Historic Adventures Part 13

No one seemed to know much about the country they were going through, but fortunately most of the men were experienced woodsmen. They loaded their baggage on their packhorses, and started out, ready for any sort of country they might have to cross. Sometimes the trail lay over miry ground, where a false step to the right or left would send the horses or men deep into the bog; sometimes it led up steep and rocky mountainsides, where a man had to guard his horse's footing as carefully as his own; and much of the way was in the bed of an old river, where each step brought a splash of mud, and left the travelers at the end of the day spattered from head to foot. The journey was harder on the horses than on the men. The heavy packs they carried, and the wretched footing, caused them to drop along the road from time to time, and then the travelers had to make the best shift they could with their luggage.

Had the men journeyed alone, or in small companies, they would have suffered greatly, but the Chilkoot trail was filled with miners who were ready to help each other, and to give encouragement to any who lagged behind. At Dyea they came to an old Alaskan settlement, an Indian trading post, where a number of native tribes lived in their little wooden cabins. These men were the Chilkats, the Stikeen Indians, and the Chilkoots, short, heavy men, with heads and eyes more like Mongolians than like American Indians. Both men and women were accustomed to painting their faces jet black or chocolate brown, in order to protect their eyes and skin from the glare of the sunlight on the snow. The traveler could here get Indians to act as guides, or if he had lost his horses might obtain dogs and sleds to carry some of his packs.

Each of the little settlements through which the travelers went boasted of a hotel, usually a frame building with two or three large rooms. Each day meals were served to three or four hundred hungry travelers at rude board tables, and at night the men would spread their blankets on the floor and lie down to sleep. But as the trail went farther inland these little settlements grew fewer, and the men had to find whatever shelter they could. From Dyea they pushed on through the Chilkoot Pa.s.s, where the cliffs rose high above them. The winds blew cold from the north, and the mists kept everything wet. In the Pa.s.s some men turned back, finding the trip too difficult. Those who went on met with increasing hardships.

They came to a place called Sheep Camp, where a stream of water and rocks from the mountain top had swept down upon a town of tents and carried them all away. Stories of similar happenings at other places were pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth along the trail. More men turned back, finding such accidents a good excuse, and only the most determined stuck to the road.

In time they came to a chain of lakes and rivers. The travelers stopped to build rude boats and paddles, and navigated them as best they could.

The rivers were full of rapids, and it was only by a miracle that the little clumsily-built skiffs went dancing over the waters safely, and escaped the jutting rocks on either bank. In the rivers there was good trout fishing, and in the wild country good hunting, and Indian boys brought game to the tents at night. To the trees at each stopping-place papers were fastened, telling of the marvelous adventures of the miners who had just gone over the trail. As they neared Dawson City they found the Yukon River more and more covered with floating ice, and travel by boat became harder. After a time the oars, paddles, gunwales, and all the baggage in the boats was encrusted with ice, and the boatmen had to make their way slowly among the floes. Then they came to a turn in the river, and on the bank saw a great number of tents and people. "How far is it to Dawson?" the boatman would call. "This is Dawson. If you don't look out you'll be carried past," the men on sh.o.r.e answered. Paddles were thrust into the ice, and the boat brought to sh.o.r.e. The trip from Seattle had so far taken ninety-two days.

Food was scarce in Dawson, and men were urged to leave as soon as they could. Winter was now setting in, and the miners traveled with dog teams and sleds to the place where they meant to camp. Little work could be done in the winter, and the time was spent in preparing to work the gold fields in the early spring. All through the cold weather the men talked of the fortunes waiting for them, and when the warm weather came they staked out their claims and set to work. Stories of fabulous finds spread like wild-fire, and those who were not finding gold rushed to the places that were proving rich. That summer many new towns sprang up, and in a few weeks the Bonanza and Eldorado mines made their owners rich, and all the tributaries of the Klondike River were yielding a golden harvest.

When men found land that they thought would prove rich they made haste to claim it. Sometimes wild races followed, rivals trying to beat each other to the government offices at Dawson in order to claim the land.

Frequently after such a wild race the claim would amount to nothing, while another man, who had picked out some place that no one wanted, would find a rich lode and make a fortune from it. Then there would be great excitement, for sudden wealth usually went to the miner's head.

