illustrations

vii

Foreword by James C. Bradford

ix

Acknowledgments

xv

1 The Life and Death of the Maine 2

War Is Declared and the Blockade of Cuba Begins

1 17

3 The Voyage of the Oregon

37

4

The Bombardment of San Juan, Puerto Rico

49

5

The Attack at Cardenas

65

6

The Cable Cutting at Cienfuegos

75

7

Admiral Pascual Cervera Arrives at Santiago, Cuba

83

8

The Sinking of the Merrimac in Santiago Bay

95

9

The Bombardment of the Santiago Harbor Forts

113

10 The Capture of Guantanamo Bay

119

11 Lieutenant Victor Blue's Journey to Santiago Harbor

137

12 The Yosemite and the Purisima Concepcion

147

13 General Shafter's Fifth Army Corps Lands in Cuba

155

14 Day of Battle at Manzanillo

161

vi • Contents

15 The Naval Engagement at Santiago Bay

169

16 Captain Littleton Waller Tazewell Waller's Story

181

17 Lieutenant Commander Richard Wainwright's Story

187

18 The Surrender of Santiago and the Battle at Port Nipe

191

19 The Invasion of Puerto Rico

199

20

205

The Surrender of Manzanillo

Epilogue

209

Appendix: Navy of the United States—North Atlantic Fleet

211

Bibliography

217

Index

219 Photographs follow pages 35, 93,154, and 189.

Illustrations

Map of Southern Florida and Cuba Havana, Cuba Harbor Route of the Oregon around the coast of South America Captain Clark's evasive maneuvers after leaving Barbados, and the Oregon's race to Key West Bombardment at San Juan, Puerto Rico, May 12,1898 Battle at Cardenas, Cuba, May 11,1898

4 25 41 47 59 66

Battle at Cienfuegos, Cuba, May 11,1898 Route of Spanish Admiral Pascual Cervera from the Cape Verde Islands to Santiago, Cuba

78

Sinking of the Merrimac, June 3,1898

104

84

Guantanamo Bay, U.S. Marines land at Fisherman's Point, June 10,1898

122

Victor Blue's expedition to Buenavista Bay, May 31,1898

139

Victor Blue's expedition to Santiago Bay, June 11,1898

143

Sea battle at San Juan, Puerto Rico, June 28,1898

152

Naval battles fought at Manzanillo, Cuba, June 30, July 1, July 18, and August 13,1898

164

viii • Illustrations

Location of Spanish and American warships on the morning of July 3,1898 Position of American and Spanish warships when the Maria Teresa attempted to attack the Brooklyn, July 3,1898 Cuban coast near Santiago Bay showing location of wrecked Spanish cruisers, July 3,1898 Battle at Port Nipe, July 21,1898 Invasion of Puerto Rico, July 25,1898

173 175 183 195 202

Foreword The Spanish-American War has long been recognized as one of the watershed events in United States history. After a century of independence in which the nation focused its attention on the Western Hemisphere, the American people looked outward—first to Asia, but within a few years to Europe as well—on a scale unprecedented in their history. The "American Century" proclaimed by Henry Luce two generations later began not at the turn of the century, but two years earlier with the declaration of war against Spain in 1898.

In that year emotion more than anything else led the United States into war for the first time. Aroused by "yellow journalism" the American people demanded war, not just to avenge the loss of the USS Maine, but also to save the downcast Cuban people from their Spanish oppressors. The war with Spain was fought as much for the sake of others as for the United States. Americans had launched a revolution to achieve independence, defended their right to trade upon the oceans in the Quasi War with France and the War of 1812 with Britain, and humbled Mexico to achieve their claim of manifest destiny by spreading from the Atlantic to the Pacific oceans. Both the North and the South believed the cause of the Civil War was each trying to impose its way of life on the other. Each also believed that it fought for the future of America, but the Spanish-American War was different. Americans believed they were taking up arms not for self protection or gain, but to help the Cubans. It was a

x •

Foreword

selfless act, something new for the United States. When called upon to assist Latin Americans fighting for independence earlier in the century, or the Greeks in their quest for freedom from the Turks, or the Hungarians from the Russians, Americans had provided only verbal support. In 1898 American aid to the Cubans was concrete. Thus, the Spanish-American War presaged the crusades of the next century: The First World War, "The War to End All Wars," and "The War to Make the World Safe for Democracy," in the words of President Woodrow Wilson; the Second World War to protect the "Four Freedoms" and to save the world from demented Fascism; and the Cold War to shield the Free World from the spread of Godless Communism. The Spanish-American War witnessed more than a shift in mindset for the American people. It also marked their entry into East Asian affairs on a permanent basis. In 1897 few Americans could find the Philippine Islands on a map. When Spain and the United States went to war a few months later, Commodore George Dewey sailed to Manila Bay, not to obtain an empire, but to destroy the Spanish fleet before it could endanger the West Coast of the United States. His crushing victory on May 1,1898 brought not only safety for California, Oregon, and Washington, but laid the basis for retention of the Philippines as an American possession after the war and for the issuance shortly thereafter of the Open Door Notes declaring China to be under the protection of the United States. Ownership of the Philippines and this commitment to Chinese independence led to sustained United States involvement in the region which resulted in American alliances with China, Australia, and New Zealand and combat in Korea and Vietnam, events no one could foretell when the United States went to war with Spain in 1898. Closer to home, in the Caribbean, the war ended with United States ownership of Puerto Rico and with Americans convinced of the need for a canal through Central America. Theodore Roosevelf s corollary to the Monroe Doctrine and the extension of American protection to Caribbean nations against Europeans were logical extensions of the motives which led the United States into the war with Spain. The Good Neighbor Policy and Alliance for Progress followed years later as did U.S. intervention in half a dozen Caribbean nations and the Cuban Missile Crisis. Historians have long recognized this transformation in American foreign relations wrought by the Spanish-American War, but they

Foreword •

xi

have taken less notice of the conduct of the war itself. Accounts of operations in both Cuba and the Philippines appeared with regularity in the decade and a half after the war, but then World War I captured America's attention. When the First World War was followed by a Second, the Spanish-American War receded into the past, largely forgotten except by diplomatic historians. Only in the 1960s, when the United States became involved in another Southeast Asian war, did interest revive. Military officers and historians began to study what was first called guerrilla warfare, later renamed low intensity conflict. This led to a spate of books on interventions by the Marine Corps in nations rimming the Caribbean and in the campaigns to pacify Filipinos who sought independence from the United States as well as from Spain. What has been lacking is a comprehensive history of naval operations in the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea. General histories of the United States Navy give brief accounts of the American strategy in the early months of the war and of the Battle of Santiago, but until now, no single book has described the execution of the blockade of Cuban ports, the shelling of Cuban cities, the cutting of undersea cables to isolate the Spanish in Cuba, the skirmishes at Cardenas and Cienfuegos, the seizure of Guantanamo and Daiquiri, and the expedition against Puerto Rico. This volume by A. B. Feuer ably fills the need for such a study. Not only does it describe all the naval actions in the Atlantic, it also provides a sense of what is was like to participate in those operations. Feuer draws on descriptions of places, people, and events by those who visited, knew, and witnessed them. Using memoirs, letters, newspaper accounts, and other contemporary sources, he renders live the tension of little known events like the encounter between the U.S.S. New York and the Italian cruiser Don Giovanni Bausan which the Americans temporarily mistook for a Spanish battleship. American victory was so overwhelming that once the war was over, most forgot that the outcome could ever have been in doubt. Within months it became a "Splendid Little War," in John Hay's phrase. Such a view robs the conflict of its drama and the participants of their character. Through the quotations gleaned from dozens of sources and his own writing, Feuer conveys a sense of the fear felt by men aboard the Oregon and Marietta that Peruvians

xii • Foreword

and Chileans sympathetic to Spain—or antagonistic to Americans—might attack their ships as they took on coal for their round Cape Horn dash to the seat of war. In 1898 sailors and officers serving on the ships remembered how close the United States and Chile had come to war only seven years before. They knew how outraged Chileans were when Robley Evans brushed aside charges that drunken sailors from the U.S.S. Baltimore were at least partially responsible for the brawl at the True Blue Saloon in Valpariso that resulted in the deaths of two bluejackets and injuries to sixteen others. He asserted that U.S. sailors had an even greater claim to protection when drunk than when sober. Latin sensitivities reached a fever pitch when Evans said he was ready to "fill Hell with garlic" by punishing the entire city of Valpariso for the actions of a mob. Other works describe American attempts to intercept the Spanish squadron commanded by Rear Admiral Pascual Cervera y Topete after it sailed from the Cape Verde Islands on April 29. They discuss Admiral William T. Sampson's conclusion that Cervera had to be heading for Puerto Rico, how Cervera eluded Sampson by sailing to Curacao in the Netherlands West Indies, and how he slipped into Santiago while Commodore Winfield Scot Schley waited for him off Cienfuegos. But none capture, as Feuer does, how fidgety men aboard the American ships became as they waited fruitlessly for the Spanish to arrive or their nervousness while blockading the entrance to the harbor at Santiago, especially at night. Feuer makes vivid such emotions by describing the near fatal exchange of fire when the armored cruiser New York and the torpedo boat Porter met in darkness off Havana. The author provides appropriate coverage of the Battle of Santiago, but he does not neglect lesser known engagements. With crisp prose and quotations deftly abstracted from participant accounts, he captures the drama of smaller engagements, such as the torpedo boat Winslow entering the harbor at Cardenas to attack three Spanish gunboats as shore batteries rained down upon the tiny American vessel, killing five and wounding another five members of its twenty-one man crew. Feuer similarly recounts the capture of Guantanamo Bay including the attack by U.S. Marines on the Spanish at Cuzco, the first pitched battle between Spanish and American troops, and describes the cable cutting expedition at Cienfuegos where four Americans were killed, seven wounded, and fifty-four were awarded Congressional Medals of Honor.

Foreword • xill

Again, as he did in The Santiago Campaign of 1898: A Soldier's View of the Spanish-American War (1993), Feuer reminds his readers that the course of history is determined as much by common people— the soldiers in the jungle around Santiago, sailors in the black gang shoveling coal on board warships, and junior officers struggling with the unknown while on blockade duty off hostile shores—as it is by generals, admirals, and political leaders. Through the stories of ordinary men acting in events both great and small, Feuer transports his readers back a century to vicarously share the emotions of American sailors as they launched the United States onto the world stage. It is both entertaining and instructive for America, possibly on the verge of another national transition wrought by the end of the Cold War, to experience an earlier, perhaps simpler age, but one in which human nature was much the same. James C. Bradford

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Acknowledgments I would like to thank Professor James C. Bradford of Texas A&M University for taking the time to write the Foreword to this story of U.S. Navy operations in the Atlantic during the Spanish-American War. I am also indebted to the North Carolina State Archives for permission to edit the Victor Blue Papers, and the Virginia Historical Society for its kindness in permitting me to use the portions of the Joynes Family Papers pertaining to the letters of Littleton Waller Tazewell Waller. I would also like to express my appreciation to the New-York State Historical Society for supplying information pertaining to the U.S.S. Gloucester, and the Indiana Historical Society for material about the U.S.S. Indiana. A special thanks goes to Frances McKelvy Peniston for information and photographs concerning her grandfather, William N. McKelvy, who, as a first lieutenant of artillery, landed with the marine battalion at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, on June 10,1898.

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THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR AT SEA

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1 The Life and Death of the Maine During the 30 years following the American Civil War, the people of Cuba carried on a continual fight for independence from Spain. In February 1896, Spanish General Valeriano Weyler was sent to Cuba with orders to suppress the insurrection. However, despite reprisals against the populace, guerrilla warfare intensified. Cuban insurgents roamed at will throughout the countryside—and even carried their raids into the suburbs of Havana. The majority of the Cuban population were peasants and took no part in the revolt against Spain. But, their sympathies were with the guerrillas, and they furnished the rebels with food, intelligence, and recruits. Despite having a large, well-equipped professional army, the Spaniards were unable to deal a knockout blow to the insurgents. Finally, after six months of frustration, General Weyler ordered his soldiers to drive the farmers from their homes and herd them into concentration camps. The peasants, especially young children, slowly began to die of starvation. A number of American citizens, with businesses in Cuba, were held under house arrest—and those with Spanish names were thrown in jail. Fitzhugh Lee, the United States consul general in Havana, attempted to defuse the tense situation and to relieve the conditions of the starving—but his efforts were continually blocked by Weyler. The American press—particularly William Randolph Hearst's New York Journal and Joseph Pulitzer's New York World—smelling

2 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

blood and money, quickly condemned the actions of Spain. The already strained situation soon became intolerable to the citizens of the United States. About a dozen years earlier, in 1886, the U.S. Congress had authorized the construction of two battleships—the Maine and Texas. Both were double-bottomed, armored vessels of about 6800 tons. However, by the time the men-of-war had been built, naval design and technology had advanced so rapidly that they were already obsolete, and they were designated as second-class battleships. The Maine was launched at the Brooklyn Navy Yard in November 1890 and commissioned five years later. From bow to stern, the battleship was 319 feet long, and she was 57 feet at her widest point. She could carry enough coal to steam 7000 miles at an average speed of ten knots. The Maine differed in appearance from previous naval vessels due to the fact that she had been fitted with three superstructures— forward, amidships, and aft. Spaces between the superstructures permitted gun turrets, on each side of the ship, to rotate and fire across the deck. Two 10-inch breech-loading guns were mounted in each turret. The battleship was also armed with a half-dozen 6-inch guns and seven 6-pounders. Four torpedo tubes were located on the berth deck. The Maine carried a crew of 328 men, 26 officers, and a detachment of 40 marines. The enlisted men's sleeping spaces were located in the forward and center superstructures, while the officers' quarters were situated aft. (It was because of this distribution of the crew that an inordinate number of enlisted personnel were killed in the explosion. Only two officers lost their lives.) In April 1897, Captain Charles D. Sigsbee was appointed commanding officer of the Maine. Sigsbee was an 1863 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy and, during the Civil War, had taken part in Admiral David Farraguf s attack at Mobile Bay. Shortly after her commissioning, rumors began to spread among the superstitious bluejackets that the Maine was a jinxed ship. She had suffered a fire while under construction, and then ran aground in February 1896. The following year, three sailors were lost when they were washed overboard during a violent storm off Cape Hatteras. Another two men were injured in an ammunition explosion aboard the man-of-war.

The Life and Death of the Maine • 3

Additional fuel was soon added to the belief that the Maine was a cursed vessel. In the summer of 1897, Captain Sigsbee steamed the battleship into New York Harbor without taking aboard a pilot. As the Maine cruised carefully down the East River, a large excursion ferry—packed with a noisy crowd of vacationers—began to bear down on the warship. Sigsbee signaled for the pleasure craft to get out of the way, but the ferry continued on a collision course. Sigsbee had only seconds to react. He swung the Maine toward shore, and the battleship crashed into Pier 46. The wharf was completely demolished, but the Maine escaped with only minor damage. During a naval board's inquiry into the accident, questions were raised as to whether Sigsbee used good judgment in operating his ship in crowded waters without a pilot. However, Sigsbee's decision to hit the pier—thus saving many lives—won him a letter of commendation. On January 12,1898, rioting erupted in the streets of Havana, and U.S. Navy Secretary John D. Long ordered the North Atlantic Squadron south for maneuvers. He also directed the European Squadron to retain those men whose enlistments had expired. The Maine had been operating with the North Atlantic Squadron, when she suddenly received orders to proceed to Key West, Florida, and await further instructions. However, before heading south, Captain Sigsbee stopped at Newport News, Virginia, and loaded his ship's bunkers with bituminous coal. Bituminous coal was susceptible to spontaneous combustion, but had better burning qualities than anthracite, which was the coal available at the Key West Naval Station. Meanwhile, Fitzhugh Lee had advised President McKinley that conditions in Havana were explosive. Anything was liable to happen. Lee suggested that sending a warship to Cuba might have a calming effect, and might also protect American lives and interests. However, the Spanish ambassador in Washington, Enrique Dupuy de Lome, warned that the presence of an American naval vessel would be a dangerous and unfriendly act. After discussing the tense situation with Secretary of the Navy Long, McKinley decided to send the Maine to Havana. The Spanish ambassador was not to be notified until after the battleship was departed. The Maine would steam into Havana Harbor before Spain could protest the action.

Map of Southern Florida and Cuba.

The Life and Death of the Maine • 5

At 2300 hours on the evening of January 24, 1898, the Maine hoisted anchor and quietly sailed from Key West. Captain Sigsbee stated in Harper's Pictorial History of the War with Spain: "My orders were to proceed to Havana and make a friendly visit. The situation seemed to call for nothing more than a strict adherence to naval procedure and courtesy. It was expected that the city's Spanish population would prefer that the Maine should stay away. But, because of the lingering insurrection, and American citizens alarmed for their own safety, the United States had decided to show its flag from a public vessel in Cuban waters/7 Sigsbee did not wish to reach Havana before daylight. Therefore, landfall was made early the next morning. The Maine reduced speed, and the vessel was made shipshape. The uniform-of-the-day was dress blues, and officers wore their frocked coats. The battleship steamed east, parallel to the Cuban coastline, and toward the entrance to Havana Harbor. The Maine's flag was hoisted, and a request was made for a pilot. A harbor navigator was promptly dispatched to the vessel, and skillfully guided the warship through the narrow entrance. The Maine moved slowly into the harbor—passing between the Spanish cruiser Alfonso XII and a square-rigged German training ship. The Spanish pilot directed the Maine to its anchorage—claiming that it was Buoy No. 4. However, a bearing taken on the battleship later in the day indicated that the Maine was not at the charted position of that particular buoy. Captain Frank Stevens, skipper of the City of Washington—and familiar with Havana Harbor—stated in Harper's Pictorial that Buoy No. 4 was the least used anchorage. In his approximately six years of experience, he had never known a man-of-war to be anchored at that location. Stevens also remarked that the last ship anchored at that spot was the Spanish dispatch boat Legazpi. She had been moved to another buoy about two days before the Maine arrived. Captain Sigsbee was fully aware of the volatile situation in Havana and took extraordinary precautions as he related in Century Magazine, volume 57: "I stationed sentries on the forecastle and aft poop deck. The Corporal of the Guard was specifically instructed as to his responsibility for the port gangway. And the Officer of the Deck and Quartermaster were detailed to the starboard gangway Instead of the usual anchor watch, a quarter-watch was ordered on deck during nighttime hours.

6 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

"All sentries were supplied with ammunition. Additional rapidfire rounds were stored in the pilothouse and in the captain's pantry. A supply of shells were also kept close-at-hand for the 6-inch guns. 'In order to have enough steam up to operate the hydraulic mechanism for the 10-inch gun turrets, two boilers were maintained operational instead of one. "The Officer of the Deck was instructed to make detailed reports—even on minor matters. I personally directed the Master at Arms to keep a watchful eye on each visitor who came aboard—and charged all subordinates to do the same. "I instructed the men on watch to follow the guests at a proper distance, and to look for any packages that they might leave on the ship. The officer in charge of the Marine guard was ordered to make at least two rounds during the night and check various posts on the ship. The purpose of my detailed instructions was that we should consider the Maine anchored at a location demanding extreme vigilance, and requiring an established routine—both day and night." On the Maine's first Sunday in port, Captain Sigsbee and Fitzhugh Lee attended a bullfight at Regla—directly across the bay from Havana. While in the city, Sigsbee was handed an inflammatory circular that was being distributed by anti-American factions in Cuba. Several of these leaflets reached the United States and were printed in American newspapers—adding fuel to the already smoldering fires of war, and eliciting calls for action by the press. Later that Sunday afternoon, a ferryboat, crowded with Spanish soldiers and civilians returning from the bullfight, headed toward the Maine. The ferry passed slowly alongside the battleship, and the Spaniards began a noisy demonstration. They taunted the American sailors with venomous shouts, catcalls, and whistles. During the time that the Maine was anchored in Havana Harbor, friendly Cubans continually visited the warship. However, the Spaniards would only come aboard on official business. In the early evening of February 15, Havana was in a jubilant mood. The carnival season had begun the day before, and the streets of the city were crowded with happy, carefree celebrants. In contrast, however, the harbor and wharves were unusually quiet. The night was dark with an overcast sky. Aboard the Maine, the time was ten minutes after nine. The marine bugler sounded

The Life and Death of the Maine • 1

"taps," and the shrill sound of the boatswain's pipe split the curtain of silence across the bay. The only visible signs of life were the ghostlike shadows of sentries as they paced back and forth along the deck of the vulnerable battleship. A short distance astern of the Maine, the Ward Line steamer, City of Washington, rested comfortably at her berth. The Spanish vessels, Legazpi and Alfonso XII, rode at anchor to starboard of the American man-of-war. The crew of the Maine, with exception of the men on watch, had turned in for the night. Several officers were in their staterooms or lounging in the wardroom. In his Century Magazine article, Captain Sigsbee described the explosion aboard the battleship: "I was in my quarters writing a letter to my wife. When 'taps' sounded, I laid my pen down and listened to the solemn notes of the bugle—which were singularly beautiful in the oppressive stillness of the night. About a half-hour later, as I was placing the letter in an envelope, a tremendous explosion ripped through the ship. From my location, within the aft superstructure, I heard a bursting, rending and crashing noise of deafening volume. This was followed by a succession of heavy, ominous sounds—like tearing metal—probably caused by the collapse of the central superstructure. The Maine trembled and lurched. All lights went out. There was only intense blackness and smoke. An eerie silence permeated the ship." The violent detonation rocked the city of Havana. Powerful shock waves broke windows and tore doors from their hinges. The entire bay was illuminated by the brilliant flash of the explosion. Sigmund Rothschild, a passenger on the City of Washington, witnessed the scene, and recorded his impressions before the Naval Court of Inquiry into the disaster: "I went on deck about half-past nine. I had just carried my chair to the railing, and was about to sit down, when I heard a noise like a rifle shot. I looked around and saw the bow of the Maine rise a little out of the water. Seconds later, the center of the ship erupted in a dreadful explosion. A huge mass of flames and black smoke immediately mushroomed over our heads. Debris was falling everywhere. The entire vessel lifted about two feet out of the water. The bow collapsed down and the stern heaved up." Captain Sigsbee staggered across the inclined deck—groping blindly through his darkened cabin. He felt his way along the wall until he found a door. Once outside, he drunkenly stumbled through a wreckage-strewn passageway. Marine Private William

8 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

Anthony was rushing to the captain's cabin when he collided with Sigsbee. Anthony reported that the ship had blown up and was sinking. The two men fought their way through the mass of debris to the quarterdeck. Sigsbee continued his account: "I stood for a moment on the starboard side of the main deck—forward of the superstructure— and looked toward the large, dark mound which loomed up amidships. I asked Anthony for the exact time. He replied that the explosion occurred at nine-forty. By this time, Lieutenant Commander Richard Wainwright and a few other men had arrived. We were numbed by the disaster, but there was no apparent excitement. Perfect discipline prevailed." Fire suddenly broke out amidships. Orders were quickly shouted to flood the forward ammunition magazines, but the bow of the ship was already underwater. Officers, who had escaped from the aft wardroom, reported that all aft ammunition spaces were also underwater. Flames spread rapidly through the central superstructure. Wainwright and two naval cadets struggled forward to inspect the blazing section of the ship. They reported back to Captain Sigsbee that nothing could be done. All fire-fighting facilities had been destroyed. At first, the large loss of life was not fully realized. But, as his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, Sigsbee noticed many white "bundles" floating in the black water, and faint cries for help could be heard. Rescue boats were immediately ordered lowered. However, only two of the Maine's 15 whaleboats had escaped damage. They were quickly manned, and proceeded to save the wounded and drowning sailors struggling in the bay. Other rescue craft soon arrived from the Alfonso XII and the City of Washington. Spanish officers and crews worked alongside the Americans doing everything possible to save the helpless men. The fires consuming the center superstructure continued to burn fiercely, and spare ammunition, which had been stored above deck, began to explode. A short time later, the whaleboats from the Maine returned to the sunken battleship. Coxswains reported that all survivors, who could be found, had been delivered to the City of Washington and the Spanish warship. Captain Sigsbee, and several of his officers, worked their way aft to the poop deck. It was the largest section of the Maine still above water. Sigsbee stated in Century Magazine: "It was a hard blow to

The Life and Death of the Maine • 9

abandon the Maine. None of us wanted to leave while any part of the deck remained above water. I waited until satisfied that the ship was resting on the bottom of the harbor, and then directed everyone into the boats. It was an easy operation—one step from the deck to the water. I was the last man to leave, and we headed to the City of Washington. Once aboard the steamer, I located many of our wounded men. They had been carried below to the dining salon and were resting on mattresses. "While aboard the City of Washington, I was informed that a number of Spanish officials—civilian and military—had arrived to express their sympathy. I went back on deck to greet these gentlemen and thanked them for their visit. "I quickly returned to the wounded, and walked among the men for several minutes. I then went to the captain's cabin and composed a telegram to the Navy Department. Due to the strained relations existing between Spain and the United States, I feared what the results of my first impressions of the disaster might have on the American people. Therefore, after signing my name, I erased my signature, and added a few words relative to the sympathy and help of the Spanish. I wrote these extra comments to strengthen the quieting effect of the telegram." The Spanish officials who talked to Sigsbee assured the captain that they knew nothing whatever about the destruction of the Maine, or the cause of the explosion. It was two o'clock in the morning when Captain Sigsbee lay down in a stateroom to rest. He was only a few feet from the wounded, and their cries of pain were hard to ignore. His sleep was fitful and a long time in coming. Throughout the night, the casualty count was tabulated. The following morning, the unofficial figure stood at 254 dead and more than 100 wounded. Seven injured men later died in Havana hospitals. Sigsbee's telegram announcing the tragedy arrived at the Navy Department about one o'clock on the morning of February 16. Secretary Long was awakened and immediately telephoned President McKinley. The transport Fern was ordered to sail for Havana. At daylight, Captain Sigsbee again talked to the wounded men and gave them words of encouragement. He then climbed topside and gazed silently at what was left of his battleship. The Maine had settled in the muddy bottom of the harbor. No part of the vessel's

10 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

hull was visible—only a mass of unrecognizable metal, which had formerly been the amidship's superstructure. Sigsbee believed that the Maine had been sunk by an outside force and sent another cable to the Navy Department: "Maine probably destroyed by mine—perhaps by accident. I presume that her berth was planted [with explosives] prior to our arrival. I can only surmise this." On the afternoon of the 16th, the lighthouse tender Mangrove arrived at Havana Harbor with navy divers and salvage experts. The Mangrove's chief yeoman, Fred Buenzle, was one of the first men to investigate the wreckage. In his autobiography, Bluejacket, Buenzle graphically described his shocking impressions: "I stepped from the whaleboat to that part of the twisted, flameseared ship which had once been the bridge. Everything was a tangle of bent iron and splintered wood. At low tide, one of the main hatch openings, leading down from the spar deck, was flush with the stagnant surface of the bay. The wooden access ladder to this hatch had floated upward as the Maine settled and jammed crossways under the deck opening. The ladder acted as a barricade, preventing the poor fellows trapped below from making their way to the surface. Under the imprisoning ladder, a twisted jumble of bodies could be seen—a huddle of arms and legs swaying gently with the quiet motion of the water. I noticed the frail arm of a boy, tattooed with an arrow-pierced heart above a girl's name—Beatrice." There was no way to retrieve the bodies until divers could remove the obstructions. Hour after hour, the pathetic remains of the sailors were brought to the surface. Many of the dead were dislodged as hunks of metal were wrenched loose from the battleship. After bodies stopped floating to the surface, it was assumed that the men still missing were either locked in watertight compartments or trapped by the wreckage deep within the steel body of the Maine.

The newspapers of William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer quickly became alive to the public's excited interest in the sinking of the Maine, and to the opportunities it offered the Journal and World to increase their sales. Both papers made frantic efforts to get—or manufacture—the news, and to present it in the most gruesome detail that their reporters and editors could compose.

The Life and Death of the Maine • 11

During the week beginning February 17th, the Journal devoted an average daily space of nearly nine pages to the Maine disaster— news, editorials, and pictures. The circulation of Hearsf s Journal doubled—from 400,000 to more than a million copies a day. The headlines and news columns of the Journal seemed deliberately intended to inflame public opinion: "The warship Maine was split in two by an infernal machine.... Captain Sigsbee practically declares that his ship was blown up by a mine or torpedo Strong evidence of crime Many among the Spanish hate Americans to the point of frenzy.... The brutal nature of the Spaniards will be shown in that they waited to explode the mine until after the men had retired for the night Governors of many states report the readiness and anxiety of the militia for service." Although the World did not quite match its rival's sensationalism, Joseph Pulitzer adopted similar tactics. On February 20th, the headlines and news columns of the World announced that its own private investigators had proven the mine theory: "War spirit rising Government accepts mine theory of World President and Congress ready for action Spanish officers boast that any other American ship visiting Havana will 'follow the Maine/ " On February 21, a Court of Inquiry into the disaster was held aboard the Mangrove. Captain William T. Sampson was named president of the court. Captain French E. Chadwick and Lieutenant Commander William P. Potter were members, and Lieutenant Commander Adolph Marix was appointed judge advocate. Fred Buenzle was named court stenographer. The inquiry into the loss of the Maine was a travesty. The Sampson court did not call any technical experts to testify. The findings of the investigation appeared to be guided less by facts than by the awareness that war between the United States and Spain was inevitable. Captain Sigsbee related his theory about a mine explosion without challenge from any knowledgeable authority. Meanwhile William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer continued to shape American public opinion with fear and intimidation. Editorial artists in New York, far removed from the Cuban scene, illustrated the latest news vividly but inaccurately. Cartoonists magnified atrocities. Feature writers—even contributors to women's pages—added their prejudiced comments. With so much information and misinformation to choose from, it was no wonder

12 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

that editorial writers were caught up in the frenzy of the moment. The dog, which was chasing its tail, was about to bite. The Naval Court of Inquiry lasted one month, and finally concluded that the explosion which sank the Maine was initiated by an underwater device. Sampson's report to the Navy Department indicated that there had been two detonations. The first sounded like a gunshot—lifting the forward section of the ship and bending the keel into an inverted V. In the court's opinion this could only have been caused by the vessel striking a mine. The second explosion occurred in an ammunition magazine. Lieutenant George F. M. Holman, the Maine's navigator and ordnance officer testified: "I heard a low rumbling sound, quickly followed by a booming explosion. The ship trembled violently. I shouted to men within earshot to 'get up on deck in a hurry!' My first impression—as yet unverified by divers—was that a heavy mine exploded under the keel of the battleship." The accounts of observers on the shore, and aboard vessels in the harbor, differed greatly. Not one person who witnessed the blast noticed any special phenomenon—such as a column of water erupting alongside the ship—that would have been definite proof that a torpedo or mine had detonated. Also, large numbers of dead fish were not noticed after the explosion—even though a great deal of debris was seen floating on the water. Statements taken from the majority of survivors seemed to indicate an internal explosion. However, no positive proof was presented that the ship's hull made—or did not make—contact with a mine. Therefore, the Court of Inquiry refused to fix responsibility for the sinking of the Maine on any particular person or persons. Even after the court's findings had concluded, investigation into the loss of the battleship continued on an unofficial basis for many years. Further studies revealed that it would have been difficult—if not impossible—to position an explosive device under the Maine while the vessel was anchored in Havana Harbor. The task would have required a boat and a few men. And, any activity of this kind would certainly have been detected by the ship's sentries, who were on 24-hour watch. One theory suggested that a mine could have been planted in the harbor before the Maine arrived. However, even if suspected terrorists had been informed that Captain Sigsbee had sailed from Key West to Cuba, it is unlikely that they would have known the

The Life and Death of the Maine • 13

exact mooring buoy. To succeed with a plan of this kind, it would have been necessary to anchor mines at several locations. And, it is doubtful that an undertaking of this sort would have gone unnoticed. A more logical explanation of the disaster—based on previous incidents—was staring the court straight in the face. But Sampson, yielding to the public outcry for revenge, ignored the obvious. A constant danger existed aboard warships because of risky practice by naval architects of locating coal bunkers adjacent to ammunition magazines. Since 1895, three bunker fires had been reported aboard the Olympia, four on the converted steamer Wilmington, and one each on the Petrel, Lancaster, and the battleship Indiana. Hot coal blazes had also occurred aboard the armored cruiser Brooklyn, and bunker fires on the cruisers Cincinnati and New York almost ended in disaster for the two vessels. Bituminous coal had a reputation for causing fires by spontaneous combustion. The coal that had been loaded aboard the Maine at Newport News sat in the battleship's bunkers for three weeks. The longer it remained unused, the more susceptible the bituminous fuel was to igniting. The explosion on the Maine occurred nearly 12 hours after the last inspection of the coal storage spaces. This would indicate that there was ample time for the initiation of a bunker fire, heating of the bulkheads, and transmission of the heat to the ammunition magazines. However, the decision of the Court of Inquiry was further reinforced by Admiral Montgomery Sicard, commander of U.S. naval forces in the North Atlantic. In an interview in the Boston Herald on March 25, Admiral Sicard remarked: 'If I was in command of Havana Harbor, I would certainly have mined it. The water there is especially suitable to this method of defense. "The Court of Inquiry was composed of splendid men, and I am satisfied with their work. I doubt that the announcement of the verdict will cause much excitement, since 99 percent of Americans are already convinced that the Maine was blown up by external means. In fact, even if the court had voted otherwise, I hardly think it would have changed the minds of the people." Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, Spain continually denied any involvement in the destruction of the battleship. On March 25, the Madrid newspaper El Imparcial stated: "The United States is brutally forcing Spain into a conflict. To send Admiral

14 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

Sampson's report to the American Congress is equivalent to throwing a torch into a barrel of gunpowder. "The [Spanish] Government, despite such comments, is pursuing a conciliatory policy, and, it is believed, will propose that the Maine disaster be referred to international arbitration. "Among the rumors current today is one to the effect that United States Counsul General Fitzhugh Lee at Havana had slapped General Blanco's face—and that Blanco drew his revolver and killed his assailant. The report of the incident was officially denied." On the same date, a Spanish correspondent for the London Daily Mail wrote: "The general belief in Madrid is that America does not consider the Maine question a sound basis for conflict, and is seeking to provoke Spain by sending help to the Cuban rebels. The Spanish press is unanimous in treating as an insult America's suspicion that Spain is guilty of having blown up the Maine." Meanwhile, in the United States, newspapers from coast to coast continued to beat the drums of war. A typical rabble-rousing editorial appeared in the March 25 issue of the Chicago Tribune: "Great activity is in evidence at every navy yard and arsenal. Ships which were laid up are being refurbished and prepared for service. Ordnance factories are running day and night When is the unpardonable insult which this country has received to be atoned for by the expulsion of the Spaniards from Cuba? Patriotic Americans demand to know!" While bold newspaper headlines and war-fomenting editorials screamed for revenge, imperialists and anti-imperialists engaged in shouting rhetoric. "Remember the Mainel" became the battle cry of the press, and was voiced by practically every American. However, with few exceptions, the famous rallying call was seldom displayed by either the army or navy. On one occasion an excited Coast Guard quartermaster hoisted the signal from a station at the mouth of the Mississippi as a transport, packed with troops, was passing out to sea. The quartermaster was severely reprimanded. Instead of being honored as a solemn grave—with bodies still locked within her steel, watertight compartments—the Maine was relegated to celebrity status. She was about to become a catalyst of war—an unwilling vehicle of opportunity for the imperialists. The United States was about to enter the Colonial Age—unfortunately at the twilight of the expansionist period of world history.

The Life and Death of the Maine • 15

Captain Sigsbee was continually haunted by memories of the Maine, and poignantly ended his article in Century Magazine with the following moving comments: "A naval commander both idealizes and personifies his ship. When he leaves her—or loses her—he dismisses from his mind the petty vexations of life at sea, and remembers only the nobler qualities of his ship and crew. "I shall always remember the Maine with as much pride as any commander, who is completely satisfied with his command, could possibly feel. The men who were lost with the Maine were as worthy and true patriots as those we have lost in battle. Their fate was a sadder one."

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2 War Is Declared and the Blockade of Cuba Begins On March 28,1898, after the Naval Court of Inquiry reported their findings, public reaction was swift. As far as the nation was concerned, Spain was to blame for the sinking of the Maine. President McKinley attempted to bring a calming influence to the mass hysteria created by the press—but to no avail. The Chicago Tribune editorial of March 25 reached the height of absurdity when the writer asked: "Are the people to be told that Chicago, and other lake ports, must be fortified so that they will not be exposed to attack by a Spanish fleet?" Meanwhile, word had reached Theodore Roosevelt, assistant secretary of the navy, that the Spanish Government had sent a warship flotilla to the Canary Islands. The vessels consisted of the torpedo boat-destroyers Pluton, Furor, and Terror—plus the torpedo boats Rayo, Ariete, and Azor. Small, fast torpedo boats were an untested weapon in warfare. Many naval experts believed that they posed a dangerous threat to the ponderous armored battleships and cruisers. Upon learning that the final destination of the Spanish warships would be either Cuba or Puerto Rico, Roosevelt advised President McKinley that the departure of the torpedo boat flotilla must be regarded as a hostile act, and that the United States must move immediately to invade Cuba. Two Spanish armored cruisers, the Vizcaya and Almirante Oquendo, had recently arrived at Havana. Reports reaching the U.S.

18 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

Navy Department indicated that the cruisers were about to sail for the Cape Verde Islands. Roosevelt begged Secretary Long for permission to send a naval squadron to blockade Havana and prevent the warships from leaving the harbor. However, the request was denied, and, on the first of April, the Vizcaya and Almirante Oquendo escaped into the Atlantic. Rear Admiral Pascual Cervera y Topete commanded a Spanish squadron based at Cadiz. Cervera was a 59-year-old nobleman, and the country's most respected naval officer. The admiral was also an outspoken advocate against fighting a war far from his home base. Cervera stated in a letter printed in the Madrid newspaper La Epoca: "The relative military positions of Spain and the United States have grown worse for us. We are absolutely penniless, while they are very rich. I am sure that we will do our duty—for the spirit of the navy is excellent. But, I pray that the troubles can be resolved without coming to a conflict—which I believe would be disastrous for our country." However, Admiral Cervera understood Spanish policy and politics. Although a military defeat would be a blow to its national pride, Spain's honor would remain intact. Yielding Cuba to the United States and the rebel insurgents without a fight would be regarded as a disgrace. The admiral realized, only too well, that he could become a "sacrificial lamb" in his country's attempt to save face. Cervera was unable to convince Segismundo Bermejo, Spain's minister of marine, of the U.S. Navy's superior strength, and Spain's shortage of everything necessary to fight a naval war— such as supplies, ammunition, coal, and provisions. On April 8, the Spanish admiral received orders to sail from Cadiz with two armored cruisers—the Infanta Maria Teresa and Cristobal Colon. He was to rendezvous with the torpedo boat flotilla that had sneaked out from the Canaries and had arrived at St. Vincent in the Cape Verde Islands. Cervera's cruisers entered the harbor at St. Vincent on April 14. The voyage took longer than expected because of problems that developed with the engines and boilers of the Maria Teresa. The cruiser had burned 900 tons of coal during the trip from Cadiz. Upon his arrival in the Cape Verdes, Cervera learned that the Vizcaya and Oquendo would be joining his squadron at St. Vincent. However, obtaining enough fuel for this number of ships quickly

War Is Declared • 19

became a dilemma. The Spanish admiral learned that the U.S. consul in the islands had already purchased most of the available coal. Cervera finally managed to buy a meager 700 tons, but at twice the regular price. A couple of small colliers soon arrived from Cadiz. However, with two additional cruisers due at St. Vincent within a week, the Spanish squadron's fuel supply was still inadequate. The admiral was furious and cabled Bermejo: "Arrived here safely. Need a thousand tons of coal to refill bunkers. What are my instructions?" While waiting for a reply to his message, Cervera composed another letter to La Epoca: "It seems to me that there is a mistake in the calculation of the forces we have to depend upon. The Colon never received her main 10-inch battery—it is still sitting on the dock at Cadiz. Three of our four cruisers have defective breech mechanisms, and there is a shortage of ammunition for their 5.5inch guns. The boilers and engines of the Ariete and Azor are not working properly, and the vessels have to be towed. "If we receive orders to proceed to the West Indies, our fleet will be operating thousands of miles from its home port, and in close proximity to American naval bases. "The immediate consequences of the first great sea battle will be the enforced inaction of our damaged ships for the balance of the campaign—whatever the results of the combat. In the meantime, the enemy would be able to repair its damages in the safety of fine ports, aided by powerful industries and enormous resources. "It is very important for us to have a plan of action, so that we may act rapidly and with some efficiency—not grope around in the dark, or like Don Quixote, go out to fight windmills and come back with broken heads." On April 19, the Vizcaya and Almirante Oquendo joined the Spanish squadron at St. Vincent. On the same day, President McKinley authorized a naval blockade of Cuban waters. The proclamation declared: "The United States Government has instituted, and will maintain, a blockade on the north coast of Cuba, including ports on said coast between Cardenas and Bahia Honda, and the port of Cienfuegos on the south coast of Cuba." The announcement, tantamount to a declaration of war, also stated that neutral vessels approaching the Cuban coasts, or attempting to leave without acknowledging the blockade, would be warned and released. However, upon attempting a second time to enter any blockaded harbor, they would be seized and taken to the

20 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

nearest American port as a prize of war. Neutral vessels already in Cuban ports were given 30 days to sail. Meanwhile, on April 20, after sitting in the Cape Verde Islands for nearly a week, Admiral Cervera finally received a cable from the Spanish minister of marine: "Proceed to West Indies and defend Puerto Rico." Cervera could not believe his orders and called a conference with his ship commanders. The meeting lasted four hours, and a document was prepared for submission to Bermejo: " . . . Several opinions were exchanged concerning the probable consequences of a campaign in the West Indies. The deficiencies of our fleet compared with that of the Americans was discussed—as well as the scanty resources which the islands of Puerto Rico and Cuba are able to offer as a base of operations. "This is a very risky venture—for the loss of these ships, and the defeat of our squadron in the Caribbean, entails a great danger for the Canary Islands, and perhaps the bombardment of our coastal cities. "It was unanimously agreed upon that our vessels should proceed to the Canaries. The islands would then be protected against an enemy attack—and all our forces would be in position to come to the aid of the mother country if necessary. "Any division of our fleet, and any separation from the European seas, is a strategic mistake which could bring the war to Spain, a frightful disaster to our coast, the payment of huge ransoms, and perhaps the loss of our islands." However, Spanish citizens living in Cuba were only concerned about the consequences of the impending blockade. The new governor general, Ramon Blanco, informed Madrid that the Spaniards were expecting the navy to come to their aid: "If the people should become convinced that the squadron is not coming, disappointment will be great, and an unpleasant reaction is possible." Segismundo Bermejo, still basking in the "past glories of Spain," cabled Cervera that the Canaries were safe and to sail for Puerto Rico as soon as possible. In the meantime, while cables were burning up the wires between Madrid and St. Vincent, the American blockade began to be implemented. Captain Sampson was promoted to admiral and placed in command of the North Atlantic Squadron. Sampson had a definite strategy in mind and presented his ideas to the Navy War Board. The admiral's proposed plan of action was

War Is Declared • 21

to attack and capture Havana as soon as possible. He also thought it feasible to seize San Juan, Puerto Rico—and then search out and destroy the enemy ships when they arrived in the West Indies. Sampson's planned amphibious assault on Havana was workable. He intended to approach the city from the west, destroying each enemy gun battery in succession. The eastern artillery emplacements, including the foreboding Morro Castle, would be helpless. Intelligence information revealed that the Spaniards had only one 12-inch Krupp gun trained to the westward—and it was located a mile east of the Morro. The admiral believed that this cannon could be avoided by skirting close to shore. Other Spanish guns were reported to be in poor condition, and only one battery was operated by a trained crew. Convinced that his strategy was sound, Sampson argued the point—but to no avail. The specter of Admiral Cervera's squadron, riding at anchor in the Cape Verde Islands, hung like the sword of Damocles over the Navy Department. As a result, Secretary Long vetoed both of Admiral Sampson's plans and limited the North Atlantic Squadron to a sea blockade of Cuban ports and cautious bombardments. Many naval experts believed that armored cruisers and fast torpedo boats were the two most effective types of warships, and therefore regarded the American Navy as inferior to the Spanish. However, taking into account tonnage, overall speed, and armament, the men-of-war of the United States were much more formidable. But the U.S. Navy's greatest asset was its trained officers and men. Spanish naval crews were given very little indoctrination in gunnery practice. Ammunition was continually in short supply because of the country's financial problems. The end result of a naval conflict between the two sea powers was an unknown quantity. The only example of a war between modern, armored naval vessels was the Battle of the Yalu between China and Japan in September 1894. With all things being equal, seamanship decided the outcome in Japan's favor. An editorial in the Boston Herald of April 19 gave its readers food for thought in a historical sense: "Since the Battle of Lepanto—300 odd years ago—when assisted by the Venetian navy, the Spaniards defeated the Turkish fleet, Spain's naval luck at sea has been invariably adverse. Of the famous Armada which started out with 130 men-of-war, only 53 ever reached Spain again.

