Fighting in Cuban Waters Part 33

"You must lie quiet for a while," said the surgeon. "You'll be all right by to-night." And then he gave Walter some medicine to brace his nerves, for they had been sadly shattered by the shock. The remainder of that Sat.u.r.day was spent in bed.

On this memorable day the fighting on land had been even more fierce than on the sea. The army of invasion had taken the various outposts of Santiago, and the very city itself now lay at General Shafter's mercy.

It was felt that a day or two longer would bring matters to a climax.

When Walter joined his comrades after supper he looked rather pale and scared. Almost silently he took Si's hand and wrung it.

"You are all right?" he whispered.

"No hurt to speak of," was the answer.

"But we were pretty close to death. Oh, Si, I never realized before how quick one could be put out of this world!"

"Neither did I, Walter. After this I'm going to--well--I'm going to attend church more regularly, that's all. I never did take much to sech matters afore, like you do."

"It's always well to be prepared for death, Si--I'm going to try to be prepared after this," was Walter's low answer, and in the darkness of the berth deck they clasped hands again. They understood each other pretty well, these boys.

On Sunday morning the sun arose clear and strong, and early in the day an awning was spread over the quarterdeck of the flagship _Brooklyn_, and preparations were made to pa.s.s a hot day as comfortably as possible.

"We will rest to-day," was the word pa.s.sed around, and the jackies were not sorry, for the bombardment on Sat.u.r.day morning had tired them out.

The _Brooklyn_ rested about three miles out from Santiago Bay, and not far off lay the _Texas_. Between the two ships the long, green waves rose and fell, only making a soft slish-slish as they struck the vessels' sides. The jackies lolled here, there, and everywhere, some talking, some reading old newspapers which from frequent handling would scarcely hold together, while a few studied the Bibles they had brought with them.

Presently from the _Texas_ came the musical bugle-call for church service. "I'd like to go on board of her once," said Walter to Si, as they listened to the bell that followed. "She's certainly a fine-looking craft."

"Three bells," put in Caleb, as he came up. "Come on, lads, first Sunday in the month, remember, and the Articles of War have got to be hearkened to."

"That's so; I had forgotten," answered Walter. And he and the others dropped below, to don their cleanest and neatest "rigs," for general muster. Soon the call came, and from all parts of the big cruiser the men hurried to their various divisions, while the higher officers buckled on their swords, and the executive officers prepared to make their inspections.

On the quarterdeck, near the hatchway, sat Commodore Schley, musing thoughtfully, as he gazed over the waters in the direction of Morro Castle. The fighting commodore undoubtedly felt as hot as anybody, for he wore a thin, black alpaca coat and an equally thin, white summer hat.

He was now in sole command of the blockading fleet, for the _New York_ had carried Admiral Sampson many miles away, to confer with General Shafter.

For some time there had been smoke in the harbor entrance in front of the warships, and many were wondering what it meant. "Must be a supply boat for the batteries," said several under-officers, and this theory was accepted as correct. Nevertheless, Commodore Schley glanced toward that smoke more than once.

"We are going to have general muster, commodore," announced Captain Cook, as he presented himself, followed by Executive Officer Mason, and the commander of the fleet _pro tem._ nodded. But those keen eyes were still bent sh.o.r.eward.

Suddenly, from the forward bridge there came a yell through a megaphone, a yell that electrified everybody who heard it.

"After bridge there! Report to the commodore and the captain that _the enemy's ships are coming out of the harbor_!"

There was no necessity to report, for commodore, captain, and all others heard the cry. There was a second of silence. Could this news be true?

Then came the command of the executive officer.

"_Clear ship for action!_"

"Hurrah! the enemy is coming out at last! To your guns, boys! Remember the _Maine_!" These and a score of other cries rang out, while men rushed hither and thither, dropping one garment or another as they ran, and kicking shoes right and left, for no jackie will do work worth the counting unless he is barefooted. Everybody had on his best clothing, but that did not matter, and down into the grimy depths of the big vessel dropped the firemen, coal heavers, and all the rest of the "black gang," as they are termed, for steam must be gotten up in a tremendous hurry or the enemy would surely get away. Ton after ton of coal was thrown onto the fires, and the firemen coaxed and coaxed until the black lumps grew first red and then white, and converted the water in the boilers into high-pressure steam. "Fire up! for the sake of the ship's honor, fire up!" came in a hoa.r.s.e cry down the speaking-tube, and the men did fire up as never before, until all were ready to drop from the terrific heat. And all this while the engineers were watching their engines, oiling this part and that, and making every pound of steam do its utmost to send the great armored cruiser dashing and hissing through the sea to that point where the Spanish fleet was trying to escape.

