CHAPTER XII.

AFTER THE BATTLE.

The first reports of the victory in Manila Bay were received with amazement and with considerable incredulity. Among Americans there was little doubt—perhaps none at all—as to the result of the war; but they did not think to get through it without considerable losses, and they expected the heaviest ones to fall on the navy. The reason for this was in the new and untried character of naval architecture and armament. From the sailing vessels that fought the famous battles of 1812 to the steamers with which Farragut passed the batteries on the Mississippi the change was not so great and radical as from these to the fleet commanded by Dewey. The cruiser of to-day, with its massive sides of metal, its heavy rifled guns with improved projectiles, its rapid fire, its electric lights and signals, its search-lights and range-finders, and other apparatus contributing to celerity and accuracy of work, is more dangerous and destructive, so long as it remains intact, than anything that Hull or Bainbridge, Du Pont or Farragut, ever saw. But it is a complicated machine, and nobody knew what it would do if seriously crippled, the probability being that it would go to the bottom and leave not a floating plank to which any poor sailor could cling. At the same time a great deal of money and ingenuity had been spent in building torpedo boats—more by European governments than by ours—and it was apprehended that these at sea would be like the proverbial snake in the grass on land—able to dart quickly and inflict a mortal wound on greater and nobler creations than themselves. And then came the construction of the still swifter craft known as torpedo-boat destroyers, with appalling stories of their deadly nature. And with all these complex forces afloat there was a very natural dread of seeing them tried in actual battle, for it was feared that even the victor could not attain his victory without fearful disaster.

Admiral Dewey on the bridge of the Olympia.

(By the courtesy of the Judge Company.)

So when the news was confirmed that an American fleet, paying no heed to the probability of torpedoes in the channel, had steamed into Manila Bay by night and in a few hours had sunk or destroyed a fleet of nearly equal rating, and then had silenced and captured powerful land batteries—and this without the loss of a ship or a man—"all the world wondered," not merely in the imagination of a poet describing a useless exploit, but in reality, because it recognized a marvelous revolution in the art of war. History recorded no such victory until this was repeated in Cuban waters, two months later, by another American fleet. Nelson had destroyed the fleets of England's enemies, but not without blood on the English decks and sorrow in English homes. He lost nearly nine hundred men in the battle of the Nile, nearly a thousand in the battle of the Baltic, and more than fifteen hundred at Trafalgar.

Throughout the United States there was pride and rejoicing, and Dewey became a household word. It appeared everywhere, and was given as an honored name to all sorts of things, from a popgun or a terrier to a park or a theatre. In Europe the student of history could hardly help putting together four facts and suspecting the existence of some significant condition or principle behind them—that American naval vessels had demonstrated their superiority over the English in 1812; that it was an American fleet that, a little later, put an end to the payment of tribute by civilized nations to the Algerine pirates; that the Monitor, an American invention, had revolutionized warfare by water in 1862; and that American cruisers and gunboats had now had it all their own way in spite of Spanish cruisers, submarine mines, forts, and torpedo boats. European governments were anxious to know how it was done, and their military authorities dispatched officers across the Atlantic to find out. The general explanation was the superiority of the men behind the guns, with their abundant training and perfect discipline. The particular reasons for the result were given by Admiral Dewey in conversation with a friend. He said:

"The battle of Manila Bay was fought in Hong Kong Harbor—that is, the hard work was done there; the execution here was not difficult. With the co-operation of the officers of the fleet, my plans were carefully studied out there, and no detail was omitted. Any man who had a suggestion to offer was heard, and if it was a good one it was adopted. After the indications of war were so strong that it appeared inevitable, I devoted my time and energies to making every preparation possible. When we left Hong Kong and anchored in Mirs Bay, outside of the neutrality limits, I had determined upon my line of action. When we left there a few days later we sailed away ready for battle, and expecting it as soon as we reached the neighborhood of Manila.