22 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

"At Cadiz, at Algiers, at Vigo Bay, at Cape St. Vincent and at Trafalgar, it has always been disaster for the Spaniards. Since Trafalgar little, if anything, has been attempted by Spain as a naval power. No wonder that she continues to boast of Lepanto. It was her one and only memorable sea triumph, and is remarkable as one of those rare occasions in which Spanish victory resulted in freeing, instead of making, slaves." One major problem confronting the American Navy was the fact that President McKinley's War Department knew little about Spain's plans. There was strict censorship of the Spanish press, and it was difficult to find out for certain where Cervera's squadron might be headed. On the other hand, the American newspapers issued daily reports revealing Secretary Long's strategy, ship movements, and other information that should have been classified. On April 21, the Spanish Government handed the American consul in Madrid, Stewart L. Woodford, his passport. In the United States, reaction to the news was immediate and frenzied. The afternoon edition of the New York Journal hit the streets with a 6-inch headline shouting "WAR." At the Key West Naval Base, boats of every description could be seen dashing across the bay toward the huge gray vessels. Brilliant-colored flags raced up the masts, and signalmen frantically wigwagged instructions to each other. Richard Harding Davis, correspondent for the New York Herald, vividly described the exciting panorama of activity: "The setting sun spread a fiery red background for the black silhouettes of the ships of war outlined against it. Some boats lay at anchor, sparkling with cargo lights, while coaling barges loomed cumbrously alongside. Other vessels moved silently across the crimson curtain of sky—less like ships than a procession of grotesque monsters of the sea—grim, inscrutable and menacing." Meanwhile, people living on the eastern seaboard of the United States—prodded into mass hysteria by the New York newspapers—demanded protection from a possible naval attack by the Spanish. Bowing to the public clamor, the Navy Department withheld several of its best fighting ships from Sampson's fleet— including the battleships Texas, Massachusetts, and Iowa. These vessels were organized into a "Flying Squadron" under Commodore Winfield Scot Schley and sent to Hampton Roads, Virginia. This move was a symbolic gesture, an attempt to quiet the press and calm the populace. However, in order to keep Schley's ships

War Is Declared • 23

available for immediate use—just in case the new "Spanish Armada" was sighted—President McKinley called up the naval militia. The militia was formed under the command of Commodore John A. Howell, and assigned to patrol the Atlantic shoreline from Maine to Florida. The rapidly assembled coastal defense fleet was a ragtag navy, and included antique Civil War monitors, tugs, yachts—and anything else that would float and carry a one-pounder or Gatling gun. To further alleviate the riled-up fears of the public, four Morgan Line steamships were purchased by the Navy Department and renamed the Yankee, Dixie, Prairie, and Yosemite. The ocean liners St. Paul and St. Louis were also pressed into service—along with the transatlantic vessels New York and Paris. The latter two were rechristened the Harvard and Yale—probably at the request of Theodore Roosevelt who had graduated from Harvard University in 1880. Completely forgotten in the turmoil and confusion was Admiral Alfred Thayer Mahan's fundamental principle of naval strategy: "The best defense is a fighting fleet under a single command." The public pressure which forced the scattering of U.S. Navy combat units might well have had disastrous results in a war against a strong naval power. Meanwhile, Admiral Sampson was ordered to have steam up by 0400 hours on the morning of April 22. And, at 0630, the residents of Key West watched in awe as the long, gray line of men-of-war steamed out to sea. Sampson's flagship was the armored cruiser New York, under the command of Captain French E. Chadwick. The other vessels attached to the blockade squadron included the cruiser Cincinnati, the battleship Indiana, the gunboats Wilmington, Helena, Machias, Nashville, and Castine. Seven torpedo boats and three monitors were also assigned to the naval force. The blockade ships had barely left port when Lieutenant Frank Marble, on the bridge of the New York, sighted a merchantman flying the Spanish flag. The Nashville, captained by Commander Washburn Maynard, was the nearest ship to the Spaniard, and was ordered to give chase. As the distance closed between the two vessels, the Nashville fired the first shot of the war. Gunner's Mate Patrick Walton was given the honor of shooting a powder-only warning salvo. At first, the Buena Ventura (Good Luck) ignored the signal to stop. But, after a solid-shot splashed a few yards from her bow, the

24 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

merchant ship reversed engines and hauled down her flag. A prize crew, under Ensign T. P. Magruder, boarded the Spanish vessel and brought it back to Key West. Captain Lazarraga, commanding officer of the Buena Ventura, remarked to Magruder that he was unaware of the war and when he noticed so many beautiful warships with their parade of flags, he decided to salute the magnificent fleet and so raised the red and yellow ensign of Spain. The Buena Ventura was a valuable prize. She was loaded with lumber worth an estimated half-million dollars. A nation's right to capture prize vessels in time of war had been a rule of the sea for many years. According to the laws of the United States, captured vessels and cargoes—after being condemned by a prize court—were authorized to be sold by the U.S. Marshal's Office. If the seized craft was equal to—or of superior force to—the vessel making the capture, the net proceeds of the sale went to the captor. If the ship taken into custody was of inferior force, one-half of the amount realized from the sale was awarded to the U.S. Government, and the balance distributed proportionately among the captain and crew of the apprehending man-of-war according to their rates and pay. There was no question that the profit incentive equaled patriotic motives in the eagerness with which naval vessels chased after enemy shipping. (Prize money was eventually abolished by an act of Congress in March 1899.) The New York arrived off Havana, Cuba, at about 1500 hours on April 22. A red light was observed in the Morro's tower, and three shots were fired from the fortress as a signal that the American fleet had arrived. The Spaniards had erected three Morros in the West Indies. The castles, as they were called, were built on extreme points of land commanding the harbor approaches of Havana and Santiago, Cuba, and San Juan, Puerto Rico. Lieutenant S. A. Staunton, assistant chief of staff to Admiral Sampson, described in Harper's Pictorial his first impressions of the Cuban capital: "Havana, from the sea, is a mass of mud-red buildings—cigar-box colored—none of them very high—most are squatty and dingy. About in the middle of the stretch of houses, a large structure, built on a rock and surrounded by a tower, stands in the foreground. This crumbling 'doghouse on a rock' is the famous Morro Castle. "Havana lies to the westward of the Morro and across the harbor. The entire city was visible from the blockading vessels. The view

War Is Declared • 25 Havana, Cuba Harbor.

26 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

was very disappointing. No tall buildings. No pretty parks, and only a few trees. A barren patch of yellow earth could be seen near the waterfront—looking all the world like the Virginia hills after a heavy rain. The city itself appeared desolate. Neither smoke, nor life, nor animation—only cigar-box houses and a sandy beach— shining like clean brown sugar." Admiral Sampson had intended to bombard Havana, and battle orders were prepared. But, the Navy Department thought it best not to expose his ships to damage from shore batteries before meeting the enemy's warships. While the blockade squadron steamed back and forth across the entrance to Havana Harbor—out of range of the Krupp 11-inch guns—Spanish soldiers could be seen strengthening the defenses of the Morro Castle and fortifications across the bay. Two small enemy gunboats were observed laying mines in the narrow harbor entrance, and wiring them to protected gun emplacements ashore. The meddlesome craft worked in full view of the patrolling vessels, apparently without fear. Occasionally one of the minelayers would venture dangerously near a blockading ship—as if taunting the American vessel to open fire. Spanish authorities were evidently aware of Sampson's orders not to provoke any action from the Havana forts. Because of the lack of censorship at Key West, the enemy was kept well informed of Secretary Long's military strategy. It was obvious to Sampson that it would be suicidal for his ships to steam into Havana Harbor, through a channel crammed with mines. However, it was necessary to keep all Cuban ports open in the event that a landing was attempted by an American expeditionary force. President McKinley's secretary of war, Russell A. Alger, insisted that an invasion of Cuba be carried out immediately. McKinley, however, was inclined to pursue a waiting policy in view of the potential threat of Admiral Cervera's flotilla. Fortunately, Alger's plan was never carried out. It was based on inaccurate figures as to the strength of Spanish land forces—and an overestimation of the numbers of capabilities of the Cuban insurgents. By the morning of April 23, the advance ships of the blockade fleet had completed their coverage of assigned ports. That afternoon the New York stopped the Don Pedro, a Spanish steamer which had sneaked out of Havana Harbor and was attempting to reach Sagua La Grande on the north coast of Cuba. A prize crew, under

War Is Declared • 27

Lieutenant E. E. Capehart, was placed aboard the ship, and she was sent to Key West. Before nightfall, the rum-laden schooner Mathilde was also captured. Fred Buenzle, who was now attached to Admiral Sampson's staff aboard the New York, remarked: "The Don Pedro proved to be a welcome prize to every one of us—from the admiral to the lowest coalpasser. My share amounted to more than three-hundred dollars. A few years later, I spent the money to establish a monthly service magazine, The Bluejacket, which was to have a long and useful career as a publication devoted to the interests of the enlisted man." Additional ships quickly began arriving from Florida to bolster the blockade force. Although the number of patrol craft was eventually increased to 124, the 2000 miles of Cuban coastline to be guarded was equivalent to that covered by 600 Union vessels during the Civil War. Shortly before daybreak on the 24th, a lookout aboard the New York reported a merchant ship, heading east, was being chased by the cruiser Detroit. Captain Chadwick called for full speed, and the New York dashed in pursuit. The flagship fired a powder salvo at the stranger. The ship refused to stop. But a solid-shot across her bow changed her captain's mind and she heaved to. The vessel proved to be the Catalina, a large Spanish steamer of 5000 tons trading between New Orleans, Havana, and other West Indies ports. She was loaded with supplies and provisions intended for the Spanish Army in Cuba. A prize crew from the Detroit was sent aboard the ship, and the Catalina proceeded to Key West. Meanwhile, a hundred miles east of Havana, the gunboat Helena captured the Miguel Jover. Other warships were not within signaling distance at the time, so the Helena was therefore entitled to the full value of the vessel and cargo—a quarter of a million dollars. About noon, lookouts on the New York, Cincinnati, and the cruiser Marblehead sighted a suspicious vessel heading inshore. But, because of a strong wind and heavy smoke from its stacks, the ship's flag, denoting country of origin, was hidden from view. Admiral Sampson immediately ordered a high speed chase. As the New York closed on the stranger, a spotter on the masthead shouted, "It's a battleship!" The sudden news of a possible sea battle jolted the New York's crew into frenzied activity. Call to Quarters was sounded, and decks were cleared for action.

28 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

Stephen Bonsai, correspondent for the San Francisco Examiner, was on the bridge of the New York and described the excitement as the cruiser prepared for combat: "Ammunition was hauled up through the shafts and the shell extractor—like a giant pair of sugar tongs—came into view. The gun crews hugged the heavy canvas powder bags to their bosoms—as though they were pet cats and not death dealing explosives. Marines hoisted away at the ammunition pulleys, and set out buckets of sand along the spar and gun decks to prevent sailors from slipping and falling when decks are slick with blood. Fire hoses were also laid out, as every provision was made for battle. "At four miles distant, the stranger changed course and swung broadside to the New York. A puff of smoke—then a flash of flame— burst forth from one of its turrets. Our heavy guns locked into position—waiting for orders to unleash a deluge of deadly, hard steel. Suddenly, another black cloud of smoke and streaks of fire erupted from the guns ahead. However, this time the report was not very loud or formidable—more like four-pounders barking. Word was quickly passed down from the bridge that the object of our chase was the Italian cruiser Don Giovanni Bausan. She had only been firing a salute to Admiral Sampson." On April 25,1898, a proclamation by President McKinley made the war against Spain official: "Whereas, by an act of Congress, approved April 25, it is declared that war has existed since the 21st day of April 1898 between the United States of America and the Kingdom of Spain." During a dense fog on the night of the 25th, the Mangrove, armed with only two six-pounders, noticed a large vessel and gave chase. The stranger was the Spanish steamer Panama, which mounted several 14-pounders and was carrying a valuable cargo of provisions for Havana. Captain Everett threw a searchlight beam on the steamer, fired a shot across its bow, and shouted to the Spaniard to surrender or he would sink it with a broadside. Because of the murky weather, Captain Quevado of the Panama was unable to ascertain the size or shape of the ship that was threatening to blow his vessel out of the water. But the bluff worked, and Quevado hauled down his colors and surrendered. The Mangrove could only spare three men for a prize crew. Ensign Dayton and a couple of sailors headed for the Panama. Fortunately, the battleship Indiana was within signal distance. Naval Cadet

War Is Declared • 29

Falconer and 15 marines were sent to reinforce Ensign Dayton's prize crew. The ships of Admiral Sampson's blockade fleet were continually kept busy chasing and stopping any vessel discovered in Cuban waters. Most of the blockaders kept their boiler fires burning at all times, along with a full head of steam. As soon as smoke was sighted on the horizon, full speed was called down to the engine room, and the firemen poured on the coal. At first, the Navy Department theorized that its ships could lay off blockaded ports with engines running dead slow indefinitely, with no head of steam up. On this assumption, colliers had not been sent with the fleet. Because of this oversight, the patrolling vessels were forced to return to Key West or the Dry Tortugas to refill their bunkers. In Secretary Long's opinion, the 90-mile trip to the coaling facilities was negligible. However, at an average cruising speed of ten knots, travel time was about 18 hours. Therefore, whenever a ship returned for fuel, it was absent from its patrol station for nearly a full day—at least. If colliers had been provided for the fleet, it would have been possible for the blockaders to refuel at sea without leaving their assigned position. The recoaling vessel would also have been able to cast off the collier's lines at a moment's notice to engage in a chase. Another dilemma which plagued Admiral Sampson's naval force was the vexing problem of fresh water. The battleships and cruisers had condensers, but the smaller craft had to depend on the availability of water barges at the Florida bases. A saltwater condensing plant was under construction at Key West, but until it was completed, fresh water had to be transported from Tampa by flat bottom boats. Mechanical troubles were another hindrance to fleet operations. Torpedo boats in particular were subject to frequent breakdowns. A floating machine shop was finally fitted out and sent to Cuban waters. For some reason, however, the most important factor in any military campaign was completely overlooked—the tremendous task of feeding hundreds of men aboard ships scattered across thousands of square miles of ocean. The vessels assigned to the blockade carried plenty of hardtack, canned tomatoes, and beef— the latter had been sitting in government warehouses since the Civil War. No provisions were made to supply the fleet with fresh fruits and vegetables.

30 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

Despite a daily succession of problems, Admiral Sampson and his staff did a competent job of policing the Cuban coast. The blockade ships cordoned off harbors and other seaboard areas— many of which had been poorly surveyed. Within a week of the American fleet's arrival, Havana warehouses were nearly empty. There was enough flour to last a month, and only a two-week supply of rice and meat. The residents of Key West soon became accustomed to the daily procession of prize ships steaming into port—the Stars and Stripes flying above the Spanish colors. The captured vessels were anchored in the lower end of the harbor, and their flags were removed. The first visitor allowed on board was the port doctor. His spotless white launch, the Annie, seemed to be the busiest boat in the bay—dashing to each prize ship as she entered Key West. After the doctor had completed his health inspection, the officer in charge of the prize crew would take the ship's papers ashore and turn them over to the U.S. marshal. Federal deputies then relieved the naval personnel until a hearing could be scheduled before the Prize Commission. In the meantime, any perishable cargo aboard the seized vessel was immediately sold, and the money received was credited to the captor. Historically, a blockade by sea is the most monotonous, fatiguing, and least satisfactory of all naval warfare operations. It is em exasperating interval of waiting and watching—with constant attention to the position of other patrol ships, and unrelenting vigilance day and night—while still maintaining all necessary precautions for military action. The patrolling vessels were never at anchor, and running lights were seldom used. Although the boredom of the Cuban blockade was varied by an occasional chase, each pursuit took on a repetitious identity of its own, and soon ceased to thrill or excite the dog-tired sailors. Whenever the smoke from a ship's stack was sighted on the horizon, the blockader would race to investigate. If the pursued vessel held its course, increased speed, or attempted evasive maneuvers, a stern chase ensued which often lasted for several hours. Lieutenant S. A. Staunton, assistant chief of staff to Admiral Sampson, vividly described a night action in Harper's Pictorial: "A night chase is the most dramatic of blockade adventures. The stranger is sighted at a shorter distance. There is more uncertainty as to the craff s nationality, and a greater chance of its escape.

War Is Declared • 31

"The gloom and obscurity of darkness upon the sea adds to the effect. The rushing bows slice the phosphorescent water into ripples of silver, and guns flash tongues of bright flame through the blackness. Long beams of searchlights sweep the horizon, grab the fleeing vessel, and trap it in their relentless glare. The cornered ship—its flag illuminated by the bright light—heaves to and awaits the boarding party." Both Spanish and neutral ships did their best to escape the tenacious American blockade. However, a solid-shot across the bow of any merchantman would rapidly change her captain's mind. The English vessels, in particular, did not appreciate being stopped and would lead the blockaders on a merry chase. The British were very upset with the situation in the West Indies. The rights of search, commercial blockades, and other so-called laws of the sea were continually exhorted in the London newspapers. Secretary of War Alger was anxious to land an army expeditionary force near Havana in order to establish communications with the Cuban insurgents, and prepare a base for future military operations. However, members of the Navy War Board were just as insistent that the island of Puerto Rico be invaded first—and without delay. The city of Matanzas, on the north coast of Cuba, was one of the sites selected by Alger as a suitable location for a land campaign against Havana. Matanzas stood at the head of a three-mile-wide bay. High cliffs, on either side of the harbor entrance, gave a commanding and unobstructed view of the horizon. The western approach to the bay was fortified at Point Rubalcaya, and the east side at Point Maya. The port was blockaded by the cruiser Cincinnati and the monitor Puritan. The vigilant patrol ships soon noticed that the Spaniards were improving their battlements on the cliffs and mounting large caliber guns. Upon learning the news, Admiral Sampson decided to attack the Spanish artillery emplacements and reduce their effectiveness. On April 27, the New York joined the Cincinnati and Puritan off Point Rubalcaya. The New York led the way toward the harbor entrance. The two other vessels followed about a hundred yards astern. The Puritan steamed to port and the Cincinnati to starboard. Sampson's orders were to let the Spaniards fire first, revealing their positions, before actively engaging the enemy. When the New York

32 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

had moved to within three miles of the rocky cliffs, a puff of smoke was observed rising from the eastern shore. A moment later, an 8-inch shell splashed just short of the flagship. Captain Chadwick scrambled down the forward bridge of the New York and shouted to Ensign Boone, "Aim for 4000 yards at that bank of earth on the point!" Boone's gun was in the waist amidships, and he was given the honor of firing the shot which opened the first naval action of the war. Richard Harding Davis, correspondent for the New York Herald, was aboard Sampson's flagship during the ensuing bombardment and recorded his impressions of the sea battle: "At first, I tried to keep count of the shots fired, but it was soon like counting falling bricks. They seemed to be ripping out from the steel sides of the ship in a race to see which gun would be the first to run out of ammunition. "The thick deck of the superstructure jumped with the concussions—and vibrated like a suspension bridge when an express train thunders across it. Shock waves jolted from every point. As soon as I had steadied myself against one volley, I was shaken and rocked by the rush of wind from another. "Eardrums tingle and strain and seem to crack. The noise was physical—like a blow from a baseball bat. Great clouds of hot smoke swept across the trembling decks—hung for a moment, hiding everything in a curtain of choking fog which rasped the throat and burned the eyes." The surrounding cliffs roared with cannonading and the bay and shoreline were soon obscured with wind-swept smoke. The New York circled west toward Point Rubalcaya, while the Puritan and Cincinnati attacked the Maya batteries. Davis continued his story: 'The Puritan was an amazing sight. Its decks were lashed with two feet of water. The waves seemed to be running in and out of her turrets, and the flames and smoke from her 13-inch guns blasted angrily from the waterline. It looked as though she was firing and sinking at the same time." The New York closed to within a mile of the cliffs and destroyed enemy positions as fast as her gunners could pull the trigger. Each shot was followed by a large cloud of yellow dust and masonry— interspersed now and then with a Spaniard or two. The Puritan was also having excellent success—her heavy shells exploding with tremendous force inside the Maya fortifications. The Cincinnati, however, had not yet received orders to participate

War Is Declared • 33

in the bombardment. Her captain, afraid that there would not be enough targets remaining for his gunners, asked permission to engage the enemy. As soon as his request was granted, the Cincinnati dashed to within 2000 years of Point Rubalcaya, and fired point-blank broadsides into the crumbling Spanish positions. After 18 minutes of uninterrupted action, Admiral Sampson gave the signal to retire. The enemy guns appeared to have been silenced, but suddenly one last defiant shot flashed from the Rubalcaya defenses. The Puritan immediately turned toward the cliff and sent its reply at close range. The salvo scored a bull's-eye. The shell not only struck the artillery piece, but plowed through the protecting earthworks and exploded. When the smoke and dust cleared, nothing could be seen of the gun's location except a deep hole in the ground. Not a single American vessel was struck, nor a man injured, during the action—although three Spanish shells splashed within yards of the New York. After the bombardment at Matanzas, the importance of a strong navy was indelibly stamped upon the war writings of Richard Harding Davis. In his vivid description of the battle, as reported in the New York Herald, Davis had the following comments: "When a 10,000 ton man-of-war, usually as steady as a rock, shakes and trembles like a frightened child. When firmly-fitted bolts loosen from their sockets. When the roar of guns thunder up from port and starboard and you feel your feet leaving the deck. When binoculars jump around your forehead, while blinding smoke hides everything from sight. That is when you first realize the terrible power of a modern warship's gun batteries." There was no way to estimate the number of Spanish casualties—but probably very few escaped the merciless bombardment unless they abandoned their posts. However, General Blanco, in his official report to Madrid, stated that the only loss of life was that of a mule. The mule quickly became a subject for newspaper and magazine political cartoons, and it left its mark on history as the "Matanzas Mule." Meanwhile, Admiral Cervera made preparations to leave the Cape Verde Islands on April 29. Before his squadron hoisted anchor, Cervera sent another cable to Segismundo Bermejo: "Nothing can be expected of this expedition except the total destruction of our flotilla. With clear conscience I go to the sacrifice, but I cannot understand the navy's decision. I shall do all I can to hasten our

34 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

departure. However, I disclaim all responsibility for the consequences." The American blockade fleet continued its stranglehold on Cuban ports. The Nashville was patrolling off Cienfuegos, on the south coast of Cuba, when her lookouts sighted a steamer heading west. After a short chase and a warning shot, the vessel surrendered. The ship proved to be the Argonauto, a mail and dispatch carrier running between Santiago and Batabano. Among the passengers was Spanish General Vincente de Cortejo and his staff of ten officers. The Argonauto's cargo included Mauser rifles and a large quantity of ammunition. Ensign Kuensli and a prize crew from the Nashville were sent aboard the captured ship. The Spanish officers were transferred from the steamer to the gunboat. The civilian passengers, and their baggage, were put into the Argonauto's lifeboats and made their way safely to Cienfuegos. About this time, the cruiser Marblehead and the converted yacht Eagle arrived to assist the Nashville, if necessary. After the capture of the prize vessel had been completed, the Eagle was directed to take over blockade duties at the harbor entrance to Cienfuegos. The yacht had no sooner taken its position, about 1500 yards from Colorado Point, when her lookouts sighted two torpedo boats and a torpedo-gunboat within the bay. The Marblehead was signaled of the sighting and dashed at full speed to assist the Eagle. Suddenly, the torpedo-gunboat Galicia and a torpedo boat emerged from the inner harbor and, keeping close to the shore, headed toward the yacht. Lieutenant W.H.H. Southerland, captain of the Eagle, described the ensuing action in Harper's Pictorial: "The enemy's first salvo was evidently a sighting shot and splashed about a hundred yards short. A second shell fell a little ahead of us. This attack was immediately answered by our port forward rapid-fire 6-pounder. I then backed broadside to the Spaniards—in order to change their bearings—and to bring as many of our guns to bear as possible. Our firing was rapid for a few minutes—and apparently effective—as the enemy withdrew to safety behind a small island." Minutes later, the Marblehead arrived. The Galicia also came out of hiding and crept along the shoreline. A gun battery near Colorado Point and an infantry detachment at the lighthouse opened fire on the American ships. But, the Marblehead's 5-inch guns quickly silenced the Spanish opposition.

War Is Declared • 35

Cienfuegos, however, was still a threat. Cuban insurgents reported that, besides the torpedo boats, 11 armed steam launches were moored in the harbor. It became apparent to Admiral Sampson that Spain was not about to give up Cuba without a fight. In addition to Cienfuegos, the strongly defended ports of Havana, Cardenas, Santiago, and Guantanamo—plus thousands of Spanish troops on the island—indicated a difficult campaign. And, waiting in the wings was the constant menace of Admiral Cervera's flotilla.

Captain Charles D. Sigsbee. (Photo courtesy Military History Institute)

U.S.S. Maine. (Photo courtesy U.S. Navy)

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Wreckage of U.S.S. Maine after explosion on February 15, 1898. (Photo courtesy U.S. Navy)

Spanish Admiral Pascual Cervera yTopete. (Photo courtesy Military History Institute)

Spanish cruiser Infanta Maria Teresa. (Photo courtesy author's collection)

Morro Castle at Santiago, Cuba; view from the southwest. (Photo courtesy author's collection)

La Socapa fort at the entrance to Santiago Harbor. (Photo courtesy author's collection)

Santiago, Cuba, and harbor facing south. (Photo courtesy National Archives)

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3 The Voyage of the Oregon While his squadron languished in the Cape Verde Islands, a major concern to Admiral Cervera was the current whereabouts of the U.S. Navy's newest battleship—the Oregon. But, the Spanish minister of marine assured his admiral that American naval strength in the Caribbean was vastly overestimated. He asserted the Oregon—one of only four first-class battleships in the U.S. fleet—was anchored in San Francisco Bay. Bermejo argued that Spain's Pacific Squadron constituted a danger to American West Coast ports and shipping. He was certain that the Oregon would remain in California. The Spanish minister also tried to calm Cervera's fears by telling the admiral that even if Secretary Long decided to send the battleship to the West Indies, it would necessitate steaming the vessel 16,000 miles around the southern tip of South America. The trip would be long and difficult. And, before the Oregon completed the voyage, Spain would have concentrated its naval forces in the Caribbean to defend Cuba and Puerto Rico. The Oregon was the last of three Indiana-class battleships authorized by Congress, and the only one built on the West Coast. She was commissioned in July 1896, and incorporated all the latest naval innovations. The warship was 351 feet in length and 69 feet abeam. Her main battery consisted of four 13-inch guns in double turrets and eight

38 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

8-inch guns. The Oregon's turrets were hydraulically operated— while those of her sister ships were powered by steam. In addition to her heavy armament, the Oregon mounted 20 six-pounders, evenly distributed from bow to stern. She also carried 8 one-pounders and was fitted with six Whitehead torpedo tubes. The battleship displaced 10,000 tons, and was protected at the waterline by an armored belt—18 inches thick—which ran two-thirds of the length of her hull. At the time the Maine exploded, the Oregon was based at San Francisco, California, under the command of Captain Alexander H. McCormick. As the national clamor for revenge reached a fever pitch, the Navy Department ordered McCormick to sail to Callao, Peru, and await further instructions. Theodore Roosevelt theorized that, in case of open hostilities, this would be an ideal location for the Oregon to make a high speed run to either the Philippines or the West Indies. The battleship was hurriedly coaled and provisioned. A departure date was scheduled for March 18, when McCormick suddenly became ill. The San Francisco Examiner had been demanding action, and the American public was ready. The voyage of the Oregon could not be postponed. To paraphrase William Shakespeare: "Some men are born great, while others have greatness thrust upon them/' The naval career of Captain Charles E. Clark fit the latter. Clark was commanding officer of a Civil War-^era monitor, Monterey, and stationed at San Diego, California, when he received a cable from the Navy Department placing him in command of the Oregon. He arrived at San Francisco on March 17, and at 0800 hours on the morning of the 19th, the battleship hoisted anchor and passed through the Golden Gate. The Oregon carried a crew of 30 officers and 438 men. Observers, watching with interest along the shore, could not help but notice that the man-of-war rode low in the water—and with good reason. She was packed with 1600 tons of coal, 500 tons of ammunition, and enough supplies to last several months. As the Oregon steamed south down the west coast of the United States, the Navy Department decided to send the battleship to support Admiral Sampson's blockade fleet. An escort vessel was ordered to accompany the Oregon when it reached the South Atlantic.

The Voyage of the Oregon • 39

The Marietta, a gunboat captained by Commander F. M. Symonds, was anchored at San Jose, Guatemala, when Symonds suddenly received orders to head immediately to Panama. A newspaper correspondent aboard the Marietta described the gunboat's adventurous voyage in a series of articles that appeared in the Boston Herald: "Upon our receipt of instructions to proceed with all haste to Panama, it was still not known what we were going to do. However, the officers were continually on the alert as all kinds of rumors were afloat. One report making-the-rounds stated that the Navy Department had knowledge that the Maine would be blown up several days before the incident actually occurred. "We anchored at Panama on March 21. And, the next day while coaling ship, Commander Symonds was cabled instructions to leave as soon as possible to Callao, Peru. He was also notified that we would be escorting the Oregon up the east coast of South America. "When we reached Callao, Symonds made arrangements for coaling the Oregon, so that when the battleship arrived at the port a few days later, coal lighters would be waiting for her." On March 26, when the Oregon was halfway to Peru, Secretary Long received a report that the Spanish torpedo boat, Temerario, had departed Montevideo, Uruguay—destination unknown. Long worried that the enemy warship might be heading for the Strait of Magellan to intercept the battleship. He was also concerned for the Marietta. Theodore Roosevelt was of the opinion that it would be safer to route the Oregon around Cape Horn. He felt that the vessel would be at a tactical disadvantage in the narrow waters of the strait. The decision, however, would be left up to Captain Clark. The Oregon continued to plow south at 12 knots. Captain Clark described the journey in his memoirs, My Fifty Years in the Navy: "Our run from San Francisco to Callao was uneventful. However, as we approached the tropics, life below decks became almost intolerable—not only because of the weather, but also from the heat generated by the ship's boilers. "When Chief Engineer Milligan informed me that he thought we should use freshwater in the boilers instead of saltwater, I felt it was asking too much of the endurance of the crew. It would not only mean reducing their drinking supply, but the quantity served would often be so warm as to be quite unpalatable. But, when I explained to the men that saltwater in the boilers caused scale—

40 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

and scale would reduce our speed and might impair our efficiency in battle—the crew accepted the deprivation of freshwater without a murmur." On the afternoon of March 27, smoke was detected coming from one of the Oregon's bunkers. After four hours of digging through the compartment, the area of burning coal was discovered and extinguished: cause of the fire—spontaneous combustion. At 0500 hours on April 4, the Oregon dropped anchor in the harbor at Callao, Peru. The battleship had made a continuous run of more than 4000 nautical miles in 16 days, and consumed 900 tons of coal. While at Callao, Captain Clark received a dispatch from the Navy Department warning him about the Temerario. He reportedly stated that the Oregon was prepared to sink the Spanish torpedo boat, war or no war. Clark also had other concerns. Peru was a Spanish-speaking country, and the battleship's captain was aware that many people in the area were sympathetic toward Spain. He ordered two steamcutters to patrol the harbor day and night. A double watch was posted at all times, and sharpshooters were stationed in the fighting tops. The Oregon's crew worked around the clock loading coal, water, and provisions. Payday was April 6, but there was no shore leave. Every man was needed to get the ship ready for the next leg of her journey. At 0400 hours on April 7, the Oregon sneaked out of Callao and set a course for the Strait of Magellan. About 2000 tons of coal had been loaded in her bunkers, and 100 more tons packed in sacks on the deck. A thick layer of coal dust covered the sides of the ship, but there was no time to waste washing it off. The Oregon would remain a dingy-looking vessel for the next six weeks. On the same day that the Oregon steamed out of Callao Harbor, the Marietta anchored at Valparaiso, Chile, to take on coal and provisions. The Boston Herald correspondent and Commander Symonds went ashore for a short time, and the reporter cabled another story to his newspaper: "While at Valparaiso, we found a great deal of hostility among Spanish sympathizers. Government officials, however, were studiously courteous. At the cafes, we overheard several threats made about 'blowing the Yankees up.' A special watch was kept aboard ship to prevent any such threat being successfully carried out.

The Voyage of the Oregon • 41

Route of the Oregon around the coast of South America.

42 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

"The Chilian government, because of its troubles with Argentina, had a naval force stationed in the harbor. An elderly admiral was in command of the flotilla. And, upon learning of our danger, he promised Commander Symonds, 'You shall not be hurt.' The admiral kept his word. The Marietta was moved to an anchorage in the midst of the Chilian fleet. At night we were surrounded by a cordon of small boats. There was no getting past this patrol—even by our own crew—so all hands who were ashore made sure that they were back to the ship before dark." Captain Clark fired up his fourth boiler on April 9, and speed was increased to 14 knots. Target practice was also held. Empty boxes and barrels were tossed over the side, and all guns were tested for operating efficiency. As the Oregon continued her dash south, the weather began to worsen. The heavy vessel's bow dipped into mountainous waves, and solid sheets of water raged furiously across her decks. At each plunge beneath the churning sea, the Oregon's propellers lifted clear of the water and whirled around at frightening speed. The ship shivered and quaked. The strain on the hull, machinery, and the men themselves was tremendous. But, Captain Clark shouldered the responsibility and raced on ahead. On April 16, the Oregon reached the western entrance to the Strait of Magellan. Clark wrote in his memoirs: "Minutes after entering the strait, a violent storm struck us. The wind-driven rain obscured the precipitous, rockbound shores—and, with night coming on, it seemed inadvisable to proceed. The ship—running before the gale as she was—made it almost impossible to obtain correct soundings—and making a safe anchorage was therefore largely a matter of chance. I decided to anchor as the lesser risk." The Oregon dropped two anchors, which plummeted 50 fathoms before finally grabbing the ocean floor. At daybreak on the 17th, the battleship was once again underway. This time she fought a blinding snowstorm through the narrowest passage of the strait. With sheer cliffs on either side, and unknown water depth below, it was not a place for faint hearts. By midday, however, the weather cleared, and the crew of the Oregon was treated to a breathtaking landscape. Chief Engineer R. W. Milligan described the view: "I have never seen such beautiful wild nature in all my travels. There is mountain after mountain of glacier, and they seem to shine with all the colors of the

The Voyage of the Oregon • 43

rainbow. The air was cold and the ice sparkled like diamonds. We soon passed the wrecks of two steamers that had left their bones to mark the perils of the passage." At 1800 hours, the Oregon anchored at Sandy Point, Chile. Captain Clark was aware that the Temerario had had plenty of time to reach the strait, and might be waiting for his ship when it entered the South Atlantic. Clark ordered the Oregon cleared for action and all guns manned and loaded. The two cutters were also put back on patrol. In the meantime, on April 9, while still at Valparaiso, Commander Symonds received an unconfirmed report that the Temerario had entered the harbor at Buenos Aires. Secretary Long regarded the Spanish torpedo boat as a definite threat to the Oregon, and cabled Symonds to get underway immediately and meet the battleship at Sandy Point. The Herald reporter graphically chronicled the nerve-racking voyage as the Marietta forged her way south through the dangerous waters along the Chilian coast—a graveyard of lost ships: "We had been ordered to Sandy Point—or Punta Arenas as the natives call it—to meet the Oregon. The weather soon worsened. And, on April 15—in a driving storm of rain and snow—we neared Tuesday Bay at the western end of the Strait of Magellan. The menacing mouth of this bay is a dark, narrow opening in the cliffs which rise out of the sea to a height of nearly two-thousand feet. On this dismal night, it looked like the gateway to the infernal regions. "Just as darkness was setting in, a small, low vessel was sighted dimly ahead. Our first thought was the Temerario and we prepared for a possible fight. However, the ship turned out to be an English coastal steamer which was standing by a wreck. "Tuesday Bay was formed when the sea filled a crater left by an extinct volcano, and we anchored on a submerged peak. 'The fog was very thick on the morning of the following day, but lifted in the afternoon—long enough for the officer of the deck to notice the Oregon steaming several miles ahead and about to enter the strait. "At daybreak, on the 17th, in spite of dense fog—interspersed with sleet and snow—we began our journey through the passage. It was a difficult task for our navigator, Lieutenant Caperton. The currents were so strong that the Marietta was forced to run at full speed in order to keep on course. And the viciousness of the storm almost crashed us upon the jagged rocks before they were sighted."

44 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

The Oregon, plowing through the rough seas about 15 miles ahead of the gunboat, soon passed through the heavy weather, and a curtain of snow and mist could be seen following the battleship as it steamed east in bright sunshine. That evening, the Marietta's lookouts could see the glow of the Oregon's searchlight beaming through a thickening fog. But the gunboat's small light was unable to penetrate the misty blackness. Shortly before midnight, however, the Marietta caught up with the Oregon at Sandy Point. The fog lifted early the next morning, and Captain Clark went ashore to make arrangements for fuel and supplies. The coal merchant was very suspicious of Americans, and made the transaction as difficult as possible. The battleship's captain related the problems encountered: "We had to load the coal from an old collier in which wool had been stored on top. It was by no means an easy job. The merchant added to delays in handling by insisting that the hoisting buckets be continually weighed. Boatswain's Mate Murphy finally relieved the growing exasperation by shouting out, as a loaded bucket reached the deck, 'Here! Lower again for another weigh—there's a fly on the edge of that bucket!'" It required 800 tons of coal to fill the Oregon's bunkers, and the task seemed to take forever. The crew worked day and night hauling the small barrels of fuel up the sides of the battleship. Provisions, such as meat and canned items, were tossed in the same buckets and hoisted topside. Everything was covered with coal dust. Commander Symonds also had problems. He had only been permitted to take on 40 tons of coal. This was the last straw, as far as Captain Clark was concerned. He told Symonds to move his ship alongside the collier and load up his gunboat—while the battleship trained its guns on the vessel. The coal merchant quickly got the message, and the Marietta's bunkers were filled to capacity. At 0600 hours on April 21, the Oregon and Marietta hoisted anchor and headed for the turbulent waters of the South Atlantic. The gunboat led the way, but it was a much slower vessel, and the battleship was forced to reduce speed. After exiting the strait, Captain Clark sounded battle stations, "just to shake the boys up," and the Marietta threw barrels over the side for target practice. The Oregon had been stripped for action during the few days at Sandy Point. But, after five days at sea in the rough waters of the

The Voyage of the Oregon • 45

Atlantic, the tension of the voyage began to take its toll on the frazzled nerves of the tired crew. Boatswain's Mate Murphy grumbled: "Boxes, benches and all extra mess chests have been stowed away. We have no place to sit down except on the bare deck—and then have to let our feet hand over the side. The men can't seem to get enough fresh water, and the cook's sourdough bread could be used as shrapnel." The Oregon and Marietta neared Rio de Janerio on the morning of April 30. Captain Clark called for full speed and raced ahead of his slower escort, signaling the gunboat to meet him in Rio. At 1500 hours, the Oregon dropped anchor in Rio Harbor, and the Marietta followed about four hours later. The American consul was immediately alerted to their arrival, and dispatch boats dashed out to the warships with the latest news of the war and further orders. Captain Clark was notified that the United States had been officially at war with Spain since April 25. The Oregon's crew assembled on deck, and the ship's captain solemnly read the declaration to his men. However, the pressures of 42 days at sea were too much for the sailors to take the news seriously. Shouts and cheers greeted the announcement. And, a minute later, the ship's band appeared on deck. The strains of the "Star Spangled Banner" and "Hail Columbia" drifted over the harbor. Captain Clark described the celebration: "The crew uncovered and stood at attention during the playing of the national anthem. More cheering followed, along with the inspiring battle cry Tiemember the MaineV The men then turned their attention to the coal barges and worked as they had never worked before." Clark was notified that the Temerario might be heading for Rio and narrated: "This was disturbing information. If the torpedo boat should arrive—and it had an enterprising commander—I felt that he would not hesitate to violate the rights of a neutral port, if by doing so, he could put the Oregon out of action." While at Rio, the Boston Herald correspondent cabled another dispatch to his newspaper: "At Rio there were more muttered threats against the Americans from Spanish residents of the city. Captain Clark called upon the Brazilian admiral in charge of the port and told him, 'If you don't protect us, we will protect ourselves!' The admiral took Clark's concerns seriously and stationed a gunboat at the harbor entrance to prevent any surprise attack by

46 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

the Spaniards. But, in spite of assurances by Brazilian officials, a sharp watch was maintained by the Oregon and Marietta, and the ships were made ready for instant action. "On May 2, the American consul at Rio came aboard our ship and handed Commander Symonds a telegram announcing Commodore George Dewey's victory at Manila Bay. Lieutenant McCrakin read the message to the crew and the news was received with wild enthusiasm. "The information was also delivered to Captain Clark, and cheering from both vessels could be heard throughout the bay. But another cable quickly sobered up the jubilant sailors. Four Spanish cruisers and three torpedo boats were reported to have sailed from the Cape Verde Islands on April 29 for an unknown destination."

Captain Clark's evasive maneuvers after leaving Barbados, and the Oregon's race to Key West

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4 The Bombardment of San Juan, Puerto Rico Admiral Pascual Cervera was a man of honor and obeyed his country's orders. On the morning of April 29, the ragtag group of Spanish ships steamed out from the harbor at St. Vincent and headed west. A reporter for the New York Herald witnessed the sailing and cabled his newspaper that he believed Cervera would attempt to reach Puerto Rico. The telegram also stated that San Juan would be the logical port for the Spanish squadron to recoal at after a long ocean voyage—particularly since the island was not under

blockade. Winston Churchill commented in the London Mail: "With only a week's supply of provisions, Cervera was turned loose by his government quite as pitilessly as his fellow countrymen are in the habit of pushing a bull into the ring." As soon as the announcement of the Spanish squadron's sailing reached the United States, panic gripped the nation's East Coast. The New York and Boston newspapers, taking advantage of the feeding frenzy, headlined their front pages with warnings that this new "Spanish Armada" would be bombarding American coastal cities within two weeks. The Navy Department tried to calm the growing hysteria. Secretary Long insisted that "the enemy fleet was too distant from any base to attempt such a reckless act—as it would have to be accomplished in the face of great difficulties." Both Sampson and Long were of the opinion that Cervera's destination was San Juan, Puerto Rico, because the port com-

50 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

manded the eastern approaches to the Caribbean and coaling and repair facilities were available. Plans were immediately put in motion to intercept the Spanish flotilla before it arrived in the West Indies. As a precautionary measure, the Harvard, Yale, and St. Louis were ordered to scout an area 80 miles to the windward side of Martinique and Guadeloupe. Their instructions were to patrol on a north-south line and keep in daily communication with Admiral Sampson. The Yale was also directed to reconnoiter Puerto Rican waters. On the night of April 29—with tensions running high among the Cuban blockade forces—a major tragedy was narrowly averted. The New York was steaming off Havana Harbor—a few miles from its usual station—while the torpedo boat Porter, under command of Lieutenant John Fremont, was on picket duty in the same general area. Sylvester Scovel, correspondent for the New York World, was aboard the Porter and scooped the Hearst papers with his exciting account of the near disaster: "Admiral Sampson's blockade instructions were explicit: TMo lights are to be displayed except for recognition signals/ We were creeping westward and invisible to other ships. Our mission was to await the arrival of the Spanish squadron commanded by Admiral Cervera. The whereabouts of the enemy was unknown. It was reported that the Spaniards had left the Cape Verde Islands and were rumored to be heading for the West Indies." The Porter continued on its assigned course. The only light visible was the probing beam of the Morro Castle's searchlight, which periodically cut a knifelike sliver through the darkness. Lieutenant Fremont related his version of the incident in Scovel's news story: "At midnight, I went below for a nap and turned the watch over to Ensign Gillis. Everything was quiet until about two-thirty in the morning. I suddenly heard our one-pounder go off. It shocked me awake as thoroughly as if it had been a 13-inch gun. I dashed to the conning tower to find out what happened. I quickly noticed—what looked to me—the largest ship in the world looming out of the darkness off our port bow. "Gillis told me that the stranger was a quarter-mile distant when he ordered a shot fired across the vessel's bow. However, the ship did not stop or signal. I ordered our guns trained on the stranger and the port torpedo tube was loaded and ready to fire if necessary."