For Admiral Cervera could stand it no longer inside of the harbor. With the army of invasion at the very outskirts of Santiago, and with the American fleet beyond his bay of refuge, something must be done, and done quickly. He would run for it,--run at the top of his speed--and trust to luck, if not Providence, to get out of range and reach Cienfuegos or Havana. Santiago Bay was "too hot to hold him."

It was the big prow of the _Maria Teresa_ that first showed itself, quickly followed by the _Vizcaya_, _Oquendo_, and _Colon_, with the torpedo boats _Pluton_ and _Furor_ bringing up closely in the rear. All were under a full head of steam, and the thick smoke shot up in heavy clouds from every funnel. For an instant all seemed to pause at the gateway to the sea, then, led by the _Maria Teresa_, they turned westward along the coast. To this side of the blockade now lay but three American warships, the _Brooklyn_, _Texas_, and the little _Vixen_. If he could only get out of range of these, Admiral Cervera felt that he would, for the time being at least, be safe.

Boom! It was a three-pounder, fired from the _Iowa_, lying some distance to the eastward of the _Texas_. She, too, was flying the signal, "The enemy is escaping," in red and white and blue flags. Beyond the _Iowa_, still further eastward, lay the pride of the western coast, the mighty _Oregon_, and it was this ship that first started up her engines in pursuit, having, by chance, a good head of steam up. And as the _Oregon_ turned in one direction, the little _Resolute_ turned in the other, to carry the news to the absent rear-admiral.

Three minutes had not yet pa.s.sed, yet a complete transformation had occurred on the _Brooklyn_. Five hundred men had scuttled to as many different directions, battle hatches had been lowered, water-tight compartments closed, hose attached and decks wet down, fire tubs filled, magazines opened, hoists put into operation, and ammunition delivered to turret, decks, and to the fighting-tops. Down below, fire had been started under four fresh boilers, and a dozen different connections between engines made.

Nor was this all. Splinter nets had been spread as before, all useless woodwork thrown overboard, and the surgeons' operating tables made ready. The warning gun from the _Iowa_ was followed by a gun from the _Texas_, and then the _Brooklyn_ helped to "open the ball" with her forward eight-inch guns. Another great naval battle, fully equal to that of Manila Bay, was now on.

"It's a question of do or die, boys!" cried Caleb, as he worked over the heavy gun before him. "Hustle now, as you never hustled before, or the dagos will get away. Now then, Polly, do the best you can!" And _bang!_ went the gun, with a noise that was deafening. Ten minutes later Walter felt as if his hearing had left him entirely, so incessant was the firing.

The first fire from the enemy came from the _Maria Teresa_, and was an eleven-inch sh.e.l.l directed at the _Brooklyn_. Hardly had this been discharged when the _Indiana_, coming up behind the _Iowa_, took a long-range chance and sent a sh.e.l.l directly upon the _Teresa's_ deck, doing not a little damage. Then the firing became general, and shot and sh.e.l.l was hurled in every direction.

So far, the _Brooklyn_ had been headed directly for the harbor entrance, commodore and captain being intent upon cutting off the enemy's westward flight, if possible. This course soon brought the _Maria Teresa_, _Vizcaya_, and the _Brooklyn_ into close proximity, and presently all were lost to view in a dense cloud of smoke, from which shot long streaks of fire, as battery after battery was discharged at close range.

"Give it to 'em!" was the cry that rang throughout the _Brooklyn_.

"Don't let up on 'em! We must do as well as Dewey did, and better!

Remember the _Maine_, and three cheers for Uncle Sam!" Such cries were truly inspiring, but presently the men became silent, as the work began to tell upon them, and they realized what a fearful task still lay before them.

