The Boys of '98

Morro Castle was speedily silenced, and then the guns of the fleet were turned on the land-batteries and the fortifications near the government buildings.

The inhabitants fled in terror from the city; the volunteers, panic-stricken, ran frantically in every direction, discharging their weapons at random, until they were a menace to all within possible range. The crashing of the falling buildings, the roar of the heavy guns, the shrieks of the terrified and groans of the wounded, formed a horrible accompaniment to the work of destruction.

Three times the line of American ships passed from the entrance of the harbour to the extreme eastward battery, sending shot and shell into the crumbling forts. Clouds of dust showed where the missiles struck, but the smoke hung over everything. The shells screeching overhead and dropping around were the only signs that the Spaniards still stuck to their guns.

At 7.45 A. M. Admiral Sampson signalled, “Cease firing.”

“Retire” was sounded on the Iowa, and she headed from the shore.

The Terror was the last ship in the line, and, failing to see the signal, banged away alone for about half an hour, the concert of shore guns roaring at her and the water flying high around her from the exploding shells. But she possessed a charmed life, and reluctantly retired at 8.15.

May 13. In the Spanish Cortes, Señor Molinas, deputy for Porto Rico, protested against the bombardment of San Juan without notice, as an infringement of international usage.

To this General Correa, Minister of War, replied that the conduct of the Americans was “vandalism,” and that the government “will bring their outrageous action under the notice of the powers.” He echoed Señor Molinas’s eulogy of the bravery of the Spanish troops and marines, and promised that the government would send its thanks.

An authority on international law thus comments upon the bombardment, in the columns of the New York Sun:

“There is nothing in the laws of war which requires notice of bombardment to be given to a fortified place, during the progress of war. When the Germans threatened to bombard Port au Prince, a few months ago, they gave a notice of a few hours, but in that case no state of war existed. Again, when Spain bombarded Valparaiso, in 1865, an hour’s interval was allowed between the blank charge that gave the notice, and the actual bombardment. But that interval was intended to allow Chili an opportunity to do the specific thing demanded, namely, to salute the Spanish flag, in atonement for a grievance. Besides, Valparaiso was wholly unfortified, and the guns were directed, not at military works, but at public buildings.

“The case of San Juan was far different. Hostilities had been going on in Gulf waters for weeks, while, as Doctor Snow, the well-known authority on international law, says, ‘In case of war, the very fact of a place being fortified is evidence that at any time it is liable to attack, and the non-combatants residing within its limits must be prepared for a contingency of this kind.’ This is true, also, of the investment of fortified places by armies, where ‘if the assault is made, no notice is given, as surprise is essential to success.’ In the same spirit Halleck says that ‘every besieged place is for a time a military garrison; its inhabitants are converted into soldiers by the necessities of self-defence.’

“Turning to the official report of Admiral Sampson, we find him saying that, as soon as it was light enough, he began ‘an attack upon the batteries defending the city. This attack lasted about three hours, and resulted in much damage to the batteries, and incidentally to a portion of the city adjacent to the batteries.’ It is, therefore, clear that this latter damage was simply the result of the proximity of the defensive works to some of the dwellings. The same thing would occur in bombarding Havana. Can any one imagine that the Spaniards, if they suddenly appeared in New York Bay, would be obliged to give notice before opening fire on Fort Hamilton and Fort Wadsworth, for the reason that adjacent settlements would suffer from the fire? The advantage of suddenness in the attack upon a place, not only fortified, but forewarned by current events, cannot be renounced. Civilians dwelling near defensive works know what they risk in war.

“In the Franco-German war of 1870 there were repeated instances, according to the authority already quoted, of deliberately firing on inhabited towns instead of on their fortifications, and ‘there were cases, like that of Peronne, where the town was partially destroyed while the ramparts were nearly intact.’ The ground taken was that which a military writer, General Le Blois, had advocated five years before, namely, that the pressure for surrender exercised by the people becomes greater on subjecting them to the loss of life and property. ‘The governor is made responsible for all the disasters that occur; the people rise against him, and his own troops seek to compel him to an immediate capitulation.’ At San Juan there was no attempt of this sort, the fire being concentrated upon the batteries, with the single view of destroying them. The likelihood that adjacent buildings and streets would suffer did not require previous notice of the bombardment, and, in fact, when the Germans opened fire on Paris without notification, and a protest was made on behalf of neutrals, Bismarck simply replied that no such notification was required by the laws of war.”