The Bombardment of San Juan • 51

The Porter crept silently toward the ominous shadow off its port beam. At a distance of 200 yards, Fremont flashed the night recognition signal—two white lights and one red light. Still no reply. The shadowy, unidentified ship continued to steam on a westward course. Suddenly it dawned on Lieutenant Fremont that the monotonous droning noise of his boat's blowers—coupled with the sounds of both vessels moving through the water—would drown out any attempt at voice communication. "Stop those damn blowers!" Fremont shouted, and then called out, "Are the guns trained on her?" "Aye, aye, sir," came the reply from both one-pounder crews. The sailors stood alongside their guns—white-knuckled fingers on the triggers—waiting for orders that would bring their rapid-fire guns to life. Lieutenant Fremont grabbed a megaphone and shouted across the water, "What ship are you?" No answer. Then the command came, "Fire across her bow!" A one-pounder roared, sending a shell racing through the blackness. Once again, John Fremont flashed the recognition signal. Seconds later, the stranger showed a light—but it was an incorrect answer. For a moment, all kinds of hair-raising thoughts flooded the young lieutenant's mind—such as, "Could the vessel ahead be a Spanish ship trying to use American signals?" Fremont yelled out orders for his port torpedo crew to prepare for immediate action, and the chief torpedoman's hand tightened on the firing device. A flash of fire shot from the stranger's forward fighting top and zipped across the Porter's deck. A torpedo jumped from its tube to answer the challenge, but the missile ran wide of its mark. Sylvester Scovel described the suspense-filled moments that quickly followed: "As we closed the dark hulk ahead, Lieutenant Fremont stood still and silent. The gun crews steadied themselves at their one-pounders. Once again, Fremont called out into the night, 'What ship is that?' This time an answer was shouted back, and a huge sigh of relief came from our men. The voice was in English, and loud and clear, 'This is the cruiser New YorkV " 'Are you Captain Chadwick?' Lieutenant Fremont asked. " Tes,' answered the cruiser's captain. 'Are you the Porter?' " 'Aye sir/ Fremont replied. " 'Why didn't you show the night fleet signal?' demanded Chadwick.

52 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

" "We did sir—twice,' Lieutenant Fremont stated emphatically. "There was no answer the first time. And, the second time, the New York displayed the wrong signal.' "Captain Chadwick insisted that he had given the correct signal. However, all of us aboard the Porter would certainly dispute that statement. Lieutenant Fremont replied to a few more questions, and then we swung away from the flagship and glided off into the night." Shortly after daybreak, a meeting was held aboard the New York, and the near tragic incident was discussed. Admiral Sampson had been awake during the confrontation, and disputed Captain Chadwick's claim that Lieutenant Fremont did not show a night signal. Sampson stated that he sighted the Porter's lights the first time they were flashed, but there was no answer from the flagship. Scovel also reported in his story Fremonf s comments on the difficulties of night identification: "The New York is the easiest American warship to recognize. But the night was very dark, and our approach was such that her masts and stacks were in a confusing line. Because of this we were unable to clearly identify the cruiser." A few weeks later, Sylvester Scovel added a humorous footnote to the episode: "An officer from the New York came aboard the Porter and jokingly asked an enlisted member of the torpedo boaf s crew, 'What would have happened if Captain Chadwick had not answered Lieutenant Fremont's hail?' "The young sailor looked the officer straight in the eye and, with a determined look on his face, answered, It would have been full speed ahead sir—and ram!'" On April 30, the New York, the battleships Indiana and Iowa, and the monitor Puritan were ordered to Key West to fill their coal bunkers and take on provisions. Commodore J. C. Watson took over command of the blockade forces. Commodore Schley remained at Hampton Roads with the battleships Massachusetts and Texas, the cruiser Brooklyn, and two colliers. Upon the sighting of Cervera's flotilla, Schle/s Flying Squadron would be ready to dash in any direction. Meanwhile, secretary of the navy, John Long, was very concerned for the safety of the Oregon and Marietta, which were still taking on coal and supplies in Rio Harbor. He worried that the ships would be at the mercy of Cervera's squadron in the event that the Spanish admiral's destination was South America. As additional protection

The Bombardment of San Juan • 53

for the battleship, Long purchased an auxiliary cruiser from the Brazilian government—named it the Buffalo—and assigned the vessel to accompany the Oregon and Marietta north to Key West. Captain Clark did not agree with the Navy Department's assessment of the situation. He was certain that the enemy flotilla was headed for the Caribbean, and the Oregon's presence in the West Indies was essential. Clark wrote: "If the Spaniards were already on their way to Rio, they would arrive before we could get away. But, it did not seem likely to me that the enemy would make this attempt to cut us off—especially if there was the possibility of missing us altogether." However, just in case Cervera's ships were approaching Rio— and intended to engage the Oregon—Captain Clark planned to make it a running fight. He was confident that by steaming at full speed his battleship would be able to string out its attackers and engage them separately. On May 4, the Oregon, and her two escorts, steamed out from Rio de Janeiro. The Boston Herald reporter continued his story: "We would have sailed a day earlier, but waited for the Buffalo to join us. As we headed north, the former Brazilian cruiser broke down so frequently that Captain Clark decided to steam on alone. The Marietta was ordered to stand by the Buffalo, but we put out to sea for a few days in case any enemy sympathizers, sighting two American warships traveling together, might get the idea that the Oregon had left its escorts behind." As soon as he left Rio Harbor, Captain Clark called his crew aft and explained the situation. He read the men dispatches that he had received concerning the strength of the Spanish squadron and its unknown whereabouts. The battleship's captain remarked: "Should we meet, we will at least lower Spain's fighting efficiency upon the seas. Her fleet will not be worth much after the encounter." The Oregon's crew gave their captain a round of cheers. They shouted that they were ready for the Spaniards and confident of victory. Clark posted a 24-hour watch, and the men were authorized to sound the alarm upon sighting any ship. He also ordered the Marietta and Buffalo to head for Bahia, Brazil, and await further instructions. At daybreak on May 4, the New York, Iowa, Indiana, Porter, and the cruiser Detroit steamed out from Key West. Sylvester Scovel reported: "We sailed under sealed orders. A long cruise was evi-

54 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

dently anticipated, for not only were the bunkers of each ship completely filled, and bags of coal stored on the decks, but two colliers—carrying a total of 16,000 tons of coal—accompanied our squadron. "Rumors of our destination made the rounds of the fleet as signalmen wigwagged the latest gossip—along with orders—from ship to ship. Many of the men thought that we would be rendezvousing with Commodore Schley's flotilla somewhere on the high seas. Others claimed that Sampson and Schley would join forces off the southern coast of Puerto Rico, and then proceed together to attack San Juan." Immediately upon leaving port, the New York's decks were cleared for action. Orders were issued to jettison everything that was not absolutely necessary for battle. With the exception of lifeboats, all woodwork was jettisoned to prevent the danger from flying splinters in the event of an enemy hit. Wooden partitions, doors, wainscoting, and elaborate paneling were pried off the bulkheads and thrown over the side. Magnificent furniture in the officers' quarters was also tossed to a watery grave. For miles astern, the New York left a wake of polished oak and mahogany. The crowbars of the overzealous sailors did more damage to the cruiser than the Spaniards were ever able to accomplish. During the late afternoon, Sampson's squadron was joined by the cruiser Montgomery, the monitors Amphitrite and Terror, and the tug Wompatuck. Sampson's orders were to head immediately for Puerto Rico, unless he received news that the Spanish flotilla was sighted off the North American coast—in which case, he would rush to support Commodore Schley's Flying Squadron. If, however, Cervera's squadron was sighted at any point in the West Indies, Schley would dash south from Hampton Roads to assist Sampson. Censorship of the press had been imposed at Key West by the Navy Department, but that did not halt the rumors that flooded the pages of the nation's newspapers. Reports that Admiral Sampson's fleet included monitors led the correspondents to believe that he would place the cumbersome craft off San Juan, Puerto Rico, to guard the harbor entrance, while he steamed farther east with his battleships and cruisers to meet the enemy. As the American naval force headed cautiously toward Puerto Rico, Sampson anxiously waited for word that the Spanish flotilla

The Bombardment of San Juan • 55

had been sighted. However, that was only one of the vexations confronting the admiral. The monitors began to give him all kinds of trouble. Besides their small coal bunkers, they had outdated engines and boilers, and suffered continual breakdowns. In Sampson's account of the voyage, "The Atlantic Fleet in the Spanish War," published in Century Magazine, volume 57, the admiral wrote: "In one respect, we were at a disadvantage. The Amphitrite and Terror were so slow that, in order for our ships to make even eight knots an hour, both monitors had to be towed by the Iowa and Indiana. In any kind of rough sea, it would have been impossible for the monitors to fire their guns. And, if the enemy was encountered on the open ocean, it would have been tragic. Also, the machinery of the Indiana was unreliable—which rendered the squadron, as a whole, most inefficient in mobility." Another one of Sampson's concerns was the speed of the Spanish vessels. Although the four largest enemy ships were known to have made more than 20 knots on a trial run, the Navy Department theorized that Cervera would cross the rough Atlantic at an economical speed of 12 knots. Using this figure as a guideline, Sampson calculated that the Spanish flotilla would arrive at San Juan about May 10. However, because of the poor condition of his ships, Cervera was barely able to average eight knots. He complained: "As soon as we reached open sea, I was obliged to tow the Pluton and Furor. This hindered our cruisers, delayed the voyage, and curtailed our freedom of tactical and strategic maneuvering." Meanwhile, the Oregon continued its race north. At 0500 hours on May 7, the general quarters alarm sent the crew to their battle stations. A strange vessel had been sighted in a rain squall. However, it turned out to be only a vintage sailing ship. But, as long as the men were already at their guns, target practice was held to relieve the anxiety and frustration of the early morning wake-up call. The following day, the Oregon reached Bahia, Brazil. Captain Clark requested permission to anchor in the harbor. He used the excuse of having engine trouble, and notified the port authority that the battleship might remain at Bahia for several days. In reality, the purpose of the stopover was to apply a fresh coat of war paint, and replenish the ship's coal and water supply. Clark's comment of "several days" was intended to deceive any Spanish agents lurking in the vicinity.

56 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

While his crew was busy wire-brushing and painting the Oregon, Captain Clark sent a cable to the Navy Department: "Much delayed by Marietta and Buffalo. Left them near Cape Frio with orders to come here [Bahia], or beach if necessary to avoid capture. The Oregon can steam at fourteen knots for many hours—and, in a running fight, could beat off and even cripple the Spanish fleet. With the present amount of coal on board we will be in good fighting trim and can reach the West Indies. Whereabouts of Cervera's squadron requested." Secretary Long replied: "Proceed at once to West Indies. No authentic news of Spanish flotilla. Avoid if possible." On the evening of May 9, the Oregon sneaked out of Bahia Harbor and headed at top speed for Barbados. At daybreak on the 10th, the Marietta and Buffalo entered the harbor at Bahia. The Boston Herald reporter continued his thrilling account of the voyage: "On our way up the coast, the Marietta sighted the British ship Lord Cairnes which was 60 days out of London. The English captain, upon learning that we were at war with Spain, led his crew in three rousing cheers for the United States. "After anchoring at Bahia, Commander Symonds was informed that the Oregon had left port several hours earlier, and that no news had been received concerning the Spanish squadron. The next day, after taking on coal and water, the Buffalo was sent on ahead because it was a much faster ship than the Marietta. "We had no sooner reached the Gulf of Mexico, when our ship was challenged by an American vessel. After war was declared, the signal code had been changed without our knowledge. Therefore, the stranger's signal and our reply could not be read. Both ships cleared for action. Fortunately, however, we quickly recognized each other and no shots were fired. The other ship was the gunboat Yosemite. We proceeded north together, keeping a sharp lookout for the enemy flotilla." In the meantime, Admiral Sampson's battleship force neared San Juan, Puerto Rico. Associated Press correspondent W.A.M. Goode recorded the events of the voyage in his daily journal, which was published in the Boston Herald: "May 11—Everyone today is quiet. There is a feeling that soon the suspense will be ended and the victory won. A final check is made of the batteries and, if possible, greater vigilance than ever is exercised. Here and there a sailor can be seen writing a letter home. It may be his last words, so he takes

The Bombardment of San Juan • 57

special pains. His writing table consists of a couple of ditty boxes piled one upon another. "Orders are issued that all hands will be called at 0300. The crew turns in early to get a good rest. Some of the men sleep in their hammocks, while those with mattresses stretch out on the deck to take advantage of the cool sea breezes. Sailors on watch man their guns and keep a sharp lookout for possible Spanish warships." At 0300 hours, right on schedule, Sampson's squadron arrived off San Juan. In the admiral's judgment, Cervera's flotilla was anchored in the harbor. However, Sampson had made a critical mistake. While his ships steamed quietly off Puerto Rico, Admiral Cervera's flotilla was approaching the west coast of Martinique. It was necessary for the Spanish admiral to leave the torpedo boatdestroyer Terror at Fort de France to have the vessel's boilers repaired. Before leaving St. Vincent, Cervera had been notified by Segismundo Bermejo that a collier would be waiting for him at Curacao. Captain Victor M. Concas y Palau in his book, The Squadron of Admiral Cervera, stated: "Upon reaching Curacao, our squadron was detained at the harbor entrance. We looked for the collier, but it was not there—nor was there any news for us. "After lengthy and unpleasant negotiations, the island's governor finally permitted two of our ships to enter the harbor—but these could remain for only 48 hours. The Infanta Maria Teresa and the Vizcaya steamed into the port to fill their bunkers. It was with great difficulty that we acquired the coal available—which barely amounted to 400 tons." With his squadron dangerously low on fuel, Cervera called a conference of his ship captains. A decision was made to try and reach Santiago, Cuba. Santiago was an ideal hiding place if the Spanish flotilla could sneak into the bay unobserved. From the open sea, the harbor entrance was difficult to spot. High cliffs and thick jungle masked a narrow channel that was approximately 300 yards wide. To the right of the passage—and situated on a steep, rocky bluff—an ancient Morro Castle overlooked the Caribbean. The fortress had been built in the year 1640. Its brown and yellow walls were freckled with green moss and ivy which covered the crumbling, honeycombed battlements. A column of wellworn stone steps emerged from the water's edge and snaked up

58 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

the cliff to the grim-looking parapets. On the land side of the Morro, a moat and drawbridge gave the structure the appearance of a medieval castle. Across the channel—and to the left of the entrance—stood the threatening citadel of La Socapa. A short distance up the passage, the gun batteries of forts Estrella and Punta Gorda were aimed seaward. The cliffs on both sides of the channel were covered with heavy vegetation. Laurels, palms, and banana trees lined the hilly slopes. Nestled comfortably among the foliage, colorful blue and yellow villas created the impression of a tropical paradise. Beyond were the Punta Gorda gun emplacements. The narrow inlet opened out into a broad, sheltered cove with the city of Santiago stretched along a hillside at the north end of the bay. Meanwhile, aboard the New York, expectations ran high for a possible showdown with the enemy flotilla. W.A.M. Goode narrated: "Soon after we arrived off San Juan, Admiral Sampson received word that the Spanish squadron was not in the harbor. The news fell like a wet blanket over the crew. Everyone had hoped for a successful battle at sea which would overshadow Dewey's victory at Manila Bay." On the afternoon of May 11, Sampson and his staff transferred to the Iowa. Frustrated at not having found the enemy ships, Sampson issued orders for a daybreak bombardment of San Juan: "The squadron will pass near Salinas Point, then steer east just outside the reefs off Cabras Island. On the approach, a sharp lookout is to be kept on the coast for any sorties by Spanish torpedo boats." Throughout the early morning hours, the American battleship force steamed slowly back and forth across the harbor entrance— like cats stalking a mouse hole. A shrouded stern light was the only glow visible in the darkness as the men-of-war followed each other in column. The smoking lamp was out, and ship bells were silenced. Goode continued his diary: "May 12—At the first flush of dawn, San Juan emerged from the shadows of night—a yellow-walled, checkerboard of buildings that blanketed a low ridge. East of the city, the ridge fell away to a sandy beach. "Along the shoreline to the west, powerful waves pounded angrily against a precipitous cliff wall which rose about 50 feet above the sea. Atop the cliff, an age-old Morro Castle looked down upon us—dark and frowning.

Bombardment at San Juan, Puerto Rico, May 12,1898.

60 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

"The water was not as calm as we would have wished. The battleship rolled considerably—at times more than ten degrees. The Iowa was a bedlam of activity. Galley fires were shut down, hatches were covered, and fire hoses spread across the deck. After the ship had been readied for action there was a nervous interval—the men standing patiently next to their guns—waiting for the command to commence firing." Navy Department intelligence had reported that the Spaniards scuttled a large steamer just inside the harbor to block the channel. Mines had also been planted between the wreck and the shore. Sharp coral reefs fringed the coast and survey charts were not to be trusted. Sampson decided to send the Detroit, a shallow draft vessel, close inshore to take depth soundings. The Wompatuck would follow, towing a small boat flying a red flag. This craft, or stake-boat, was to be anchored at the ten-fathom mark as a guide and turning point of the squadron—marking a range of 2400 yards. Sampson planned to steer his ships in column on a course south by east across the mouth of the harbor: "This maneuver would bring the ship batteries, on the starboard bow, in range of the Morro. The course was to be continued until a point was reached where guns would bear on the quarter. Each ship would then turn in succession, with a starboard helm, and return to the starting location." The morning mist began to clear as the American squadron neared Cabras Island. The Detroit and Wompatuck dashed ahead on their assigned mission. The Iowa steamed a thousand yards astern—followed by the Indiana, New York, Amphitrite, and Terror. The Montgomery guarded the rear of the column to defend against possible enemy torpedo boat attacks. The Porter was ordered to cross the harbor and stand close to the Morro. Although screened from attack by the forf s western battery, if guns on the north side of the bastion opened fire, she was to engage them. A sharp, easterly breeze had lasted through the night, whipping a high surf violently against the coast. Goode wrote in the Boston Herald: "The wind-lashed ocean was hardly favorable for the aiming of large guns. However, the waves did not seem to bother the monitors. They steamed along without rolling, and the water rushing over their decks was not sufficient to interfere with the operation of their 13-inch guns.

The Bombardment of San Juan • 61

'"We had hardly arrived abreast of the stake-boat, when the welcome report of a 6-pounder, followed by a salvo from our forward 8-inch battery, announced that the battle had begun. 'Commence firing' was sounded by the bugler and, a moment later, the Iowa was enveloped in smoke as the guns from the forward battery belched forth their messages of death. "Imagine, if you can, this battleship moving ahead at four knots through the bluest of water—ensigns flying from her masthead— signal halyards abaft the forward stack—all decks stripped—rails, ladders, stanchions, everything which would obstruct the view, or make splinters, cleared away—all her guns and turrets on the starboard side trained forward of the beam, but covered with a continual cloud of black smoke. "As the Iowa glided along—seemingly unconscious of her power—she did, indeed, look as if nothing could stop her. We kept on our course for five minutes—still no reply to our fire. "We had not yet steamed 1500 yards when the order was given to cease firing. The smoke from our batteries had no sooner cleared, than puffs of smoke were seen exploding from the Morro's gunports. An enemy shell splashed within a few feet of our starboard bow—spraying the deck with water. We reopened fire for several more minutes until it was time to turn away." Commander J. H. Dayton, captain of the Detroit, had steamed his cruiser to within 1400 yards of the Morro, then turned east and moved slowly along the coast. As soon as the cannons of the fortress opened fire, the Detroit immediately began a rapid-fire assault on Spanish gun emplacements. The cruiser received a great deal of the enemy's attention, but Commander Dayton held his position as shells from the Morro whistled overhead. From his location on the bridge of the Iowa, Goode narrated an exciting story of the bombardment: "When the Detroit entered our line of fire, we swung around away from the Morro and were greeted to a grand view of the succeeding ships as they followed in our wake. The Indiana, all of her turrets trained abeam, was noticed to list considerably to starboard. The monitors, seemingly impossible to hit, appeared only too glad for a chance to linger when they reached the point closest to the fortress. "The effectiveness of our squadron's fire was difficult to observe. The first salvos were low, but the next rounds were on target. A large cloud of dust erupted from the Morro and, moments later, the

62 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

harbor's lighthouse was struck. It seemed to totter, and then collapsed—a mass of ruins. "Our ships described an elliptical course three times before the attack was called off. As we withdrew, however, guns which were still operational on the Morro—and a coastal battery to the left of the fortress—opened up a brisk fire. The enemy artillery seemed to be paying more attention to the battleships than to the smaller vessels. "Momentarily, the Iowa was struck by a 6-inch shell which wounded three men and caused considerable damage. Shrapnel ripped one of the whaleboats, tore holes in a smokestack and several ventilators, knocked a 6-pounder gun mount out of commission, and set fire to the deck. Pieces of the projectile left their mark in more than forty places on the superstructure. "After the fires were extinguished, there was a rush for fragments of the shell. The scramble for 'souvenirs' beat any bargain sale imaginable, and nearly everyone succeeded in getting a trophy. From the number of pieces picked up by the crew, it's a wonder that more men were not wounded—or even killed. To be sure, some of the treasured slivers of steel are bolts or other fragments of metal from the Iowa. But, every man is happy in the belief that he has a bit of the shell. No wonder there are so many bogus mummies floating around the world." About the same time that the Iowa was blasted, another Spanish shell struck the New York—killing Seaman Frank Widemark and wounding four others. However, the overall gunfire from the Spanish batteries was poor. Most of their projectiles overshot the American warships and dropped farther out in the bay. The bombardment lasted three hours, and throughout the battle, Admiral Sampson was particularly worried about the Detroit: "It was not intended that the unarmored cruiser should be taken under fire. But through an error, probably my own, this was not plainly stated in Commander Dayton's instructions. After the Detroit proceeded across the harbor entrance to the turn point, she stopped and held her position for an hour and a half. An attempt was made to recall the ship, but because of the heavy smoke, the signal was not seen. For the next ninety minutes, the vessel was under heavy enemy fire. I expected to find the cruiser ripped to pieces, or at least disabled. However, the precision and deliberation, with which she maintained her attack convinced me that the ship was doing well. When the signal was given to report casualties, I was surprised and

The Bombardment of San Juan • 63

delighted to have Commander Dayton announce TSIone' and also no injury to his ship." During the American squadron's second and third circles of the harbor, the Spaniards had been ordered to leave their guns and hide in protected shelters. A small artillery battery was instructed to remain at its station to keep Sampson's flotilla busy. As soon as the squadron ceased firing and began to withdraw, the Spanish defenders returned to their guns and laid down a vicious barrage at the retreating ships. W.A.M. Goode reported on the problems that existed while conducting a successful sea bombardment: "Today's action showed more clearly than ever the difficulty of reducing land fortifications by naval gunfire. Although our bombardment lasted about three hours, the Iowa's actual shooting time was less than thirty minutes—the balance of the time was used up circling the harbor. "There is a huge difference between silencing a coast artillery battery by gunfire and destroying it. The first can be readily effected by superior firepower. The second, however, is more difficult to accomplish. It requires a direct hit on the guns to knock them out. "Built, as it was, on a bluff, the Morro seemed to be quite formidable—its various towers and tiers rising one above the other. In fact, the size of the structure appeared so large that I thought there was no way our gunners could miss hitting the stone fortress—but they did. "After the bombardment, many sections of the city were on fire. Flames could be seen rising from buildings and villas. Most of the overshots were attributed to the rolling and pitching of the ships." A few hours after the American battleship force withdrew from San Juan, the Harvard, commanded by Captain C. S. Cotton, docked at Martinique for emergency engine repairs. While in port, Cotton learned that Cervera's flotilla had been anchored at the island for a short time and then suddenly departed. Captain Cotton hurried to the telegraph office and sent a message to Washington notifying the Navy Department that the Spanish warships had arrived in the West Indies. For some unknown reason, however, the telegrapher waited nearly 24 hours before sending the cable. When the information finally reached the Navy Department, Secretary Long ordered the squadrons of Sampson and Schley to dash to Key West, recoal, and await further instructions.

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San Juan had proved to be more stoutly defended than intelligence reports had revealed. Admiral Sampson soon realized that the complete reduction of the Morro defenses would require additional ships and greater amounts of ammunition than he had available—and might possibly result in further damage and casualties to his bombardment force. Sampson stated: "Because of the fact that Cervera's flotilla had not arrived at San Juan, the destruction of coal storage areas was all we could hope for. The defeat of the Spanish naval vessels was our first priority." Before sailing from Martinique, Pascual Cervera received a message alerting him of Sampson's bombardment. Otherwise, the Spanish flotilla might possibly have steamed for Puerto Rico—exactly where Sampson had expected to find it. The residents of San Juan could not understand why the Americans withdrew from the action—unless the guns of the Morro had inflicted heavy damage upon the attacking ships. The Spanish believed that they had scored a major defeat upon the U.S. Navy. The news gave Admiral Cervera the confidence to make a dash for the east coast of Cuba.

In his History of the Naval War Board of 1898, Alfred Thayer Mahan

was extremely critical of Navy Secretary John Long for dividing the Atlantic fleet. He also censored Admiral Sampson for bombarding San Juan—especially after learning that the enemy flotilla was not in the harbor: "Instead of wasting fuel and ammunition, Sampson should have maintained a patrol east of Puerto Rico, where there was a good chance that the Spanish ships would have been intercepted." Commodore George Dewey's victory at Manila Bay was still fresh in the memory of the American public, and similar accomplishments were expected in the Atlantic. A successful Spanish defense against some of the best ships of the U.S. Navy was unthinkable. With Cervera's flotilla now loose in the Caribbean, the nation's newspapers once again began pounding the panic button. A headline in the Boston Herald exclaimed that the Spanish squadron had vanished like a fleet of "Flying Dutchmen."

5 The Attack at Cardenas While Admiral Sampson's squadron was heading for San Juan, two fierce battles were about to be fought on the north and south coasts of Cuba. The naval attacks at Cardenas and Cienfuegos would result in the first loss of American lives during the war. The gunboats Machias and Wilmington—along with the converted revenue cutter Hudson—had been assigned to blockade the harbor at Cardenas on the island's north shore. The city of Cardenas was protected by a shallow water bay, and was situated about seven miles in from the harbor entrance. Three treacherous channels located between small island reefs, or keys, formed the northern and eastern boundaries of the inlet. Among the ships attached to the blockade force were several torpedo boats. The speedy craft had been fitted with three Whitehead torpedo-launching tubes, and also carried three one-pounder Hotchkiss rapid-fire guns mounted on the forward conning tower and port and starboard beams. Protective armor, a half-inch thick, was riveted to the forward and aft towers to safeguard the helmsman. The torpedo boats were not only used in chasing and intercepting blockade runners, but also served as dispatch messengers. Because of their small size, however, the torpedo craft could only carry 40 tons of coal—barely enough to last a few days on patrol. Unless fuel and provisions were obtainable from the larger ships, the boats were forced to return to Key West. This inconvenience

66 • The Spanish-American War at Sea Battle at Cardenas, Cuba, May 11,1898.

The Attack at Cardenas • 67

caused the vessels to be absent from their blockade stations for several days at a time. On May 8, the torpedo boat Winslow, under command of Lieutenant J. B. Bernadou, arrived off Cardenas Bay to take on coal from the Machias. After recoaling, Commander J. F. Merry, captain of the gunboat, asked Bernadou to reconnoiter the Cardenas Bay area. Three small Spanish gunboats had been observed in the harbor and masked artillery batteries reportedly had recently been emplaced somewhere along the shore. Lieutenant Bernadou described the mission in Harper's Pictorial: "We approached Romero Key where the Spaniards had erected a signal station and began shelling the position. Moments later, three enemy gunboats dashed out from the harbor and fired on us at about 3000 yards. The Spanish ships did not head directly for the Winslow, but remained inshore and steamed parallel to the land. By slowly backing our boat, I was able to draw the largest enemy vessel to within range of the 5-inch guns of the Machias. Commander Merry immediately opened fire. One shell struck the Spaniard, and the Spanish gunboats raced back to the protection of the harbor defenses. It became obvious, that in order to destroy the enemy ships, it would be necessary to go in after them." Commander C. C. Todd, captain of the Wilmington, had received scouting reports that two of the three channels leading into the harbor had been mined. The third channel, between Romero and Blanco keys, was the shallowest entrance, but navigation charts suggested that it was passable at high tide. On the morning of May 11, the Winslow and Hudson surveyed the shallow passage and informed Commander Todd that the channel was clear of mines and could be traversed. Early that afternoon, the American ships entered Cardenas Bay. The Wilmington was in the lead, followed by the Hudson to starboard and the Winslow to port. Commander Merry positioned the Machias 2100 yards northeast of Diana Key. Bernadou remarked: "It was a muggy, lifeless day. The air was quiet and heavy with moisture, causing a thick haze to obscure the city." After passing through the channel, Commander Todd directed the Hudson to scout the western shore of the bay and the Winslow to investigate the east side of the harbor. The Wilmington steamed on a middle course toward Cardenas. Todd reasoned that this

68 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

disposition of his vessels would ensure the interception of the enemy gunboats if they attempted to escape. Lieutenant Bernadou continued: "As we closed to within 2000 yards of the city, immediately to our front was a panorama of wharves lined with small sailing craft. Two square-rigged merchantmen were moored in the foreground. Behind the wharves, the town extended in the shape of a rectangle." The Wilmington headed straight for the square-riggers. The Winslow swung toward the wharves and closed in—hoping to draw the Spaniards from their hiding places. There was no immediate thought of any danger. Commander Todd believed that the only opposition would come from small shipboard guns. About a half-mile from Cardenas, Winslow lookouts sighted a small Spanish gunboat—painted gray with a black stack—tied to one of the piers. Bernadou narrated: "I was directed to move in and investigate the enemy vessel. To the left of the wharf, where the gunboat was moored, a compact group of buildings stretched for some distance along the waterfront. We set our torpedoes for surface runs and short range. All preparations were made for instant action." As the Winslow continued its approach, several members of the crew noticed a number of red buoys bobbing around the torpedo boat. The sailors assumed that the floats were channel markers. In reality, however, the buoys were guides for heavy artillery pieces that had been concealed on a jutting point of land to the left of the dock area. At a speed of ten knots, the Winslow moved cautiously toward the wharves. Suddenly, at 1500 yards, a gun flash and a puff of white smoke shot from the bow of the Spanish gunboat. A shell zipped across the deck of the torpedo boat. The Winslow replied with her one-pounders. A fusillade of fire quickly followed from the shore batteries. The first enemy volley landed among the buoys, but the next salvo ripped through the flimsy hull of the torpedo boat—wrecking the vessel's forward steering gear. Lieutenant Bernadou stated: "A cloud of haze collected on the shore. I detected a number of gun flashes, but could not detect the exact location of the guns." The Winslow continued to be battered by enemy shells. Gunner's Mate Cavanagh, atop the forward conning tower, was busy firing his one-pounder. A Spanish projectile streaked past his head and plowed into the engine room. Chief Machinist Hans Johnson

The Attack at Cardenas • 69

quickly turned off the steam, saving several men from being scalded to death. Quartermaster Daniel McKeon was at the wheel in the aft conning tower. He had been trying unsuccessfully to signal the engine room. Frustrated, McKeon stepped out of the tower for a moment— just as a shell blasted the structure. The force of the explosion knocked the quartermaster to the deck. Except for a slight chest contusion, McKeon was uninjured. Meanwhile, the Hudson, under command of Lieutenant Frank H. Newcomb, was racing to the aid of the Winslow. At the same time, the Wilmington kept up a rapid-fire barrage against the enemy gunboats and shore batteries. When the Hudson came within range of the wharves, orders were given to commence firing. Lieutenant Newcomb narrated his story of the action in Harper's Pictorial: "The smoke from our guns was so thick that the shoreline was often hidden from view. But, a few hundred yards ahead, I caught an occasional glimpse of the gallant little Winslow, banging away with her one-pounders." Lieutenant Bernadou attempted to shift his torpedo boaf s steering aft. However, it was necessary to first disconnect the wheelropes in the forward conning tower. While the crew was working at the task under fire, a Spanish salvo destroyed both sets of cables. Moments later, another shell crashed into the Winslow's stern, jamming the rudder. In his continuing account of the savage battle, Bernadou wrote: "I stationed my executive officer, Ensign Worth Bagley, at the engine room hatch with instructions to try and steam the boat alternately ahead and astern. In this manner, we were able to back out about 400 yards. We also had to keep a sharp lookout to avoid running our ship into the line of fire of the Hudson and Wilmington." But before the Winslow could escape the trap, an enemy shell slammed into the torpedo boat's forward boiler room. The forced draft from the resulting explosion sent searing steam shooting up the stacks with a shrill, earsplitting whistle—like a valve going off. Chief Machinist Tom Cooney and Watertender William O'Hearn scrambled down into the fireroom and, working in suffocating heat, managed to extinguish the flaming chunks of coal that covered the floor. The Winslow quickly became an easy target for Spanish gunners. Steel shrapnel from an exploding shell ripped into Bernadou's right

70 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

thigh. He shouted for a towel and wrapped it around the wound— using a one-pound projectile as a tourniquet. The Hudson sneaked carefully inshore, and, as the cutter approached the wharves, Lieutenant Newcomb called for full speed. The Hudson's six-pounder battery opened up with a rapid-fire barrage—blasting the enemy gunboats and artillery positions. Newcomb was about to swing his ship around for another run at the Spaniards when he sighted the Winslow dead in the water and drifting toward shore. He also noticed Lieutenant Bernadou standing on the bow of the torpedo boat and frantically wigwagging. Unable to read the message because of thick clouds of smoke, Newcomb maneuvered his vessel to within hailing distance of the Winslow. Bernadou shouted above the noise of battle that his boat was completely disabled and needed to be towed out of danger. Lieutenant Frank Newcomb described the rescue attempt: "The Hudson was less than 2000 yards from shore. Spanish shells were splashing the water on all sides of us and whistling overhead with nerve-shattering frequency. Our aft gun crew prepared to handle the ropes as we moved in close enough to toss a line. As we moved across the Winslow's bow, Lieutenant Hutchinson Scott threw a tow rope. It fell short. We attempted to back down for another try, but the water was so shallow that the cutter was nearly unmanageable." While the Hudson was struggling to maneuver into position for another throw of the rope, both vessels drifted toward the enemy shore. Aboard the Winslow, the men assigned to handle the towline were crouched in a group near the engine room hatch. They were joined by Ensign Bagley just as a Spanish salvo crashed into the torpedo boat aft-amidships. Lieutenant Bernadou remembered: "I had stepped aft to speak to Bagley—then turned and started forward. A moment later, I heard a sharp explosion. I looked back and saw Bagley and four other men sink to the deck." Lieutenant Scott was about to try a second time to reach the Winslow with a towline, when a death-dealing shell whizzed past the cutter and plowed across the deck of the torpedo boat, exploding as it struck a riveted seam in the armor plating. Lieutenant Newcomb recalled the horrifying incident: 'The Hudson was so close to the Winslow at the time of the explosion, that I heard one fellow cry out, 'Save me! Save me!' as he fell into the sea—his face shredded by shrapnel. Somebody grabbed the

The Attack at Cardenas • 71

man's legs and hauled him back aboard. Ensign Bagley threw his hands in the air, tottered forward, and grabbed the signal mast. He clasped his hands around the pole and sank slowly down in a heap." Scott quickly tossed the towline, and this time the rope was caught. Because of the torpedo boat's jammed rudder, it was impossible to steer the Winslow behind the cutter. As a last resort, both vessels were lashed together. And, with enemy shells striking both ships, the Hudson and Winslow slowly moved away from the wharf area. Although their craft was heavily damaged, the Winslou/s gun crew kept up a steady barrage against the Spanish artillery emplacements. The Hudson's two six-pounders fired 120 rounds in less than a half-hour. Meanwhile, as the battle raged near the wharves, the Wilmington was busy methodically destroying Cardenas. Storehouses along the shore turned into flaming pyres. The Spanish gunboats, Antonio Lopez and Ligera, were burned to the waterline, and enemy land batteries were effectively silenced. As soon as the Winslow was out of danger, Lieutenant Bernadou signaled the Wilmington, "Many killed and wounded—send boat!" The ship's surgeon, Frank Cook, jumped into a launch and headed for the wrecked torpedo boat. The injured were gently placed aboard the whaleboat for the return trip to the Wilmington. Surgeon Cook stated in Harper's Pictorial: "Fireman George Meek was among the wounded. He was fearfully mutilated—but brave to the end. As we sped across the bay to the gunboat, Meek raised up and grabbed my jacket. Tell them that I died like a man!' were his last words before he expired." Another wounded sailor, Josiah TUnnel, also died before reaching the Wilmington. Of the Winslow's crew of 21, five were killed, including Ensign Bagley, and five were wounded. While the battle was raging inside Cardenas Harbor, the Machias was bombarding Spanish positions on the keys. Commander Merry described the action in Harper's Pictorial: "I opened fire on the Diana Key signal station and sent a launch, with Ensign Arthur Willard in charge, to take possession of the island. I also gave instructions to cut any wires found leading to mines in the bay. "Willard accomplished the task in an excellent manner. The station blockhouse was set afire and the American flag was hoisted

72 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

near the burning structure. The Spanish flag and signal apparatus were brought aboard the Machias. No wires connecting the mines were found, although a thorough search was conducted." The Hudson returned to Key West with the dead and wounded. A reporter for the Boston Herald described the somber occasion: "The Winslow's dead are now lying at Baker's undertaking establishment. They were taken there in a rough-board wagon covered by the Stars and Stripes. The rude conveyance was followed silently by a large crowd. All day long, the doors of the parlor have been surrounded by a continual gathering of naval officers and men." Lieutenant Newcomb was interviewed by the Herald and gave his account of the engagement: "I know we destroyed a large part of the town near the wharves and burned their gunboats. But we were in a vortex of shot, shell and smoke, and could not accurately tell how much damage we did to the city. "I noticed one of their ships on fire soon after the action began. Then, a large building near the wharf—a barracks I believe— caught fire. Moments later, many other structures were burning. "The Spaniards had concealed their artillery pieces behind bushes and buildings. They definitely set a trap for us. As soon as we came within range of their batteries, they would move them and commence shooting from another position." Another interesting story, also appearing in the Boston Herald, detailed the denial of a statement made by Lieutenant Hutchinson Scott that the Winslow was struck by a shell from the Wilmington. Charles McGill, a gunner aboard the Wilmington, defended the action of his vessel's gun crew: "It would have been impossible for one of our shells to hit the Winslow because of the angle at which the guns of the Wilmington were pointed. "The truth of the matter is that the enemy shore batteries had already been trained on a row of buoys about a half-mile from the wharves. Lieutenant Bernadou was ordered to move close inshore and investigate the harbor area. He was distinctly told not to go inside the line of buoys. He disobeyed orders, however, and crossed the line. When the Spaniards opened fire, the first shell to strike the Winslow caromed off the water before striking the torpedo boat." Gunner's Mate G. P. Brady of the Winslow recalled the battle in a lighter vein in the Herald: "Jack the Ripper, the boaf s pet parrot, fought the war alongside us. He strutted and flew around the aft

The Attack at Cardenas • 73

deck and conning tower—his feathers ruffled and eyes red with rage. 'Come on! Come on now! Look out! Look out there!' he screamed again and again as shots whizzed by him. In the short intervals, whenever the firing slackened, Jack would begin cussing with the combined vocabulary of the entire crew. "We also had another parrot on board. He didn't have a name and didn't talk much. He left Jack alone, but was always right in the middle of the action. We had a dozen frightened chickens on deck, and they deserve a medal for remaining quietly under a stern torpedo tube."

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6 The Cable Cutting at Cienfuegos At the same time that Cardenas was under attack, a similar drama was taking place at Cienfuegos on the south coast of Cuba. Although the U.S. Navy's blockade was very effective in preventing food, supplies, and munitions from reaching the island, ocean telegraph cables were still sending messages to Madrid. The transmitting stations were located at Batabano, Cienfuegos, Santiago, and Guantanamo. From Batabano, the telegraph line ran overland to Havana, while the underwater cables from Santiago and Guantanamo traveled via Haiti and Jamaica to Spain. Secretary Long's number one priority was the complete isolation of Cuba, but this could only be accomplished by cutting off communication with Madrid. In early May, the naval squadron blockading the harbor at Cienfuegos consisted of the cruiser Marblehead, the gunboat Nashville, the revenue cutter Windom, the converted yacht Eagle, and the collier Saturn. Commander Bowman McCalla, captain of the Marblehead, was in charge of the blockade force. A war correspondent for the Boston Herald, assigned to the cruiser, described the well-defended city: "The town of Cienfuegos is a sugar port situated six miles from the sea on the west bank of a wide bay, and protected by a three mile long channel. Sharp coral reefs and rocks, rising four feet above water, form the shoreline. Waves breaking against this barrier make the approach by boat perilous—even in moderate seas.

76 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

"The land near the mouth of the harbor entrance is flat for some distance back from the coast, and then rises to a steep bluff covered with trees and tropical vegetation. A lighthouse, built of white stone, had been erected on Colorados Point at the east entrance to the channel. A signal station and barracks were located near the lighthouse—and a cable house stood a couple of hundred yards to the east. A strip of ground, between the lighthouse and cable station, was overgrown with tall grass and thorny shrubs. Behind this natural barrier, the Spaniards had dug trenches and rifle pits." On the afternoon of May 10, Lieutenant Cameron McR. Winslow and Commander Washburn Maynard of the Nashville were summoned to the Marblehead by Bowman McCalla and informed that orders had been received to cut the telegraph cables at Cienfuegos which ran underwater to Batabano and Santiago. The mission was to take place the following morning. Lieutenant Winslow was placed in charge of the expedition, and Lieutenant Edwin A. Anderson from the Marblehead was designated second in command. Aboard the cruiser, Commander McCalla and Lieutenant Winslow examined the shore through their binoculars. They noticed Spanish soldiers digging rifle pits and strengthening the defenses at Colorados Point. A few cavalrymen were seen near the cable house, but no artillery pieces were observed. Winslow remarked in Harper's Pictorial: "We scrutinized the harbor entrance and channel. The enemy had excellent cover. A short distance back from the cable house was a rocky bluff. The slope of this part of the hill was thick with trees and bushes. They rendered the Spaniards invisible—as well as affording them good protection." Commander McCalla quickly formulated an attack strategy. The Nashville and Marblehead would each supply one steam-cutter and two sailing-launches for the mission. Ensign Thomas P. Magruder was placed in charge of the cutters. Winslow and Anderson would command the launches and direct the cutting of the cables. Magruder's orders were to keep his boats clear of the reefs and concentrate his gunfire on the rifle pits and hills—at the same time, protecting the launches as much as possible. Lieutenant Anderson stated in Harper's Pictorial: "Besides a regular crew of five, each cutter carried six marine sharpshooters armed with rifles. The Marblehead's boat also had a three-man gun crew to handle a one-pounder Hotchkiss gun which had been mounted on

The Cable Cutting at Cienfuegos

• 77

the forecastle. The Nashville's cutter was armed with Colt machine guns fore and aft. Their assignment was to protect the working parties in the launches who would be cutting the cables. "The crew of each sailing-launch was composed of 12 oarsmen, a coxswain, a chief carpenter's mate and a blacksmith. They were armed with rifles and revolvers, and carried cutting tools, heavy ropes and grapnels of various sizes." On the evening of the 10th, Commander McCalla directed the Eagle to head west toward where the telegraph cable to Batabano had been laid in shallow water near the lightship off Diego Perez Key Lieutenant Southerland, captain of the Eagle, was instructed to cut the cable, burn the lightship, and then destroy the lighthouse off Piedras Key. He related his account of the mission in Harper's Pictorial: "The Eagle reached the lightship at 0700, and commenced hunting for the cable connecting Batabano with Cienfuegos. Six grapnel lines were carefully run at varying depths. But, because of high winds and a rough sea, results were unsatisfactory A boat was sent to the lightship and the keeper's services secured to aid in the search. However, the keeper informed us that his charts were extremely unreliable, and that no one had overhauled the cable in this vicinity for more than three years. "After nine hours of fruitless labor, we abandoned the search. It was probable that the telegraph line was buried deep in the sand of the reefs. In accordance with Commander McCalla's order, the lightship was set on fire and was burning fiercely when we left. I took the keeper aboard the Eagle because the sea was too rough for him to get ashore unaided. He stated that he was a Cuban and had not been paid by the Spanish Government for seven months. "The Eagle reached Piedras Key at sunset. I sent an armed crew ashore to destroy the lighthouse. Two men were in charge of the light and had a small boy with them. They were in starving condition and were brought to the ship for removal from the island. They had been eight months without pay, three weeks without any communication with the mainland, and five days without food." Meanwhile, aboard the Marblehead, the Boston Herald reporter narrated: "At daybreak on May 11, we were in position about a thousand yards off Colorados Point. With the first rays of light, the lookouts began scanning the shore. Rifle pits were plainly distinguishable at the water's edge—and commanded the point where the cables were supposed to be located. Squads of Spanish infantry swarmed like insects, and groups of cavalry could be seen galloping

78 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

Battle at Cienfuegos, Cuba, May 11,1898.