He would go down to Dawson, and spend his money freely, while every one in the town would crowd around him to share in his good luck. One of the most successful was a Scotchman, Alexander McDonald. At the time of the Klondike strike he was employed by a company at the town of Forty-Mile. He had a little money and began to buy separate pieces of land. He could not afford the rich ground, but managed to purchase more than forty claims through the Klondike. At the end of that first season his fortune was said to be $5,000,000, and might well have been more, as all his claims had not been fully worked. He was called "the King of the Klondike," and pointed out to newcomers as an example of what men might do in the gold fields.

That was only the beginning of the story of the Alaskan gold fields, and each year brought news of other discoveries. But the one season of 1897 was enough to prove the great value of Alaska, and to show that the United States had done well to buy that great territory from the Czar of Russia. Yet gold is only a small part of its riches, and even should the fields of the Klondike yield no more of the precious mineral, the seals, the fur trade, and the cities springing up along its coast are worth much more than the $7,000,000 paid for it. It is still a land of adventure, one of the few waste places that beckon men to come and find what wealth lies hidden within its borders.

XIV

HOW THE "MERRIMAC" WAS SUNK IN SANTIAGO HARBOR

In the small hours of the morning of June 3, 1898, the _Merrimac_, a vessel that had once been a collier in the United States Navy, slipped away from the war-ships of the American fleet that lay off the coast of Cuba, and headed toward the harbor of Santiago. The moon was almost full, and there was scarcely a cloud in the sky. To the northwest lay the _Brooklyn_, her great ma.s.s almost white in the reflected light. On the northeast the _Texas_ loomed dark and warlike, and farther away lay a ring of other ships, dim and ghostly in the distance. Ahead was the coast of Cuba, with an outline of mountains rising in a half-circle beyond the harbor. Five miles across the water Morro Castle guarded the entrance to the harbor, in which lay a fleet of the Spanish Admiral Cervera.

To steer directly for Morro Castle would be to keep the _Merrimac_ full in the moon's path, and to avoid this she stood to the eastward of the course, and stole along at a slow rate of speed. The small crew on board, a commander and seven men, were stripped to their underclothes and wore life-preservers and revolver-belts. Each man had taken his life in his hand when he volunteered for this night's work. They wanted to sink the _Merrimac_ at a narrow point in the harbor, and bottle up the Spanish fleet beyond it.

As they neared the great looming fortress of the Morro it was impossible to keep the ship hidden; the sentries on the castle must see the dark object now, and wonder what she intended. The _Merrimac_ gave up its oblique course, and steered straight ahead. The order "Full speed!" went from Lieutenant Hobson, a naval constructor in command, to the engineer.

Foam dashed over the bows, and the long shape shot for the harbor entrance, regardless of what the enemy might think or do. Soon the Morro stood up high above them, the moon clearly revealing the great central battery that crowned the fortress top.

The Spanish guns were only five hundred yards away, and yet the enemy had given no sign of having seen the _Merrimac_. Then suddenly a light flashed from near the water's edge on the left side of the entrance, and a roar followed. The _Merrimac_ did not quiver. The shot must have fallen astern. Again there was a flash, and this time the crew could hear the splash of water as the projectile struck back of them. Through their night-gla.s.ses they saw a picket boat with rapid-fire guns lying close in the shadows of the sh.o.r.e. Her guns had probably been aimed at the _Merrimac's_ rudder; but so far they had missed their aim. With a rapid-fire gun to reply the _Merrimac_ might have demolished the other boat in half a minute, but she had no such equipment. She would have to pa.s.s within a ship's length of this picket. There was nothing to do but pay no heed to her aim at the _Merrimac's_ rudder, and steer for the high wall off Morro Castle, where the deep-water channel ran close insh.o.r.e. "A touch of port helm!" was the order. "A touch of port helm, sir," came the answer; and the vessel stood toward the wall.

There came a crash from the port side. "The western battery has opened on us, sir!" reported the man on the bridge to Hobson. "Very well; pay no attention to it," was the answer. The commander knew he must take the _Merrimac_ at least another ship's length forward, and wondered if the enemy would give him that much grace. A shot crossed the bridge, and struck. No one was hurt. They had almost reached the point where they were to stop. Another moment or two, and over the engine telegraph went the order, "Stop!" The engineer obeyed. The _Merrimac_ slowed off Morro rock.