CHAPTER VII.

FROM ALL QUARTERS

May 11. A state of siege proclaimed throughout Spain. In a dozen cities or more continued rioting and sacking of warehouses. The seacoast between Cadiz and Malaga no longer lighted. The second division of the Spanish navy, consisting of the battle-ship Pelayo, the armoured cruiser Carlos V., the protected cruiser Alphonso XIII., the converted cruisers Rapido and Patria, and several torpedo-boats, remain in Cadiz Harbour.

May 12. The story of an attempt to land American troops in Cuba is thus told by one of the officers of the steamer Gussie, which vessel left Tampa on the tenth.

“In an effort to land Companies E and G of the first U. S. Infantry on the shore of Pinar del Rio this afternoon, with five hundred rifles, sixty thousand rounds of ammunition, and some food supplies for the insurgents, the first land fight of the war took place. Each side may claim a victory, for if the Spaniards frustrated the effort to connect with the insurgents, the Americans got decidedly the better of the battle, killing twelve or more of the enemy, and on their own part suffering not a wound.

“After dark last evening the old-fashioned sidewheel steamer Gussie of the Morgan line, with troops and cargo mentioned, was near the Cuban coast. At sunrise she fell in with the gunboat Vicksburg on the blockade off Havana. Other blockading vessels came up also. The converted revenue cutter Manning, Captain Munger, was detailed to convoy the Gussie, and, three abreast, the steamers moved along the coast.

“The Cuban guides on the Gussie took their machetes to a grindstone on the hurricane-deck. Our soldiers gathered around to see them sharpen their long knives, but only one could be induced to test the edge of these barbarous instruments with his thumb.

“By the ruined walls of an old stone house Spanish troops were gathered. Several shots were fired by the gunboat Manning, and presently no troops were visible. It had been decided to land near here, but the depth of water was not favourable.

“Just west of Port Cabanas Harbour the Gussie anchored, the Manning covering the landing-place with her guns, and the torpedo-boat Wasp came up eager to assist. The first American soldier to step on the Cuban shore from this expedition was Lieutenant Crofton, Captain O’Connor with the first boatload having gone a longer route. A reef near the beach threw the men out, and they stumbled through the water up to their breasts. When they reached dry land they immediately went into the bush to form a picket-line. Two horses had been forced to swim ashore, when suddenly a rifle-shot, followed by continuous sharp firing, warned the men that the enemy had been in waiting.

“The captain of the transport signalled the war-ships, and the Manning fired into the woods beyond our picket-line. Shrapnel hissed through the air like hot iron plunged in water. The Wasp opened with her small guns. The cannonade began at 3.15 and lasted a quarter of an hour; then our pickets appeared, the ships circled around, and, being told by Captain O’Connor, who had come from shore with the clothing torn from one leg, where the Spaniards were, a hundred shots more were fired in that direction.

“ ‘Anybody hurt, captain?’ some one asked.

“ ‘None of our men, but we shot twelve Spaniards,’ he shouted back.

“The soldiers on board the Gussie heard the news without a word, but learning where the enemy were situated, gathered aft on the upper deck, and sent volleys toward the spot.

“The pickets returned to the bush. Several crept along the beach, but the Spaniards had drawn back. It was decided that the soldiers should reëmbark on the Gussie, and that the guides take the horses, seek the insurgents, and make a new appointment. They rode off to the westward, and disappeared around a point.

“ ‘Say,’ shouted a man from Company G after them, ‘you forgot your grindstone.’ ”

May 12. On Thursday morning, May 12th, the gunboat Wilmington stood in close to the coast, off the town of Cardenas, with her crew at quarters.

She had come for a specific purpose, which was to avenge the Winslow, and not until she was within range of the gunboats that had decoyed the Winslow did she slacken speed. Then the masked battery, which had opened on the American boat with such deadly effect, was covered by the Wilmington’s guns.

There were no preliminaries. The war-vessel was there to teach the Spaniards of Cardenas a lesson, and set about the task without delay.

The town is three miles distant from the gulf entrance to the harbour, therefore no time need be wasted in warning non-combatants, for they were in little or no danger.

During two weeks troops had been gathering near about Cardenas to protect it against American invasion; masked batteries were being planted, earthworks thrown up, and blockhouses erected. There was no lack of targets.