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• 79

here and there—racing up and down a sandy path which ran from the shore to the hilltop." Lieutenant Winslow received his final instructions: "My orders were to cut the wires connecting the cable house telegraph station with Batabano and Santiago. We were to drag the cables into deep water—slicing off as much as possible at the ends. Under no circumstances were we to land on the beach. "At half-past six, the launches and steam-cutters were manned. The boat crews had been directed to not wear white clothing in order to make them a less visible target for Spanish Mausers." The Nashville steamed slowly east toward Colorados Point—the launches and steam-cutters sheltered on its starboard side. The Marblehead took its position broadside to the channel entrance, where it would be able to fire upon the rifle pits and be on the lookout for enemy gunboats. As soon as the Nashville was ready, the cutters, towing the launches, steamed across the gunboat's bow and headed for the hostile shore. A moderate breeze whipped the water, and rolling ocean swells broke heavily against the rocky coast. Towers of white foam and spray clearly marked the location of dangerous reefs. Commander Maynard described the initial action in Harper's Pictorial: "After bringing the lighthouse to bear northwest, the Nashville moved in toward the point. At 1200 yards from the cable house, we opened fire with our starboard battery. The Marblehead also participated in the bombardment. Clouds of stone and mortar were blasted high in the air Within a few minutes there was nothing left of the telegraph station except piles of scattered stones. Our attack was then shifted to the other targets. We began pouring shells into the signal building and barracks—leaving the structures in flames." Aboard the Marblehead, the Herald war correspondent jotted down his vivid impressions of the bombardment: "Again and again the guns roared from the ships. Great clouds of dust and debris shot skyward from the nearby shore. Then, this storm of iron from the sea swung around and swept the hillside. It shattered rocks and trees—and plowed furrows and craters in the sandy soil. Throngs of panic-stricken soldiers scurried like frightened mice for shelter. For many of them it was too late. Our gunners lowered their sights and, like rays from a searchlight, raked and riddled the rifle pits." Writing in Harper's Pictorial, Lieutenant Cameron Winslow related his story of the dangerous assignment: "With cutters towing

80 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

the launches, I proceeded with the boats under my command, and headed for the ruins of the cable house. As we approached the shore, the bow Colt machine gun, Hotchkiss one-pounder, and the marine sharpshooters opened fire. At about 300 yards from the beach, the sailing-launches were cast off. Ensign Magruder, in command of the cutters, was ordered to keep up a steady fire on the hills and underbrush while the launches were engaged in cutting the cables." Return gunfire from the enemy rifle pits was sporadic and inaccurate. Lieutenant Winslow's boats were only a few yards apart— with every man exposed and in plain sight. One well-directed volley from the Spaniards would have decimated the expedition. The Boston Herald reporter dramatically chronicled the adventure: "With steady nerves and strong arms, the sailors pulled their boats toward the shore. On and on they rowed until they could see the faces of Spanish soldiers peering from behind the rubble of pulverized buildings and over the trenches. "About 50 yards from the destroyed cable house, Lieutenant Winslow stood up in his launch and shouted orders for the boat crews to begin searching for the telegraph wires. The water was transparent in the bright sunlight, and every object on the bottom was clearly visible. "Calmly, as if trolling for fish, the sailors leaned over the edge of their boats—and, unmindful of enemy bullets, began working with their grappling hooks. The water quickly shoaled to 20 feet when, suddenly, a hook from Lieutenant Anderson's launch grabbed the cable to Santiago. Assisted by Winslow's boat, 90 feet of the telegraph line was cut and coiled down on the floor of the Marblehead's boat." After cutting the Santiago cable, the launches moved southwest of the demolished cable house. The boat crews grappled within 60 feet of the beach while hunting for the wire leading to Batabano. A half-hour search finally located the cable, but it had been set deep in the sand and was difficult to lift. The launches were only able to underrun about a hundred feet of the telegraph line. This section was cut out and thrown overboard in deep water. Winslow continued his story: "While struggling with the Batabano cable, we discovered another wire which was smaller than the others. Its appearance indicated that it was not an ocean cable, but probably linked Cienfuegos with Colorados Point. I decided to try and cut this line, believing that the work could be done quickly.

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• 81

Up to this time, we had been coming under sporadic enemy fire, but the cutters and ships out in the bay were able to silence the guns." However, as the launch crews wrestled with the third cable, Spanish reinforcements arrived and occupied the trenches and lighthouse. The wind had also increased in strength, and the small craft began to toss about in the water like bobbing corks. The Spaniards quickly opened a withering fire on the launches with Mauser rifles and machine guns. Lieutenant Anderson described the sudden attack: "My boat from the Marblehead received most of the enemy's attention. Our coxswain was wounded just as we started to row away from the beach. I grabbed the rudder and steered the boat seaward. The crew was ordered to keep down between the seats as much as possible. But three more men were hit by bullets penetrating the sides of the launch. We began to ship water and had to bail constantly to keep afloat." Winslow narrated: "Believing that we had cut the two most important cables—and knowing that we could no longer endure the intense fire from the Spaniards—I ordered the boats to let go the third cable, and shouted for the cutters to prepare to take the launches in tow. "As we headed out toward the reefs, our sharpshooters answered the enemy barrage with well-directed volleys. Shortly after being taken in tow, I was shot in the left hand while reaching for a fresh rifle. I wrapped the wound with a handkerchief and managed to keep firing. "Two of my men were also hit. Patrick Regan, a marine, was struck in the head, and Robert Volz collapsed in the stern of our launch with four bullets in his body." Commander Maynard described the return of the wire-cutting expedition to the Nashville: "About ten o'clock, the enemy suddenly opened heavy fire from the lighthouse and bluffs to the right. The cutters and launches could be seen moving slowly toward their ships. The Nashville steamed between the boats and the shore— while, at the same time, opening with rapid fire on the stone lighthouse. We received many bullet holes, but little damage was done. A few of our men were wounded by rifle fire but none seriously." Aboard the Marblehead, the sound of enemy gunfire had been drowned out by the roar of the breakers. However, bullets were

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splattering the surf with such fury that Commander McCalla noticed the increased activity on the part of the Spaniards. The Marblehead quickly joined the Nashville in attacking the Spanish positions. In his account of the action, the Boston Herald reporter wrote: "At first it was Commander McCalla's intention to allow the lighthouse to remain standing. But, when the Spaniards opened fire on the launches, our lookouts noticed that many shots were coming from the lighthouse. The guns of the Marblehead were immediately trained on the building. 'Cut it down!' McCalla called from the bridge. The small house at the base of the tower was quickly blasted to atoms. Then, like an axeman felling a tree, the lighthouse was chopped to pieces—bit by bit." With their protection gone, the Spaniards broke ranks and ran. Commander McCalla signaled his ships, "Cease firing!" and moments later added, "Well done!" The launches and cutters had been under attack at close range for more than three hours. The boats were riddled with bullet holes, but casualties were amazingly light—only two men killed and ten wounded. Spanish losses were later reported at 300 killed or wounded. Lieutenant Winslow commented on the difficulties encountered during the cable-cutting operation: "Each telegraph cable was made up of seven insulated copper wires enclosed in a lead tube. The tube was wrapped with two layers of heavy iron wire embedded in additional insulation. The outside covering was jute braiding. Each cable was two inches in diameter and weighed six pounds per linear foot. As far as the actual cutting was concerned, it was equivalent to slicing through a bar of iron about as thick as a man's wrist."

7 Admiral Pascual Cervera Arrives at Santiago, Cuba On May 13, the converted cruiser St. Louis and the tug Wompatuck received orders to cut the ocean telegraph cables linking Santiago with Guantanamo and Jamaica. About midnight on the 16th, the Wompatuck, under command of Lieutenant Carl W. Jungen, slipped silently into Santiago Bay to investigate the harbor defenses. An Associated Press reporter, aboard the tug, described the dangerous mission in the Boston Herald: "The channel entrance swings for a mile to the northwest around Punta Gorda Point, then turns again at a sharp angle, so that vessels are compelled to travel through another long and narrow channel before reaching the large basin of water which forms the harbor proper. "For three hours we cruised around inside the harbor. The Wompatuck sneaked to within a hundred feet of the Spanish batteries, and a careful study was made of the wharf area. Either the enemy could not make us out in the darkness, or they were so startled by our audacity that they forgot to fire. We noticed one dock where tons of coal were stored. After scouting the harbor, our ship managed to leave unmolested." On the morning of May 18, the Wompatuck began its grappling operation about a quarter-mile outside the channel entrance. Two cables were soon brought to the surface and cut. A piece about a hundred feet long was chopped from one of the cables, and its severed end was dragged a half-mile out to sea.

Route of Spanish Admiral Pascual Cervera from the Cape Verde Islands to Santiago, Cuba.

Admiral Cervera Arrives at Santiago • 85

The Associated Press correspondent continued his account: "We were in the process of returning to the harbor, when a long, whistling sound was heard. A shell came tearing through the air— zipped across our bow and splashed into the water—missing us by less than fifty feet. "It was the first of many shots from the big guns of the Morro Castle. Lieutenant Jungen signaled Captain Casper F. Goodrich of the St. Louis that the Wompatuck was being fired upon. The cruiser raced to our aid—training her four six-pounders on the castle. More Spanish shells came flying through the air. Their whistling sounds seemed to be screaming, 'Come and get me!' It makes a man feel a bit shaky when he stands unprotected behind a three-pounder on the upper deck, and knows that he is the target of enemy guns." Captain Goodrich recalled the action in his story printed in Harper's Pictorial: "The guns of the Morro were immediately joined by those of another fortress [La Socapa] to the west of the harbor entrance and a shore mortar battery on the point. Of course, with the modest broadside of the St. Louis, aided by the Wompatuck's three-pounder, it was difficult to do much execution on the fortifications. Nevertheless, we managed to silence a gun battery on the Morro—which was placing its shots very close to us—and also one on the bastion to the west of the channel. "However, shells from the shore battery had good aim—both as to direction and distance—splashing within a hundred feet and rendering our position extremely uncomfortable." Throughout the long afternoon, the St. Louis and Wompatuck dueled the Spaniards. Most of the shooting was done at a range of 2100 yards. The excitement of the battle was graphically narrated by the Associated Press reporter: "Soon, one of the enemy gun batteries failed to respond to our fire. Through his binoculars, Lieutenant Jungen could see clouds of mortar dust as a section of the ramparf s wall crumbled into the sea. The Morro ceased firing, and the cry, 'We've shut her up!' was followed by cheers from the grimy, sweat-soaked sailors on the deck of the Wompatuck. I thought to myself that it will be a long time before that heap of ruins will do any more damage to the hated Yankees." About dusk, the St. Louis and Wompatuck withdrew from the action and headed to Guantanamo, where preparations were made to cut the cable to Jamaica early the next morning. Ironically, if Captain Goodrich and Lieutenant Jungen had postponed cutting the Guantanamo cable for one day and remained off the coast of

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Santiago, they would have encountered Admiral Cervera's flotilla as his ocean weary ships steamed slowly into Santiago Harbor— their coal bunkers nearly empty. Captain Victor Concas recounted the last tension-filled day as the Spanish squadron managed to elude the naval forces of Admirals Sampson and Schley: "On the night of May 18, we proceeded without lights—except for a small screened lamp at the stern of each vessel. We passed unobserved within sight of two transAtlantic steamers—one of which was probing the darkness with a searchlight. We paid no attention to these ships. For, although their presence indicated that there were hostile forces at Santiago, it was necessary for us to reach the harbor by daylight. "At dawn on May 19, our squadron was off Santiago. The destroyers made a reconnaissance. No enemy vessels were encountered. We entered the harbor and anchored at eight o'clock." In the meantime, the cable-cutting mission at Guantanamo did not go according to plan, as Captain Goodrich narrated: '1 regret my failure to cut the cable at Guantanamo on the morning of the 19th. The port was guarded by a Spanish gunboat [Sandoval] carrying heavier guns than the St. Louis, and commanded by an officer who did not hesitate to attack us. "I sent the Wompatuck into the harbor to grapple for the wire while we remained outside the entrance. But, no sooner had the tug hooked the cable, than it was attacked by the Spaniard. After a hot engagement of about forty minutes, I was forced to abandon the operation. To have stayed longer might have cost the life of the Wompatuck."

The journalist for the Associated Press vividly described the action: "The tug's crew had just brought the cable to the surface when an enemy gunboat slipped from behind a protective point of land and began firing. Where this ship came from is a mystery. Several of our sailors remarked that she was as large as the Nashville and armed with a dozen six-inch guns and a number of machine guns. "Simultaneously with the sudden appearance of the gunboat, Spaniards in rifle pits along the shore opened fire. Twelve holes in the Wompatucks smokestack testify to Spanish marksmanship. Captain Goodrich soon signaled for us to withdraw. We reluctantly obeyed orders and dropped the cable. "While steaming back to Key West, we were chased by another enemy gunboat which darted out from behind an island. Lieuten-

Admiral Cervera Arrives at Santiago • 87

ant Jungen called for full speed. The Wompatuck managed to keep ahead of the Spaniard for several miles. The enemy ship, realizing that he could not catch up with us, finally turned around and let us proceed unmolested." On May 17, Secretary Long cabled Commodore Remey at Key West that the Navy Department had heard a rumor that the Spanish flotilla was carrying supplies and munitions for the defense of Havana, and that Cervera had orders to reach the capital, or a port connecting with Havana by rail. Remey immediately sent the torpedo boat Dupont to find Admiral Sampson, who was returning to Florida after the bombardment of San Juan. Sampson, aboard the New York, was steaming at full speed for Key West—leaving his slower vessels to follow. The cruiser was met in the Bahama Channel by the Dupont and its commanding officer, Lieutenant S. S. Wood, delivered the Navy Department's message to Sampson, The New York anchored in Key West Harbor on the afternoon of May 18. Commodore Schley and his Flying Squadron were there to meet him. Schley had arrived a few hours earlier. Sampson stated in Century Magazine: "The rest of my fleet steamed into Key West on the 19th, and the Iowa was transferred to Schley's command. The hypothesis that Cervera was bringing munitions of war to Cuba strongly pointed to Cienfuegos as his destination. It was a deepwater port with rail communication with Havana. Schley agreed with me, and accordingly was dispatched in haste to Cienfuegos by way of the Yucatan Passage/7 In addition to the Iowa, the Flying Squadron included the armored cruiser Brooklyn (flagship), the battleships Massachusetts and Texas, two gunboats, three converted yachts, the Dupont, and the collier Merrimac. Admiral Cervera's arrival at Cuba was greeted with much celebration by the citizens of Santiago. They regarded the flotilla as invincible, and capable of destroying any American warships sent against it. However, the confidence of the people was not shared by the Spanish admiral. Although he openly praised the fighting ability of his men, Cervera realized that his squadron was hopelessly outclassed by Sampson's battleship force. The news that the Spanish flotilla had anchored in Santiago Harbor was quickly cabled to Madrid, and Segismundo Bermejo proudly announced its arrival to the press. If the minister of marine had kept the information secret for a few days, Cervera

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might have been able to recoal and attempt to make a dash for either Cienfuegos or Havana. It was not until the late evening of May 19, that the Navy Department learned of a rumor that Cervera's squadron had arrived safely at Santiago. Secretary Long was in a quandary— Sampson's ships were still recoaling at Key West, and the Flying Squadron was en route to Cienfuegos. There was no way to get a message to Schley except by a dispatch boat. Sampson immediately sent the converted yacht Hawk to catch up with the Flying Squadron. Sampson wrote: "I forwarded to Schley a copy of the telegram from the Navy Department stating that the Spanish warships might very well be at Santiago. My orders were: 'If you are satisfied that the enemy is not at Cienfuegos, proceed immediately to Santiago—leaving one small vessel to continue the blockade. It is thought that these instructions will reach you about 0200 on May 23. This will enable you to arrive at Santiago by daylight on May 24. I shall be off Cape Frances—two hundred miles east of Havana.'" Admiral Sampson was convinced that the Spanish flotilla was in Santiago Harbor, but not sure that Cervera would remain in port until Schley arrived on the 24th. Therefore, Sampson quickly assembled a squadron consisting of the Indiana, New York, and several gunboats and monitors. His plan was to patrol off Cape Frances in the event that the enemy warships eluded Schley and attempted to reach Havana. However, the War Board was alarmed. Sampson's heavy naval units would now be at the north end of Cuba—and the Flying Squadron was still on the high seas. There was ample opportunity for the Spanish flotilla to flee Santiago and attack the small blockade force of lightly armed ships patrolling the south and east coasts of the island. Meanwhile, Commodore Schley was taking a long route along the Yucatan coast before turning north to Cienfuegos. He expected to meet the enemy at any minute. Guns were loaded, and the men slept at their stations. The south coast of Cuba was sighted on the afternoon of May 20. General Quarters was sounded, and the decks were cleared for action. The following morning, as the Flying Squadron approached its destination, Schley signaled his ships: "We will blockade Cienfuegos. Have steam up and be prepared for anything. Do not know if the enemy is in port!"

Admiral Cervera Arrives at Santiago • 89

The Brooklyn steamed slowly past the promontory at the harbor's entrance. Suddenly five shots echoed from shore. Schley alerted his squadron to get ready for action. Guns were manned, battle flags hoisted, and all flammable materials were tossed over the side. On May 23, the Hawk met the Flying Squadron cruising off the south coast of Cuba. The message from Admiral Sampson was delivered, but Schley was still confident that he had Cervera's flotilla bottled up in Cienfuegos Harbor. It was not until May 25 that he finally ordered his ships to head for Santiago. The following day the Flying Squadron was joined by the Harvard, Yale, St. Paul, and Minneapolis. The four scouting cruisers had been steaming off Santiago Bay for three days. They had been trying to lure the suspected enemy squadron out into the open. However, Captain Sigsbee—now commanding officer of the St. Paul—could only assure Schley that if Cervera's flotilla had entered the harbor, it had not ventured out. Schley was in a dilemma. He doubted that the Spanish admiral would be foolish enough to pocket himself in a port where his ships would be compelled to exit the narrow channel one at a time. Also, even if the enemy ships were in the harbor, they had been there a week without attempting to escape. After pondering the situation for most of the day, Schley signaled his squadron to turn around, and sent the Harvard to Jamaica with a message to be cabled to Washington: "Much to my regret, we cannot obey the orders of the Department. Forced to proceed to Key West to refuel. Cannot ascertain anything with respect to the enemy." Secretary Long was shocked when he received Schley's telegram. If Cervera was at Santiago, he was now free to leave the harbor, steam a short distance to the northeast end of the island, then head up the north coast—destroying Sampson's blockade vessels all the way to Havana. Chief Yeoman Fred Buenzle commented on the commodore's action: "Schley's cable to the Navy Department was bewildering and disappointing. The 'Flying Squadron' was only a few miles from Santiago, and yet no effort had been put forth to check as to whether or not the Spanish flotilla was in the harbor. Schley's ships actually started back to Key West that night, but were held up by the necessity of towing a collier [Merrimac] that had broken down. Before repairs to the collier could be completed, the Harvard re-

90 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

turned from Jamaica with orders for the 'Flying Squadron' to stay and blockade Santiago—'no matter what!' "However, Schley's ships remained idle the following day. And that night a futile attempt was made to transfer coal from the collier to the Texas. It was not until the afternoon of May 28, that the 'Flying Squadron' steamed to within fifteen miles of Santiago. It then halted while the Marblehead made a high-speed dash past the channel entrance and observed the Spanish ships at anchor." At sunrise the following morning, the Brooklyn, followed by the Texas, Iowa, and Massachusetts, steamed slowly across the mouth of the channel. Through his binoculars, Schley sighted the Cristobal Colon and two other warships. Spanish sailors were observed nonchalantly strolling the decks—quite unconcerned about being discovered. They appeared confident and secure behind the heavy guns of the Morro. Sampson's squadron was steaming off Havana when he received news of the positive sighting of Cervera's flotilla, and he immediately signaled his ships to head for Santiago at full speed. The Spanish vessels were now bottled up in a port where there was no possibility of escape—but neither could Sampson's fleet go in after them. Although a stalemate existed between the two adversaries, it left plenty of time for reflection and criticism. Pascual Cervera had obviously placed himself in a position of no return. The U.S. Navy Department and War Board were puzzled. The Spanish admiral was too professional an opponent to consciously make a mistake of this kind. There was no shortage of coal at Santiago, and the enemy ships had had a week to load their bunkers and escape into the Caribbean. One theory suggested that a couple of the Spanish vessels may have suffered mechanical breakdowns after the long voyage and were badly in need of an overhaul. These repairs could only be made at Havana or San Juan—but Havana was a thousand miles farther west than Puerto Rico. Other authorities speculated that Admiral Cervera originally intended to sail for San Juan, but when he was notified at Martinique that Sampson had shelled the port, Cervera headed for Curacao. He hoped to avoid the American fleet and possibly buy enough coal to enable him to reach Cienfuegos. However, he was only able to get enough fuel to barely reach Santiago. Cervera later stated that Santiago was his actual destination; but whatever he expected to accomplish by heading for a blind

Admiral Cervera Arrives at Santiago • 91

alley is unknown. In any case, he could have filled his ship's bunkers in two or three days, and still have had plenty of time to reach San Juan during the hours that Santiago Harbor was left unguarded. Captain Alfred Thayer Mahan had plenty to say about the whole fiasco in his History of the Naval War Board of 1898. He was extremely critical of the Navy Department being commanded by a civilian secretary of the navy—John D. Long. Mahan wrote: "If the naval authority lacks professional experience, he must have a professional advisor. This would avoid needless occasions of friction which a civilian cannot foresee." Mahan complained that too many outsiders were attempting to influence naval activities—including Congress and the press—and trying to advise Secretary Long on how to wage a war at sea. Admiral Sampson was also censured. Mahan stated: "Sampson should never have shelled San Juan. The proper course would have been to station his squadron some distance from the city. Then have a fast torpedo boat sneak close enough to the harbor to ascertain whether the Spanish flotilla was actually at anchor. "When he discovered that the enemy ships were not at San Juan, Sampson should have steamed farther east and waited for Cervera to show up. As it was, Sampson's vessels wasted their coal and ammunition in a futile bombardment effort, and were forced to head back to Key West. "It was logical to assume that the Spanish ships were low on fuel after the long voyage from St. Vincent, and would have tried to reach the nearest friendly port—which, in this case, was San Juan. By returning to Key West, Sampson left the entire Cuban blockade force vulnerable to enemy attack." Secretary Long was criticized by Mahan for the Navy Department's inept handling of the Atlantic Fleet: "Commodore Schley should never have been ordered to Key West after Cervera's ships had been reported at Martinique. This directive kept the 'Flying Squadron' waiting at the keys for Sampson to return from San Juan. Schley should have been sent immediately from Hampton Roads to Cienfuegos. "With Sampson's squadron cruising the north coast of Cuba— and Schley's vessels patrolling the southern approaches—it is possible that the Spanish flotilla would have been intercepted before it reached Santiago. Also, if a few fast cruisers had been stationed off San Juan, it would have provided for rapid communications

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between the two squadrons. Both Sampson and Schley would have been in position to dash to San Juan or to each other's support." Meanwhile, the Oregon had reached Bridgetown, Barbados, shortly after midnight on May 18. Captain Clark was notified by port authorities that, because of neutrality regulations, his ship could only remain in the harbor for 24 hours. The American consul on the island cabled Secretary Long of the battleship's arrival. The Spanish minister sent the same information to the governor of Puerto Rico and to Madrid. By daybreak, numerous unconfirmed reports began circulating in Bridgetown, including a story that Cervera's squadron was waiting outside the harbor for the Oregon to emerge. The rumor factory put the strength of the Spanish force at 18 warships. Clark quickly loaded 250 tons of coal, and the battleship left port at dark. The Oregon's captain took the rumors seriously and decided to make a detour, instead of taking a direct route through the West Indies: "With lights showing, we ran a few miles toward the passage between Martinique and Saint Lucia. Lights were then extinguished and we steamed back in the direction of Barbados. A short time later, we turned north. Our course was set to swing clear of the Virgin Islands, then off the Bahamas and finally for the coast of Florida." After conferring with his officers, Captain Clark decided to head for Jupiter Inlet where he could cable the Navy Department for further instructions. The Jupiter lighthouse was sighted on the early evening of May 24. A whaleboat crew was sent ashore to the telegraph office, and the news that the nation had been waiting breathlessly to hear was flashed to Washington: "Oregon arrived at Jupiter Inlet. Have enough coal to reach Dry Tortugas in 33 hours— Hampton Roads in 52 hours." Secretary Long sent an immediate reply: "If ship is in good condition go to Key West—otherwise Hampton Roads. The Navy Department congratulates you on your safe arrival which has been reported to the President." There was no hesitation on the part of Captain Clark. The Oregon and its crew had gelled into a powerful and efficient fighting machine. The men were determined to get at the Spaniards, and the sooner the better. The battleship dashed for Key West at top speed. About 0400 hours on May 26, the Oregon was only a few miles from landfall. Suddenly, a small, dark object was sighted on a

Admiral Cervera Arrives at Santiago • 93

collision course. General Quarters sounded, and as the weary crew scrambled to their battle stations, many wondered whether the voyage would ever be completed. The dark object turned out to be the revenue cutter Hudson. It had been detailed to escort the battleship into port. After 68 grueling days, the Oregon's odyssey had finally ended. A reporter for the Boston Herald excitedly described the battleship's triumphant arrival at Key West: "The Oregon joined the fleet this morning, having finished the most remarkable long-distance cruise in the history of modern ironclads. Her reception was worthy of the achievement. "Steaming through the anchorage at 15 knots, the Oregon swept in a majestic circle around the moored men-of-war, while solid ranks of white-clad, cheering sailors crowded the rails of each ship she passed." In a statement to the Navy Department, and released to the Boston Herald, Captain Clark praised his crew for their impressive achievement: "It is gratifying to call the Department's attention to the spirit aboard this ship, in both officers and men. This can best be described by referring to specific instances—such as engineering officers doubling their watches during high-speed runs—the attempts of men to return to the fire room after having been carried out unconscious from heat exhaustion—and the fact that the entire crew, working day and night at Sandy Point, preferred to leave their hammocks in the nettings until they had the ship coaled and ready to sail." The Oregon had sailed nearly 13,000 miles, more than halfway around the world, at an average speed of 11 knots. The fact that the battleship was able to make such a hazardous journey—and arrive at its destination safe and sound—testified to the excellence of the vessel and the efficiency of its crew. But the Oregon's famous voyage had a significance far beyond the part it played in the war. The trip itself advertised—as nothing else could have—the strategic necessity of digging a canal across the isthmus of Central America.

L-.S.S. AVu' York. (Phoio courtesy Naval Historical Center)

Rear Admiral French Ensor Chadwick. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

Rear Admiral William T. Sampson. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

U.S.S. Brooklyn. (Photo courtesy U.S. Navy)

RLMF Ad mi nil \VmheU Si^t Sell lev iPImid courti^y \:ival Misioricnl Center)

U.S.S. Texas. (Photo courtesy U.S. Navy)

U.S.S. Gloucester. (Photo courtesy U.S. Navy)

U.S.S. Panther. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

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8 The Sinking of the Merrimac in Santiago Bay The news that Admiral Pascual Cervera and his flotilla had arrived at Santiago, Cuba, was greeted with mixed emotions in European capitals. Although Madrid was jubilant, British newspapers took a more realistic approach. Henry Norman, editor of the London Daily Chronicle, wrote: "Admiral Cervera's fate is now sealed with absolute certainty. Under the present circumstances, it is incomprehensible that Spain will not make peace overtures. By no conceivable chance—short of a hurricane sending the entire American navy to

the bottom of the sea—can her chances be improved. "Spain must lose Cuba and Puerto Rico. But it is within the realm of possibility that—by prompt capitulation—she might be able to keep the Philippine Islands. However, this is the only respect by which an immediate cessation of hostilities will make any difference." The fact that Cervera had outmaneuvered the superior naval forces of Admirals Sampson and Schley caused a furor of criticism of the Navy Department by the press. The American public demanded an early invasion of Cuba—ignoring warnings of the approaching rainy season. Secretary Long argued that the success of any Cuban or Puerto Rican campaign depended largely upon the efforts of Admiral Sampson's fleet, which was not strong enough to support amphibious landings at a number of points simultaneously. Armored vessels were still needed to blockade Havana, and heavy fleet units

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had to remain stationed off Santiago Harbor to prevent the Spanish warships from escaping. There was also another reason for delaying any attempts at an invasion. On May 20, intelligence sources in Europe had reported that a new Spanish fleet was being assembled at Cadiz, Spain, under the command of Admiral Manuel de la Camara. This task force was larger and more formidable than Cervera's flotilla. The Cadiz squadron consisted of the battleship Pelayo; the armored cruiser Emperador Carlos V; the fast torpedo boats Audaz, Osada, and Prosperina; the auxiliary cruisers Rapida, Patriota, and Columbia; and seven converted steamers. The latest information indicated that Camera's fleet would be ready to sail about the middle of June. Secretary Long's Navy Department did not believe that Camera would try to relieve the Spanish flotilla now bottled up in Santiago Bay—but there was always that possibility. Therefore, it became imperative to remove Admiral Cervera's ships as a factor as soon as possible. On the morning of May 31, while waiting for Sampson's squadron to arrive, Commodore Schley decided to reconnoiter the entrance to Santiago Harbor. Cuban insurgents reported that the Spaniards had positioned new batteries on the bluffs overlooking the sea. Associated Press correspondent Henry L. Beach, aboard the dispatch boat Dauntless, described the action for the Boston Herald: "Schley wanted to try and draw the fire of the Spanish guns. His object was two-fold—to entice the enemy to reveal the location of their newly emplaced masked gun batteries—and to lure, if possible, the Spanish flotilla to come out and fight. "The commodore always wished to get in the thick of whatever was going to happen—so, at noon, he transferred his flag from the Brooklyn to the more heavily armed Massachusetts. "Two hours later, the Massachusetts, protected cruiser New Orleans and the Iowa, in that order, steamed up to the mouth of the harbor and within range of the Morro Castle. "Because of the high cliff, on which the fortress had been built, it was impossible for our warships—hugging the coast, to elevate their guns high enough to blast the castle. The Texas, therefore, cruised some distance offshore where its heavy batteries could aim effective salvos at the rocky bluffs. "The Dauntless—the only noncombatant vessel present—followed the Iowa. While, two miles out to sea, the other ships of the

The Sinking of the Merrimac • 97

blockade fleet, sullenly rode the waves—making just enough headway for steering purposes. They could have joined us within six minutes—but were not invited, so had to content themselves as spectators to the exciting bombardment." The Massachusetts plowed through the water at 16 knots. At 4000 yards from the channel entrance her port 8-inch gun opened fire. Before the Spaniards could reply, the battleship's 13-inch battery launched a broadside salvo at suspected enemy positions. A heavy shroud of smoke enveloped the Massachusetts. The shock waves, and surging waters, smashed the windows of the Dauntless. The small craft bounced and trembled as the crashing volume of sound whipped the water to a frenzy. The New Orleans and Iowa quickly added their contributions to the attack. The noise of the cannonading was deafening. Santiago Bay was almost entirely surrounded by mountains, and the explosions from shipboard guns echoed and re-echoed after each salvo. Several shells zoomed over the Morro and landed on the Estrella Peninsula battery. The La Socapa fortress—across the channel from the Morro—was also blasted. The citizens of Santiago, hearing the earsplitting din, rushed to vantage points where they could witness the blazing gun battle. When the Massachusetts reached the mouth of the harbor, the Cristobal Colon was sighted—her port guns aimed seaward. Behind the Colon, the island battery at Smith Cay could be seen—partially hiding from view the Vizcaya and Almirante Oquendo. A few miles up the bay, the white church spires of Santiago poked through the haze of drifting smoke. The entire scene was bathed in brilliant sunshine while, in the background, the palm-covered mountains were crowned with a tangled mass of darkening clouds. A broadside salvo from the Massachusetts shot a column of water near the bow of the Colon. Moments later, the Spanish sailors prepared to answer the challenge. Deck awnings quickly disappeared, and the sound of a bugle could be heard calling the men to quarters. Harry Beach continued his exciting narration: "The enemy's 12-inch Krupp cannons, on both sides of the channel, shouted their anger and defiance with salvos of flame and steel. The Spanish artillery on Smith Cay and the guns of the Cristobal Colon added to the pandemonium. "When the New Orleans came within range, her 6-inch guns pounded the beach at the base of the Morro—unmasking one of the

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hidden batteries. The Iowa was next in line. Captain Robley Evans waited until his battleship was directly broadside to the Colon before ordering the fore and aft 12-inch guns to open fire. "The American sailors began to cheer and shout that the Colon was burning. That seemed to be the case after a shell from the Iowa exploded alongside the enemy cruiser. For a moment the ship appeared to be in flames, but the Spaniards quickly extinguished the blaze." The Cristobal Colon retaliated with a vengeance, but her answering volleys kept splashing at the same spot in the channel. For some reason the Spanish gunners were unable to change the range. The enemy's land-based batteries were more effective. Shells continually splashed close to Schley's ships—shooting up large columns of water which drenched the decks of the vessels. One projectile exploded above the Iowa, but was too high to cause any damage. A deceptive glare on the white-capped waves hampered the finding of accurate ranges for the Americans and Spaniards. Harry Beach remarked: "At first, both combatants showed bad judgment in finding the correct range—most shots going wild. However, on the second circle of the bay entrance, the Americans showed a marked improvement in marksmanship. The ancient Morro—towering above the sea—was struck time and time again. Each shell, as it exploded, ripped jagged fractures in the yellow, masonry walls—and large masses of stone and debris fell back into the fortress with jarring crashes and clouds of dust. "I noticed two Spaniards standing atop the highest part of the Morro's parapet and watching our fleet with telescopes. They disappeared in a puff of smoke when a 13-inch shell from the Massachusetts exploded on their position. "After a half-hour of fierce action, the guns of the Morro and La Socapa were silenced. We ceased firing five minutes later. The Colon continued shooting for another twenty minutes, but her fire was ineffective. "After the shelling ceased, the Dauntless steamed alongside each warship and I called out for casualty and damage figures. The replies were the same, 'No casualties.' The only damage reported occurred aboard the Massachusetts. The concussion from her guns smashed the chicken coops on deck. "Captain 'Fighting Bob' Evans shouted down from the bridge of the Iowa, The Spaniards didn't hit a thing but the water—and would have missed that if the ocean wasn't so big!'

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"The battle lasted a total of fifty-six minutes, with the Colon firing the last shot. The Spaniards will now undoubtedly brag that they drove the Americans off." The Massachusetts, New Orleans, and Iowa retired to their assigned blockade stations for the night. A sharp lookout was kept for the Spanish torpedo boats, Pluton and Furor, hiding somewhere among the coves of Santiago Bay. The crew of the Texas was ordered to stretch out on the edge of the deck—each man facing the water and armed with a rifle. Every third sailor stood watch—waking his relief at the end of two hours. About midnight, the enemy torpedo boats—using the shadows of the channel forts as cover—cleared the bay entrance. They had steamed about two miles to the westward when they were sighted by the officer of the deck of the Texas. The battleship's searchlights were immediately turned on, and the crew rushed to their battle stations. The Pluton and Furor, caught in the beams of light, turned about and dashed to full speed to attack the Texas and Brooklyn. Both American ships immediately opened a rapid-fire barrage with every gun that would bear. The sudden sound of gunfire alerted the rest of Schley's squadron. The searchlights of every ship played on the fast-approaching torpedo boats and the channel entrance. The only thought on each sailor's mind was that Cervera's flotilla was attempting to flee the trap. The guns of the Texas and Brooklyn proved too hot for the Pluton and Furor to handle. They swung away and raced back under the protection of the Morro. The Spaniards did not launch torpedoes, although their boats closed to within 500 yards of the Texas. The likelihood of Cervera's flotilla escaping was slim. But, the tropical rainy season had begun, and the prospect that Schley's squadron could be scattered during a violent storm was a distinct possibility. Under these conditions, a bold venture by the Spanish admiral could easily have met with some measure of success. Meanwhile, back in Washington, the War Board was at odds about how to conduct the conflict. Armchair generals and admirals demanded immediate action. Bowing to external pressures—and oblivious to the dangers of war in the tropics—the Fifth Army Corps, under the command of General William R. Shafter, gathered at Tampa, Florida, awaiting orders to sail for Cuba. More than 30 transports were assembled to carry the expeditionary force of 16,000 men. Shafter believed that the landing of Ameri-

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can troops could be accomplished without a great deal of risk. According to intelligence reports, Cuban insurgent forces controlled the hills surrounding Santiago Harbor. In Shafter's opinion, once the Spaniards had been driven from the cliffs overlooking the bay, Cervera's squadron could be shelled from above. The Spanish ships would not be able to elevate their guns enough to bombard the bluffs. The Spanish admiral would be forced to either scuttle his vessels or make a run for it and take his chances with the American warships waiting outside the bay. Admiral Sampson and his squadron arrived off Santiago on June 1, and a conference of all ship captains was held aboard the New York. Fred Buenzle narrated: "The admiral suggested sinking a ship in the mouth of the harbor, thereby blocking the enemy vessels from escaping. A plan of action was drawn up for sinking the collier Merrimac with explosive charges which would be fabricated aboard the New York. I was sent down to the wardroom with a message for Lieutenant Richmond Hobson to report immediately to the captain's cabin." Hobson had been picked to lead the mission, and word was signaled to all ships for volunteers. Harry Beach described the excitement that raced like wildfire through the fleet: "Cheering crews from every ship stepped forward at the summons for extra hazardous duty. About 300 men from the New York, 180 from the Iowa—and a like proportion from the other vessels—enthusiastically volunteered for the dangerous assignment. "But, Lieutenant Hobson decided to risk as few lives as possible. He picked three men from the New York and three crew members of the Merrimac. A fourth man of the collier's crew stowed away on board." Navy Cadet Joseph Powell was placed in charge of a launch with instructions to follow the Merrimac to the mouth of the harbor and wait there to rescue any survivors of the expedition. The Massachusetts and several smaller vessels were ordered to load their bunkers from the collier. Approximately 2000 tons of coal were left in the Merrimac's hold for ballast, and an additional 700 tons of water were admitted to the ship. Lieutenant Hobson described his strategy to a reporter for the Boston Herald: 'Ten improvised torpedoes—each connected to the bridge—were to be attached to the port side of the collier. They would be placed thirty-five feet apart and abreast the bulkheads and cargo hatches. Each charge would consist of 82 pounds of

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brown prismatic powder and [be] packed in an eight-inch copper container. A mixture of tallow and pitch would make the cans watertight. "The torpedoes were to be fastened to the hull of the ship by a belt-line running entirely around the vessel from bow to stern—and at a depth of twelve feet below the water." Work proceeded rapidly to prepare the Merrimac for its suicide mission. Sea connections were made ready for scuttling, and all hatches and cargo ports were opened. Two anchors were slung over the starboard side—one forward and another aft. They were held by lashings, ready to be cut by a man stationed at each anchor with an axe. Hobson continued his story: "Two men will be stationed in the engineroom and the rest of us above deck. We will be dressed in only our underclothing, with revolvers and ammunition in watertight packing strapped around our waists. The crew will lie face down at their assigned stations—each with one end of a cord tied around a wrist. All cords will converge at the bridge where I will be standing. A single pull on the lines would mean 'standby.' Three steady pulls will be the signal for action." Lieutenant Hobson's main concern was navigation. The channel entrance to the bay varied in width from about 300 to 450 feet. The length of the Merrimac was 333 feet—so the collier would have to be swung crossways in the channel without going aground in the process. On the afternoon of June 2, Hobson used the New York's launch to reconnoiter the mouth of the harbor. He stated in an article in Harper's Pictorial: "I was able to spot the gun batteries east of the Morro, and others west of the entrance. I located two prominent mountain ranges and mentally photographed the view—particularly noting the high peaks that would facilitate recognizing the channel at night." Upon his return to the New York, Hobson finalized his plans and granted another interview to the Boston Herald reporter: "A line will be tied around the waist of the forward axeman. I will have the other end of the line made fast to the bridge. After I stop the engines, I will jerk this cord which will be the signal for the axeman to cut the lashings holding the forward anchor. He will then jump overboard and swim to a four-oared dinghy which we will be towing astern. The boat will be packed with life buoys to make it unsinkable, and be carrying rifles and ammunition. This

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man will haul in the towline and pull the boat to the starboard side of the ship. "The men in the engineroom will break open the sea connections with a sledge hammer and then jump in the water. The quartermaster will lash the wheel hard aport and the stern axeman will chop the rope holding his anchor. They will then dive into the sea and swim to the dinghy. "By this time, I calculate, my crew will have reached the boat and the Merrimac will have swung across the channel to her full length. Then all I have to do is touch the button. I will stand on the starboard side of the bridge. The explosion will throw the ship in that direction—and nothing on this side of New York City will be able to raise her after that." When asked by the reporter what his chances were to come out alive, Hobson thought for a few moments and then remarked on the dangers that he and his men would be facing: "I suppose that the Estrella Battery will fire down upon us, but searchlights from the enemy ships trying to find our vessel will be shining in the faces of their gunners. I don't think they will see much of us. "But, even if we are torpedoed by a patrol boat, we should be able to reach our desired position in the channel. In the event that the dinghy is shot to pieces, we will try and swim to the beach directly beneath the Morro Castle—keeping together at all times. If attacked by enemy troops, we shall fight to the last—only surrendering to overwhelming numbers, or an uncontemplated emergency." After conferring with his staff, Admiral Sampson agreed to Hobson's plan for blockading Santiago Harbor. The strategy called for the Merrimac to approach the channel entrance from the west. The ship's speed was calculated so that it would be steaming at five knots when it reached Estrella Point. When Hobson judged that the collier was at the correct position, her engines would be stopped, sea valves opened, and the helm jammed hard to port. As soon as the Merrimac started to turn, the forward anchor rope would be cut—dropping the hook and 60 fathoms of chain. The incoming tide would then push the ship's stern upstream. Upon a command, the aft anchor rope would be sliced and the explosive charges set off. Getting his men and himself to safety, after completion of the mission, was a major concern of Lieutenant Hobson, as he remarked in his interview with the Boston Herald reporter: "I ar-

The Sinking of the Merrimac • 103

ranged a rendezvous point with Cadet Powell. His launch would creep up from the west and watch for our appearance. If our boat was destroyed—and we were unable to swim out from the channel because of the tide—Powell was told to look for us under the seaward side of the Morro near the mouth of the caverns." At sunset on June 2, a violent thunderstorm blew in—covering the mountain-shrouded plateau of Santiago with dense clouds. The sky was torn by vivid flashes of brilliant lightning, and thunder rolled across the American fleet like distant cannonading. Shortly after dark, the mission to block the channel entrance began. The explosive charges were brought aboard the Merrimac and lowered into position. Wires were run from the canisters and connected to a battery. After checking the circuitry, it was learned that the electrical current was only strong enough to explode seven of the ten containers. Therefore, the most important locations were hooked up to the battery. Before getting underway, Hobson gathered his crew together for their final instructions, which were later reported in the Boston Herald: "The torpedoes were to be fired in succession—beginning forward—so as to throw the ship down by the bow. John Murphy was assigned to cut the forward anchor rope and Daniel Montague the stern lashing. As soon as the stern anchor dropped, Murphy would fire torpedo one. George Charette would then explode torpedoes two and three. Osborn Deignan would fire number four, and Roger Clausen number five. "Below decks—after opening the sea valves—George Phillips and Francis Kelly were directed to rush topside—Phillips exploding torpedo six and Kelly number seven." About 0300 hours on June 3, the Merrimac steamed slowly toward the entrance to Santiago Harbor. Cadet Powell's rescue launch followed a short distance behind. The Boston Herald reporter graphically described Richmond Hobson's perilous journey into the unknown: "The full moon had disappeared behind a black cloud bank in the west—leaving only a gray mark of heaving waters and the dim outline of the Cuban hills showing against a starless sky. "It was that calm hour before dawn, when life is at its lowest ebb, and the tide runs out, carrying the lives of mortals with it. Slowly, the seconds of fate ticked on as 3000 men aboard the fleet strained eyes and strove to pierce the deep veil of night. "Suddenly, blood-red tongues of flame shot from the Morro's rocky bluff, followed by streams of fire from the La Socapa batteries.

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Sinking of the Merrimac, June 3,1898.

