The Commodore Pipes All Hands to Breakfast.
The Commodore now wisely concluded to stop for awhile the fighting, and allow his men a chance to take some breakfast; for the brave fellows, after their morning’s hard work, were hungry as wolves; so the signal “cease firing” was given, and the ships were headed for the eastern side of the bay, near the transport ships.
It is related that the Spaniards were exceedingly relieved when they saw the Americans in—as they thought—full retreat, and many of them stood on the decks and cheered, thinking they had gained the victory.
When the various commanders came on board to report to Commodore Dewey, it was found that not a ship was disabled, not a gun out of order, not a man killed or injured. It is true, Frank B. Randall, the engineer of the McCulloch, died from heart-disease as the fleet steamed past Corregidor, but this was not in any wise due to the engagement. Many miraculous escapes, indeed, are related; and it is really wonderful that no serious casualties took place. The sailors, as may easily be imagined, were nearly wild with joy; and as all hands were piped to breakfast, the decks were gay with merry jackies improvising a dance of victory; while the strains of Yankee Doodle and the Star-Spangled Banner filled the morning air. Cheery was that breakfast, and sweet, ah, sweet was the three hours’ rest so nobly earned.