A high rocket shot across the channel entrance. From each side came the firing of batteries. Hobson and his men were too busy to heed them. The _Merrimac_, still swinging under her own headway, brought her bow within thirty feet of the rock before she righted. Another ship's length, and she would be at the point where her commander had planned to take her; then the stearing-gear stopped working, and she was left at the mercy of the current.

The ship must be sunk before the current could carry her out of the course. This was done by exploding torpedoes on the outside of the vessel. Hobson gave the order, and the first torpedo went off, blowing out the collision bulkhead. There was no reply from the second or third torpedoes. Hobson crossed the bridge, and shouted, "Fire all torpedoes!"

In the roar of the Spanish batteries his voice could hardly be heard.

Meantime the guns on the sh.o.r.es back of the harbor were pouring their shot at the black target in the moonlight, and the din was terrific.

Word came to Hobson that some of the torpedoes could not be fired, as their cells had been broken. The order was given to fire the others, and the fifth exploded promptly, but the remaining ones had been shattered by Spanish fire and were useless. The commander knew that under these circ.u.mstances it would take some time for the _Merrimac_ to sink.

The important point was to keep the ship in the center of the harbor; but the stern-anchor had already been cut away. Hobson watched the bow move against the sh.o.r.e-line. There was nothing to do but wait and see where the tide would swing them.

The crew now gathered on deck. One of them, Kelly, had been dazed by an exploding sh.e.l.l. When he had picked himself up he started down the engine-room hatch, but found the water rising. Then he remembered the _Merrimac's_ purpose, and tried to reach the torpedo of which he had charge. The torpedo was useless, and he headed back to the deck, climbing up on all fours. It was a strange sight to see him stealing up, and Hobson and some of the others drew their revolvers, thinking for the moment that he must be an enemy who had boarded the ship. Fortunately they recognized him almost immediately.

The tide was bearing them to the center of the channel when there came a blasting noise and shock. A mine had exploded beneath them. "Lads, they're helping us!" cried the commander. But the mine did not break the deck, and the ship only settled a little lower. For a moment it seemed as if the coal might have closed the breach made by the explosion, but just as the crew feared that they were to be carried past the point chosen for sinking the current from the opposite sh.o.r.e caught them, and the _Merrimac_ settled crosswise. It was now only a matter of time before she would sink in the harbor.

The crew could now turn their attention to themselves. Hobson said to them, "We will remain here, lads, till the moon sets. When it is dark we will go down the after-hatch, to the coal, where her stern will be left out of water. We will remain inside all day, and to-night at ebb-tide try to make our way to the squadron. If the enemy comes on board, we will remain quiet until he finds us, and will repel him. If he then turns artillery on the place where we are, we will swim out to points farther forward." He started toward the bow to reconnoiter, but was persuaded not to expose himself to the enemy's fire. One of the men discovered a break in the bulwarks that gave a good view, and Hobson stood there. The moon was bright, though now low, and the muzzles of the Spanish guns were very near them. The crew, however, remained safely hidden behind the rail. From all sides came the firing, and the Americans, lying full length on the _Merrimac's_ deck, felt the continual shock of projectiles striking around them. Some of the crew suggested that they should take to the small boat, but the commander knew that this would be certain destruction, and ordered them to remain.

Presently a shot struck the boiler, and a rush of steam came up the deck near where they lay. A canteen was pa.s.sed from hand to hand. Hobson, having no pockets, carried some tourniquets around his left arm, and a roll of antiseptic lint in his left hand, ready in case any of his crew were wounded.

Looking through the hole in the bulwarks the commander saw that the _Merrimac_ was again moving. Sunk deep though she was, the tide was carrying her on, and might bear her some distance. There seemed to be no way in which they could make her sink where she was. Two more mines exploded, but missed the ship, and as she floated on it became evident that they could not block the channel completely. But shortly the _Merrimac_ gave a lurch forward and settled to the port side. Now the Spanish _Reina Mercedes_ was near at hand, and the _Pluton_ was coming close inboard, but their guns and torpedoes did not hasten the sinking of the collier. She plunged again and settled in the channel.