The Sinking of the Merrimac • 105

The Merrimac had reached the harbor entrance. She must have passed so close that a stone loosened from the parapet of the castle would have fallen on her deck, 'Through the murderous hail of steel being showered down upon her, the collier moved about a quarter-mile up the channel. It would be a miracle if her apparently riddled hull ever reached its goal. After five minutes, all firing ceased and a dark, ominous quiet settled over Santiago Bay." For the next two hours, a tense expectancy pervaded the American fleet as the sailors nervously waited for news of Hobson and his men. At dawn, the rescue launch was sighted steaming across the mouth of the harbor. Cadet Powell, keeping close inshore, skirted the coast west of the channel entrance. Enemy batteries of the La Socapa could not be depressed enough to hit the launch, and the guns of the Morro Castle would not bear. The Spaniards had noticed Powell's boat and began firing wildly. Powell quickly turned out to sea and headed at full speed for the Texas—Spanish shells splashing on all sides of the launch. The naval cadet maneuvered his craft alongside the battleship and shouted that no one had come out from the harbor. His words rang like a death knell for the crew of the Merrimac. In his official report of the mission to Admiral Sampson, Cadet Powell wrote: "I kept 500 yards astern as we followed the Merrimac toward the harbor. Hobson missed the entrance at first—having steamed too far west. He almost ran aground, but I directed him to the channel and he turned in. "When the collier was about 200 yards up-channel, the first enemy gun was fired from the eastern bluff. At that time, I was a half-mile offshore and close under the Spanish batteries. The artillery barrage increased rapidly. We moved carefully into the channel, but I lost sight of the Merrimac when wind carried the cannon smoke seaward. "Before Hobson was able to set off his charges, the gun batteries on Smith Cay opened fire. Then, moments later, the Merrimac's torpedoes began to explode. "I waited outside the breakers until daylight. I was a half-mile west of the Morro and kept a sharp lookout for the boat or swimmers—but saw neither. About five o'clock, I crossed in front of the harbor entrance and noticed one spar of the Merrimac sticking out of the water. After hugging the shore for awhile, I checked our rendezvous point and then headed out to the Texas."

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Admiral Sampson anxiously paced the bridge of the New York, waiting some sign as to the fate of Lieutenant Hobson and his men. About noon, a signal from shore requested a meeting with Sampson under a flag of truce. A reply was quickly sent that the flag would be received. Harry Beach described the sudden turn of events: "At two o'clock, a dingy little harbor tug—flying a white flag on its mast and the red and yellow banner of Spain at the stern—steamed slowly out from the channel. Admiral Sampson directed his chief of staff, Lieutenant Staunton, to board the converted yacht Vixen and meet the Spanish boat halfway. "On every ship, sailors by the hundreds lined the rails and watched intently as the boats approached each other. When they came within hailing distance, the Vixen slowed and the Spanish tug came alongside. Admiral Cervera's chief of staff, Captain Oviedo, introduced himself to Lieutenant Staunton, and stated that he desired to meet with Admiral Sampson. Staunton agreed to the request and the Spaniard climbed aboard the Vixen. "Upon reaching the New York, Captain Oviedo was immediately escorted to Sampson's quarters. After salutes were exchanged, the Spanish officer revealed the nature of his visit. He said: 'Admiral Cervera is most profoundly impressed with the brilliant courage shown by the men who sank the steamer Merrimac in our harbor. And, in admiration of their courage, he has directed me to say to their countrymen that they are alive and are now prisoners of war. They are being well cared for and will be treated with every consideration.' "Admiral Sampson expressed his thanks for the kindness and generosity of Admiral Cervera, and invited Captain Oviedo to his cabin where they talked alone for some time. Later they adjourned to the quarterdeck where the two men chatted pleasantly. It also gave Sampson an opportunity to show off the ships of his fleet. "After being aboard the New York for nearly two hours, Captain Oviedo took formal leave of Admiral Sampson—every honor being accorded to the Spanish officer as he left the ship. A launch packed with clothing and supplies for Hobson and his men was sent over to the tug, and Captain Oviedo promised that they would be delivered to the prisoners." During their conversation, Captain Oviedo told Sampson that the sunken Merrimac did not block the channel. Her bow was facing seaward, just above Estrella Point, and her stem had swung aroimd

The Sinking of the Merrimac • 107

so that the ship was now lying parallel to the direction of the channel. Although the story of Hobson and his crew was greeted with six-inch headlines and patriotic fervor in the American press, European newspapers were not as generous. A correspondent for the London Daily Telegraph reported from Madrid: "General Miguel Correa, the Spanish minister of war, upon learning of Lieutenant Richmond Hobson's exploit, remarked that it was undesirable for the United States to excite itself over matters that were relatively small in comparison with those which the conflict might yet bring forth—least it suffer disappointment if the fortunes of war should prove adverse." The Spanish newspaper El Heraldo boasted: "America is utterly unprepared for war. Commodore Dewey—who fancied that he could seize Manila whenever he wished—has not yet managed to get beyond the arsenal at Cavite. "And, in the West Indies, Cuba continues inaccessible to the enemy—whose formidable warships recoil from the mediocre guns of our batteries. Then yesterday, Admiral Cervera, having led Admiral Sampson on a wild goose chase across the Atlantic, has now repulsed and routed his naval forces at Santiago." The most interesting comments, however, were made by Admiral Philip Colomb of the British navy. In an article published by the London News, Admiral Colomb remarked: "I am inclined to think that for the purpose of blockading the egress of a hostile naval squadron, the sinking of the Merrimac was a unique idea—though blocking an enemy harbor by sinking ships at the entrance is not new. "It was expected, however, that Admiral Sampson would have made better use of his torpedo boats. He has never sent a single one of them into a Cuban port at night to destroy ships such as those blockaded in Santiago Harbor. "It is evident that if the Merrimac, a 3000 ton vessel, could successfully sneak into the narrowest part of the harbor channel on a nighttime sortie, a few torpedo boats might have been able to swarm through the passage and inflict considerable damage to the ships anchored in the bay." Admiral Colomb, moreover, was not the only critic to question Sampson's failure to use the 15 fast torpedo boats he had at his disposal. A scathing editorial in the Boston Herald demanded answers: "What is the matter with our torpedo boats? They were

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supposed to be the very latest proofs of the most modern improvements in the art of construction and equipping end-of-the-century warships. "The war against Spain has been in progress nearly two months. One great pitched naval battle [Manila Bay] has been fought—no less than three tremendous bombardments have taken place—an uncounted number of reconnaissance missions have been carried out—blockade operations have been conducted along hundreds of miles of enemy coastline—and yet not a single torpedo boat has inflicted five-cents worth of damage upon the Spanish." On July 6, after 33 days in captivity, Lieutenant Hobson and his gutsy crew were released by the Spaniards in an exchange of prisoners. The Merrimac immediately became one of the most famous sunken ships in history, and Hobson and his men were hailed as true American heroes. In an interview published in the Boston Herald, Richmond Hobson related his story of the collier's last voyage: "As soon as we neared the mouth of the harbor, I sent Charette below to tell Phillips and Kelly that we were on our final approach—and that my signal to stop engines would be their cue to open the sea connections and standby the torpedoes. "We had sneaked to within 500 yards of the Morro, when an enemy shell zipped across our stern. Then a flash and another miss. Moments later, we were attacked by a Spanish picket boat which began firing pointblank at our ship's rudder. Almost immediately, gun batteries on the Morro and La Socapa erupted, shooting wildly between the dark shadows of the cliffs. "The Merrimac's steering gear and rudder were quickly shot away. We began to float with the tide—up the channel and out of control. Montague shouted above the din that a shell had struck the stern and cut the aft anchor lashing. I gave three pulls on Murphy's cord and the bow anchor plunged into the water. There was a heartbeat pause—then torpedo one exploded. There was no answer from charges two and three. I yelled, 'Fire all torpedoes!' but my voice could not be heard above the noise of enemy gunfire. I called out the orders again and again. It was useless. The machine guns and artillery pieces on the La Socapa slope were blazing away full blast. "Suddenly Charette came running up to the bridge shouting, 'Torpedoes two and three will not fire sir! The battery cells are scattered all over the deck!'

The Sinking of the Merrimac • 109

"Torpedo five was the only other charge to go off. The wires connecting the other explosives had been cut by shrapnel. Glancing over the bulwarks, I noticed we were apparently motionless—twothirds athwart the channel. Estrella Point lay dead ahead off the starboard bow. A mine exploded beneath us and the ship began to settle. "The splatter of bullets increased as riflemen on the Estrella ramparts kept up a rapid fire across the deck. It was remarkable that the Spaniards did not sight our crew. For, although the moon was low, it was bright—and we were almost at the muzzle of their rifles." The Merrimac was within range of the artillery on Smith Cay and the shipboard guns of the Vizcaya and Almirante Oquendo. Hobson remarked: "The larger projectiles ripped into the hull and exploded. Others tore through the deck house—just far enough away to cause them to burst in front of us." It was impossible for the Spanish to miss their target. The plunging fire from La Socapa, and the horizontal shelling from Smith Cay, pelted the hapless collier like rain on a tin roof. Lieutenant Hobson continued: "The crashing projectiles and flying shrapnel made a grinding noise—with a fine ring to it—like steel striking steel. "I ordered my men not to move. To be seen meant certain death. At any moment, I expected to see a head or limb torn from a body. "I don't know how many minutes we were a practice scapegoat for enemy guns—but suddenly the bow began to move. The strong tide seemed to straighten out the ship and push the Merrimac erratically up the channel. I realized that it was now impossible to block the harbor entrance. The collier lurched and staggered to port. Firing ceased. The Merrimac lowered her head, like a faithful animal proudly aware of its sacrifice, and bowed below the surface. The stern rose—heeled heavily—stood for a moment— shuddered—then went down—righting itself as it disappeared beneath the turbulent waves. "A surge of water rampaged wildly up the gangway—throwing us bodily over the rail and into the sweeping vortex of the sea. We were pummeled by casks, cans, spars and everything else which had been left topside. Luckily our life preservers prevented any injuries—as well as buoying us to the surface." Lieutenant Hobson searched the darkness for the dinghy, but it had not survived the shelling. He soon sighted a catamaran pontoon raft that had floated free from the top of the deck house and

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was bobbing up and down over the sunken hull. Hobson narrated: "I swam toward the raft and could also see my men heading for the float. Before reaching the catamaran, I saw several rowboats and launches moving swiftly up the channel for Estrella Point. Armed officers and marines were on board hunting for us. "We reached the raft without being noticed, and discovered that the rope which secured the catamaran to the ship was too short to allow the float to swing free. One of the pontoons was entirely out of the water and the other was submerged. This was fortunate, however, because if the raft was laying flat, we would have been forced to climb aboard, and become excellent targets for enemy rifles. As it was, we were able to hide under the catamaran and—by putting our hands through the openings between the slats of its deck—could hold our heads above water and still stay unseen. "I instructed my men to remain quiet and not to speak above a whisper. None of us expected to get out of this predicament alive. But, apparently the Spaniards did not give a thought about the half-sunken raft floating about the wrecked ship. "It was evident that we could not swim against the tide to make our rendezvous site. Moreover, the shores were lined with Spanish troops. Our only chance of survival was to stay undiscovered until dawn. I was positive that by daybreak a responsible official would be coming out to reconnoiter the channel." Throughout the night, while Hobson and his crew floated silently beneath their raft, enemy boats continuously searched the waters around the Merrimac. Bright lanterns pierced the darkness as the Spaniards hunted for survivors. Enemy eyes carefully followed the beams of light that reflected grotesque shadows off the floating debris. Lieutenant Hobson recalled: "The night air was chilly, and the water frigid cold. In a few minutes, our teeth were chattering so loud that I was positive the Spanish could hear us. Suddenly, two of the men began to cough. The enemy could not help but hear them. "My body felt numb. I began to kick my legs—partly for exercise and partly to tell if my limbs were still there. "About daylight, bugles could be heard waking the Spanish troops at the Punta Gorda battery. On the eastern horizon, the sun spotted the mountain tops and glowed brilliantly on the masonry walls of the Morro and La Socapa.

The Sinking of the Merrimac • 111

"One of my crew whispered, 'A steam launch is coming sir!' I looked down the channel and sighted a large craft rounding the corner of Smith Cay and heading straight for us. When the boat came within 30 yards, I hailed the vessel. The steamer stopped. A group of riflemen jumped to their feet and formed on the forecastle. I heard the ominous command of the squad leader as he called out, 'Load—ready—aim!' I thought this was the end, but the volley was never fired. "An elderly officer leaned out from under the boat's awning and waved his hand. The rifles were lowered. I swam over to the launch and the old gentleman helped me climb to the deck. I later learned that I had been rescued by Admiral Cervera. We steamed over to the raft and I surrendered my men." Hobson and his men were taken ashore and marched to the Morro. They were placed in cells which looked out upon the sea, where they could watch Admiral Sampson's fleet waiting impatiently for their return. The rudderless Merrimac had drifted up the middle of the channel before sinking to the bottom of the bay. There was still room for the Spanish warships to maneuver past her battered hulk. Only the collier's masts and smokestack poked above the now calm waters.

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9 The Bombardment of the Santiago Harbor Forts The day following Lieutenant Hobson's valiant, but unsuccessful, attempt to bottle up Cervera's flotilla in Santiago Bay, Admiral Sampson ordered another bombardment of the harbor fortifications. He intended not only to relieve the monotony of blockade duty but also to make another reconnaissance of the channel entrance and, at the same time, give his gunners target practice. On the early morning of June 6, while steaming six miles offshore, the combined squadrons of Sampson and Schley formed in two columns on either side of the harbor entrance. W.A.M. Goode described the preparations for battle in the Boston Herald: "A cold, nasty drizzle was falling, making the decks wet and slippery. There is nothing more uncertain than a man-of-war at general quarters and awaiting action. Below decks, everything is dark and comfortless. We are not allowed to smoke for fear of blowing up a magazine. We cannot eat—or even drink a cup of coffee—because the galley fires are out and foodstuffs are locked away. It is risky to remain topside without keeping a constant eye on the guns. Anyone standing on the side of the ship where a broadside cuts loose can be either blown overboard or deafened for life." The eastern bombardment force comprised the New York, New Orleans, Oregon, Iowa, and Yankee. The western column consisted of the Brooklyn, Marblehead, Texas, and Massachusetts. The distance between ships was 400 yards. The Dolphin, a converted steamer, lay eastward of the American fleet, while the

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lighthouse tender Suwanee and Vixen took station to the westward. At 3000 yards from shore, Sampson's column turned to starboard and Schley's ships swung to port. Goode continued: "At seven forty-one, the New York opened the action with an 8-inch salvo aimed at the La Socapa forts. The Brooklyn followed with a broadside of its own. Orders had been issued to avoid hitting the Morro if at all possible, since Lieutenant Hobson and his men were being held prisoner within its walls. 'The semicircle of ships quickly became a crescent of smoke. Clouds of dust and debris shot skyward as our shells exploded on the enemy cliffs. The New York dashed to within 1900 yards of the enemy positions, and kept firing broadside after broadside. Whenever a salvo landed on the rocks facing the ocean, vegetation was exterminated and the structure of the cliff radically altered. There was only feeble reply from the Spanish as their projectiles streaked over the flagship." Several large caliber shells from the battleships exploded on the crest of the Morro bluff and among concealed artillery emplacements along the narrow beach. The detonations echoed and reechoed through the hills and across the water. Dirt, masonry, men, and guns were hurled high in the air. The concentrated fire from the warships was vigorous and sustained. A hailstorm of bursting shells pounded the enemy ramparts and gun batteries. Projectiles that overshot the La Socapa battlements slammed into the jungle hillsides—ripping up trees by the roots and digging deep craters in the earth. The Spanish cruiser Reina Mercedes, anchored in a cove near the mouth of the harbor, could not be seen from seaward, but she still did not escape the vicious bombardment. The cruiser was blasted by 35 shells that—missing the fortifications—ripped through her rigging and hull. Within minutes, the ship was a blazing wreck. The Spanish complex of defensive forts had been provided with both Krupp and Armstrong cannons. The gun crews, however, were mainly French and German mercenaries. The enemy had boasted that no attacking fleet could survive the professional skill of the Santiago Harbor artillery batteries. But, the so-called expert gunners proved to be as bad shots as the Spanish themselves. After three hours of bombarding the enemy fortifications, Admiral Sampson called for firing to cease, and both squadrons resumed their blockade positions. The devastating shelling transformed the

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La Socapa forts and Morro Castle into picturesque ruins. Sections of their ramparts lay in tumbled heaps of stone and mortar. The walls, still standing, were punctured with jagged holes. Fred Buenzle remarked: "During the bombardment, our strange looking dynamite-cruiser, the Vesuvius, terrorized the Spaniards. This unusual ship mounted three smooth-bore compressed-air guns—each 55 feet long and with a diameter of 15 inches. These compressed-air tubes fired 200-pound charges of guncotton— which, upon landing, exploded with a horrifying roar and plowed holes in the earth the size of a cellar excavation. The main drawback to this type of gun was that it could only be aimed by steering the ship into position, and the gunners could never ascertain whether the charges inflicted any important damage on the enemy" Following the June 6 bombardment, Admiral Sampson positioned his ships in a semicircle about six miles from the mouth of Santiago Harbor. Every night, at dusk, two battleships would steam within a mile of the channel entrance and flood the dark passage with beams from their searchlights. Buenzle commented on the stress of an around-the-clock vigil: 'The strain and tension of the harbor blockade soon began to tell on all of us. As long as the Spanish squadron—supposedly wellequipped and manned by seasoned crews—remained afloat, continual vigilance had to be our watchword for every hour of the day and night. Men forgot what it was like to swing in a hammock. They bedded down near their guns and battle stations. Food was also a concern. It was neither plentiful nor good. By the time supply ships reached us, after traveling through the tropical heat, most of the fresh provisions—especially meat—were spoiled." On June 8, the Fifth Army Corps prepared to sail from Tampa, Florida, and land at Daiquiri, Cuba—about 18 miles east of Santiago. The troops were packed aboard 37 transports and support vessels. However, just prior to departure, a telegram was received by the Navy Department, stating that a Spanish cruiser and three destroyers had been sighted off the north coast of Cuba. Upon investigation, the supposedly enemy vessels turned out to be American—the Yosemite, the cruiser Panther, the converted yacht Scorpion, and the lighthouse tender Armeria—bound from Key West to Santiago. But, any rumor of enemy warships running loose in the North Atlantic was enough to send the East Coast of the United States into cardiac arrest—and, whether true or false, it sold newspapers.

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Deciding not to take chances, Secretary Long ordered the Indiana and seven auxiliary cruisers detached from Sampson's blockade fleet, with instructions to escort the troop convoy. Finally, on June 14, the ships carrying General Shafter's Fifth Army Corps weighed anchors and headed for Cuba. In his History of the Naval War Board, Alfred Thayer Mahan criticized the handling of the convoy operation: "Extreme difficulty was experienced through the wretched conduct of the transport captains—who were not under any military authority and wandered the sea at will. Hours were spent in locating some of them." Mahan also commented on the petty bickering between the Army and Navy war departments: 'The transports did not come under naval authority until they had sailed—and then only for escort duty. Everything connected with seagoing transportation is a particular feature of maritime activity. Internal discipline of a ship—and proper control of its movements in a convoy—can only be insured by naval organization and naval command. "The committing of transport service to the Army is vicious in theory, and directly contrary to the practice of the most experienced maritime nation—Great Britain. "It may be well imagined what might have occurred had an attack alarm been sounded. The task of controlling such a convoy would have been monumental." On June 17, Admiral Manuel Camara's fleet was ready to sail from Cadiz, Spain. The Spanish minister of marine sent a message to the Queen Regent: "The reserve squadron and expeditionary troops send a warm and enthusiastic salutation to your Majesty, avowing their determination to fight to the death for the honor of our nation." Rumors regarding Admiral Camara's destination became headlines throughout the world. Our persistent report had the Spanish warships heading for the New England coast to bombard Boston Harbor. The U.S. State Department, however, had positive information that Camara was bound for the Philippines via the Mediterranean Sea and Suez Canal. The speculation ended the following day, when a telegram was received in Washington from the American consul at Gibraltar stating that 15 Spanish men-of-war had steamed past the "Rock" and into the Mediterranean. Three of the ships were reported to be crowded with soldiers.

Bombardment of Santiago Harbor Forts • 117

The grim news was cabled to Commodore Dewey, whose small flotilla of cruisers and gunboats was blockading Manila Bay. Desperate measures were called for. Dewey sent a dispatch boat to Hong Kong with a message for the Navy Department: "In my judgment, if the coast of Spain was threatened, the enemy fleet would have to return." Secretary Long immediately devised a cunning plan. Using regular channels, he sent a telegram to Commodore John Watson: "As soon as Sampson gives the order, you shall sail with the Iowa,

Oregon, Yosemite, [the cruiser] Newark, Yankee and Dixie to St. Mi-

chael, Azore Islands for additional instructions en route Tangier, Morroco. Colliers will join you at St. Michael. Shift your flag to the Iowa."

The message was intercepted as planned—along with information that Watson had orders to bombard Spain's coastal cities. The ruse had its desired effect and Camara's fleet was directed to return to Cadiz.

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10 The Capture of Guantanamo Bay The recoaling of naval vessels continued to be a vexing problem for Secretary Long. Colliers were in short supply—only 13 were available after the scuttling of the Merrimac. In early June—with a fleet of a hundred ships blockading the coast of Cuba, and an army expeditionary force preparing to sail—a coaling station on the island became an absolute necessity. Almost since the beginning of hostilities, John Long had visualized Guantanamo Bay as an ideal advance base. Guantanamo was about 40 miles east of Santiago Harbor and offered a sheltered anchorage protected by trees and scrub-covered mountains. The harbor was commercially important to the Spanish because of the sugar port of Caimanera, located on the western shore of the inner bay, five miles from the ocean. Situated on the east side of the sea entrance to Guantanamo Bay was Fisherman's Point—a small fishing village which stretched along a thin strip of beach at the base of tall cliffs. The Spaniards used the villagers to pilot vessels entering the bay and bound for Caimanera. A few weeks before the war with Spain was officially declared, the Navy Department had directed the U.S. Marine Corps to organize a battalion for service in Cuba. On April 6, Colonel Charles Heywood, commandant of the Marine Corps, ordered selected marines from bases on the East Coast to assemble at the Brooklyn Barracks at the New York Navy Yard.

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A detachment of 60 marines of D Company, under the command of Captain William F. Spicer, departed Portsmouth, New Hampshire, by train. Private John H. Clifford was one of the group. In his article, My Memories of Cuba, which appeared in the June 1929 issue of Leatherneck, Clifford described the flurry of excitement upon reaching the Navy Yard: "Brooklyn Barracks bustled with wartime activity. Detachments were arriving from everywhere and companies were being put together. The barracks were over-crowded and finding a place to sleep was a problem. Eventually a battalion, consisting of five rifle companies and one artillery company, was formed. The battalion strength was comprised of 636 enlisted personnel along with 24 officers and was placed under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Robert W. Huntington." While the regular army soldiers were armed with the KragJorgenson rifle, and the volunteer regiments with black-powder Springfields, the marines were supplied with the navy's Lee straight-pull rifle. This rifle was a high velocity 6mm weapon that used smokeless powder. The artillery company, under Captain F. H. Harrington and battery commanders First Lieutenants C. G. Long and William N. McKelvy, was provided with three-inch rapid-fire guns and the Colt 1895 machine gun. Fortunately, the marines were issued brown linen uniforms for a tropical campaign. The regular army troops were not so lucky. They were hustled in from the western frontier still wearing their wool winter clothing. John Clifford continued his story: "On April 22, with the Navy Yard Band leading the way, we marched down three Brooklyn streets. Thousands of patriotic, cheering Americans lined the parade route as we returned to the yard and went aboard the U.S.S. Panther.

"We no sooner had our gear stowed away, than whistles screamed and bells rang. Our battalion, crowding the decks, tossed caps in the air, as the ship steamed slowly out to the Narrows—listening to the band on the dock playing the sentimental favorite, The Girl I Left Behind Me.'" The following morning, the Panther anchored at Hampton Roads and the ship's commanding officer, Commander George C. Reiter, reported to Commodore Schley. On April 26, the marine troopship, escorted by the Montgomery, sailed for Key West. During the voyage, the rifle companies were

The Capture of Guantanamo Bay • 121

exercised in volley firing, and the guns of the artillery company fired one round each. In the late afternoon of the 29th, the Panther anchored at Key West. The marines disembarked, and for the next month drilled and engaged in gunnery practice. About three o'clock on the morning of June 6, the marines struck their tents, loaded their baggage, and once again marched aboard the Panther. The next day the battalion sailed for Cuba and an amphibious landing at Guantanamo Bay. Before any attack could be launched, however, the telegraph cables connecting Guantanamo with Haiti and Caimanera had to be cut. The Marblehead, St. Louis, Yankee, and the cable-steamer Adria

were detached from the Santiago blockade fleet. The flotilla was placed under the command of Bowman McCalla with orders to reconnoiter Guantanamo Bay for use as a naval base. The St. Louis and Adria were directed to cut the cable wires leading from a telegraph station located on Fisherman's Point. A Spanish blockhouse and rifle pits had been erected on the hill overlooking the point, and an artillery battery on South Toro Cay commanded the narrow channel leading to the inner harbor and Caimanera. While the St. Louis and Adria were successfully slicing the cable, the Marblehead and Yankee steamed into the bay. They observed Spanish soldiers entrenched in front of the blockhouse. The ships immediately opened fire, destroying the blockhouse and the village at the foot of the hill. The Marblehead and Yankee were in plain view of the enemy artillery batteries on South Toro Cay and the Caimanera fort. The Spaniards fired several salvos, without effect. At dusk, the pesky Spanish gunboat Sandoval raced down the channel, fired a few quick shots, then dashed back to Caimanera. The Marblehead returned to Santiago where Commander McCalla conferred with Admiral Sampson. A decision was reached to land the marine battalion on Fisherman's Point and establish a campsite at the hilltop blockhouse. Preparatory to the invasion, the Marblehead, Dolphin, and Vixen bombarded the landing beach and enemy entrenchments. They were soon joined by the Oregon, St. Louis, and Yankee. The exact number of Spanish troops in the vicinity was not known. However, about 5000 soldiers, commanded by General Felix Pareja, were reported to be encamped a short distance inland.

122 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

Guantanamo Bay, U.S. Marines land at Fisherman's Point, June 10,1898.

The Capture of Guantanamo Bay • 123

Aboard the Marblehead, the reporter for the Boston Herald described the amphibious operation: "The first landing of American forces on Cuban soil took place about eight o'clock on the morning of June 10. A detachment of 40 marines from the Oregon and 20 from the Marblehead went ashore at Guantanamo Bay and occupied the east entrance of the harbor below Fisherman's Point. "At one o'clock the Panther, escorted by the Yosemite, arrived with more than 600 U.S. Marines under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Robert W. Huntington. The marines climbed into cutters and were towed by steam-launches to the beach. 'The landing, carried out under a blazing-hot afternoon sun, was unopposed. B Company, led by Lieutenant N. H. Hall, was the first contingent ashore. C Company, led by Captain George F. Elliott, was the next to land, and both companies deployed up the steep 150 foot rocky hillside to the ruins of the blockhouse. "The entire assault—silencing the enemy guns and landing the marine battalion—proceeded as efficiently as a Sunday-school picnic. Within an hour, the marines had burned what was left of the village and taken possession of the hill. Color Sergeant Richard Silvey hoisted the Stars and Stripes above the blockhouse—the first American flag to fly over Cuba. The site was enthusiastically given the name of Camp McCalla, after the popular commanding officer of the Marblehead."

The Spaniards had evidently made a hurried departure from the hill. Scattered about the earthworks were many personal possessions—along with hammocks, machetes, ammunition, and two field pieces. Among the items discovered in the rubble of the blockhouse were a Spanish flag and a batch of official telegrams giving the strength of Spanish fortifications in the area. It was suspected that the messages had been deliberately discarded to deceive the Americans, but they were turned over to Admiral Sampson so he could investigate their authenticity. In his report to Marine Headquarters, Lieutenant Colonel Huntington commented on the marine campsite: "The hill occupied by our troops is not a good location—but the best to be had at this time. The ridge slopes downward and to the rear from the bay. The plateau at the top is very small. The surrounding countryside is covered with thick, almost impenetrable, brush. Our position is commanded by a range of hills about 1200 yards distant." With the bay at their backs—and the jungle and hills to the front and sides—the marines were in an endangered position, but tents

124 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

were pitched and outposts established. Shortly after sundown the marines ate their first meal in Cuba—hardtack and coffee. About ten o'clock a sentry sounded an alarm. The marines were rousted from their sleep, and a skirmish line was quickly formed. Spanish voices were heard in the distance and lights were seen in the brush, but no attack materialized. The marines had a restless night and awoke to another scorching hot day. The only sounds emanating from the jungle were the cooing of mourning doves—which in reality were the Spaniards signaling to each other. In the early afternoon, Colonel Laborde, commander of the Cuban insurgents and the Marblehead's pilot, came ashore to provide the marines with information about the enemy they were facing. Laborde told Huntington that the main Spanish force in the vicinity was headquartered at a freshwater well at Cuzco—six miles southeast of Fisherman's Point. The well provided the only drinking water for the enemy troops, which comprised about 500 soldiers and guerrillas. Late in the day, Privates William Dumphy and James McColgan of D Company were on outpost duty about 300 yards from camp. The marines were relaxing under a tree, but were soon lulled into carelessness by the constant heat and hypnotic sounds of the tropical forest. Suddenly, without any warning, Dumphy and McColgan were attacked and killed by a Spanish patrol that had sneaked unobserved through the thick brush and shot both men through the head at close range. The bodies of the marines were stripped of shoes, hats, and cartridge belts—and then horribly mutilated with machetes. In his handwritten diary, Private Henry D. Schrieder of C Company recalled the events which followed: "About five-thirty we heard shots. Moments later a Cuban scout rushed into camp shouting that a Spanish force was heading our way. The outposts were immediately alerted and hurried measures were taken for defense of the camp. Enemy Mauser bullets quickly began zipping over our heads. The Spaniards were hiding in the brush on all sides of us. Many had leaves and branches tied around their bodies so that they could scarcely be distinguished from the undergrowth. With our entrenchments still not completed, we made easy targets. "Colonel Huntington tried to lead the battalion in a counterattack, but the underbrush was so thick and thorny that he continued the advance with only one company. Upon reaching the outpost

The Capture of Guantanamo Bay • 125

defended by Dumphy and McColgan, the butchered bodies of our fellow marines were discovered. They never had a chance to defend themselves. "The search for the elusive enemy was abandoned at dark and Colonel Huntington and his frustrated detachment returned to camp." Throughout the night, the marines never slept. Deadly, high velocity bullets riddled the marine defenses. Furious volleys—interspersed with sporadic fire—kept the battalion on adrenalineflowing alert. About one o'clock in the morning, Assistant Surgeon John B. Gibbs was standing in front of one of the hospital tents. He had just remarked to another doctor, "Let's get out of this. I don't want to be killed here!" when a Spanish bullet struck him in the head— passing through one temple and out the other. Sergeant Charles H. Smith and his squad from D Company were dug in on the east slope of the hill on picket duty. They withstood enemy attacks throughout the night. Smith was killed, and Corporal Glass and Privates McGowan and Dalton were wounded. First Lieutenant W. C. Neville and several men ventured out to recover Smith's body, but they came under heavy fire and were forced to fall back. Henry Schrieder continued his account: "The Spaniards launched a dozen attacks before daybreak. The assaults were most threatening after midnight, when it seemed that the camp was completely surrounded. We held our ground defiantly, and our volleys seemed to have been delivered with good judgment, for they sufficed to hold the enemy in check. "The night was uncommonly dark but the Marblehead, anchored out in the bay, trained her searchlight on the thickets. The beams of light—along with the muzzle flash of Mauser rifles—served to guide our aim. "At daylight on the 12th, the artillery field pieces, under the command of Lieutenants Long and McKelvy, commenced pounding the enemy positions with rapid fire barrages. "Meanwhile the Texas arrived and landed 40 marine reinforcements and two Colt machine guns. The weapons were hauled up the hill and mounted on the earthworks. The additional fire power promised more security for our men defending the camp, and gave Colonel Huntington the opportunity to deploy one company as skirmishers and move forward to dislodge the Spaniards.

126 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

"The Marblehead had just started shelling the thickly wooded hillside to the south, when she was attacked by an enemy artillery battery across the channel and northwest of Camp McCalla. The guns were silenced by a couple of well placed salvos from the Texas. "The efforts of the skirmishing party—supported by gunfire from the camp and salvos from the Marblehead—seemed almost continuous, but the Spaniards kept shifting their attacks from place to place. "Snipers became a major problem. Accordingly, all tents and supplies were moved to the side of the hill facing the bay, and a trench 40 yards long was dug on the south front. A barricade was also constructed as enemy forces were reported to be assembling for an all-out assault on Camp McCalla. "Privates Dumphy and McColgan and Surgeon Gibbs were buried at ten o'clock this morning [June 12] on the south slope of the hill. The funeral service was conducted by Chaplain Harry Jones of the Texas. The solemn occasion was continually interrupted by the enemy—to whom the sacred purpose of those sharing in this observance must have been apparent. The prayers for the dead were concluded under the zing of Mauser bullets. The salutes we fired over the graves were aimed at the Spaniards." Following the burial service, a flagpole and a large American flag were sent ashore from the Marblehead. The permanent flag was raised over Camp McCalla by the marine battalion adjutant, First Lieutenant Herbert L. Draper. As the Stars and Stripes whipped in the breeze, the marines cheered and ships in the harbor fired salutes and blew their whistles. At the conclusion of the flag-raising ceremony, a defense perimeter was established and C and D companies took over the outpost positions. Ten Cuban scouts were attached to each picket company. As soon as darkness settled over the jungle, a large Spanish force attacked the outposts. Hearing the fire, the Marblehead, Panther, and the collier Abarenda closed the shore and sent salvo after salvo into the woods. Several shells exploded in the vicinity of D Company. Word was quickly passed back to camp, and the ships were ordered to cease firing. Commander McCalla assumed the responsibility for the error. He stated that upon noticing the muzzle flash from the marine rifles, he had mistakenly assumed that they were Mausers. For most of the night, the men of D Company defended their outpost. Under the circumstances, casualties were light. Sergeant Major Henry Good and Private Goode Taurman were killed, and

The Capture of Guantanamo Bay • 127

Privates Burke, Wallace, Martin, and Roxbury were wounded. Just before daybreak, a large Spanish force sneaked through the high brush on the hill and charged Camp McCalla, but they were beaten back by heavy rifle and machine gun fire. Later in the morning, the marines were reinforced by 50 Cuban insurgents commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Enrique E. Tomas. The Cubans, familiar with guerrilla tactics, deployed in front of the camp, burning the thicket as they advanced, and cleared an area so as to deny the Spaniards the cover they had been using to their advantage. The rest of the day remained relatively calm as the Spanish quietly picked up their dead and wounded. The marines took advantage of the lull in the fighting to recover the body of Sergeant Charles Smith. Burial services were then conducted for Smith, Sergeant Major Good, and Private Taurman. Sporadic enemy sniper fire continued to plague the marines. They stayed by their guns, ready for immediate action. By nightfall, the battalion was on the verge of exhaustion. In addition to the unbearable heat, the marines had not slept or rested for more than 72 hours. Army reinforcements were out of the question. General Shafter's Fifth Army Corps was still aboard ships at Tampa. When the news of the fighting and dying of U.S. Marines at Guantanamo Bay reached the American press, the fires of public protest were fanned by overzealous editors. An editorial in the Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Herald was typical: "The Navy Department passed the day in a state of anxiety. Secretary Long had hoped that Admiral Sampson would appreciate the seriousness of the situation and support the marines with a land force of all the available sailors he could muster. It was stated authoritatively that he could send about 2000 men ashore—not as well armed perhaps as soldiers or marines—but still capable of affording effective reinforcement. No official orders were issued to Sampson for this course of action. It was supposed that he would comprehend the situation and act accordingly. "However, in the defense of Admiral Sampson, he had been notified—on more than one occasion—that the Fifth Army Corps would sail from Tampa within twenty-four hours. It is said that no less than three times his hopes had been raised, only to be dashed to the ground by announcements of further delays. "In fact, the bombardment of Santiago, on June 6, was with the full understanding on Sampson's part that the Army was about to

128 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

depart from Tampa, and would join him after he had reduced the enemy fortifications. This may also explain why only a battalion of marines were sent ashore at Guantanamo Bay to face a reported 5000 Spanish troops. This landing was ill-advised unless it was ordered with the full expectation that military reinforcements were near at hand." At daybreak, on June 14—while half the marine battalion was at breakfast—the Spaniards launched a heavy attack on Camp McCalla from the direction of the Cuzco hills, and once again they were beaten back. The Marblehead's steam-launch, heading for Fisherman's Point, opened fire on the retreating Spanish troops, chasing them along the beach with her rapid-fire one-pounder. Colonel Huntington realized that his overly tired marines could not keep fighting off enemy raids, both day and night, while waiting for army reinforcements to arrive. A large scale Spanish assault could possibly drive the battalion off the narrow beachhead. Huntington discussed the situation with Colonel Laborde. The Cuban commander suggested a surprise attack on the Spanish headquarters at Cuzco. Defeat of the enemy soldiers—and destruction of their fresh water supply—would force the Spaniards to withdraw from the area, and this would relieve the pressure on the marine camp. A strategy conference was held with Commander McCalla and the plan was given the go-ahead. It was nine o'clock when the marines received their orders, and the sun was already hot and bright. In his official report of the expedition, Captain Elliott stated: "In accordance with verbal instructions, I left camp with 160 men of C and D Companies—commanded respectively by First Lieutenant L. C. Lucas and Captain William F Spicer. We were accompanied by 50 Cubans under Lieutenant Colonel Enrique Tomas. My orders were to destroy the well at Cuzco. This was the enemy's only drinking water supply within twelve miles, and made possible the continuance of annoying attacks upon Camp McCalla. "When we were about three miles from Cuzco, I sent the first platoon of C Company, and 25 Cubans under Lieutenant Lucas, to traverse a high hill on the left. I had hoped to cut off any enemy pickets in the vicinity, however, our detachment was seen by a Spanish outpost. The Spaniards immediately ran to warn their main body of troops at Cuzco. "Lucas and his platoon were successful in gaining the crest of the hill, but came under heavy enemy fire from the valley below—a

The Capture of Guantanamo Bay • 129

distance of 800 yards. Meanwhile, Second Lieutenant P. M. Bannon led the second platoon of C Company along a path below the crest and hidden from view by the Spaniards. In order to keep from being seen, it soon became necessary for Bannon's column to leave the narrow trail and proceed through the heavy brush. Captain Spicer and D Company followed in single file. "The crest of the hill was in the shape of a horseshoe—two-thirds encircling the Cuzco valley and the well. By late morning, C and D Companies, along with the Cubans, had occupied one-half of the horseshoe ridge. "Meanwhile, Second Lieutenant L. J. Magill—with one platoon of A Company on outpost duty from Camp McCalla—heard the firing and came to our assistance. His detachment was directed to cover the left-center of the ridge. "We were under attack by an unseen enemy. Individual Spaniards were sighted here and there and fired upon. They would dash from cover to cover, enabling us to find targets, which otherwise was impossible because of the thick chaparral in which the Spanish soldiers successfully concealed themselves. "The enemy, rushing from one position to another, gave Magill's platoon the opportunity to catch the Spaniards in a crossfire. The Spanish defense was quickly reduced to straggling shots. "The Dolphin, which had been ordered to cruise along the shore and support us if necessary, was signaled to destroy the house used as the enemy's headquarters, and also to bombard the valley." By this time, however, the ship had steamed too far up the coast, and her shells began falling on Magill's position, forcing the platoon to dig in on the reverse side of the ridge. Sergeant John H. Quick jumped to his feet and, amid a barrage of Mauser bullets, signaled the Dolphin to cease firing. Lieutenant Magill was ordered to form a skirmish line and move down into the valley toward the sea. At the same time, Lieutenant Lucas, with 40 men, fought his way into Cuzco, destroyed the well, and burned the building being used by the Spaniards as their headquarters. Magill's platoon ransacked the enemy's shore signal station and confiscated a heliograph signal outfit that had been in constant use since the marine landing. The mission was a resounding success. Eighteen Spanish soldiers, including one officer, were captured, along with 30 Mauser

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rifles and a large quantity of ammunition. For the Americans, casualties were remarkably low—one marine was wounded and twelve were overcome by the heat. Spanish losses were approximately 30 killed and 150 wounded. The fight at Cuzco was the first pitched battle between American and Spanish troops during the war. With their fresh water supply cut off, the Spaniards retreated to Caimanera and the town of Guantanamo. Early in the afternoon of June 15, the Texas and Marblehead headed toward the narrow channel leading to Caimanera. The passage was known to be packed with mines. For several nights, the Marblehead's launch had tried in vain to locate the explosives or drag up the wires. On the night of the 14th, Commander McCalla gave the assignment of clearing the minefield to the Yosemite, which was manned by the Michigan Naval Brigade. In his memoirs, Psychic Reminiscences, Chief Machinist Charles B. King related his exciting nighttime mission: "The Yosemite's steam-launch was directed to drag for mines. Marine Lieutenant Bertram S. Neumann was placed in charge of the expedition, and Ensign George Eustis was appointed second in command. I was selected as boat engineer and picked three assistants. Our crew also included ten marine marksmen and a Cuban guide. AColt machinegun, manned by Corporal Charles Larson, was mounted on the bow of the launch. "A tarpaulin covered the forward cockpit to conceal the glow of the hot coals. I gave orders that stoking of the fires be done by hand to avoid the sound of a shovel. We borrowed the navigator's dark lantern and set it under the tarp. A peek hole was cut in the canvas in order to see the steam and water gauges. "We shoved off from the Yosemite about eleven o'clock. It was a clear night. There was no moon, however, the stars were very bright. Because of the phosphorescence of the water, I held our speed to five knots. Anything faster would have created a bow wave which could be readily seen. "We approached the narrow channel with caution. Our steam was kept at 100 pounds pressure. The safety valve would blow off at 150 pounds and, in this danger zone, that had to be avoided at all costs. "The grappling lines were dropped over the side and we dragged back and forth across the channel. Suddenly the water shoaled quickly and we ran aground at the base of a Spanish fort [Toro Cays]. I looked up and could see the enemy gun emplacements

The Capture of Guantanamo Bay • 131

overhead, and could hear the footsteps of a Spanish sentry walking his post. "As quietly as possible our crew shifted the weight in the launch until the boat floated free. We continued dragging the water, but without success. So that the mission would not be a total loss, Lieutenant Neumann decided to reconnoiter the inner harbor at Caimanera and check the wharf area and location of the Sandoval. "We steamed silently and unnoticed up the channel. About two o'clock, I turned the operation of the engine over to Machinist Edward Ryan—with the explicit instructions that the steam pressure was not to exceed 100 pounds. I then crawled into the aft cockpit intending to take a short nap. But, for some unknown reason, I awoke a couple of minutes later—jumped up—climbed over the engine compartment, and glanced at the steam gauge. I could not believe my eyes—the needle registered 149 pounds! At first I thought I was dreaming, and pinched myself to see if I was really awake. "All kinds of thoughts flashed through my mind. Here we were in Spanish waters—surrounded by the enemy, and moments away from the steam valve shrieking our presence. "I quickly regained my wits and, without alarming the men, calmly passed the word to Fireman Harry Scribner to throw ashes on the fire. I then opened the throttle and a bleeder line to the condenser, started the feed pump, and nervously watched the steam gauge. At first, the pressure seemed to be edging up—but then began to drop below the danger point. "When notified of our near disaster, everyone figured that they had had enough excitement for one night and we headed back to the Yosemite." Captain John Philip, commanding the Texas, had orders to destroy the fort at Caimanera and drive out the Spaniards. The Texas, followed by the Marblehead, carefully steamed past the Toro Cays and entered the inner harbor. Captain Philip maneuvered the battleship as close to shore as possible without running aground and opened fire with his 12-inch battery. The Marblehead joined in the action—the blasts from its five-inchers drowned out by the thunder from the big guns of the Texas. The Suwanee took a position off the starboard side of the Marblehead and participated in the bombardment. Carlton T. Chapman had been aboard the New York Sun press boat Kanapaha, and vividly described the violent action in Harper's

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Pictorial: "The St. Paul and other vessels remained in the lower bay. Sailors crowded the rigging and swarmed every lofty perch. They had grandstand seats and could see it all—the ships, the red-tile roofs of Caimanera, and the fort where exploding shells hurled thick clouds of yellow dust skyward. "The marines on McCalla Hill had even a better view. Adark blue thundercloud in the background made a magnificent setting for the ships and the spiraling smoke which floated across the bay and melted into the distance. "The sailors and marines cheered, shouted and waved their hats whenever a shell from the Texas struck the fort. The flash of the discharge and the resulting explosion seem to be instantaneous. Then comes the smoke from the guns—rolling and swelling out in a vast cloud—followed by shock waves from the explosions reverberating across the water and ringing in your ears. "The battleship was silhouetted most of the time—standing out in bold relief against the flame and smoke one moment, and enveloped in a thick cloud of haze the next. Except for a few shots from the fort at the opening of the action, there was no reply from the Spaniards. The bombardment was halted after an hour and a quarter and the fighting men-of-war withdrew down the bay." The Marblehead's launch remained in the channel and continued grappling for mines. The boat's crew had no sooner hooked one of the deadly devices, when enemy soldiers along the shore opened fire on the sailors. The launch was struck several times, but the bow gunner turned his one-pounder on the Spaniards and the other members of the crew replied with their rifles. The battle was running hot and heavy. Suddenly, the boat's gun mounting loosened and the one-pounder fell overboard. The Suwanee, hearing the shooting, dashed up the channel and shelled the enemy positions, driving the Spanish troops into the jungle. Henry Schrieder remarked: "Two mines were picked up by the Marblehead's launch. Both were French-made and packed with about a hundred pounds of guncotton apiece. The mines were manufactured in 1896 and placed in position when war was declared. "Two Spanish soldiers came into camp and surrendered. They reported that their forces near Camp McCalla had been without food for three days, and one body of 500 men would give themselves up if not prevented by the officers.