Carefully, precisely, as if at practice, the Wilmington opened fire from her 4-inch guns, throwing shells here, there, everywhere; but more particularly in the direction of that masked battery which had trained its guns on the Winslow, and as the Spaniards, panic-stricken, hearing a death-knell in the sighing, whistling missiles, fled in mad terror, the gunboats’ machine guns were called into play.

It is safe to assert that the one especial object of the American sailors’ vengeance was completely destroyed. Not a gun remained mounted, not a man was alive, save those whose wounds were mortal. The punishment was terrible, but complete.

Until this moment the Spaniards at Cardenas had believed they might with impunity open fire on any craft flying the American flag; but now they began to understand that such sport was in the highest degree dangerous.

During a full hour – and in that time nearly three hundred shells had been sent on errands of destruction – the Wilmington continued her bombardment of the defences.

When the work was completed two gunboats had been sunk so quickly that their crews had no more than sufficient time to escape. Two schooners were converted into wrecks at their moorings. One blockhouse was consumed by flames, and signal-stations, masked batteries, and forts were in ruins.

While this lesson was in progress the Spaniards did their best to bring it to a close; but despite all efforts the Wilmington was unharmed. There was absolutely no evidence of conflict about her when she finally steamed away, save such as might have been read on the smoke-begrimed faces of the hard-worked but triumphant and satisfied crew.

May 13. An English correspondent, cabling from Hongkong regarding the Spaniards in the Philippine Islands, made the following statement:

“They are in a position to give the Americans a deal of trouble. There are twenty-five thousand Spanish soldiers in the garrison at Manila, and one hundred thousand volunteers enrolled. Scores of coasting steamers are imprisoned on the river Pasig, which is blocked at the mouth by some sunken schooners.

“Mr. Wildman, the American consul here, tells me that, according to his despatches, a flag of truce is flying over Manila, and the people are allowed to proceed freely to and from the ships in the harbour.

“The Americans are on duty night and day on the lookout for boats which endeavour to run the blockade with food supplies. The hospital is supported by the Americans. The Spaniards are boasting that their big battle-ship Pelayo is coming, and will demolish the Americans in ten minutes.”

On the afternoon of May 13th the flying squadron, Commodore W. S. Schley commanding, set sail from Old Point Comfort, heading southeast. The following vessels comprised the fleet. The cruiser Brooklyn, the flag-ship, the battle-ships Massachusetts and Texas, and the torpedo-boat destroyer Scorpion. The Sterling, with 4,000 tons of coal, was the collier of the squadron. At eight o’clock in the evening the Minneapolis followed, and Captain Sigsbee of the St. Paul received orders to get under way at midnight.

May 14. Eleven steamers, chartered by the government as troop-ships, sailed from New York for Key West. At San Francisco, the cruiser Charleston, with supplies and reinforcements for Admiral Dewey’s fleet at Manila, had been made ready for sea.

At Havana General Blanco had shown great energy in preparing for the expected siege by American forces. The city and forts were reported as being provisioned sufficiently for three or four months, and Havana was surrounded by entrenchments for a distance of thirty miles. The troops in the garrison numbered seventy thousand, and a like number were in the interior fighting the insurgents.

The condition of the reconcentrados in Havana had grown steadily worse. The mortality increased among this wretched class, who had taken to begging morsels of food.

Nobody in Havana except a few higher officers knew that the Spanish fleet was annihilated at Manila, and the story was believed that the Americans were beaten there.

At Madrid in the Chamber of Deputies Señor Bores asked the government to inform the house of the condition of the Philippines. After the pacification of the islands, he said, outbreaks had occurred at Pansy and Cebu and even in Manila. Was this a new rebellion, he asked, or a continuation of the old one? If it was a continuation of the old rebellion, then General Prima de Rivera’s pacification of the islands had been a perfect fraud. General Correa, Minister of War, replied that the old insurrection was absolutely over. The present one, he said, arose from the incitements of the Americans.

Señor Bores retorted that he had received a private letter from the Philippines, dated April 10th, prior to the arising of any fear of war with the United States, giving pessimistic accounts of the risings there, and passengers arriving by the steamer Leon III. had told similar stories. Now, he declared, the Spanish troops in the Philippines were in a terrible condition, being between two fires, the natives and the Americans. Señor Bores’s remarks created a profound sensation.