A rush of water came up the gangway, and the crew were thrown against the bulwarks, and then into the sea. The life-preservers helped to keep them afloat, but when they looked for the life-boat they found that it had been carried away. A catamaran was the largest piece of floating wreckage, and they swam to this. The firing had now stopped.

The wreckage began to drift away, and the crew were left swimming about the catamaran, apparently unseen by the enemy. The men were ordered to cling to this rude craft, their bodies in the water, their heads hidden by the boards, and to keep quiet, as Spanish boats were pa.s.sing close to them. All the crew were safe, and Hobson expected that in time some Spanish officers would come out to reconnoiter the channel. He knew that his men could not swim against the tide to the harbor entrance, and even had they been able to do so it would have been too dangerous a risk, as the banks were now lined with soldiers, and the water patrolled by small boats. Their hope lay in surrendering before they were fired upon.

The moon had now nearly set, and the shadow of the high banks fell across the water. Boats rowed by Spanish sailors pulled close to the catamaran; but acting under orders from their commander the crew of the _Merrimac_ kept well out of sight. The sun rose, and a new day came.

Soon the crew could see the line of distant mountains, and the steep slopes leading to Morro Castle. A Spanish torpedo-destroyer was heading up the harbor, and a bugle at one of the batteries could be heard across the waters. Still the Americans clung to the catamaran, although their teeth were chattering, and they had to work their arms and legs to keep warm.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SPANISH BOATS PULLED CLOSE TO THEM]

Presently one of the men said, "A steam-launch is heading for us, sir!"

The commander looked about, and saw a large launch, the curtains aft drawn down, coming from around a point of land straight toward the catamaran. As it drew near the launch swerved to the left. When it was about thirty yards away Hobson hailed it. The boat instantly stopped and began to back, while some riflemen appeared on the deck and took position for firing. No shot followed, however. Hobson called out again, asking whether there were any officers on the boat, and adding that if there were he was ready to surrender himself and his American sailors as prisoners of war. The curtain at the stern was lowered, a Spanish officer gave an order, and the rifles dropped. The American commander swam to the launch, and climbed on board, being helped up by the Spanish officer, who turned out later to be no other than Admiral Cervera himself. Hobson surrendered for himself and his crew. The launch then drew close to the catamaran, and the sailors clinging to it were pulled on board. Although the Spaniards knew that the _Merrimac's_ men had bottled up their war-ships in the harbor, they could not help praising their bravery.

The Spanish launch took them to the _Reina Mercedes_. There the men were given dry clothes and food. Although all were scratched and bruised only one was wounded, and his wound, though painful, was not serious. The American officer was invited to join the Spaniards at breakfast, and was treated with as much courtesy as if he had been an honored guest.

Afterward Hobson wrote a note to Admiral Sampson, who was in command of the American fleet. The note read: "Sir: I have the honor to report that the _Merrimac_ is sunk in the channel. No loss, only bruises. We are prisoners of war, being well cared for." He asked that this should be sent under a flag of truce. Later in the day the Americans were taken from the war-ship in a launch, and carried across the harbor to Morro Castle. This course brought them within a short distance of where the _Merrimac_ had sunk, and as Hobson noted the position he concluded that the plan had only partly succeeded, and that the channel was not completely blocked.

Landing at a small wharf the Americans were marched up a steep hill that led to the Morro from the rear. The fortress stood out like one of the mediaeval castles of Europe, commanding a wide view of sea and sh.o.r.e.

The road brought them to the bridge that crossed the moat. They marched under the portcullis, and entered a vaulted pa.s.sage. The American officer was shown into the guard-room, while the crew were led on. A few minutes later Admiral Cervera came into the guard-room, and held out his hand to Hobson. The admiral said that he would have liked to send the American's note under a flag of truce to his fleet, but that this had been refused by the general in command. He added, however, that some word should be sent to inform their friends of the safe escape of the _Merrimac's_ men. Hobson was then led to a cell in the tower of the castle. As the jailer stopped to unlock the door Hobson had a view of the sea, and made out the line of the American battle-ships moving in two columns. He was told to enter the cell, which was a bare and ill-looking place, but a few minutes later a Spanish captain arrived with apologies, saying that he hoped soon to provide the Americans with better quarters.