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"Spanish snipers in the bushes and trees along the north shore of the bay continue to be a nuisance. At dark, searchlight beams from the ships shined up and down the channel and into the thickets looking for any movement. About ten o'clock, the Marblehead, Suwanee, Dolphin and St. Paul steamed up the bay and bombarded the enemy shoreline for a half-hour." The following morning, June 16, the Oregon arrived, escorting two large colliers. Captain Clark requested permission for his men to get in some target practice. The request was granted and, in the early afternoon, the Oregon fired a few salvos into Caimanera—hitting the telegraph office and railroad station. As soon as the first shell exploded, a train standing alongside the station immediately put on a full head of steam and took off up the tracks with its whistle shrieking. On June 17, Private Schrieder was a member of a scouting patrol which captured a Spanish messenger attempting to reach Santiago. The Spaniard was carrying a letter from General Felix Pareja to General Arsenio Linares, commander of the Santiago garrison. A handwritten translation of the letter appears in Schrieder's diary and reads in part: "Excellent sir. On the tenth of the month, American ships fired grapeshot and all kinds of projectiles on Fisherman's Point and the Toro Cays. The harbor pilot's village was burned and the point occupied. We could do nothing. Our defenses had only two muzzle loading guns and sand entrenchments. With warships firing on them from all sides, our soldiers withdrew to the Cuzco Hills where they remain today making sorties against the enemy. One hundred and fifty men of my division are positioned on Punta Carcolos, observing the movement of ships and the transfer of war material. I remain in Caimanera and only send messages to Santiago when I think it is necessary—like today. "Yesterday, in an attempt to impede the Americans, the batteries at Toro Cay attacked the enemy. Our guns, however, were hindered by their short range. The Sandoval is operating in the center of the channel, but it only has seven torpedoes. The Fort Caimanera batteries are holding their fire until the American ships attempt to enter the inner harbor. "The enemy squadron has taken possession of the outer bay and is using it as a refuge. Their ships have anchored as if in one of their own ports. They have cut all our cables of communication.

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"Despite the present situation, my men are in good spirits. I continue serving half-rations of everything, but, even so, I only expect provisions to last until the end of the month. My main concern is bread. We have no flour of any kind, and no way of getting some. Quinine for the hospital is also in short supply. I have had to confiscate if from private drugstores, and still only have enough to carry us for a few weeks. "The cable house, although riddled with shells, still stands. If the Americans abandon the bay—which I doubt—everything will be done to reestablish communications. Today, there is in the harbor, a large armored vessel [Texas], seven smaller ships and a collier. Armed steam-launches patrol Fisherman's Point." Schrieder also reported on the latest rumors that spread through Camp McCalla and the naval force sitting in the bay: "A Spanish deserter said that the Sandoval is filled with straw preparatory to being set afire. The Cubans tell us that the people in Santiago know nothing of what has been happening at Guantanamo, and that the insurgents control the countryside between the two ports. They claim that the Spanish soldiers at Caimanera are trapped and cannot escape." Despite the overpowering strength of the American naval vessels, and the heavy bombardments of enemy positions, the Spaniards refused to quit, and were a constant threat to the use of the bay for a coaling station. Spanish officers had threatened their men with death if they surrendered. In order to counter the propaganda, the marines posted notices in the woods to the effect that any Spanish soldiers who surrendered would be well treated and fed. The placards soon began to produce results, as Carlton Chapman related: "On the morning of the 18th, one enemy soldier walked into camp carrying three Maser rifles and a knapsack jam-packed with cartridges. The Spaniard said that he had been in Cuba eleven months. He had been promised many fine things, but had yet to be paid and nothing to eat for the past three days. "About noon, the Marblehead's launch steamed up the channel to Caimanera under a flag of truce to attempt a prisoner exchange, with a view to obtaining the release of Lieutenant Hobson and his men. The negotiations fell through, but the launch crew stated that, although the fort had been badly damaged, it was in the process of being repaired and new guns installed. Also, despite

The Capture of Guantanamo Bay • 135

rumors to the contrary, the Sandoval looked spic and span and ready for business." A few days after the bombardment of the Caimanera fort, Commander McCalla began to concentrate his efforts on clearing the enemy minefield, which still posed a danger to his ships. A minesweeping operation was carried out using two steam-launches and two whaleboats from the Marblehead and Dolphin. The sweepers worked in pairs—one launch and a whaleboat side by side, connected to the other launch and whaleboat by a rope with a chain-drag in the center. When the drag snagged the wire to a mine, the boats would move toward each other, crossing the ends of the chain. As the drag tightened, the mine was brought to the surface and disarmed. Fourteen of the so-called infernal machines were recovered in this manner. While the launches and whaleboats were busy sweeping the channel for mines, they were fired upon by a detachment of Spanish infantry across from the Toro Cays. Commander McCalla was determined to eliminate the danger, and an expedition was immediately planned. At three o'clock on the morning of June 25, Lieutenant Colonel Huntington left camp with C and E companies, along with 60 Cubans under Lieutenant Colonel Tomas. Their mission was to clean out enemy resistance on the west side of the bay. The marines crossed the channel in 15 boats. Henry Schrieder described the attack: "The Marblehead and Helena took position close to the beach to cover the landing. The boats advanced in three columns and the marines were landed quietly and quickly. A thorough reconnaissance was made of the point, but the enemy had retreated. Evidence indicated that they had left in a great hurry— probably the night before. We reembarked at nine o'clock. "A column of Spaniards were seen from the ships—one or two men at a time crossing a dry lagoon a few miles to the northwest. They were not fired upon." Prior to the cutting of the cables connecting Guantanamo Bay to Santiago and Haiti, General Pareja had been instructed to hold the port at all costs. It was expected that the American army would land in force at Guantanamo Bay and then march west to Santiago. After the cables were cut, Pareja was in complete darkness concerning the course of the war. The Cuban insurgents held such a tight grip around Caimanera and the bay that not one messenger

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managed to get through their lines. Fifteen couriers were captured and executed as spies. Not only were General Pareja's attempts to contact Santiago unsuccessful, but also frantic messages from General Linares—requesting troops from the Guantanamo garrison—failed to reach Caimanera. Unknowingly, the Marine Corps had carried out an amphibious deception which resulted in General Shafter being able to keep his actual invasion site a secret from the Spanish. In 1903, George F. Elliott was appointed brigadier general commandant of the Marine Corps, relieving Major General Charles Heywood. Elliott was the only commandant to receive his early training at West Point, and he retired with the rank of major general in 1910.

11 Lieutenant Victor Blue's Journey to Santiago Harbor In mid-May, Lieutenant Victor Blue was serving as executive officer of the Suwanee, captained by Lieutenant Commander Delehanty, when orders were received to escort a steamer to Cuba. The following account is edited from papers in the Victor Blue Collection at the North Carolina State Archives: The first active duty of the Suwanee was to convoy the Gussie— loaded with munitions of war—from Key West to the Cuban insurgents under General Maximo Gomez. However, it was first necessary to ascertain the whereabouts of General Gomez. According to our information, he could be found somewhere near the coast off Buenavista Bay—between the Cuban mainland and a number of small islands, or cays, to the north. At the head of the bay was Bonem Cay, the headquarters of a large Spanish garrison. Enemy gunboats continually patrolled the bay to prevent communication between the insurgents and American blockade vessels. Leaving the Gussie anchored on the Bahama Banks, we proceeded to reconnoiter the Cuban coast. Upon arriving at Frances Cay—the entrance to Buenavista Bay—the smoke of Spanish gunboats on patrol could be seen. We quickly discovered that the water was too shallow to permit a vessel of the Suwanee's draft to enter the bay. We decided to send a whaleboat ashore, find General Gomez, and arrange a time and place for landing the supplies. The distance to the insurgent's camp

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was 20 miles by a devious route through the cays and across Buenavista Bay. At sunset on May 31, I set out with our whaleboat. Besides myself, the crew consisted of Senor Jova (a Cuban commissioner), ten armed sailors, and a pilot familiar with the area. At nightfall, with muffled oars, we began winding our way through the cays. The number of men in the boat, 13, caused some concern among the superstitious sailors—until a little Irishman in the group reminded the men about the 13 original states and 13 stripes in the flag. As we proceeded silently on our course, signal fires burning on the islands we passed indicated that the Spaniards were on the alert. It was one o'clock in the morning when the mainland was sighted. All hands were relieved to see the friendly signal of three bonfires which marked the location of the insurgent camp. After a short delay, caused by the necessity of positive identification, our boat was permitted to approach the landing site. The Cubans enthusiastically splashed into the water and carried us ashore amid shouts of "Viva los Americanos!" and "Viva los Estados Unidos!" It was heartwarming to see the demonstrations of joy exhibited by these patriots when they realized that the great nation of America had at last come to their aid. Unfortunately, General Gomez happened to be away at the time, so arrangements for handling the Gussie's cargo were made with his chief of staff. Before heading back to the Suwanee, I was warned that we would have to be safely across the ten-mile expanse of Buenavista Bay by dawn or risk the chance of being seen by a Spanish gunboat and captured. Thus far our expedition had gone unnoticed by the enemy—but, while crossing the bay in the darkness, we almost ran into a Spanish ship. Evidently, their watch must not have been alert, as we managed to escape without being observed. However, because of the patrol vessel, I was forced to steer in a direction some distance off our original course. Daybreak found us still in the shoal waters of the cays—fully 20 miles from the Suwanee. The night breeze had died down, but as the tropical sun rose, its penetrating rays soon began to tell on the energy of the men at the oars. I cautioned the crew to keep a sharp lookout for two enemy sloops which were known to patrol these shallow waters.

Victor Blue's expedition to Buenavista Bay, May 31,189a

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Our boat continued to carefully wind its way through the many little cays covered with dense thickets of mangrove trees. Suddenly, as we were about to round a small island, the masts of two sloops were sighted. They were lying quietly at anchor in a cove and partially hidden by the brush. The sagging spirits of the men—brought on by the long and tiresome pull at the oars—were instantly energized into action. Every jack one of them was filled with a rage to fight rather than sneak away The Spaniards had not yet seen our boat—and the odds of being discovered appeared to be somewhat counterbalanced by the possibility of surprise. At any rate, the decision was unanimous—attack and capture the ships by boarding. As quietly as possible, we rowed around the point of the island and opened up a vigorous fire upon the first sloop that came into view. A strenuous spurt by the men at the oars quickly brought us alongside the ship. Our surprise was complete. We caught the enemy unawares. After a short firefight, the Spaniards jumped overboard and swam to shore. Leaving a few men to hoist the anchor and take the vessel seaward, we headed for the other sloop—about a hundred yards distant. As we neared the ship, I noticed that its decks seemed deserted. It appeared that the crew—noticing the fate of the other sloop—had made preparations to fight our boarding party, and were hiding behind hatch covers and bulwarks. The silence was ominous, but it was too late to turn back. The oarsmen redoubled their efforts to get our boat alongside the enemy vessel as fast as possible. The rest of us kept up a rapid fire while closing the ship. All of a sudden, a man was seen rushing topside from below deck. He hesitated a moment, then plunged into the water and swam toward the island. He was a large fat man, and the splash he made shot up higher than the sides of the sloop. The comical episode caused a great deal of laughter among our crew—not only from the ludicrous performance of the fat Spaniard, but also because the tense strain on our nerves had been broken. We were expecting, at any moment, to receive a volley of Mauser bullets from riflemen we could not see—but instead we witnessed the spectacle of a fat man trying to fly without wings. Our Cuban pilot knew the Spaniard and said that he was the ship's captain, and probably the only person on the sloop. But I was not about to take any chances. With rifles at the ready, we boarded and searched the ship. It was empty. We quickly got the vessel

Journey to Santiago Harbor • 141

underway, keeping up a desultory fire into the woods—just as a reminder to the Spaniards to keep running. After rejoining our first prize, it became apparent why the other ship had no one on board except the captain. It was breakfast time, and both crews were about to have their morning meal on the first sloop. This was evidenced by the large number of men on deck when we made our original attack—and an untouched large kettle of mutton stew and a full pot of steaming hot coffee. Since it was assumed that we would return to the Suwanee before daylight, no food, other than hardtack, had been provided for us. Consequently, after a night and half a day of unceasing vigilance and back-breaking toil, this Spanish breakfast, complete with hot coffee, was most appreciated. Another source of satisfaction was the discovery of a complete heliograph outfit aboard the second sloop. We had observed its signal flashes the night before. Boatswain's Mate Purcell—an old sailor who had seen service in the Civil War—was placed in command of the fat Spaniard's ship. Purcell was elated, and rejoiced in distinguishing himself from the other men by wearing the Spanish captain's coat and hat. We headed out to sea with the two sloops and in due time met the Suwanee. We were received on board with rousing cheers, and were dubbed the "Lucky Thirteen." The Suwanee returned to Key West, and a short time later the Gussie arrived. I learned that its mission had been aborted. After we had left the vessel on the Bahama Banks, the revenue cutter Manning and the converted yacht Wasp were ordered to escort the Gussie to Cabanas where the munitions were to be delivered. Soldiers accompanied the expedition, but when the troops attempted to land on the beach, they were attacked by a large Spanish force and the mission had to be abandoned. Before we had a chance to catch our breath, Lieutenant Commander Delehanty received instructions to load the Gussie's stores aboard the Suwanee and report to Admiral Sampson's blockade fleet. We arrived off Santiago Bay on June 5, and opened communications with insurgent army units under Colonel Cebreco near Cocal Point, and General Rabi at Aserraderos—about 18 miles west of Santiago. For the next several days we passed the nights on our assigned blockade station. In the morning, the Suwanee would steam to one or the other of the insurgent camps and spend the day unloading

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supplies. I soon became very friendly with the Cubans and familiar with the areas where their bivouacs were located. On the morning of the 10th, the Suwanee was hailed by one of our auxiliary vessels. Lieutenant Commander Delehanty was ordered to communicate with the insurgents at once and ascertain before nightfall whether or not all of Cervera's ships were in Santiago Harbor. We immediately headed for Aserraderos. Delehanty talked the matter over with me, and it was decided that I was the logical person to go on the mission. His idea was for me to pick up a guide at General Rabi's camp. Both of us would then be landed at Cocal Point. We would climb one of the high hills near the bay, view the harbor, and be back aboard in time for the Suwanee to reach Admiral Sampson's flagship before dark. The plan seemed feasible, with little or no danger attached to the journey. It was with a light heart that I set out for General Rabi's headquarters to procure a guide. The general received me very courteously, but said that the Spaniards had driven Colonel Cebreco's soldiers back from Cocal Point, and at the moment were probably about ten miles from Aserraderos. General Rabi, however, realized my predicament and conferred with his scouts. He returned shortly and informed me that there was a place north of Santiago where it was possible to sneak through enemy lines and approach near enough to the bay to obtain an unobstructed view. Major Francisco H. Masaba y Reyes was assigned as my guide, and early the next morning, riding two mules, we set out for the hills behind Santiago. Despite Masaba's protests, I decided to wear my uniform on the trip. In case we were captured, I did not relish the idea of being hanged as a spy. From Aserraderos we traveled about five miles over a mule path that had been cut through the almost impenetrable jungle which covered the slopes between the high cliffs and the sea. We then followed a mountain stream which was the dividing line between the insurgent and Spanish forces north. I might mention here that during our entire 70-mile round trip I did not see one Spanish picket—although we passed a considerable number of enemy troops. The Cubans, on the other hand, were continually on the alert, and not once did their vigilant pickets fail to challenge us.

Victor Blue's expedition to Santiago Bay, June 11,1898.

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It was about sundown when we reached the headquarters of a Cuban battalion stationed on the path which led from Santiago to Manzanillo. The battalion commander informed me that there were about 700 Spaniards guarding the roads, and small enemy detachments were constantly patrolling the countryside. After discussing with his scouts which trail we should take, a route was decided upon and three additional guides were given to us. Much to my surprise, our escorts took us along the main road leading to Santiago. We followed the path for about two miles, then quickly left the trail and plunged into a dense forest. By this time, night was coming on, and we had to dismount and lead the mules. For the next couple of hours, we blindly felt our way through the darkness—stumbling over logs and sinking kneedeep in muddy swamps. After crossing a small stream, our guides found a path. We had only followed it for a half-mile when they decided that it was unsafe for us to go any farther. We left the trail, and had just started to look for a suitable place to camp, when a light was seen several hundred yards away. One of our guides was sent ahead to investigate. He returned shortly and reported that the light came from the house of a half-breed Frenchman who was a Cuban sympathizer. The man and his wife welcomed us and proved to be very hospitable—as far as their meager means would allow. After having a supper of dried beef and coffee—furnished by our hosts—and hardtack and sardines from my haversack, Masaba and I retired for the night. The three soldiers were posted as sentries. Although my bed was a brick floor, and the air was thick with mosquitoes, the fatigue of the day's journey made me oblivious to such trivial things. It was still dark when I was awakened by the smell of a wood fire and hot coffee. We started out again soon after daylight over a path which the Frenchman said had been patrolled by Spanish troops the previous afternoon. But, if we moved fast, we could reach our destination before the arrival of the next patrol from Santiago. I met a number of insurgents during the journey, and, in order to explain my mission—and magnify its importance—Masaba would tell the Cubans that I was going to sink the Spanish fleet with dynamite. I think he even bragged to some of the men that I was Admiral Sampson—because on our return trip, some of the soldiers asked me if I was indeed the admiral.

Journey to Santiago Harbor • 145

As we approached the bay, I occasionally sighted Spanish camps to our right and front. Upon reaching the base of a large hill, Masaba motioned for me to dismount. We tied the mules in a thicket and climbed to the summit. Hidden by brush, I peered over the crest of the slope at the panorama spread out before me. At the foot of the bluff, more than a hundred enemy troops were lounging around their camp, but the most inspiring sight was the city of Santiago and the bay. I noticed the Vizcaya and Maria Teresa lying peacefully at anchor—with their awnings spread and whaleboats quietly swinging at the booms. I also saw two destroyers—one steaming down the bay and the other sneaking behind Smith Cay. Tied up at the city wharves were a few steamers and the trim little gunboat Alvarado.

From my position on the hilltop, I had sighted two armored cruisers and two destroyers—but where were the other cruisers? We headed in the direction of the city for another half-mile, then climbed another hill which was several hundred feet higher than the first. When we reached the top, practically the entire bay came into view—including the Almirante Oquendo. The Cristobal Colon was still missing. We retraced our steps, and proceeded several hundred yards toward the sea from our first observation post. While heading in this direction—and stooping in the high grass to hide from a group of nearby Spaniards—I suddenly noticed a military mast among the treetops. As we crept forward, the smokestack and hull of the Colon seemed to rise mysteriously out of the bay. My mission had now been completed, and the desired information obtained. We returned to where our mules had been tied, and, skirting enemy patrols, reached General Rabi's headquarters at nine o'clock that night. At daybreak the following morning, the Suwanee's whaleboat met me at the landing site. No one mentioned the fact that I was a couple of days late. Evidently they were happy that I was still alive.

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12 The Yosemite and the Purisima Concepcion It was an impossible task for Admiral Sampson's fleet to invest every Cuban port, and merchant vessels continually took their chances with the American warships patrolling the island's coast. On a dark, foggy night in the latter part of May, the Spanish steamer Purisima Concepcion, captained by Lieutenant Commander Joaquin Montague, sneaked out from the harbor at Manzanillo and made a successful dash to Kingston, Jamaica. The ship's commissary officer, who spoke perfect English, went ashore and began purchasing large quantities of flour, rice, and corn. The merchants, unaware that the buyer was Spanish, honored the sales. While in port, Lieutenant Commander Montague asked Jamaican authorities for clearance papers for Manzanillo since it was not a blockaded port, and also applied for a change of registry—which would have permitted the Concepcion to fly the colors of Great Britain. The U.S. consul was notified and immediately lodged a protest. A hearing was held, and the colonial government stated that if the American consul could furnish specific proof that Montague intended to sail for a blockaded port, it would refuse permission for the vessel to load. The consul lost his case, but he delayed the sailing of the Purisima Concepcion until June 16, and a change of registry was denied. There was no doubt in the mind of the U.S. consul that the pro-

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visions were destined for the Spanish Army. Admiral Sampson was notified and immediately dispatched the Yosemite to intercept the enemy vessel when it left port. In his privately printed memoirs, Henry B. Joy, chief boatswain's mate of the Yosemite, related one of the more baffling events of the war: "The facts of that unhappy morning [June 16] were known to many of the crew of the Yosemite—and reflect no discredit upon Lieutenant Gilbert Wilkes, the officer on watch. The only person upon whom the facts do denigrate is the captain of our ship, Commander William H. Emory "I think it entirely safe to say that every member of the ship's company felt chagrined and disappointed that our ship failed to accomplish its mission. "Lieutenant Wilkes was the officer on the morning watch from four until eight o'clock. I was the chief boatswain's mate and was also on the watch. At five o'clock, upon a hail from one of the lookouts, we looked in the indicated direction and plainly saw a large vessel steaming westward out from Kingston and on a course opposite to that of the Yosemite. It was quickly identified as the Purisima Concepcion.

'The captain's quarters were almost directly under the bridge. Mr. Wilkes, who was on the bridge, called down to Commander Emory's orderly to notify the captain that a ship was in sight off our port bow. I was standing on the deck near Emory's cabin and crossed over to the port side to watch the ship pass. I saw the captain's face appear at the porthole of his cabin several times and look intently in the direction of the Purisima Concepcion. I naturally expected that swift action would be forthcoming. However, Commander Emory remained in his quarters and did not come on deck or to the bridge. "Mr. Wilkes again told the orderly to advise the captain that the passing ship was now broad abeam. The captain still stayed in his cabin. After a few moments, Mr. Wilkes, for the third time, called to the orderly to alert the captain that the vessel was now on the port quarter. Once again there was no reply or action from Commander Emory. "We sighted the Port Royal light at seven o'clock, and it took us about another hour to reach Kingston. The harbor pilot came aboard at eight and advised our captain that the Purisima Concepcion had sailed early that morning.

The Yosemite and the Purisima Concepcion • 149

"At eight-forty, the health officer arrived, and at nine we fired a 21 gun salute. The Yosemite finally anchored abreast the United States Consulate at ten minutes past ten. 'In order to justify his decision not to stop the Spanish ship, Commander Emory stated—in a letter to the Bureau of Navigation, dated July 22,1898—The weather was so thick as to not to be able to distinguish objects.' One might erroneously infer from this remark that low visibility existed, and that a passing ship could not have been seen. However, the log of the Yosemite states that the weather was clear at the time. The letter also said that the Yosemite anchored in Kingston at eleven o'clock. The ship's log lists the time at ten past ten. "Commander Emory then stated, T learned from the U.S. Consul that the Purisima Concepcion had sailed at four o'clock. Even if we could have left at once, it would have been to no avail, as the Spaniard's seven hour head start was too great to overcome.' "The statements in this letter are so misleading that it is difficult to imagine that Emory could have attached his signature to such a report as representing the facts. He had seen the Purisima Concepcion at five o'clock in the morning—and had also been advised by the harbor pilot that the Spanish vessel had sailed earlier. "We then steamed to the eastern entrance of the harbor, where much delay transpired while port officials came aboard and gun salutes were exchanged. "In referring to his orders to intercept the Purisima Concepcion, it should be noted that Commander Emory makes no mention, in his letter, of the incident which occurred on the early morning of June 16. "Even more incredulous was my discovery that no record exists in Gilbert Wilkes' log entry covering this period of the watch. Mr. Wilkes did not document the happening—nor the fact that he reported three times to the captain that the enemy vessel had been sighted." The Purisima Concepcion controversy received very little notice in the American press. However, an editorial in the Boston Herald commented: "The Yosemite, and other cruisers, had been especially warned about this Spaniard, and that she would be a rich prize. It was rumored that the ship was carrying $100,000 in gold on board."

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A few days later another series of events were put into motion that would again affect the notoriety of the Yosemite. On June 19, the St. Paul, under Captain Charles Sigsbee's command, was ordered to proceed to San Juan, Puerto Rico, and institute a blockade of the port. Sigsbee stated in an article in Harper's Pictorial: "My instructions said that the Yosemite would soon join me, so that if we needed to recoal, I could leave the blockade station. "We arrived off San Juan at eight o'clock on the morning of June 22. The weather was clear, a strong trade wind was blowing, and the sea was moderately rough. "At twelve-forty an alarm was sounded by Lieutenant J. A. Pattson. I immediately rushed to the bridge and sighted the barkrigged Spanish cruiser Isabel II moving slowly out from the harbor with her head to the east. We held our position while the Spaniard steamed seaward. Upon sighting the St. Paul, the enemy vessel opened fire at long range—and quickly maneuvered inshore to be under the protection of the Morro Castle's eight- and ten-inch guns. Most of the enemy salvos fell short, although several shots may have ricocheted over us. The St. Paul replied only by an occasional shell to test the range." Hearing the gunfire, the townspeople hurried to the surrounding bluffs to watch the sea battle—hoping to see the American cruiser driven off or sunk. At one o'clock, the Spanish torpedo boat Terror dashed at top speed up the harbor channel, then swung eastward around the Morro. Captain Sigsbee remarked: "The St. Paul followed, parallel to the city, and keeping the Terror on such a bearing so that, in case the vessel decided to attack us, it would have to cross the trough of the sea. "My object was to distance ourselves out of range from the Isabel II, which was heading west, while we engaged the torpedo boat." For the next twenty minutes, Sigsbee watched the Terror through his binoculars. Suddenly the torpedo boat began circling to get up speed—then, with guns blazing, raced straight for the St. Paul. As soon as the fast-approaching craft came within 5400 yards, Captain Sigsbee gave the order to commence firing. Rapid salvos from the cruiser's starboard battery immediately started splashing on all sides of the Terror. The torpedo boat was quickly hit three times— one shell exploding abaft the smokestack, and another plowing into the engineroom. The Terror turned back toward the Morro, but it was evident that the vessel had been crippled. The torpedo boat was moving slowly and began to drift toward Cabras Island.

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Several signals were flashed from the craft to shore, and a tug came out with a towline. The Terror was escorted into the harbor by the Isabel II and a gunboat, the General Concha. A short time later, the enemy cruiser and gunboat moved up the channel and steamed east—keeping well inshore and beyond the range of the guns from the St. Paul. Captain Sigsbee stated: "I could see no reason for this maneuver—except possibly to decoy us to within range of the Morro's batteries. We headed west to our blockade to our blockade position. Then, about five o'clock, turned east on a parallel course to that which the Spanish vessels were steering. The enemy ships immediately returned to the harbor." At two o'clock on the afternoon of June 25, the Yosemite arrived off San Juan and joined the St. Paul in blockading the port. The ships stationed themselves on either side of the harbor entrance. The following morning, Sigsbee informed Commander Emory that the St. Paul was low on coal and that one of its gun batteries had been disabled. Sigsbee also stated that he would be leaving immediately to New York for coaling and repairs. Emory was instructed to handle the blockade duties until a more heavily armed ship arrived. Gunner's Mate Edwin Denby narrated the Yosemite's dangerous assignment in his story in Harper's Pictorial: "Consider our situation—an unarmored steamer left to fend for itself in front of the strongest Morro Castle fortress in the West Indies. And, as if that was not perilous enough, waiting inside the well-protected harbor were the Spanish cruisers Isabel II and Alfonso XIII, the gunboat General Concha and the torpedo-boat Terror." For the next couple of days, the Yosemite steamed back and forth across the entrance to San Juan Harbor—staying just out of range of the Morro's guns. The lonely blockade vessel was kept continually busy chasing and overhauling every merchant ship that appeared in sight. At dusk, the Yosemite would steam several miles out to sea and maneuver to elude any enemy torpedo boats. At dawn, Commander Emory would return to his blockade station. Denby graphically described the Yosemite's battle against overwhelming odds on the morning of June 28: "Just as the shaggy, cloud-fringed dawn was giving way to daylight, we arrived off San Juan—about nine miles north of the Morro. A sudden rain squall developed and, when it passed, our lookouts sighted a large three-masted steamer [Antonio Lopez] about twelve miles distant and sneaking toward the harbor.

Sea battle at San Juan, Puerto Rico, June 28,1899.

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"In order to intercept the stranger, the Yosemite dashed at full speed across the Morro's zone of fire, and headed to cut off the blockade-runner. We fired a shot over the bow of the enemy ship. But, instead of stopping, her answer was a cloud of black smoke from the stack. She was making a run for it." The Yosemite poured on the coal. The order to commence firing was shouted to the gun crews, and the starboard six-pounders blazed in anger. The captain of the Antonio Lopez quickly realized that he could not reach San Juan and headed for protection under the guns of Fort Canuelo. Henry Joy commented on the beginning of the naval action: "Having overhauled a small vessel at the same spot on the previous day, we were familiar with the reefs and continued the chase. Seeing our intention, the steamer turned directly toward shore and beached on a reef about six miles west of the Morro. We approached to within 4000 yards of the stranded ship and opened fire. The steamer was soon disabled and its crew began to abandon the vessel." Suddenly, puffs of white smoke were noticed floating skyward from the parapets of the Morro. Moments later, shells were splashing into the sea less than a hundred yards from the Yosemite. Edwin Denby continued his narration: "We instantly began radical maneuvers to avoid being hit. One shell exploded within a few yards of the stern—hurling up a large column of water and spraying the decks. Before we had time to assess the situation, the Alfonso XIII, General Concha and the Terror emerged from the harbor and raced to the aid of the foundering steamer. The Spanish warships immediately opened fire on us, and the big guns of the Morro joined in the assault. The Yosemite was quickly bracketed by exploding projectiles. "We were trapped. Our only option was to attack. Turning sharply, we dashed recklessly toward the enemy vessels—straight in the face of their heavier guns. As soon as we came within range, a savage whirlwind of fire swept with perfect accuracy from our broadside batteries. First port—then starboard—as we changed position to allow the guns to cool. "The Yosemite was enveloped in lung-choking smoke. The roar of our five-inch guns and the bark of the six-pounders blended together—a macabre concert of death-dealing shells. Our fire was too rapid and accurate for the Spaniards to withstand. The Alfonso XIII began to list heavily to port. It turned and wobbled back to the

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harbor. The General Concha also withdrew from the action and took a position near the Morro." But the Terror refused to quit the battle. The crippled torpedo boat snaked carefully down the coast—hid behind the Antonio Lopez— and continued to shoot at the Yosemite with its two rapid-fire six-pounders. Gunner's Mate Denby recalled: "Victorious and unscathed, we moved out of range of the Morro—firing a few more rounds as we passed the stranded steamer and torpedo boat. "Throughout the remainder of the day, the Yosemite strutted up and down the shoreline—battle flags flying, and with a welldeserved chip on its shoulder. We waited for the Spaniards to come out and renew the engagement, but evidently they decided to hide under protection of the Morro and lick their wounds. "The amount of damage we inflicted on the enemy vessels is difficult to say. The Yosemite, however, was untouched—although at least 15 shells fell within half a ship's length, and several splashed so close that their spray washed the decks." The Yosemite remained unchallenged and continued her lonesome blockade of San Juan Harbor until relieved by the New Orleans on July 14. In addition to her "one-ship war" against the Spanish Navy, the Yosemite boasted another distinction which has never been duplicated. She is the only American warship to have numbered among her crew two future secretaries of the navy—Truman H. Newberry (1908-09) and Edwin Denby (1921-24). Fate was not as kind to the grandson of Admiral Charles Wilkes. Gilbert Wilkes became the scapegoat for the failure of the Yosemite to intercept the Purisima Concepcion. The incident dogged at his heels until his death in 1901 at the age of 41.

U.S.S. Biiffkh in New York Navy Yard, December 6, 1898. (Photo courtesy U.S. Navy)

U.S.S. Marblehead. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

U.S.S. Vesuvius. (Photo courtesy U.S. Navy)

Ensign Worth Bagley. (Photo courtesy Military History Institute)

Lieutenant Richmond Pearson Hobson. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

Lieutenant Victor Blue. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

Major General Littleton Waller Tazewell Waller. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

U.S.S Ywsemitff. (Pholo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

13 General Shafter's Fifth Army Corps Lands in Cuba In the early morning hours of June 16—while Admiral Sampson waited impatiently for the Fifth Army Corps to arrive from Tampa—a Spanish torpedo boat sneaked out from Santiago Bay, quickly fired a torpedo in the direction of the American ships, then dashed back up the channel to safety. In an article appearing in the Boston Herald, Sylvester Scovel described a near tragedy as the aimless missile sliced through the water: "The gray streaks of dawn were just beginning to break in the east, and the shrill notes of the boatswain's pipe shattered the quiet of another sleepy morning. "From the craggy cliffs of the Morro and La Socapa, hundreds of graceful birds spread their wings and jostled for room in a rapidly overcrowded sky. The snowy pinions of seagulls seemed to touch the fighting tops of our ships as they swept noisily by on their way to breakfast. "Our silent throated guns—trained on the fortresses—yawned their awakening, and the tints of sunlight, splashing on the sea, glistened on the yellow brass that trimmed our ships. There were no signs of war. "Aboard the Porter, Lieutenant Fremont and Ensign Gillis climbed topside and scanned the hostile shore through their binoculars. Spanish flags could be seen floating from the enemy bastions—while up and down the coast lay Sampson's ships, with the American colors whipping in the sharp sea breeze.

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"Lieutenant Fremont suddenly noticed an object on the swell of the tide and coming toward the Porter. It was black and porpoiselike, and Fremont did not need a glass to detect a Schwartzkoph torpedo. The missile was not moving fast, but was definitely bent on destruction. "Ensign Gillis also spotted the torpedo. He quickly took off his coat and slipped out of his shoes. With hands gripping the railing, Gillis leaned forward and anxiously watched—as with each swell of the sea—the deadly machine continued to close the Porter. "The ensign prepared to jump. 'Don't do it!' Fremont shouted, 'She's got her war nose on!' " 'I'll fix that sir!' Gillis called out, and dove into the water. Using strokes worthy of a champion swimmer, he reached the torpedo and circled the missile with his arms. "Gillis struggled with the torpedo, finally turning the weapon away from his ship. He then screwed the firing pin up tight so it would not operate, and swam back to the Porter—pulling the prize with him. "Lifting his dripping hand from the water, the ensign saluted Lieutenant Fremont. Termission to come aboard, sir?' he asked. Permission was granted, and Gillis—along with his captured torpedo—were hauled to the deck." On the afternoon of June 20, the invasion fleet carrying the Fifth Army Corps was sighted approaching the coast of Cuba. Escorted by the battleship Indiana, the troop transports and screening vessels—with signal flags flying—paraded in single file across the entrance to Santiago Bay. The colorful line of ships stretched for eight miles, and was a welcome and impressive sight to the war weary sailors crowding the rails and masts of the blockade vessels. The deck of each troopship was jammed with soldiers—cheering wildly and waving their hats and American flags. The guns of Admiral Sampson's flagship, the New York, boomed a salute as the transports steamed past the Spanish forts then circled out to sea and anchored. A short time later, Admiral Sampson and Captain Chadwick joined General Shafter aboard the general's headquarters' ship, Seguranca. The Seguranca then steamed to Aserraderos where a conference was held with the Cuban insurgent leaders at General Calixto Garcia's camp. In his book, With Sampson through the War, W.A.M. Goode commented on the controversial meeting: "At first, the conversation

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was devoted to the details of landing the troops. It was decided that Daiquiri and Siboney would be the main debarkation sites. Shafter then remarked to Garcia, 'My object, General, is to land my troops and occupy the forts at the harbor entrance, in order that navy vessels can lift the mines and move in to attack Cervera's squadron.' "Shafter's announcement of his campaign plans created no comment from Admiral Sampson, because the capture of the Morro and La Socapa—and the destruction of the Spanish warships—was presumed by the naval officers to be the primary purpose of the military expedition. The city of Santiago was a secondary objective. Its capture was of doubtful value—and practically impossible as long as Cervera's flotilla remained in the harbor. "After the war, I asked General Shafter to explain why he had not followed his original plan—or, at least, why he had not informed Admiral Sampson of the change in strategy. "Shafter replied that his plans were never changed, and that he never contemplated taking the forts. The General stated that, during the conferences aboard the Seguranca, and at General Garcia's headquarters, he fully discussed the capture of the city by the Army. "However, if General Shafter did say anything regarding an inland campaign—with Santiago as the main objective—these remarks were not heard by any naval officers present." Before daylight on June 22, the quiet tropical night was ruptured as units of Admiral Sampson's fleet bombarded several locations along the southeast coast of Cuba. The Texas and Vixen battled the La Socapa batteries. An enemy shell struck the Texas, killing one man and wounding eight others. While the Texas was attracting the attention of the Spaniards at Santiago Bay, three other bombardments were taking place east of the Morro Castle. At Aguadores, the Eagle and Gloucester destroyed a blockhouse across the Aguadores River where the Spanish had blown up the end of a railroad bridge leading to the fort. The gunboat Annapolis, the converted yacht Hornet, the Helena, and the gunboat Bancroft blasted enemy positions at Siboney, while the Detroit, Castine, Wasp, New Orleans, Scorpion, Wompatuck, and Suwanee pounded the coast at Daiquiri. About noon, the signal was given to disembark troops at Daiquiri. More than 50 cutters and whaleboats had been assigned to the task. A problem developed, however, when many of the transport captains refused to bring their vessels close inshore. A strong wind was whipping the surf, and many small boats and barges

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capsized—throwing men, horses, artillery, and provisions into the water. Lieutenant Jacob Kreps, of the Twenty-second U.S. Infantry Regiment, wrote in his diary: "Throughout the afternoon, a Mardigras [sic] atmosphere pervaded the landing operation. Musical groups, aboard the transports, enlivened the proceedings with spirited renditions of 'There'll Be A Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight7 and other favorites. "Whenever a boat tipped over, the soldiers of the volunteer regiments cheered and admonished the coxswains—as if it was the Navy's fault. The regulars took the landings more soberly. This was serious business." Meanwhile Teddy Roosevelt and his "Rough Riders" were going ashore at Aguadores. Both landings were unopposed. By nightfall, 6000 men of the Fifth Army Corps were on Cuban soil. The following day, other regiments, including the Seventy-first New York Volunteer Infantry, began landing at Siboney. It was not until the afternoon that the Spaniards made a stand and ambushed the Rough Riders at Las Guasimas, about four miles west of Siboney. An alert enemy might have taken advantage of the chaotic conditions to successfully oppose the landings. Although the Spanish had 36,000 soldiers in the vicinity of Santiago, they did nothing to prevent the American troops from wading ashore. A difference in strategy immediately developed between General Shafter and Admiral Sampson. Instead of concentrating his attack on the Morro Castle and La Socapa—as originally planned— Shafter marched inland, splitting the Fifth Army Corps into two units—one attacking El Caney, and the other assaulting the San Juan Heights, which fronted Santiago and the harbor. The Americans soon met with stubborn enemy resistance, and Shafter appealed to Sampson to storm the harbor entrance and relieve the pressure on his regiments. Sampson, however, insisted that Shafter capture the forts commanding the approaches to the bay. W.A.M. Goode remarked: "It was the threat of mines and mines alone which prevented Admiral Sampson from forcing the entrance to the harbor. The situation was rendered more difficult by the fact that most of the mines were not the contact kind, but were exploded by means of electrical connection with the shore. The wires could not be cut until the forts were in American hands.

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"Sampson believed that, if the army attacked the Morro and La Socapa, supported by naval gunfire, the bastions could be quickly captured and the mine connections destroyed. This would allow navy vessels to enter the bay and sink Cervera's flotilla. Any attempt by American ships to steam into Santiago Harbor, like Dewey did at Manila, would be suicide. The harbor's channel is phenomenally narrow, shallow, unbuoyed and tortuous. Sampson's squadron would be required to steam into the bay in single file where they would be exposed to point-blank fire from enemy batteries on the cliffs. "Any ships, escaping serious damage from the Spanish guns, would then be forced to cross the minefields before sighting Admiral Cervera's vessels hiding behind Smith Cay." On June 25, Victor Blue received orders to make another scouting trip to Santiago Harbor and mark the latest position of the Spanish flotilla: "At six o'clock in the evening, I went ashore at Aserraderos and reached Colonel Cebreco's location about midnight. His camp was about a mile inland from Cocal Point. The colonel told me that his troops had been engaged in fighting the Spanish all day. "Early the next morning, I set out with an escort of six soldiers. We headed northeast for several miles before reaching the outer picket line of the Cuban forces. This line was posted on a hill and fronted a Spanish entrenchment at about 700 yards distant. We tied our mules in the brush and proceeded the rest of the way on foot. "We moved cautiously to avoid enemy pickets—at one time creeping through tall grass—and another climbing the steep side of a hill. While scaling the bluff, it was necessary, several times, to cross the main road leading from the Spanish camps to the city. Scouts and flankers were sent out to keep watch on the turns in the road, and signal the rest of our party if the way was clear. After traveling for a few hours, we reached an observation point two miles inside enemy lines. "From the trunk of a tree that projected beyond the dense thicket, I had a perfect view of the entire harbor. The passages on the east and west sides of Smith Cay were the only sectors obscured from my field of vision. "I sighted eight men-of-war—four of them Cervera's armored cruisers. Two smaller warships were noticed south of Smith Cay. None of the vessels had steam up.

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"I observed activity around the harbor for about an hour, then started on the return trip. We reached the insurgent picket line about dark. As far as I could learn from the Cubans, several thousand Spanish troops were concentrated in this area to repel the advance of any American forces landed west of Santiago. The Spaniards were entrenched in strong positions on hills which commanded the roads leading to the city." While the Fifth Army Corps was busy driving the stubborn enemy from El Caney and the San Juan Heights, Admiral Sampson redistributed his blockade fleet. The Detroit, Helena, the converted yacht Yankton, and Eagle were ordered to Cienfuegos to join the Yankee and the converted yacht Hist. The Hornet and the tug Osceola were directed to support the Dixie off Cape Cruz. The Dolphin, Castine, Manning, Annapolis, Wasp, and Bancroft were added to the

Havana blockade force. Surrounding Santiago Harbor, and keeping a watch on any action from Cervera's flotilla, were the New York, Brooklyn, Iowa, Indiana, Oregon, Massachusetts, Texas, New Orleans, Scorpion, Gloucester, Vixen, Suwanee, Vesuvius, and Wompatuck.

Thirty additional ships, including monitors, patrolled the north coast of Cuba.