"The second ship's flag is down!" was the welcome news which soon drifted down from the fighting-tops. It was true, the _Vizcaya's_ big silk flag had been riddled completely and the halyard shot away; but soon another flag was run up. Later on the _Brooklyn's_ flag also came down, but it did not remain so more than two minutes before a jackie had it up again.

The battle had but fairly begun, and the _Brooklyn_ and the _Maria Teresa_ were having it "hot and heavy," when suddenly the bow of the _Vizcaya_ began to turn swiftly. At once a cry rang out. "That ship is going to ram the _Brooklyn_! See, she is turning full toward her!"

The warning proved true. The _Vizcaya_ was turned fairly and squarely for Commodore Schley's flagship. Bells were ringing on board of her for "Full speed ahead." On and on she came, like a demon of the deep, in one wild, terrible effort to ram the vessel Walter was on and sink her!

CHAPTER XXIX

THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SPANISH FLEET

"We are lost!"

"That ship will cut us in half!"

"Give her a broadside, boys, before we go down!"

These and a hundred other cries rang out, as the _Vizcaya_ came leaping over the waves on her awful mission of death and destruction. Then gun after gun roared out, sending shot and sh.e.l.l on the enemy's deck. If this was their last hour on earth, these brave jackies were going to make the most of it.

But commodore, captain, and executive officer were all on the alert and were not to be caught napping. As the _Vizcaya_ came on, the necessary orders were given, and the _Brooklyn_ began to turn in a twelve-point circle to starboard. Like a flash she swept past the warship dashing on to destroy her, and then the command rang out, "Give her another broadside!" And the port guns, twenty in number, vomited out their death-dealing shots and sh.e.l.ls, raking the Spanish deck from end to end, and killing and wounding a great number of sailors and officers. To this awful fire was added that from the _Oregon_, which now came up to a.s.sist the flagship. Realizing that the plan to ram the _Brooklyn_ was a failure, the _Vizcaya_ started westward once more.

It was now high time to turn attention to the two torpedo-boat destroyers, _Pluton_ and _Furor_, that were coming out of the harbor at a speed of twenty knots per hour. Once these destroyers gained the open sea, to catch them would be impossible. Like long, steel arrows glistening in the sunlight, they darted through the greenish waves and for a moment hid themselves behind their big sisters.

Then on came the _Gloucester_, a converted yacht, commanded by Lieutenant Wainwright. Wainwright had been executive officer of the _Maine_ when she was blown up in Havana Harbor, and had vowed more than once to sink something if only he were given a chance. Like an avenging angel the _Gloucester_, but lightly armed, bore down upon the torpedo boats and sent shot after shot into them. Then the destroyers began to turn, as if to sink the little enemy who dared to molest them, but now it was too late,--the big warships were coming to the _Gloucester's_ aid.

It was the _Oregon_ and the _Iowa_ that first came to the converted yacht's a.s.sistance, and as the destroyers turned, first one way and then another, as if to ram or to run, a perfect hailstorm of shot and sh.e.l.l landed on their sides and decks, churning up the water into a milk-white froth, and causing the destroyers to look like gigantic whales lashing themselves in their death throes. The noise was even greater than it had been before, and the smoke made the heavens above look as if a violent thunderstorm was at hand.

Finding they could not withstand such a combined attack, and with the _Texas_ hurrying to the scene, the destroyers turned tail, as if to make for the sh.o.r.e. As the turn was made a huge sh.e.l.l, flying over the masts of the _Gloucester_, hit the _Pluton_ directly amidship, and with a crash and a splutter she broke and sank, leaving the still living members of her crew struggling in the boiling waters for their lives.

Left to herself, the _Furor_ again paused, like some wild animal seeking in vain for cover. She started to get behind the _Oquendo_, but, in spite of the fire from the sh.o.r.e batteries, the _Gloucester_ went in after her, with every available gun doing its utmost, and fairly filling her with small holes. At last the destroyer could stand it no longer, and with a lurch she struck on a reef and began to break. In a moment more the water poured over her sides, and her crew was compelled to surrender. The instant the surrender was made, the converted yacht, from being an angel of vengeance, became an angel of mercy, and to gallant Lieutenant-commander Wainwright fell the honor of rescuing hundreds of wounded and drowning Spaniards who must otherwise have perished.