A little later furniture was brought to the cell, and food, cigars, cigarettes, and a bottle of brandy provided for the American officer. In fact he and his men fared as well as the Spanish officers and soldiers themselves. The governor of the fortress sent a note to ask what he could do to improve Hobson's comfort. Officers of all ranks called to shake hands with him, and express their admiration for his courage.

That first night in the castle, after the sentries had made their rounds, Hobson climbed up on his cot-bed and looked through a small window at the top of the cell. The full moon showed a steep slope from the fortress to the water, then the wide sweep of the harbor, with a picket-boat on duty as it had been the night before, and beyond the boat the great Spanish war-ships, and still farther off the batteries of Socapa. It was hard to believe that only twenty-four hours before the center of that quiet moonlit water had been ablaze with fire aimed at the small collier Hobson had commanded. As he studied the situation he decided that the _Merrimac_ probably blocked the channel. The enemy would hesitate a long time before they would try to take their fleet past the sunken vessel, and that delay would give Admiral Sampson time to gather his ships. Even if the channel were not entirely blocked the Spanish ships could only leave the harbor in single line and with the most skilful steering. Therefore he concluded that his perilous expedition had been successful.

Next morning a Spanish officer brought him news that a flag of truce had been carried to Admiral Sampson with word of the crew's escape, and that the messengers had been given a box for Hobson, and bags of clothes, some money, and other articles for him and his crew. The men now dressed again in the uniform of American marines, were treated as prisoners of war, and lived almost as comfortably as their captors.

While Hobson was having his coffee on the morning of June 6th, he heard the whiz and crash of an exploding sh.e.l.l, then another, and another, and knew that a general bombardment of the fortress had begun. He hastily examined the cell to see what protection it would offer from bricks and mortar falling from the walls and roof. At the first shot the sentry on guard had bolted the door and left. The American pulled the table and wash-stand in front of the door, and stood the galvanized iron box that had been sent him against the end of the table; this he thought would catch splinters and stones which would probably be more dangerous than actual sh.e.l.ls. He lay down under the protection of this cover. He knew that the gunners of the American fleet were good shots, and figured that they could easily demolish all that part of the Morro in which his cell was situated. One sh.e.l.l after another against the walls of the fortress made the whole structure tremble, and it seemed as if part of the walls would be blown away. Fortunately, however, the firing soon turned in another direction, and Hobson could come from his shelter, and, standing on his cot-bed, look through the window at the battle. Several times he took shelter again under the table, and several times returned to watch the cannonade. The sh.e.l.ls screamed through the air; plowed through shrubs and earthworks; knocked bricks and mortar from the Morro, and set fire to some of the Spanish ships. But no serious damage was done, and the bombardment ended in a stand-off between the two sides.

The American officer had no desire to pa.s.s through such a cannonade again, and he wrote to the Spanish governor to ask that his crew and himself be transferred to safer quarters. Next day an officer arrived with orders to take all the prisoners to the city of Santiago. So after a four days' stay in Morro Castle the little party set out on an inland march, guarded by some thirty Spanish soldiers. It was not far to Santiago, and there the Americans were housed in the regular army barracks. These quarters were much better than those in the fortress, and the British Consul secured many comforts and delicacies for the Americans.

The men of the _Merrimac_ stayed in Santiago during the siege of that city. On July 5th arrangements were made to exchange Hobson and his men. In the afternoon they were blindfolded and guided out of the city.

Half a mile or more beyond the entrenchments they were told that they might remove the handkerchiefs, and found themselves facing their own troops on a distant ridge. Soon they were being welcomed by their own men, who told them of the recent victories won by fleet and army. Not long afterward they reached their ships, and were received on board the _New York_ by the officers and men who had watched them set out on their dangerous mission on that moonlight night of June 3d. They gave a royal welcome to the small crew who had brought the collier into the very heart of the Spanish lines and sunk her, taking their chances of escape.

They were the heroes of a desperate adventure, from which every man returned unharmed.