14 Day of Battle at Manzanillo While the heavier ships of Admiral Sampson's fleet cruised off Santiago and Havana, the smaller American vessels—gunboats, converted yachts, and tugs—continually prowled the enemy coast, ready to take on any ship that attempted to enter or leave a Cuban port. On June 13, the Yankee, manned by the New York Naval Brigade, was patrolling the south coast of Cuba when lookouts sighted a large Spanish gunboat close inshore and east of the entrance to Cienfuegos Harbor. The Yankee immediately cleared the decks for action and dashed in pursuit. The enemy vessel quickly turned about and headed for the safety of the harbor. Commander W. H. Brownson, captain of the Yankee, described the fierce engagement in Harper's Pictorial: "As we were running at full speed toward Cienfuegos, the Spaniard swung toward us. When the Yankee had approached to within 2000 yards of the harbor entrance, I put the helm aport, hoisted our colors, and opened fire with all port five-inch guns that would bear. The gunboat immediately returned our fire. The wind was very light at the time, and the enemy vessel was almost constantly hidden from view—either by the smoke of our five-inchers or the guns of the Spaniard. "The gunboat suddenly turned toward the harbor. We followed with our complete port battery bearing, and continued to fire at the

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enemy ship until it came under the protection of the Spanish forts west of the mouth of the harbor. "Moments later, a Spanish gun battery, near the ruins of the lighthouse, began shooting at us. The Yankee immediately swung northwest and again headed for the enemy vessel. The gunboat was lying in a cove near the harbor entrance and close to a hidden artillery emplacement on a hill back of Sabanilla Point. "We had been led into an ambush. The land batteries, gunboat and a smaller craft kept up an incessant fire. At 4000 yards from Sabanilla Point, I turned the Yankee with a starboard helm, so as to bring all our starboard guns to bear on the enemy vessels, and drove the ships back into the harbor. "I believe that, if it had not been for the interference of the smoke from our guns, we would have sunk the gunboat. But the wind was light from the south, and it was impossible to maneuver the Yankee so that the smoke did not hang close under our lee—not only shutting out the view of our target, but also preventing our gunpointers from seeing the fall of their shot. "Despite the large number of shells which dropped near the Yankee—both from enemy ships and land batteries—we only suffered one casualty. Landsman S. P. Kennedy was struck in the left shoulder by a piece of shrapnel. "The last few shots we fired were directed at the Sabanilla battery. One of our shells landed in their ammunition dump. A tremendous explosion resulted, followed by a large column of thick, black smoke which obscured the harbor." The American blockade of Cuba became a continuous battle between hearsay and factual information. The naval engagements off Manzanillo in the latter part of June were a direct result of the search for the Purisima Concepcion. The rumor of the "vessel full of gold" had every blockade ship on extra alert. In a special dispatch to the Boston Herald, Lieutenant Lucien Young, commanding officer of the Hist, related his story of high adventure: "In obedience to orders, I proceeded with the Hist to Cape Cruz, south of Manzanillo, arriving there before daybreak on the morning of June 30. Lieutenant Jungen and the Wompatuck arrived about the same time. We found the Hornet, captained by Lieutenant J. M. Helm, already cruising off the cape. "Finding that I was the senior officer present, I relayed Admiral Sampson's communication in regard to stopping traffic west of Cape Cruz in hopes of intercepting the Purisima Concepcion. We

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were also instructed to check on a rumor that four Spanish gunboats were anchored in Manzanillo Harbor." Lieutenant Young formed his ships in a column with the Hist in the lead, followed by the Wompatuck and Hornet. A small schooner was soon sighted inshore and moving slowly north. The Hornet was sent to investigate. The vessel was found to be the Nickerson. It was carrying English papers, but was loaded with provisions and had four Spaniards on board in addition to its crew. Ensign McDougall and one enlisted man from the Hist, and another sailor from the Wompatuck, relieved the Hornet's prize crew. McDougall was instructed to take possession of the Nickerson's log and papers, and hold the vessel until a larger ship arrived to take command. Young continued his account: "Shortly after eight o'clock, we were joined by the Osceola under Lieutenant John Purcell [former boatswain's mate of the Suwanee]. I told Purcell to proceed to Cuatro Reales Channel and prevent any ships attempting to escape by using that passage. "Our column then headed through the Azuraga Pass. Upon turning the point into Niguero Bay, my lookouts sighted a Spanish gunboat anchored near an army blockhouse. The water was too shallow for the Wompatuck to enter the bay. Therefore, I instructed Lieutenant Jungen to remain in the channel in case the enemy ship attempted to flee. "The Hist, followed by the Hornet, steamed into the bay. The gunboat tried to hide behind the point. Our approach had evidently been signaled from a heliograph which I had noticed on West Cay. "We moved well into the bay before spotting the Spaniard, and opened fire at 1500 yards. The gunboat replied with a threepounder on the bow and a machinegun aft. The third salvo from the Hist blasted the stern of the enemy ship and silenced the machinegun. "Suddenly, a fusillade of small-arms fire opened up on us from a wooded point on the shore about 400 yards distant. The soldiers were quickly driven off by a few salvos from our three-pounders." The gunboat's captain attempted to escape by steaming his ship across the bay—at the same time keeping up a continuous fire. The Spaniard was struck repeatedly by shells from the Hist and Hornet. The gunboat, although crippled, tried to hide behind a small cay. However, a salvo from the Hist struck the gunboat in its magazine amidships, and the vessel exploded.

Naval battles fought at Manzanillo, Cuba, June 30, July 1, July 18, and August 13,1898.

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Lieutenant Young commented: "The enemy ship's gunfire was too high, but during the action, both our vessels were peppered by small-arms fire from the shore. Luckily we suffered no casualties." The Hist, Wompatuck, and Hornet reformed their column, and, after steaming through the Balandras Channel, headed for Manzanillo. As they moved up the coast, a sloop crowded with soldiers was seen anchored close to shore. The Hist opened fire and chased the Spanish troops into the jungle. Passing to the left of the Giva Cays, the three American ships turned into the bay leading to Manzanillo. Lucien Young narrated: "As we began our approach, I quickly discovered that, instead of four Spanish warships, as stated in Admiral Sampson's directive, there was a crescent formation of nine enemy vessels stretched, close inshore, across the harbor. A torpedo boat confidently guarded the right corner and a large, heavily armed gunboat protected the left. Three small gunboats were stationed in the middle. "The right flank of the line of ships was defended by an ancient smooth-bore cannon on Caimanera Point—and on the left by four guard boats mounted with several six-inch smooth-bore guns." Behind the menacing wall of ships, four artillery batteries had been positioned along the waterfront, and another halfway up a slope behind the city. Guns were also mounted in a stone blockhouse at the top of the hill. And, for two miles along the shore, enemy soldiers waited in hastily dug rifle pits and trenches. Lieutenant Young continued: "I rounded Caimanera Point and raced at top speed directly into the harbor. At about a thousand yards from the torpedo boat, I opened fire with my bow threepounder. Then, putting the helm hard to starboard, the broadside guns were brought into action. The Wompatuck and Hornet followed. We passed along the entire enemy line—while at the same time, keeping up a continuous fire. "As we crossed the Spanish front, the Hist was struck eleven times—one shot passing clear through the engineroom hatch—and another exploding inside the hatch. Both shells came within a few inches of the main steam pipe which fortunately was well protected by bales of waste material and cork. Another shot ploughed up the deck of the bridge." The Hornet also sustained heavy damage. A shell cut her main steam pipe, disabling the ship. Unable to move under her own

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power, the Hornet's gun crews, nevertheless, continued the attack— sinking a small gunboat and a sloop. Young narrated: "As soon as I saw steam escaping from the Hornet, I signaled the Wompatuck to take her in tow. Lieutenant Jungen dashed to the rescue and came under heavy fire—one shot, near the waterline, going clear through his ship. "The Hist backed down to render assistance, but was signaled, *No further aid needed!' We then headed in toward a large guard ship which was doing serious work with its old smooth-bore guns. Our gunners set fire to the vessel in short order. "We commenced the action at three-twenty and exited the bay at five o'clock. Our ships were under fire for an hour and forty minutes. The soldiers, along the shore, kept up a steady fire throughout the engagement. Besides damage to our ships, the only personnel casualties were three men scalded by escaping steam on the Hornet/' At four o'clock the next afternoon, the Scorpion, under Lieutenant Commander A. T. Marix, joined the Osceola off Manzanillo. Both ships steamed into the bay to continue the battle against the Spanish gunboats. Lieutenant Commander Marix described the bitter fight in Harper's Pictorial: "We entered the harbor at full speed. As soon as we came within 2000 yards of the shore, the enemy gunboats, artillery and entrenched troops began shooting at us simultaneously. They kept up an incessant fire throughout the engagement, and seemed to have plenty of ammunition. "The Spanish gunfire was too high at first, but rapidly improved. After twenty minutes they evidently got our range as shells began dropping on all sides of us. I decided that this was a good time to withdraw. We were now less than a thousand yards from the enemy. The Osceola's Gatling gun was doing an excellent job of keeping down the musket fire along the shore. "Our shooting was deliberate, and we must have done considerable damage. However, we could not get at the gunboats. They kept in shoal waters with bows on, and presented very small targets. "I regretted that we could not steam across the front of the city, and endeavor to sink the Spanish ships as we raced by, but we knew nothing about the channels and had to return by the same route by which we had entered the bay. "It was remarkable that neither the Scorpion or Osceola were seriously damaged. The Scorpion was struck in twelve places how-

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ever. The nose of one shell entered the galley, and our deck was ripped by shrapnel. After escaping from the harbor, we remained near the entrance until dark. The enemy gunboats did not come out after us." The port of Manzanillo continued to be a thorn in the side of the American blockade fleet, but it would be six more weeks before another attempt would be made to capture the city. Meanwhile, off Santiago, Admiral Sampson waited impatiently for General Shafter to attack the harbor forts. The Gloucester and Suwanee continually bombarded Aguadores, under the impression that this would be the route that the general would take to attack the Morro Castle. The navy knew little of what Shafter was doing, except that his divisions were fighting inland. W.A.M. Goode stated: 'It was supposed that the Fifth Army Corps' advance on the city of Santiago was merely a clever feint, and, that any day, the army's flank would be turned toward the coast and an attack made upon the Morro and the inner bay shore batteries. "On June 30, Admiral Sampson received a note from Shafter in which the General stated that he was going to attack Santiago on the following day, and for Sampson to bombard Aguadores in support of a mock attack by the Thirty-third Michigan Volunteer Infantry. "It quickly dawned on Sampson that Shafter was not feinting an attack on Santiago, but was intending to capture the city. How he was going to do so under the guns of Cervera's flotilla was beyond all understanding." At six o 'clock on the morning of July 1, the New York, Suwanee, and Gloucester commenced their bombardment. General Duffield and his Michigan regiment attempted to cross the Aguadores River, but, after losing two men, he withdrew his infantry battalions to Siboney. Goode remarked: 'It was rather discouraging after pouring so many shells into the bank across the river to see the troops retire. I later learned that General Duffield did not intend to occupy the ground on the other side of the Aguadores." After cease firing had been signaled, Lieutenant Commander Delehanty asked permission for the Suwanee to knock down a Spanish flag which continued to float over the ruins of the blockhouse on the opposite bank of the Aguadores River. In response to the request, Admiral Sampson signaled, "You have three shots!"

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The Suwanee was 1300 yards offshore when Delehanty gave Lieutenant Victor Blue the honor of knocking the enemy flag off its pedestal. The lieutenant carefully aimed a four-inch gun and fired. However, after the smoke cleared, it was seen that the shell had only torn through the bunting and ripped out the yellow stripe. The pole had been bent, but remained standing. Blue's second shot struck the base of the flagstaff, and the Spanish colors still waved defiantly in the breeze. By this time, a large crowd had gathered along the rails and on the masts of the ships to watch Victor Blue fire his last shell. This time he was on target. The blockhouse exploded in a cloud of stone and dust. The symbol of Spain disappeared in the debris, and a round of cheers resounded across the water.

15 The Naval Engagement at Santiago Bay After Commodore Dewey's victory at Manila Bay, Captain Ramon Aunon y Villalon replaced Segismundo Bermejo as Spain's minister of marine. With his ships blockaded in Santiago Harbor, Admiral Cervera wrote to Captain Aunon explaining the desperate plight of the Spanish flotilla. The ships were in need of overhaul, coal and ammunition were in short supply, and the crews were exhausted from the arduous voyage. More importantly, the American fleet was much stronger, and any conflict between the two forces would result in the complete destruction of the Spanish vessels. Ramon Aunon immediately put the flotilla under the direct command of Ramon Blanco, Spain's governor general at Havana. Blanco instructed Pascual Cervera to fight it out with Admiral Sampson's ships: "If we should lose the squadron without battle, the effect on Spanish morale would be disastrous." Cervera was angered by Blanco's orders and dashed off a message in reply: "I have considered this squadron lost ever since we left Cape Verde—to think otherwise is madness. I shall never be one to consider myself responsible, before God and history, for the lives sacrificed on the altar of vanity—and not in the true defense of our country." Throughout the month of June, the relationship between Admiral Sampson and Commodore Schley was cordial, but, as W.A.M. Goode noted: 'Through ignorance regarding naval matters, some

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newspaper writers gave the public the impression that Schley was in joint command with Sampson—frequently using the phrase, The squadrons of Sampson and Schley' They, of course, were wrong. Commodore Remey at the naval base at Key West was still in command." However, this was only one of several instances that would eventually divide the navy and overshadow its victory at Santiago Bay. Tensions not only developed between the admirals, but also continued to fester between Sampson and General Shafter. On Saturday morning, July 2, in response to a request from the Fifth Army Corps commander, Admiral Sampson again bombarded the forts at the entrance to Santiago Harbor. Goode wrote: "Shafter said that he would assault the city at daylight, and asked for the bombardment as a diversion—stating as an additional reason—that the guns of the forts were annoying his troops. Sampson knew that none of these enemy guns would bear inland, and told the general that he was mistaken. However, the naval attack did take place—the assault on the city did not. "After the bombardment, Admiral Sampson received another message from Shafter: Terrible fight yesterday, but my line is now strongly entrenched about three-quarters of a mile from town. I urge that you make an immediate effort to force the entrance in order to avoid further losses among my men which are already very heavy. You can now operate with less loss of life than I can.'" Sampson again reminded General Shafter that it was impossible for naval vessels to steam into the harbor until the mines could be cleared, and that job could not be undertaken until the channel fortresses had been captured by the army. W.A.M. Goode narrated: "Shafter replied to the admiral's latest message as follows: Tt is impossible for me to say when I can take the batteries at the harbor entrance. If they are as difficult to seize as those we have already been pitted against, it will require some time and many casualties. I am at a loss to understand why the navy cannot work as well under destructive fire as the army. My losses yesterday were more than 500 men.'" General Shafter found himself beset with problems. Although his forces surrounded Santiago, and had the city under siege, he felt that he could not launch an attack against the town's defenses as long as Cervera's ships were in the harbor. More troubling, however, was the fact that his men were quickly succumbing to the overpowering tropical heat and debilitating diseases.

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Goode continued: "Admiral Sampson realized the seriousness of the situation—and that he would have to wage the campaign against Cervera upon the premise that we had no troops in Cuba. The admiral wrote General Shafter a letter stating his plan of action: 'We have 40 countermining mines at Guantanamo which I will have brought here as soon as possible. If we can succeed in freeing the bay entrance of mines, I will enter the harbor. This work, which is unfamiliar to us, will take considerable time. It is not so much the loss of men, as it is the loss of ships, which has deterred me, until now, from making a direct attack on the enemy vessels within the harbor/ " A steamer was sent to pick up the countermining mines at Guantanamo. A daring amphibious attack against the Spanish forts and shore batteries was also planned, using marines and sailors recruited from the blockade fleet. Fred Buenzle recalled the evening of July 2: 'The admiral had me in his cabin until after midnight. He was busy drawing up the new set of battle orders with Captain Chadwick. I had just fallen asleep, when there was a knock on the bulkhead of my little office where I also had my bunk. I pulled aside the drapes and saw Admiral Sampson standing behind his orderly. The admiral was wearing striped pajamas—his wide, staring eyes dry and red from lack of sleep. He read me a dispatch he had written and wished to send off in a waiting torpedo boat. He explained some changes he wanted made in the message before it was typed. "The letter concerned a trip ashore he was to make in the morning to meet with General Shafter. Over the past few weeks, friction had developed between the army and navy—a clash of orders and different views on what assistance each should give the other. "The admiral looked tired and worn and I wondered, as I typed the message, if the old man ever slept. Yes, he did. For when I took the finished dispatch to his cabin for approval, he was sitting at a table—head down on his arms—and an untouched cup of tea alongside. What a pity I had to awaken him." Pascual Cervera knew that it was only a matter of time before Santiago would be forced to surrender and his ships would be trapped in the bay. He had intended to scuttle the vessels, but realized that this would reflect badly on the honor of Spain. His only alternative was to obey Ramon Blanco's orders. Cervera's intention was for his flotilla to try and reach either Cienfuegos or

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Havana. Although he had doubts as to whether his slow cruisers could escape Sampson's fleet, he thought that his two fast torpedo boats might be able to outrun the American ships. The Spanish admiral planned to flee Santiago Harbor on a Sunday morning when the American ships held captain's inspections and church services. Sunday, July 3, fit perfectly into his schedule. Before dawn, on the 3rd, the Massachusetts and Suwanee left their blockade stations and headed to Guantanamo for recoaling. At twenty minutes to nine, the New York signaled the fleet, "Disregard motions of commander in chief," and steamed down the coast toward Siboney—about eight miles distant—for Admiral Sampson's meeting with General Shafter. Meanwhile, in Santiago Harbor, Captain Victor Concas described Admiral Cervera's preparations to escape: "At seven o'clock, I went with the gunboat Alvarado to the channel entrance to reconnoiter the position of the American vessels. I reported to the admiral, aboard the Infanta Maria Teresa, the result of my reconnaissance, and that a battleship of the Indiana class [Massachusetts] was absent from the enemy line. "Admiral Cervera immediately signaled orders to weigh anchor. After all ships replied that they were ready, the signal for the sortie, 'Viva Espana!' was given. The announcement was answered with enthusiasm by the ship crews and soldiers on the high banks which form the shores of the harbor." At nine o'clock, the American blockade fleet was spread in an eight-mile arc fronting the entrance to Santiago Bay. Drifting quietly from west to east were the Vixen, Brooklyn, Texas, Iowa, Oregon, Indiana, and Gloucester.

W.A.M. Goode described the Sunday morning ritual of captain's inspections: "A few minutes before half-past nine, long, white lines of sailors trailed along the quarterdecks and capped the grey sterns of the battleships. Soon all the crews were at Sunday inspection quarters, and executive officers were passing between the rows of white-clad men, carefully examining appearance and uniforms." During the inspection, the ships swayed slowly with the swells, and only an occasional wisp of smoke rose from the funnels. Steam was low, as only enough coal was burned to keep the pressure up in case of an emergency. Captain Concas continued: "With its battle flag flying the Maria Teresa steamed ahead of the other cruisers which, for the last time,

Naval Engagement at Santiago Bay • 173

Location of Spanish and American warships on the morning of July 3,1898.

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gave the honors due their admiral—saluting him with hurrahs that manifested the spirit of men who were worthy of a better fate." The Maria Teresa moved rapidly toward the channel entrance, and remained undetected until she reached the Estrella battery. Suddenly, the boom from the Oregon's six-pounder sounded the alarm. Fred Buenzle recalled: "Admiral Sampson and Captain Chadwick stood on the flying bridge as we neared Siboney. The admiral was dressed in a fatigue uniform and leggings since it would be a hot and dusty ride to General Shafter's headquarters. "The New York was about two miles from the village, and Admiral Sampson was in the process of dictating a memorandum to me, when Chief Quartermaster Charley Squires rushed up to the bridge. They're coming out, sir!' he shouted. "Sampson calmly replied, Tes, they're coming out. Signal twofifty' This signal meant, 'Close in toward harbor entrance and attack enemy vessels!' "A moment later, we saw the brown shape of a Spanish ship emerging beyond the brow of the Morro—its guns blazing away at our ring of battleships, which had already shrouded themselves with the smoke of their own gunfire. "The gallant New York, trembling like a greyhound eager for the chase, heeled far to starboard as the helm was put over and the engines urged to full power. "We were always cleared for action during the past days of watchful waiting. But now the order was given to take in the awnings which had been spread. Otherwise there was little we could do until the scene of battle was reached. "Admiral Sampson stood pressed against the railing of the bridge, his body bent forward, his eyes fixed straight ahead. "It was nine-thirty by the charthouse clock when the New York turned on her heel and started plowing back to the westward. In the stokehold, the men gasped for breath as they heaped coal high on the fires. Black smoke flattened from the hot stacks as a forced draft roared into the furnaces." As the Maria Teresa exited the channel and turned west, Captain Concas asked and received permission from Admiral Cervera to open fire, Concas described the ensuing action: "I gave the bugler orders to sound the commencement of the battle. It was

Naval Engagement at Santiago Bay • 175

Position of American and Spanish warships when the Maria Teresa attempted to attack the Brooklyn, July 3,1898.

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the signal that the history of four centuries of grandeur was about to end. Toor Spain!' I remarked to my beloved admiral. He answered by an expressive motion—as though to say that he had done everything possible to avoid it, and his conscience was clear. "I turned toward the Brooklyn, which immediately swung to starboard and fired her two aft turret guns at us. This maneuver caused the Texas and Iowa to cut between the Maria Teresa and Brooklyn. We could not understand why Commodore Schley did not turn to port, which would have put his ship on a parallel course to our cruiser. As it was, the Texas was forced to stop and back full in order to keep from hitting the Brooklyn. "To keep on our present course, we also ran the risk of being rammed by the battleships. The admiral and I agreed that it was impossible for us to continue, and he ordered me to head toward the coast. "The Iowa was now the nearest American vessel to the Maria Teresa. Two 12-inch shells from the battleship struck our after deck, breaking the main steam pump and several engine pipes. Our speed slowed and I knew we were hopelessly lost. The decks were strewn with dead and wounded, and various fires were breaking out. "Suddenly a heavy explosion—probably a magazine—shook the ship. I fell severely wounded and Admiral Cervera took over command while I was carried to sick bay. "The fires on the after deck of the Maria Teresa became hotter and began to spread. Our speed was diminishing every moment. Havoc and destruction increased as we came within range of the enemy's rapid-fire guns. "Admiral Cervera had no other recourse than to beach the cruiser to prevent it from falling into enemy hands and to save the crew. The ship was put hard to starboard and ran aground about five miles west of Santiago." At about eight-minute intervals, the Vizcaya, Colon, and Oquendo followed the Maria Teresa from the harbor. The Brooklyn, Texas, Iowa, and Oregon called for full speed and chased the Spanish cruisers. The Vizcaya was the slowest enemy vessel and came under vicious attack. Fires quickly enveloped the ship, and she crashed ashore on the rocks at Aserraderos. The Oquendo was pounded unmercifully, and, with its port side a wall of flame, beached about a mile west of the Maria Teresa. The Colon continued

Naval Engagement at Santiago Bay • 177

to be hotly pursued by the Brooklyn, Oregon, Texas, and New York for Admiral Sampson had arrived in time to join in the pursuit of the last Spanish cruiser. Fred Buenzle narrated: "Just as the New York was approaching the harbor entrance, the Furor and Pluton dashed from the channel and were pounced upon by the Gloucester. At the same time, enemy shore batteries were getting the range of the New York, and their shells began splashing thick and fast on all sides of us. As we passed the Gloucester, we fired a volley of 4-inch shells at the Pluton. It quickly sank stern first, while the Furor ran aground on the beach. "When we came abreast of the Oquendo, a tremendous explosion ripped the ship, sending up a dense cloud of oily smoke—mushrooming at the top like a giant umbrella—and streaked with brilliant flashes of fire. The main magazine had blown up. On the edges of this hellish upheaval could be seen fragments of iron and wood—and the grotesque shapes of poor seamen who would never see an armistice. For them the war was over. "The New York continued to speed west. Ahead of us, I saw the Vizcaya turn toward the shore, as shells from the Iowa and Texas tore through its superstructure and stacks. A rumbling explosion suddenly ruptured her innards. The Spanish cruiser lost way and rolled drunkenly out of control. Fires broke out on all her decks. Thick, black smoke coughed up from the hatches. Bursts of flame shot through the ports and licked up the starboard side of the ship. Naked men hung over the rails to escape the blistering heat— some clung to the anchor cables—and others, with their clothing afire, jumped into the sea. Even the hapless wretches struggling in the water could not escape. I could hear their screams as we steamed past. The sharks were feasting that day, and many a day thereafter. "We rendered every assistance possible to the men in the water and those who had reached the beaches. Our sailors and marines saved the lives of many Spaniards from insurgent snipers who lined the shore to pick off survivors. Captain John Philip, of the Texas, expressed the feelings of us all when he admonished his men, 'Don't cheer boys—the poor fellows are dying!' "Captain Chadwick was also moved by the horrible and gruesome scene. He shook his grey head and remarked: 'How dramatic! How sad it all is!' Chadwick could well appreciate the tragedy. He, who at the call to action, could become savage in his desire to kill

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and destroy the enemy—and, an hour later, the same captain could receive prisoners with a gracious manner. "Perhaps most of us were like that—one moment thirsting for Spanish blood, and the next suffering with them in their pain. This was neither a joyous day for Spain or most of my comrades. Few naval engagements in history have been so one-sided as the encounter off Santiago Bay. The terrible loss of life—the complete destruction of Spanish ships—and the insignificant damage inflicted to our fleet, made it a cheap victory. It might be a glorious triumph to newspaper readers back home—but there was little glory to be had in watching the smoke rise from flaming Spanish warships on a Cuban beach that beautiful Sunday morning." About 45 miles west of Santiago, the Colon began to run out of fuel. Commodore Parades, captain of the cruiser, swung his ship landward and ordered the sea valves opened. W.A.M. Goode recalled: "Fifteen minutes later, the New York caught up with the Texas and Oregon which had run the Colon aground. The Brooklyn, which arrived shortly before us, fluttered the signal, We have won a great victory—details later!' Evidently the message was for our benefit. Personally, I thought the signal, however well meant, was somewhat superfluous. "Then somebody on the Brooklyn shouted a message through a megaphone that was repeated twice and understood to be, 'Commodore Schley claims the honor of the capture of the Cristobal Colon.' I don't believe this is what the commodore said, but that is the way it was reported to Admiral Sampson and understood on the New York. "At this point, no thought of division of spoils and honors entered Sampson's head. His only concern was how many brave men lost their lives. So, from the New York's signal-yard was run the hoist, 'Report your casualties.' There was a negative response from each ship, except the Brooklyn, and she reported only one man killed [Chief Yeoman George H. Ellis] and one wounded [Fireman John Burns]." A prize crew from the Oregon was sent aboard the Colon, and an effort was made to pull the cruiser off the beach. Captain Concas commented on the unsuccessful attempt: "The Colon was less fortunate than the other cruisers because she ran ashore on sand instead of rocks. If Admiral Sampson had ordered his divers to close the sea valves, he most certainly could have saved the Colon.

Naval Engagement at Santiago Bay • 179

But, with feverish impatience, he used the New York to tow it off the beach. This ship had barely been floated when it began to list. With the ram of his vessel, Sampson tried to push the Colon back into shoal waters, but it was too late—the cruiser capsized and sank in the muddy bottom of the sea."

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16 Captain Littleton Waller Tazewell Waller's Story The following account of the Battle of Santiago Bay, in a letter from Captain Littleton Waller Tazewell Waller, U.S. Marine Corps, to Levin Joynes of Richmond, Virginia, has been edited from the Joynes Family Papers, courtesy of the Virginia Historical Society. Captain Waller served aboard the battleship Indiana, and, after a distinguished career, retired from the Marine Corps in 1920 with the rank of major general: At nine-thirty on the morning of July 3, while blockading Santiago Bay, the crew was at quarters, preparatory to general muster, when a signal went up on the Oregon followed by a gunshot—the signal that enemy ships were escaping from the harbor. Our ships immediately closed the entrance to the bay—disregarding the fire from the channel forts. About fifteen minutes later, the Spanish cruisers appeared, in single file and 800 yards between vessels. The Pluton and Furor brought up the rear. The Maria Teresa led the column and, as soon as she cleared the forts, began firing at the Indiana. Some shells 6plashed nearby, and others fell short or over. The cruiser then hugged the coast and steamed west. Keeping our course in toward shore, we engaged each ship as it emerged from the bay—running parallel to the enemy and changing direction when necessary. Our main battery concentrated on the Oquendo, while our rapid-fire guns centered their attack on the torpedo boats.

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The Iowa's 12-inch guns battered the Vizcaya and Colon, and the Oregon cut off the Maria Teresa. The incessant roar of guns was horrifying. The thirst for battle was on as men sought to slay and destroy. A 13-inch shell from the Indiana exploded on the port quarter of the Maria Teresa, and the cruiser began to slow down. The Vizcaya now took the lead in the Spanish column, followed by the Colon and Oquendo. The Brooklyn and Oregon engaged the Vizcaya

and Colon, while the Texas, Iowa, and Indiana played a stream of fire upon the Maria Teresa and Oquendo. At the same time, our rapid-fire guns were shooting at the Pluton—about 200 yards abeam. A volley of cheers suddenly erupted from the Indiana gunners as the Maria Teresa—pouring forth flames and volumes of black smoke—turned toward the craggy shore. Moments later, the Oquendo—staggering under the merciless hail of shells from the Iowa and Indiana—burst into flames and crashed upon the rocky beach about 600 yards beyond the Maria Teresa. The crews of both stranded cruisers could be seen abandoning the blazing hulks. The water around both vessels was alive with struggling bodies—some in the last throes of agony, others swimming frantically for shore. The beach was quickly dotted with half-clad men who had escaped the awful destruction which overtook so many of their hapless comrades. Fires aboard the beached ships rapidly gained headway, and explosion after explosion began to convulse the Spanish cruisers as flames reached their ammunition magazines. The Indiana's main battery turned to the Vizcaya—already taken under fire by the Texas and Iowa. This cruiser also headed for shore—a cloud of smoke rolling up from its forecastle. A flaming wreck, she plowed into the beach at Aserraderos. Meanwhile, our rapid-fire guns continued to engage the enemy torpedo boats. The Pluton, heavily damaged forward, smashed ashore on the rocky coast about a mile and a half from the Maria Teresa.

The Indiana's secondary batteries then turned their attention to the Furor, which was battling the intrepid little Gloucester. Suddenly a puff of smoke—followed by a dense cloud of steam—shot from the torpedo boat. The Furor turned angrily toward its antagonize^ as if to strike a death blow, but then headed toward shore. However, she was too late and sank in deep water.

Cuban coast near Santiago Bay showing location of wrecked Spanish cruisers, July 3,1898.

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The Oregon and Texas continued to chase the Colon, while the Iowa stopped to rescue survivors of the Vizcaya. The Indiana performed similar duty at the wrecked Maria Teresa and Oquendo. When the New York arrived, we were ordered back to Santiago. However, before reaching the bay, we noticed several transports racing toward us under full steam. One of them, the Resolute, with signals flying, fired a gun to stop the Indiana. The ship's captain shouted to us through a megaphone that a large Spanish warship was approaching from the east and was now off Siboney. While doubting, but at the same time wondering who the stranger might be, we were not averse to more glory. The Indiana poured on the coal and sped to meet the possible enemy vessel. We passed the Harvard, which was heading for Santiago, and Captain Cotton called out that he had seen the ship's colors, and they were Spanish. The stranger was soon sighted with its flags flying. We cut in toward shore to prevent its escape, at the same time, keeping our guns trained on the vessel. As the ship continued on course, I could see men standing on the forecastle. Our turret batteries followed every change of position. At 1500 yards, we finally made out the colors. The mystery vessel turned out to be the Austrian cruiser Kaiserin Maria Teresa. There is very little difference between the flags of the two countries. The Spanish banner is red and gold—while Austria's flag is red and white. At a distance, it is almost impossible to tell them apart. The Indiana returned to its rescue station, and we sent our boats to aid the wounded and bring the survivors aboard ship. Many bodies could be seen floating in the water—some nearby and others drifting out to sea with the ebb tide. The elation and pride of victory quickly disappeared as we watched the suffering Spanish sailors. Naked, helpless, and despairing, they huddled in frightened confusion on the sandy beach. Armed insurgents, like vultures, hovered menacingly at the jungle's edge. The Spaniards were in deadly fear of the Cubans and gladly welcomed us. Some of them jumped from rocks and swam to our boats. Wounds were dressed quickly, and the Spanish sailors were brought to the Indiana and Harvard. The prisoners were made as comfortable as possible. We gave our beds and clothing to these poor men, who, by their gallant conduct, have added luster to the glorious victory achieved by the discipline and training of our navy.

Captain Waller's Story • 185

Early in the afternoon, a boat carrying Admiral Cervera passed near the Indiana. He had been rescued by the Gloucester and was being taken to the Iowa. Our men lined the rails and cheered. The admiral bowed his head. It was a humiliating display of arrogance, and I felt embarrassed for him. I learned from one of the Spaniards we rescued, Admiral Cervera's aide, that the terrible volume of fire from our batteries drove his men from their guns. Our first salvo at the Maria Teresa cut her fire main, and the crew could do nothing to stop the spread of flames. The Spanish ships had wooden decks and bulkheads. The staterooms had wood paneling and were furnished with other flammable materials. It appeared that the average Spanish sailor knew little about the action. Their ships steamed out of Santiago Bay filled with hope from the moment they passed the Morro. I was a member of the inspection party which went aboard the three beached cruisers. The wood decks were gone, and we carefully made our way by stepping from one steel beam to another. Bodies were everywhere—burned black like crisp bacon. The Vizcaya had been hit 24 times, the Maria Teresa 32 times, and the Oquendo 68 times. They were probably struck more than that— the visible marks having been destroyed by fires and explosions. So much of the Oquendo was under water that many hits could not be seen. The Colon and Maria Teresa could possibly be saved if salvage boats arrived in time. The Vizcaya could also be pulled off the rocks. Too much praise cannot be given to the Gloucester. She not only attacked the enemy cruisers as they came out of the bay, but also, against overwhelming odds, fought the Furor and Pluton. The intrepid crew of the Gloucester fired their guns so rapidly and consistently that, at the close of the action, they were down to their last seven shells.

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17 Lieutenant Commander Richard Wainwright's Story The following account of the remarkable battle between the Gloucester, captained by Lieutenant Commander Richard Wainwright, and the two Spanish torpedo boats is edited from Wainwright's story of his service aboard the Gloucester, which appeared in the Annual Report of the State Historian for the State of New York, In Assembly, April 18,1903:

Shortly before the outbreak of hostilities, I was put in command of Commodore Pierpont Morgan's yacht Corsair. It had been purchased by the government and renamed the Gloucester. The yacht was fitted out as an auxiliary vessel, and armed with four six-pounders, four three-pounders, and two Colt machine guns. The crew numbered 93 officers and men. Our blockade station at Santiago Bay was on the eastern end of the line and inshore from the other vessels. During daylight hours, we cruised off Aguadores, and at night near the Morro. On Sunday morning, July 3, 1898—when we heard the signal which meant that the Spanish ships were coming out—the Gloucester was steaming east toward Aguadores. We immediately put on a full head of steam and opened fire with our after guns. I swung our helm hard to port. We headed toward the Indiana, in the direction taken by the enemy. Our vessel remained near the battleship while we anxiously waited for the torpedo boats to appear. Both the Pluton and Furor

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were superior in armament to the Gloucester. In addition to torpedoes, each ship carried two 14-pounders, two six-pounders, and two one-pounder Maxim machine guns. The torpedo boats were not far behind the armored cruiser, but time seemed to drag while we slowed down to wait for them. As soon as the Pluton and Furor were sighted exiting the harbor and turning west, I called for full speed, and, with guns blazing at a record pace, we gradually gained on the enemy. Suddenly the Indiana signaled, "Gunboats close in!" (I have since learned that Captain Taylor intended to signal, "Torpedo boats coming out!") To obey the signal and "close in" on the Pluton and Furor, it would have been necessary for the Gloucester to cross the Indiana's line of fire. At this time, the battleship's secondary battery was pouring out a deadly hail of shells in the direction of the fleeing torpedo boats. However, the Indiana stopped shooting long enough for us to pass her zone of fire and continue our pursuit of the Spanish vessels. As we began to catch up with the Pluton and Furor, the Gloucester came under heavy attack from the torpedo boats and the channel forts. Shells splashed on all sides of the yacht, but amazingly we were not hit. Our six-pounders blew enemy gunners from their weapons before they determined our range. We raced parallel to the torpedo boats and fought broadside to broadside. Luckily, the smoke from our guns and stack made us a difficult target to accurately sight. Our machine guns opened fire at 1200 yards, and poured a murderous shower of bullets across the decks of the Pluton and Furor. Within minutes, the Gloucester began to close in on the enemy craft. The Pluton slackened speed and crashed hard upon the rocks near shore. When it was evident that the Pluton was done for, we concentrated our attack on the Furor. Every shot appeared to take effect. Suddenly, like a wounded wild animal, she swung the helm hard to starboard and dashed straight for the Gloucester. There was no doubt in any of our minds that the craft was about to fire a torpedo. My gunners focused their attention on the vessel's torpedo launchers, and a fusillade of shells drove the Spaniards away from the tubes. As the Furor abandoned its attack, and turned toward the bay entrance, the New York arrived. The flagship engaged the Morro batteries and fired two or three shells at the Furor. The torpedo boaf s rudder was jammed, and it began circling to port. The New

Lieutenant Commander Wainwright's Story • 189

York, its crew cheering, continued under full steam chasing the escaping Spanish cruisers. The Gloucester's assault on the enemy ships had been so furious that, in about twenty minutes, the Pluton lay crushed on the rocks— an utter wreck which could not be boarded—and the Furor rested on the bottom of the sea. All that was left of the two torpedo boats—their guns, torpedoes, and crew—was a mass of humanity struggling in the water. We had accomplished our task. Now came the time when we could start saving the lives of our conquered enemies. The La Socapa batteries continued to fire at us until they noticed our boats being lowered to rescue the Spanish sailors. We managed to save a total of four officers and 41 enlisted men from a combined total of 137 crew members on both torpedo boats. The Gloucester then steamed to where the Maria Teresa and Oquendo had been driven ashore. Each had white flags flying. They were burning fore and aft. Their reserve ammunition was exploding and, at any moment, the fires could reach their main magazines. There was no hesitation on the part of the Gloucester's crew. Although a heavy sea was running—by using two whaleboats and a dinghy—we managed to rescue all the survivors, including the wounded, from the grounded and blazing Spanish cruisers. Lieutenant George H. Norman received the surrender of Admiral Pascual Cervera. The admiral was practically naked when brought aboard the Gloucester. I gave Cervera my civilian clothes and made him as comfortable as possible in my cabin. We then delivered the admiral to the Iowa where he was awarded proper honors.

Edwin Denby. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

/

Truman H. Newberry. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

Colonel Robert W. Huntington. (Photo courtesy National Archives)

Hoisting the first American flag over camp McCalla, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

U.S. Marines in skirmish line at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, June 1898. (Photo courtesy Naval Historical Center)

F Company (Artillery) First U.S. Marine Battalion First Lieutenant William McKelvy; top row, fifth man the left. (Photo courtesy Frances McKelvy Peniston)

U.S. Marines practicing landings from an early type landing craft. (Photo courtesy Frances McKelvy Peniston)

Pre-war photograph of Spanish officers and men stationed at Guantanamo. (Photo courtesy author's collection)

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18 The Surrender of Santiago and the Battle at Port Nipe The Gloucester, the torpedo boat Ericsson, and the Hist were kept busy all day on July 3, rescuing Spanish sailors in the water and on the beaches. Admiral Pascual Cervera was welcomed aboard the Iowa with full military honors, including a Marine Guard unit. As the admiral stepped on the deck of the battleship, the American officers saluted, bugles sounded, and the ship's crew voiced their admiration with rousing cheers. One boatload of prisoners, delivered to the Iowa, had on board Captain Antonio Eulate, commander of the Vizcaya. When the Spanish officer presented his sword to Captain Robley Evans, the Iowa's captain returned the saber and offered his hand to Eulate as a token of respect and friendship. Cervera's flotilla was not only completely destroyed, but casualties among his crew were also heavy. The Spanish admiral later estimated his losses at 330 men killed and 150 wounded. Nearly 1800 Spanish sailors were taken prisoner. The two casualties aboard the Brooklyn were the only personnel losses suffered by the Americans in the sea battle. The Brooklyn also received most of the physical damage. Schley's flagship was struck more than 20 times by shells and shrapnel. The Iowa and Texas were slightly damaged. On the morning of July 4, the Austrian cruiser, Kaiserin Maria Teresa, and the English corvette Alert, arrived at the entrance to

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Santiago Bay and requested a pilot to guide them into the harbor. It was learned that six of the mines had been removed the day before in order to let Cervera's flotilla leave the bay. The mines had not been replaced, and the first row of mines no longer existed. Fearing that Admiral Sampson's ships might try to fight their way into the harbor, General Jose Toral, commander of the Spanish troops in Santiago, decided to sink the Reina Mercedes in the narrow part of the channel and block the entrance to the inner bay. The Mercedes was an obsolete cruiser and did not take part in Admiral Cervera's ill-fated sortie. Captain Waller recalled: 'The night of July 4 was one that we would not soon forget. The Indiana had received orders to bust into Santiago Harbor and, if possible, capture the Reina Mercedes. "Just before midnight, bugles sounded quarters. We were immediately underway and headed for the channel. The night was very dark, but the Massachusetts had been stationed at the mouth of the harbor with her searchlight trained on the entrance. "Suddenly, a terrific explosion rocked the Indiana. Two 8-inch shells from the Morro batteries struck the battleship. One of the projectiles crashed through the flash plate on the starboard side of the quarterdeck, penetrating and bursting in the deck below. The officers' wardroom was wrecked. One piece of shell plowed into the compartment—passing under a sofa—cutting a leg off a chair— and finally slicing into the silver cabinet and denting a punch bowl. "This magnificent silver service was presented to the ship by the State of Indiana, and was not removed to a safe place when war was declared. The officers felt that it was the intention of the people of Indiana to have the silver set identified with the ship in every way. Therefore, the decision was made to keep it on board. 'The punch bowl was not seriously damaged, and the piece of shell, properly inscribed, was attached to it. The silver service will now probably be more valuable than before." As soon as the Mercedes was sighted moving toward the channel, the Indiana opened fire. Cables holding the cruiser crossways to the entrance were cut by shrapnel, and the Mercedes sank parallel to the shore without blocking the harbor. Secretary Long, upon learning of the damage to the Indiana, and the dangers still posed by the channel forts, reminded Sampson not to risk the loss of any armored ships. A different strategy was called for. W.A.M. Goode narrated: "On July 6, Captain Chadwick went ashore and had a long conference with General Shafter. Admiral

Surrender of Santiago and Battle at Port Nipe • 193

Sampson was ill and could not go himself. An agreement was reached whereby the navy would bombard Santiago from the sea, and then if the city did not surrender, marines would be landed and storm the Morro and La Socapa." Admiral Sampson had doubts as to whether a small detachment of marines could accomplish what a 15,000-man army was unable to do. However, by this time the Fifth Army Corps was all "smoke and mirrors." Illness had crippled Shafter's regiments to such an extent that only 10 percent of his fighting force was available for actual combat. Captain Chadwick composed an ultimatum that was signed by General Shafter and delivered to Jose Toral. It notified the Spanish general of an intended naval bombardment of Santiago beginning at noon on July 9. The message also stated that, in the interest of humanity, Toral should surrender the city. W.A.M. Goode remarked about this latest threat: "When Shafter's own statements, regarding the condition of the army, are considered, it may be surmised that this ultimatum was somewhat in the nature of a bluff." Nevertheless, a temporary truce was declared while cautious negotiations took place between Generals Toral and Shafter. As a gesture of goodwill, Jose Toral exchanged Lieutenant Richmond Hobson and the crew of the Merrimac for a Spanish officer, a prisoner of war. However, peace talks remained at a stalemate, and, at four o'clock on the afternoon of July 10, the big guns of the Brooklyn, Texas, and Indiana pounded Santiago for about an hour. This onslaught was followed by a four-hour bombardment the next morning. Goode described the effectiveness of the naval attack: "The shells from the fleet caused panic in the city—demolishing and burning 57 buildings. Fortunately no one was killed in the bombardment, which, if continued, would have left the entire city in ruins. This despite the difficulties experienced by the gunners who were utterly unable to see their targets on the other side of the hills." From July 11 until July 16, Admiral Sampson's squadron cruised off Santiago Bay waiting for another bombardment order. W.A.M. Goode described the controversial end to the siege: "On July 16, the army wigwagged to the fleet that Santiago had surrendered. Major General Nelson Miles, Commander in Chief of the Army, had arrived on the 13th, and Admiral Sampson requested to be represented at any surrender negotiations—since President McKinley

194 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

had seen fit to especially designate that all operations should be jointly carried on between the army and navy. "However, not only was the navy not represented at the surrender talks, but Sampson was uninformed of the terms agreed to until later in the day, when General Miles sent the admiral a copy of the surrender documents for l\is information' but not his signature. Miles did add a notation stating: 'I am glad that the Navy has been able to contribute such an important part [toward the surrender]/ " On the night of July 17, Admiral Sampson had the mines in the harbor destroyed and sent a prize crew to take possession of a small gunboat, the Alvarado. Goode narrated: "A detail of soldiers had already taken over the ship, but the officer in charge gracefully made way for the navy. The Alvarado quickly left the harbor, but not before being pursued by a tugboat with several army officers on board. They had been sent off post-haste as soon as Shafter learned that the gunboat had left the bay against his orders." After the surrender of Santiago, General Miles immediately began making preparations for an invasion of Puerto Rico. Admiral Sampson was instructed to occupy Port Nipe, on the northeast coast of Cuba, for use as a coaling station for the expeditionary force. On July 21, the gunboats Topeka, Annapolis, the converted yacht Wasp, and the tugboat Leyden attacked Nipe Bay. Ralph D. Paine, a correspondent for the Chicago Tribune aboard the Topeka, reported the story: "On July 11, we were detached from the blockade squadron in front of Havana and ordered to patrol along the northeast coast. "Daybreak on the 14th found us at Port Nipe, and the day was spent steaming off the bay. The high hills and mountains rising in the background made a magnificent panorama. While the multicolored vegetation, basking in the lights and shadows of the hot, tropical sun—and the broad expanse of blue sea—completed the beautiful picture. 'The harbor at Nipe is about 20 miles long and varies from three to ten miles wide. The entrance is narrow and tortuous, and lined with numerous shoals and reefs. High on the bluff, to the right, sat a stone blockhouse and signal station, which also controlled the wires leading to mines in the harbor. Another blockhouse was situated on the left point of the channel entrance. "The waters between the first and second turns into the bay had been strewn with mines, and Spanish riflemen were positioned along the channel between the second turn and the inner harbor.

Battle at Port Nipe, July 21,1898.

196 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

'The following morning, as we were patrolling about two miles offshore from Port Nipe, a large enemy gunboat, the Jorge Juan, poked its nose out of the bay and fired two shots at us. The ship then retreated back into the harbor." On July 21, the Topeka was joined by the Wasp, Annapolis, and Leyden. Commander J. J. Hunker of the Annapolis consulted with William S. Cowles, captain of the Topeka, and delivered Sampson's instructions for attacking Port Nipe. Paine continued his account: "When the exciting news spread through the ship, it required the strictest naval discipline to repress the enthusiastic delight of the crew. All hands were given their midday meal, and then our small squadron headed for the harbor. "As we neared the entrance at top speed, Commander Cowles performed the one act necessary to 'key up' the men to the highest pitch of eagerness for the imminent fight—namely, the flinging out of battle flags. The Leyden hoisted a good sized flag to its masthead, and a huge one at the stern—almost as large as the ship itself. The Wasp flew two large banners, and the Annapolis three at the mastheads—each looking about an acre in size. The Topeka hoisted three flags which were so big that the banners looked like a single huge flag. No Spaniard, unless he was totally blind, could fail to see that we were American ships." The smaller vessels, Leyden and Wasp, steamed ahead, followed by the Annapolis and Topeka. The lead ships were ordered to look for mines while picking their way through the narrow channels. As the Leyden and Wasp entered the bay, a dozen shots rang out from the north blockhouse. The shells dropped short, and the Topeka returned the fire with its three-pounders. The Spaniards rapidly deserted the building, and the Topeka continued to blast the structure and fire at the fleeing soldiers. The south blockhouse was destroyed by the Annapolis. Ralph Paine described the action: "The Leyden and Wasp took up their positions in the northwest section of the harbor and commenced shooting across the water at the Jorge Juan, which was anchored to the southeast about a mile and a quarter from the shore. "Behind the gunboat, another blockhouse stood on a small hill. This fort opened fire on the Leyden and Wasp. As soon as the Topeka and Annapolis came up, the enemy ship joined the fight. "The Topeka moved into the middle of the harbor—about 4000 yards from the Spanish gunboat—and the other three American vessels drew up on either side in a semicircle. Our squadron quickly

Surrender of Santiago and Battle at Port Nipe • 197

closed in on the Jorge Juan—pouring a destructive fire into the vessel and the blockhouse beyond. When the firing became heavy, the crew of the enemy ship put off in small boats and reached the beach under heavy fire. The Jorge Juan sank within twenty minutes. Two shells from the Topeka's bow gun dropped squarely on the blockhouse. The Spanish banners disappeared and a white flag was run up. "The gunnery of our ships was remarkable. Three-quarters of the shots from our squadron crashed into the Jorge Juan or the blockhouse—knocking guns here and there—throwing debris high in the air in every direction—and no doubt causing a heavy loss of life. Thus ended a short, but one of the most vicious battles of the war. Commander Cowles is a brother-in-law of Colonel Theodore Roosevelt."

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19 The Invasion of Puerto Rico Small Spanish vessels, with shallow drafts, continually sneaked into Cuban ports on the south coast of the island, bringing food and military supplies from Mexico and adjacent Central American countries. After the seizure of Guantanamo, and the defeat of Cervera's flotilla at Santiago, Admiral Sampson's fleet began to tighten its grip around the southern harbors. It had been known for some time that several Spanish gunboats and steamers were assembling at Manzanillo, and, because of swamps and impassable jungle, were being used to transport troops and supplies along the south coast. The Purisima Concepcion was particularly active in bringing provisions from Jamaica to the Spanish Army in Cuba. On July 14, Sampson directed Commander Chapman Todd and the Wilmington to proceed to Manzanillo and institute a blockade of the city and ports to the west. The Helena, Hist, and Manning were to join him in a few days. In addition, the Detroit and Yankton were stationed off Cienfuegos, and the Scorpion, Osceola, Hornet, and Wompatuck were ordered to patrol the waters between Cape Cruz and Manzanillo. The Wilmington met the Wompatuck on the 15th, and Commander Todd told Lieutenant Jungen that, upon the arrival of the Helena and Hist, the group would navigate the Cuatro Reales Channel. The squadron formed on the morning of July 17, and, in the early afternoon joined up with the Scorpion, Osceola, and Hornet at

200 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

Guayabal. The commanding officers conferred aboard the Wilmington, and a plan was formulated for another attack on Manzanillo. In an interview with W.A.M. Goode, Commander Todd described the action: "Before daybreak on the 18th, our squadron moved down the long line of cays which front the bay at Manzanillo. The passage between the cays and harbor is narrow but deep. However, since our charts were not reliable, extreme care had to be exercised in handling the larger vessels like the Wilmington and Helena. "Three merchantmen and a guard ship were known to be near the north entrance. It was thought that the gunboats would be strung out along the harbor front and close inshore. This assumption later proved to be correct. "I issued instructions that, upon arrival in front of the cays opposite the city, the Wilmington and Helena would enter the bay from the north and engage the merchant vessels and the guard ship. The Scorpion and Osceola were to pass through the middle channel and concentrate their fire on the gunboats nearest the guard ship. The Scorpion, with its 5-inch guns, would also silence the shore batteries. The Hist, Hornet and Wompatuck would enter the harbor from the south, engage gunboats within range, and prevent any enemy vessels from escaping. "Deliberate fire was insisted upon, and care was ordered to be taken so as not to inflict unnecessary damage upon the city. The ship captains were reminded that our objective was Spanish shipping and not the town itself. "Shortly after seven o'clock, our squadron—in double column with the Wilmington and Helena in the lead—arrived off the cays fronting Manzanillo Bay. All vessels had orders to shell the cays as they closed in. We hoped to unmask any gun batteries which might have been positioned on the islands. "At eight o'clock, the Wilmington opened fire on the merchantmen, and our other ships commenced their attacks as directed. The enemy gunboats and guard ship retaliated. The blockhoitse, behind the city, joined the battle. But its fire was ineffective as the range was too great. "Within a half-hour, all three merchant vessels were burning. I then ordered the Helena to divide its gunfire between the guard ship and the Cuba Espanola which was anchored nearby. The Wilmington also began shooting at the Helena's targets. The Cuba Espanola and guard ship erupted in flames and the Helena switched its attack to the smaller Spanish gunboats stretched along the waterfront.

The Invasion of Puerto Rico • 201

"The fire from our middle and southern columns was also having a telling effect on the enemy. One gunboat was sunk, and three others began hugging the shore in a futile attempt to escape the deadly onslaught. Gradually we closed in on the few remaining gunboats. One was left burning, one was sunk, and another was sinking. "By now, we were within point-blank range of the Spanish shore batteries, and, as their fire became hotter, I signaled our squadron to retire." In the fierce two-hour gun battle, Commander Todd's flotilla had destroyed the merchant steamers Purisima Concepcion, La Gloria,

and Jose Garcia; the gunboats Guantanamo, Cuba Espanola, Guardian, Estrella, Pare jo Delgeso, and Cantinella; and the guard ship Maria.

After this defeat to the Spanish naval forces, General Miles went ahead with his plans to invade Puerto Rico. On the afternoon of July 21, an American expeditionary force of 3500 men sailed from Guantanamo Bay in nine transports under the command of Captain

F. J. Higginson in the Massachusetts. The Dixie, Gloucester, Columbia,

and Yale also accompanied the convoy.

Continuing the Report of the State Historian for the State of New York,

Lieutenant Commander Richard Wainwright and his executive officer, Lieutenant H. P. Huse, narrated the part played by the Gloucester in the Puerto Rican campaign. Wainwright remarked: "We proceeded with the convoy through the Mona Passage and arrived off Port Guanica at eight o'clock on the morning of July 25. "Finding no enemy batteries bearing on the entrance, we approached the mouth of the bay. I asked permission to enter. This was granted with some hesitation by Captain Higginson—not knowing what mines might be in the channel, and that he would be powerless to render us any assistance after the Gloucester had steamed into the harbor and was lost from sight. "The Massachusetts wigwagged, 'Do you see any signs of fortifications?' "I signaled, TSJo, but I see a Spanish flag on a building. Shall I go in?' "The answer came back, 'Yes, you can try it!' "At nine o'clock we entered the harbor in advance of the fleet. Lieutenant H. P. Huse and Lieutenant T. C. Wood, and an armed crew, went ashore in a steam-cutter. They had no sooner lowered the Spanish flag and hoisted our colors than rapid rifle fire was heard. I quickly became aware that our men were under attack.

Invasion of Puerto Rico, July 25,1898.

The Invasion of Puerto Rico • 203

Many bullets struck the water alongside the Gloucester and others zipped by overhead. "Huse signaled requesting gunfire support, and that 250 men were needed to hold the place. I immediately sent another armed boat, with Lieutenant Norman and Assistant Engineer Proctor in charge. By this time, boats and cutters from the Massachusetts had arrived, and the first contingent of army troops hurried ashore. Our landing party then returned to the Gloucester." Lieutenant Huse related his account of the mission: "The force under my command consisted of 28 men. The Spanish flag was hauled down and our colors hoisted in its place. This immediately drew the enemy's fire. Riflemen opened up on us from the underbrush to the right, and also from the main road—about 300 yards distant. "A native of the village told me that we were being opposed by 30 Spanish soldiers, and that more troops were expected to arrive momentarily from Yauco—only four miles from Guanica. "I signaled for reinforcements, and we fought our way to the highway. We pushed ahead and, at the north end of the village, built a wall across the road. The cutter's Colt machinegun was positioned to face in the direction of the enemy. "We also strung two barbed wire fences—50 and 100 yards to the front. Lieutenant Norman's boat soon arrived. His crew had captured a large scow which came into immediate use in landing troops. "About this time, the Gloucester's six-pounders opened fire on the approaching Spaniards and the enemy retreated. A few minutes later, Colonel Black's Engineer Regiment came ashore and rapidly moved forward past our defense line. At the request of General Gilmore, I left Lieutenant Wood and a few men to handle the Colt machinegun while the rest of our party returned to the ship." Meanwhile, another amphibious assault was planned for July 28 at Port Ponce, about 20 miles east of Guanica. On the night of the 27th, the Gloucester sneaked into Port Ponce and collected all the barges it could find and held them for use by the army when the transports arrived the following morning. Lieutenant Commander Wainwright described the assignment: "With all our lights extinguished or screened, and the crew at quarters, we moved silently into the inner harbor. I drew as near the barges as possible and anchored. Two armed boat crews, under Lieutenants Huse and Norman, secured nine large scows for use

204 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

by the army. We tied them alongside our ship, hoisted anchor, and slowly drifted back to the outer harbor—anchoring near the Dixie. All during the mission, our men were kept at their guns, but our movements went undetected by the enemy." The New York state historian added the following interesting footnote to the story: "The crew of the Gloucester had the enviable satisfaction of capturing the first Spanish flag, and hoisting in its place, the first American flag on the island of Puerto Rico. Lieutenant Commander Wainwright generously presented the Spanish flag to Lieutenant Huse—who commanded the landing party—but the Navy Department required it to be turned in as a public trophy. It now hangs in the Naval Academy Museum at Annapolis. "The American flag which was hoisted at Guanica now hangs over the mayor's chair in the City Hall at Gloucester, Massachusetts."

20 The Surrender of Manzanillo The last major confrontation between American naval units and the Spanish occurred about the middle of August. Private Henry Schrieder narrated: "On August 5, our marine battalion at Guantanamo broke camp and went aboard the [transport] Resolute. A few days later we joined the Newark and Suwanee near the Isle of Pines. Our three ships headed westward to Cape Cruz where we rendezvoused with the Hist, Osceola, and Alvarado. [The Alvarado was the Spanish gunboat captured by Admiral Sampson at Santiago. It was placed in American service under the command of Lieutenant Victor Blue.] "Lieutenant Young of the Hist told Colonel Huntington and Captain Goodrich of the Newark, that conditions at Manzanillo were such that an attack by our naval and marine forces would result in a speedy surrender by the city." In his report to the secretary of the navy, Captain Casper Goodrich related his story of the mission: "On the morning of July 11, our group of ships headed for the Cuatro Reales Channel. In order to minimize the chance of accidents because of dangerous shoal waters and unreliable charts, I sent the Hist with a pilot on ahead. On her starboard beam was the Suwanee, followed by the Osceola, Resolute, and Newark, in that order. The Alvarado remained near the Newark, continually checking the water depth. By a prearranged system of signals, the presence of shoal waters could be instantly communicated from the leading ships in time to stop the progress

206 • The Spanish-American War at Sea

of the Resolute and Newark, which were heavy draft vessels. At dark, we anchored inside the reef, in ten fathoms of water, and about 40 miles from Manzanillo. "Shortly after four o'clock, on the morning of the 12th, my flotilla proceeded to Manzanillo. About one o'clock in the afternoon, the Resolute, Suwanee, Hist and Osceola anchored well inside the northern entrance to the bay. I hoisted a white flag of truce on the Newark and headed to an anchorage about three miles from the town. I then sent the Alvarado, also flying a white flag, into the harbor with a message for General Parron, the Spanish garrison's commander, demanding the surrender of the city. Parron's reply was to the effect that Spanish military code forbid a surrender, except as the sequence of a siege or other military operation. "I waited until three o'clock without taking further action—in order to give noncombatants time to leave the city. My ships were then signaled to take their assigned bombardment stations. I hauled down the white flag and headed into the harbor until shoal waters halted any further approach." Aboard the Newark, a reporter for the Boston Herald described the scene: "At a quarter to four, the Newark opened fire on the enemy shore batteries and blockhouses. After a half-hour of steady bombardment, a white flag was sighted on the commandant's headquarters and a small gunboat near the wharves. Captain Goodrich called for cease firing and sent the Alvarado in under a flag of truce." Meanwhile, the Hist, Suwanee, and Osceola were approaching Manzanillo from the south through the middle channel. As soon as they came within 1500 yards of the city, Spanish batteries—not noticing the white flag flying from the mast of the Alvarado— opened fire. Lieutenant Blue immediately took down the truce flag and joined the Hist, Suwanee, and Osceola in fiercely replying to the enemy barrage. The Boston Herald reporter continued his account: "The most exciting part of the battle was when the Hist, Suwanee, Osceola and Alvarado moved close inshore. They were wrapped in rolling smoke as they blazed away at the Spanish shore batteries, which spit fire in return. "The Alvarado had problems with bad ammunition. Lieutenant Blue only had Spanish powder for the Spanish guns mounted on his vessel. No one was hurt aboard our ships, but much indignation

The Surrender of Manzanillo • 207

was expressed because of the Spaniards firing when a flag of truce was showing." Momentarily, a large group of Cuban insurgents appeared north of Manzanillo and were taken under fire by Spanish artillery. The Newark came to the relief of the Cubans with heavy salvos from its six-inch guns. After about fifteen minutes of action, the Hist, Suwanee, Osceola, and Alvarado cut off the fight and headed to the vicinity of the Newark. The Spanish fire slackened, but followed the American ships out of the harbor. The feisty little vessels anchored near the Newark about half past five. The Herald reporter went on: "It was Captain Goodrich's intention to renew the bombardment at sunrise, but daybreak revealed a large number of whiteflagsflyingover the city. Suddenly, a small boatflyinga white flag, and with two officers aboard, left the shore and headed to the Newark. Goodrich was notified that a peace protocol had been signed the day before between Spain and the United States. "The Spaniards had tried to deliver the message at midnight, but their boat was fired upon and returned to shore. As soon as it was light enough for the Americans to see the flag, the boat was again sent off." Captain Goodrich ended his report with the following comment: "A part of the contemplated plan of operation was the landing of some or all of the marine battalion. My regret at the loss of an opportunity to win additional distinction for the corps and Colonel Huntington was only equaled by his zealous entrance into the spirit of the enterprise."

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Epilogue No sooner had Admiral Cervera's flotilla been destroyed at Santiago than the newspapers of William Randolph Hearst began to target Admiral Sampson, proclaiming that Commodore Schley was the hero of the battle. The American public, egged on by the escalating controversy, quickly divided into two camps. The pro-Sampson people stated that since Admiral Sampson was the fleet commander, he deserved credit for the victory. The proSchley group countered that Commodore Schley was in command

when the battle occurred, and, therefore, should receive the honor. The Boston Herald's contribution to the flood of "yellow press" scandals leveled at Sampson was the following editorial: "I hear from a very close friend of Admiral Sampson's that the latter, as soon as it was evident that his share of prize money would amount to about $100,000, made some very fortunate investments which have enabled him to make $50,000 more—thus making him the richest naval officer, as far as the benefits from the war are concerned." The actual prize money figure, however, was much lower. Sampson received about $26,000. Captain Chadwick was awarded $18,500, and Commodore Schley earned $3,500. For Sampson and Schley the Battle of Santiago had mixed results bringing as much controversy as it did glory. But for Admiral Pascual Cervera it brought peace of mind that he had done his duty as an officer and that his squadron had performed as well as any

210 • Epilogue

thinking man could expect. His opponents in that battle certainly respected him. The Spanish admiral was taken to the United States as a prisoner, but treated more as a guest at the Naval Academy in Annapolis where he attended parties and received visitors during the remaining months of the war. An article in the Boston Herald of August 14 described his welcome upon his arrival at the Boston train station: "Admiral Cervera passed through the city Saturday morning on the way to visit the Spanish Navy prisoners at Camp Long in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. When word got around that the much talked-about admiral would be at the station, an immense throng began gathering early. The crowd continued to grow until there were thousands waiting to catch a glimpse of 'the wily terror of the seas.' 'The train arrived a few minutes before nine o'clock. As soon as the admiral made his appearance, he was given a tremendous ovation. The crowd cheered itself hoarse, and the sturdy old gentleman was visibly affected. Tears welled up in Admiral Cervera's eyes as eager hands were stretched to grasp his. He was patted on the shoulder and wished all kinds of good fortune." The episode of the Spanish-American War was a sobering warning for the United States Army and Navy. An editorial in the Boston Herald put the lessons learned in the proper perspective: "Our experience with Spain has possibly saved us from a future disaster. It has taught us the defects in our military organization. When the Secretary of War stated that, in case of need, he could send a million men, fully equipped and into the field within thirty days, the public might be excused for entertaining a similar belief. "However, the shocking discovery that we needed two months to get sixteen thousand men ready to take the field—and then send them off to war without enough artillery or horses—was a priceless lesson, and cheaply learned. If we had been compelled to learn it in the face of a formidable foe—like Germany—we would have had to go through an abyss of humiliation. "Before the war, we kept a small navy for a pet. Now we have learned the value of sea power for a nation situated like ours. We have seen thousands of trained Spanish soldiers watch helplessly as our army, using inferior weapons, was kept safe from attack by our navy's superior strength at sea. If we had been facing a military power with a navy stronger than ours, what would have become of us? Spain's fate has been a warning, and we must profit from it."

Appendix Navy of the United StatesNorth Atlantic Fleet On the eve of the Spanish-American War, the ships of the U.S. Navy stationed in the Atlantic Ocean were organized in a single North Atlantic Squadron. Even before a declaration of war, it became clear that the Navy did not have enough vessels for all the duties it would be asked to perform. Thus during the early months of 1898, the Navy purchased 97 merchantmen, chartered four ships from the International Navigation Company and one from the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, accepted loans of an iceboat and two yachts, and took into service fifteen cutters from the Revenue-Cutter Service, four tenders from the Lighthouse Service, and two Fisheries Commission vessels. This hodge-podge of reinforcements was formed into the "U.S. Auxiliary Naval Force," sometimes called the "Mosquito Squadron," and assigned to act as scouts for the North Atlantic and Flying Squadrons to carry messages between the other squadrons and, especially after the Battle of Santiago, to provide logistical support for forces in Cuba. Between early April and May 10, several of these ships joined others from the regular Navy serving as pickets watching for Spanish ships entering the Caribbean Sea. The Yale (the former Paris leased from the International Navigation Company) and the St. Paul watched the waterways between Jamaica and Haiti; the Harvard (former New York of the International Navigation Company) patrolled the Mona Passage between the Dominican Repub-

212 • Appendix

lie and Puerto Rico; and the Cincinnati and Vesuvius guarded the Straits of Yucatan. When it became known that Admiral Cervera's squadron was in Santiago harbor, the St. Paul, Harvard, St. Louis, Minneapolis, and

Yale were sent to watch the entrance to the harbor and shadow the Spanish squadron should it set sail. The Yale, St. Paul, and Minneapolis were attached to the Flying Squadron on May 26. After the Battle of Santiago, the Yale, Harvard, and Columbia would convoy troops to Cuba and Puerto Rico, and the St. Louis would transport prisoners to Long Island, New York and Portsmouth, New Hampshire. All the Auxiliary vessels returned to civilian service by November 1898. SHIPS IN COMMISSION JULY 1,1898 Battleships (First Class) Iowa Indiana Massachusetts Oregon Battleship (Second Class) Texas Armored Cruisers Brooklyn New York Protected Cruisers Columbia Minneapolis Newark San Francisco New Orleans Cincinnati Unprotected Cruisers Detroit

Appendix • 213

Montgomery Marblehead Monitors Amphitrite Puritan Terror Converted Steamers, Cruisers, and Gimboats Badger Buffalo Dixie Harvard St. Louis St. Paul Yale Yankee Yosemite Panther Prairie Topeka Wilmington Helena Nashville Castine Dolphin Machias Annapolis Marietta Mayflower Vesuvius Bancroft Newport Torpedo Boats Dupont Cushing

214 • Appendix

Porter Ericsson Foote Rodgers Winslow Morris Converted Yachts Eagle Frolic Gloucester Hawk Hist Hornet Scorpion Siren Viking Vixen Wasp

Yankton Tugs Leyden Samoset Apache Osceola Potomac Sioux Tecumseh Uncas Wompatuck Transports Fern Resolute Gussie Seguranca

Appendix • 215 Colliers Abarenda Alexander Caesar Hannibal Justin Lebanon Leonidas Merrimac Saturn Lighthouse Tenders Armeria Mangrove Maple Suwanee Revenue Cutters Algonquin Calumet Hamilton Hudson Manning Morrill Windom Woodbury

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Bibliography AUTHOR'S COLLECTION OF RARE DIARIES A N D PRIVATELY PRINTED MATERIAL Joy, Henry B. The U.S.S. Yosemite, Purisima Concepcion Incident, June 16,1898. Privately printed, 1937. King, Charles B. Psychic Reminiscences. Privately printed, 1935. Stringham, Joseph S. The Story of the U.S.S. Yosemite in 1898. Privately printed, 1929. The diary and memoirs of Private Andrew W. Hoffer, U.S. Marine Corps, describing his service aboard the U.S.S. Marietta. The diary and scrapbooks of Private Henry D. Schrieder, C Company, Marine Battalion, Guantanamo Bay. The scrapbooks and letters of Helen Amelia Kreps, covering the entire period of the Spanish-American War and Philippine Insurrection. HISTORICAL SOCIETY MATERIAL Papers and letters from the Victor Blue Collection, North Carolina State Archives. History of the U.S.S. Gloucester from the Annual Report of the State Historian of the State of New York. Captain Littleton Waller Tazewell Waller, letters to Levin Joynes of Richmond, Virginia, from the Joynes Family Papers. Captain Alfred Thayer Mahan, "History of the Naval War Board of 1898." U.S. Naval Historical Center Microfilm NRS-6.

218 • Bibliography DOCUMENTS A N D MAGAZINES Report of the Naval Board of Inquiry upon the destruction of the United States Battleship Maine. United States Senate, Fifty-fifth Congress, Second Session. "Personal Narrative of the 'Maine' by her commander, Captain Charles Dwight Sigsbee, USN." Century Magazine, Volume 57. Clifford, John D. "My Memories of Cuba." Leatherneck, June 1929. Harper's Pictorial History of the War with Spain. Harper Bros., 1899 (34 issues).

BOOKS Buenzle, Fred J. Bluejacket, an Autobiography. W. W. Norton, 1939. Cervera y Topete, Pascual. The Spanish-American War: A Collection of Documents Relative to the Squadron Operations in the West Indies. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1899. Clark, Charles E. My Fifty Years in the Navy. Naval Institute Press, 1984. Concas y Palau, Victor M. The Squadron of Admiral Cervera. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1990. Feuer, A. B. Combat Diary: Episodes from the History of the Twenty-second Regiment, 1866-1905. Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1991. Feuer, A. B. The Santiago Campaign of 1898: A Soldier's View of the Spanish-American War. Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1993. Goode, W.A.M. With Sampson through the War. Doubleday & McClure, 1899. Musick, John R. Lights and Shadows of Our War with Spain. Ogilvie, 1898. Sprout, Harold and Margaret Sprout. The Rise of American Naval Power, 17761918. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1939. Wright, Marcus J. Leslie's Official History of the Spanish-American War. Washington, D.C.: War Records Office, 1899.

Index Abarenda, 126 Adria, 121 Aguadores, Cuba, 157-58,167,187 Alert, 191 Alfonso XII, 5,7-8 Alfonso XIII, 151,153 Alger, Russell A., 26,31 Almirante Oquendo, 17-19,97,109, 145,176-77,181^82,184-85, 189 Alvarado, 145,172,194,205-7 Amphitrite, 54-55,60 Anderson, Lieutenant Edwin A., 76, 80-81 Annapolis, 157,160,194,196 Annie, 30 Anthony, Private William, 8 Antonio Lopez: gunboat, 71; steamer, 151-54 Argonauto, 34 Ariete, 17,19 Armeria, 115 Aserraderos, Cuba, 141-42,156, 159,176,182 Audaz, 96 Aunon y Vtllalon, Captain Ramon, 169 Azor, 17,19

Bagley, Ensign Worth, 69-71 Bahia, Brazil, 53,55-56 Bahia Honda, Cuba, 19 Bancroft, 157,160 Bannon, Lieutenant P. M., 129 Barbados, 56,91 Batabano, Cuba, 34,75-77,79-80 Beach, Harry L., 96-98,100,106 Bermejo, Segismundo, 18-20,33,37, 57,87,169 Bernadou, Lieutenant J. B., 67-72 Blanco, General Ramon, 14,20,33, 169,171 Blue, Lieutenant Victor, 137,159, 168,205-6 Bonsai, Stephen, 28 Boone, Ensign, 32 Boston Herald, 13,21,39-40,43,45, 53,56,60,64,72,75,77,79-80,8283,93,96,100,103,107-8,113, 123,149,155,162,206-7,209-10 Brady, Gunner's Mate G. P., 72 Brooklyn, 13,52,87,89-90,96,99, 113-14,160,172,176-78,182,191, 193 Brownson, Commander W. H., 161 Buena Ventura, 23-24 Buenavista Bay, 137-38

220 • Index Buenzle, Chief Yeoman Fred, 10-11, 27,89,100,115,171,174,177 Buffalo, 53,56 Burke, Private, 127 Burns, Fireman John, 178 Cadiz, Spain, 18-19,22,96,116 Caimanera, Cuba, 119,121,130-36 Callao, Peru, 38-40 Camara, Admiral Manuel de la, 96, 116 Camp McCalla, 123,126-29,132,134 Canary Islands, 17-18,20 Cantinella, 201 Cape Cruz, Cuba, 162,199,205 Cape Frances, Cuba, 88 Capehart, Lieutenant E. E., 27 Caperton, Lieutenant, 43 Cape Verde Islands, 18,20,21,33, 37,46,50,169 Cardenas, Cuba, 19,35,65,67-68, 71,75 Castine, 23,157,160 Catalina, 27 Cavanagh, Gunner's Mate, 68 Cebreco, Colonel, 141-42,159 Cervera y Topete, Admiral Pascual, 18-21,26,33,35,37,49-50,52-57, 63-64,86-92,95-96,99-100,1067, 111, 113,142,157,159-60,16974,176,189,191-92,199,209-12 Chadwick, Captain French E., 11, 23,27,32,51-52,156,171,174, 177,192-93,209 Chapman, Carlton X, 131,134 Charette, George, 103,108 Chicago Tribune, 14,17,194 Churchill, Winston, 49 Cienfuegos, Cuba, 19,34-35,65, 75-77,80,87-89,91,160-61,171, 199 Cincinnati, 13,23,27,31-33,212 City of Washington, 5,7-9 Clark, Captain Charles E., 38-40, 42-46,53,55-56,92-93,133 Clausen, Roger, 103 Clifford, John H., 120

Cocal Point, Cuba, 141-42,159 Colomb, Admiral Philip, 107 Colorados Point, Cuba, 76-80 Columbia, 96,201,212 Concas y Palau, Captain Victor M., 57,86,172,174,178 Cook, Surgeon Frank, 71 Cooney, Chief Machinist Tom, 69 Correa, General Miguel, 107 Cotton, Captain C. S., 63,184 Cowles, Commander William S., 196-97 Cristobal Colon, 18-19,90,97-99, 145,176,178-79,182,184-85 Cuba Espanola, 200-201 Curacao, 57,90 Cuzco, Cuba, 124,128-30,133 Daiquiri, Cuba, 115,157 Dalton, Private, 125 Dauntless, 96-98 Davis, Richard Harding, 22,32-33 Dayton, Commander J. H., 61-63 Dayton, Ensign, 28-29 Deignan, Osborn, 103 Delehanty, Lieutenant Commander, 137,141-42,167-68 Denby, Gunner's Mate Edwin, 151, 153-54 Detroit, 27,53,60-62,157,160,199 Dewey, Commodore George, 46,58, 64,107,117,159,169 Dixie, 23,117,160,201,204 Dolphin, 113,121,129,133,135,160 Don Giovanni Bausan, 28 Don Pedro, 26-27 Draper, Lieutenant Herbert L., 126 Duffield, General Henry M., 167 Dumphy, Private William, 124-26 Dupuy de Lome, Enrique, 3 Eagle, 34,75-76,157,160 El Caney, Cuba, 158,160 E/HeraWo,107 El Imparcial, 13 Elliott, Captain George F., 123,128, 136

Index • 221 Ellis, Chief Yeoman George H., 178 Emory, Commander William H., 148-49,151 Emperador Carlos V, 96 Ericsson, 191 Estrella, 201 Eulate, Captain Antonio, 191 Eustis, Ensign George, 130 Evans, Captain Robley, 98,191 Everett, Captain, 28 Falconer, Naval Cadet, 28-29 Fern, 9 Fifth Army Corps, 99,115-16,127, 155-56,158,160,167,170,193 Fisherman's Point, Cuba, 119,121, 123-24,128,133-34 Fremont, Lieutenant John, 50-52, 155-56 Furor, 17, 55,99,177,181,185,18789 Galicia, 34 Garcia, General Calixto, 156-57 General Concha, 151,153-54 Gibbs, Assistant Surgeon John B., 125-26 Gillis, 50,155-56 Gilmore, General, 203 Glass, Corporal, 125

Gloucester, 157,160,167,172,177, 182,185,187-89,191,201,203-4 Gomez, General Maximo, 137-38 Good, Sergeant Major Henry, 126-27 Goode, W.A.M., 56-57,60,61,63, 113-14,156-58,167,169,170-72, 178,192-94,200 Goodrich, Captain Casper E, 85-86, 205-7 Guantanamo, 201 Guantanamo Bay, 35,75,83,85-86, 119,121,123,127-28,130,134-36, 171-72,199,201,205 Guardian, 201 Gussie, 137-38,141 Haiti, 75,121

Hall, Lieutenant N. H., 123 Hampton Roads, Virginia, 22,52, 54,91-92,120 Harrington, Captain F. H., 120 Harvard, 23,50,63,89,184,211-12 Havana, Cuba, 5-7,9-13,18,21,24, 26-28,30-31,35,75,87-90,95, 160-61,169,172 Hawk, 88-89 Hearst, William Randolph, 1,10-11, 209 Helena, 23,27,135,157,160,199,200 Helm, Lieutenant J. M., 162 Heywood, Colonel Charles, 119,136 Higginson, Captain F. J., 201 Hist, 160,162-63,165-66,191,199200,205-7 Hobson, Lieutenant Richmond, 100103,105-11,113-14,134,193 Holman, Lieutenant George F. M., 12 Hornet, 157,160,162,163,165-66, 199-200 Howell, Commodore John A., 23 Hudson, 65,67,69-72,93 Hunker, Commander J. J., 196 Huntington, Lieutenant Colonel Robert W., 120,123-25,128,135, 205-6 Huse, Lieutenant H. P., 201,203-4 Indiana, 13,23,28,52,53,55,60-61, 88,116,156,160,172,181-82,18485,187-88,192-93 Infanta Maria Teresa, 18,57,145,172, 174,176,181-82,184-85,189 Iowa, 22,52,53,55,58,60-63,87,90, 96-100,113,117,160,172,176-77, 182,184-85,191 Isabel II, 150-51 Jamaica, 75,83,85,89-90,199 Johnson, Chief Machinist Hans, 68 Jones, Chaplain, 126 forge Juan, 196-97 Jose Garcia, 201 Joy, Chief Boatswain's Mate Henry B., 148,153

222 • Index Jungen, Lieutenant Carl W., 83,87, 162-63,166,199 Kaiserin Maria Teresa, 184,191 Kanapaha, 131 Kelly, Francis, 103,108 Kennedy, Landsman S. P., 162 Key West, Horida, 3,12,22-23, 26-27,29,30,54,63,65,72, 86-89,91-92,115,120-21,137, 141,170 King, Chief Machinist Charles B., 130 Kingston, Jamaica, 147-49 Kreps, Lieutenant Jacob, 158 Kuensli, Ensign, 34 Laborde, Colonel, 124,128 La Epoca, 18-19 La Gloria, 201 Lancaster, 13 Larson, Corporal Charles, 130 Las Guasimas, Cuba, 158 Lazarraga, Captain, 24 Lee, Fitzhugh, 1,3,6,14 Legazpi, 5, 7 Leyden, 194,196 Ligera, 71 Linares, General Arsenio, 133,136 London Daily Chronicle, 95 London Daily Mail, 14,49 London Daily Telegraph, 107 London News, 107 Long, Lieutenant C. G., 120-25 Long, John D., 3,9,18,21-22,26, 29,37,39,43,49,52-53,63-64, 75,87-89,91-92,95-96,116,117, 119,127,192 Lord Cairnes, 56 Lucas, Lieutenant L. C, 128-29 Machias, 23,65,67,71-72 Madrid, Spain, 20,22,33,75,87,92, 95,107 Magill, Lieutenant L. J., 129 Magruder, Ensign Thomas P., 24,76, 80

Mahan, Alfred Thayer, 23,64,91,116 Maine, 2-15,17,38-39,45 Mangrove, 10-11,28 Manning, 141,160,199 Manzanillo, Cuba, 144,147,162-63, 165-67,200,205-7 Marble, Lieutenant Frank, 23 Marblehead, 27,34,75-77,79-82,90, 113,121,123-26,128,130-35 Maria, 201 Marietta, 39-40,42-46,52-53,56 Marix, Lieutenant Commander Adolph, 11,166 Martin, Private, 127 Martinique, 50,57,63-64,90-92 Masada y Reyes, Major Francisco, 142,144-45 Massachusetts, 22,52,87,90,96-100, 113,160,172,192,201-3 Matanzas, Cuba, 31 Mathilde, 27 Maynard, Commander Washburn, 23,76,79,81 McCalla, Commander Bowman, 75-77,82,121,128,130,135 McColgan, Private James, 124-26 McCormick, Captain Alexander H., 38 McCrakin, Lieutenant, 46 McDougall, Ensign, 163 McGill, Charles, 72 McGowan, Private, 125 McKelvy, Lieutenant William N., 120,125 McKeon, Quartermaster Daniel, 69 McKinley, President William, 3, 9,17,19,22-23,26,28,193 Meek, Fireman George, 71 Merrimac, 87,89,100-103,105-11, 119,193 Merry, Commander J. F., 67,71 Miguel fover, 27 Miles, Major General Nelson, 193-94,201 Milligan, Chief Engineer R. W, 39,42 Minneapolis, 89,212

Index • 223 Montague, Daniel, 103-8 Montague, Lieutenant Commander Joaquin, 147 Monterey, 38 Montevideo, Uruguay, 39 Montgomery, 54,60,120 Murphy, Boatswain's Mate, 44-45 Murphy, John, 103,108 Nashville, 23,34, 75-77,79,81-82, 86 Neumann, Lieutenant Bertram S., 130-31 Neville, Lieutenant W. C , 125 Newark, 117, 205-7 Newberry, Truman H., 154 Newcomb, Lieutenant Frank H., 69-70,72 New Orleans, 96-97,99,113,154, 157,160 Newport News, Virginia, 3,13 New York, 13,23-24,26-28,31-33, 50-54,60,62,87, 88,100-101, 106,113-14,156,160,167,172, 176-79,184,188-89 New York Herald, 22,32-33,49 New York Journal, 1,10-11,22 New York Sun, 131 New York World, 1,10-11,50 Nickers on, 163 Niguero Bay, Cuba, 163 Norman, Henry, 95 Norman, Lieutenant George H., 189, 203 O'Hearn, Watertender William, 69, 199 Olympia, 13 Oregon, 37-46, 52,53,55-56,92-93, 113,117,121,123,133,160,172, 174,176-78,181-82,184 Osada, 96 Osceola, 160,163,166,200,205-7 Oviedo, Captain, 106 Paine, Ralph D., 194,196 Panama, 28,39

Panther, 115,120-21,123,126 Parades, Commodore, 178 Pareja, General Felix, 121,133,13536 Parejo Delgeso, 201 Parron, General, 206 Patriota, 96 Pattson, Lieutenant J. A., 150 Pelayo, 96 Petrel, 13 Philip, Captain John, 131,177 Phillips, George, 103,108 Pluton, 17,55,99,177,181-82,185, 187-89 Porter, 50-53,60,155-56 Port Guanica, Puerto Rico, 201, 203-4 Port Nipe, Cuba, 194,196 Port Ponce, Puerto Rico, 203 Portsmouth, New Hampshire, 120, 127,210,212 Potter, Lieutenant Commander William P., 11 Powell, Naval Cadet Joseph, 100, 103,105 Prairie, 23 Proctor, Assistant Engineer, 203 Prosperina, 96 Pulitzer, Joseph, 1,10-11 Purcell, Boatswain's Mate, 141,163 Purisima Concepcion, 147-49,154, 162,199,201 Puritan, 31-33, 52 Quevado, Captain, 28 Quick, Sergeant John H., 129 Rabi, General Jesus, 141,142,145 Rapida, 96 Rayo, 17 Regla, Cuba, 6 Reina Mercedes, 114,192 Reiter, Commander George G, 120 Remey, Commodore George G, 87, 170 Resolute, 184,205-6 Rio de Janerio, Brazil, 45

224 • Index Roosevelt, Colonel Theodore, 17-18, 23,38-39,158,197 Rothschild, Sigmund, 7 Rough Riders, 158 Roxbury, Private, 127 Ryan, Machinist Edward, 131 St Louis, 23,50,83,85-86,121,212 St Paul, 23, 89,132-33,150-51,21112 St. Vincent, Cape Verde Islands, 1819,20,22,49,57,91 Sampson, Admiral William T, 1114,20-21,23-24, 26-31, 35,38, 49-50,52,54-58, 60,62-65,86-92, 95-96,100,102,105-7, 111, 11317,121,123,127,141-42,144, 147-48,155-62,165,167,169-72, 174,177-79,185,192-94,196,199, 205,209 Sandoval, 86,121,131,133-35 San Francisco Examiner, 28,38 San Juan, Puerto Rico, 21,24,49,5458,63-65,87,90-92,150-51,153, 154 Santiago, Cuba, 24,34-35,57-58, 75-76,79-80, 83, 86-91,95-100, 102-3,105,107,113-15,119,121, 127,133-36,141-42,144-45, 155-61,167,169-72,176,178,181, 184-85,187,192-94,199,205,209, 212 Saturn, 75 Schley, Winfield Scot, 22,52,54,63, 86-92,95-96,98-99,113-14,120, 169-70,176,178,191,209 Schrieder, Private Henry D., 124-25, 132-35,205 Scorpion, 115,157,160,166,199-200 Scott, Lieutenant Hutchinson, 70-72 Scovel, Sylvester, 50-53,155 Scribner, Fireman Harry, 131 Seguranca, 156-57 Shafter, General William R., 99-100, 116,127,136,156-58,167,170-72, 174,192-94 Siboney, Cuba, 157,172,174,184

Sicard, Admiral Montgomery, 13 Sigsbee, Captain Charles D., 2-3, 5-12,15,89,150-51 Silvey, Sergeant Richard, 123 Smith, Cay, 97,105,109, 111, 145, 159 Smith, Sergent Charles H., 125,127 Southerland, Lieutenant W.H.H., 34, 77 Spicer, Captain William E, 120,12829 Squires, Chief Quartermaster Charley, 174 Staunton, Lieutenant S. A., 24,30, 106 Stevens, Captain Frank, 5 Suwanee, 114,131-33,137-38,14142,145,153,160,167-68,172, 205-7 Symonds, Commander F. M., 39-40, 42-44,47,56 Tampa, Horida, 99,115,127-28,155 Taurman, Private Goode, 126-27 Taylor, Captain Henry G, 188 Temerario, 39-40,43,45 Terror: Spanish, 17,57,150-51, 153-54; U.S., 54-55,60 Texas, 2,22,52,87,90,96,105, 113,125-26,130-32,134,157, 160,172,176-78,182,184,191, 193 Todd, Commander Chapman G, 67-68,199-201 Tomas, Lieutenant Colonel Enrique E., 127-28,135 Topeka, 194,196-97 Toral, General Jose, 192-93 Tunnel, Seaman Josiah, 71 Valparaiso, Chili, 40,43 Vesutnws,115,160,212 Vincente de Cortejo, General, 34 Vixen, 106,114,121,157,160,172 Vizcaya, 17-19,57,97,109,145,17677,182,184-85,191 Volz, Robert, 81

Index • 225 Wainwright, Lieutenant Commander Richard, 8,187,201, 203-4 Wallace, Private, 127 Waller, Captain Littleton Waller Tazewell, 181,192 Walton, Gunner's Mate Patrick, 23 Wasp, 157,160,194,196 Watson, Commodore J. G, 52,117 Weyler, General Valeriano, 1 Widemark, Seaman Frank, 62 Wilkes, Lieutenant Gilbert, 148-49, 154 Willard, Ensign Arthur, 71 WUmington, 13,23,65,67-69,71-72, 199-200 Windom, 75

Winslow, 67-72 Winslow, Lieutenant Cameron McR., 76,79-82 Wompatuck, 54,60,83,85-86,157, 160,162-63,165-66,199-200 Wood, Lieutenant S. S., 87 Wood, Lieutenant T. G, 201-3 Woodford, Stewart L., 22 Yale, 23,50,89,201,211 Yankee, 23,113,117,121,160-62 Yankton, 160,199 Yauco, Puerto Rico, 203 Yosemite, 23,56,115,117,123,13031,148-51,153-54 Young, Lieutenant Lucien, 162-63, 165,205

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About the Author A. B. FEUER is a military historian and freelance newspaper and magazine journalist. He is the author of Bilibid Diary: The Secret Notebooks of Commander Thomas Hayes (1987), Combat Diary: Episodes from the History of the Twenty-second Regiment, 1866-1905 (Praeger, 1991), General ChennauWs Secret Weapon: The B-24 in China (Praeger, 1992), Coast Watching in the Solomon Islands: The Bougainville Reports (Praeger, 1992), and The Santiago Campaign of 1898: A Soldier's View of the Spanish-American War (Praeger, 1993). He has also published articles in numerous journals, including Military History Magazine, Sea Classics, Civil War Quarterly, and World War II and is a book reviewer for Military Review, Military History, and World War II.