"From that hour of departure until we drew out of action, Sunday morning, May 1st, after destroying the Spanish squadron, we practically did not stop the engines of our ships. We came directly across from the China port to that of Luzon, headed down toward the entrance of Manila Bay, reconnoitred Subig Bay, where it had been rumored we would find the enemy, made the entrance to Manila, passed Corregidor Island by the south channel in the darkness of the night, and steamed across the bay close to Manila, where at break of day we discovered the Spanish fleet off Cavité. Signaling to prepare for action and follow the flagship, I gave orders to steam past the enemy and engage their ships. The result you can see by looking at the sunken vessels in the harbor.

"Every ship and every man did his duty well, and the marvel of it all is, that not one man on our side was killed or even seriously injured. The only harm inflicted on the ships was of a trivial nature, although the Spaniards kept up a lively fire until their gun decks were no longer out of water or they had no men to man the guns. The Spanish admiral and officers and crew fought bravely, and deserve credit for their valor."

In giving his views of the action, he said:

"The first lesson of the battle teaches the importance of American gunnery and good guns. It confirms my early experiences under Admiral Farragut, that combats are decided more by skill in gunnery and the quality of the guns than by all else. Torpedoes and other appliances are good in their way, but are of secondary importance. The Spaniards, with their combined fleet and forts, were equal to us in gun power, but they were unable to harm us because of bad gunnery. Constant practice had made our gunnery destructive, and won the victory.

"The second lesson of this battle is the complete demonstration of the value of high-grade men. Cheap men are not wanted, are not needed, are a loss to the United States navy. We should have none but the very best men behind the guns. It will not do to have able officers and poor men. The men in their class must be the equal of the officers in theirs. We must have the best men filling all the posts on shipboard. To make the attainments of the officers valuable, we must have, as we have in this fleet, the best men to carry out their commands.

"The third lesson, not less important than the others, is the necessity for inspection. Everything to be used in a battle should have been thoroughly inspected by naval officials. If this is done, there will be no failure at a crisis in time of danger. Look at the difference between our ships and the Spanish ships. Everything the Spaniards had was supplied by contract. Their shells, their powder, all their materials were practically worthless, while ours were perfect."

While the engagement was in progress every place in Manila that commanded a view of the bay was crowded with spectators. There is a curious mingling of simplicity and pathos in the comments of a Spanish newspaper published in Manila. It said: "Who could have imagined that they would have the rashness stealthily to approach our shores, provoking our defenders to an unavailing display of skill and valor, in which, alas! balls could not be propelled by heart throbs, else the result would have been different? The sound of the shots from our batteries and those from the enemy's ships, which awakened the citizens of Manila at five o'clock on that May morning, transformed the character of our peaceful and happy surroundings. Frightened at the prospect of dangers that seemed greater than they were, women and children in carriages, or by whatever means they could, sought refuge in the outskirts of the city, while all the men, from the highest to the lowest, the merchant and the mechanic, the soldier and the peasant, the dwellers in the interior and those of the coast, repaired to their posts and took up arms, confident that never, except by passing over their dead bodies, should the soil of Manila be defiled by the enemy, notwithstanding that from the first it was apparent that the armored ships and powerful guns were invulnerable to any effort at our command.... A soldier of the first battalion of sharpshooters, who saw the squadron so far out of range of our batteries, said, glancing up to heaven, 'If the Holy Mary would only transform that water into land, then the Yankees would see how we could fight.' And a Malay who was squatting near by exclaimed, 'Let them land, and we will crush them under heel.'"

The relative power of the opposing fleets may be seen from this summary: The Americans had four cruisers, two gunboats, and one cutter, carrying fifty-seven classified large guns, seventy-six rapid-firing and machine guns, and one thousand eight hundred and eight men. The Spaniards had seven cruisers, five gunboats, and four torpedo boats, carrying fifty-two classified large guns, eighty-three rapid-firing and machine guns, and one thousand nine hundred and forty-nine men.

Commodore Dewey's fleet officers were: Commander Benjamin P. Lamberton, chief of staff; Lieutenant Thomas M. Brumby, flag lieutenant; Ensign Harry H. Caldwell, secretary.

The line officers of the Olympia were: Captain Charles V. Gridley, Lieutenant-Commander Sumner C. Paine, Lieutenants Corwin P. Rees, Carlos G. Calkins, Valentine S. Nelson, Stokely Morgan, and Samuel M. Strite, and Ensigns Montgomery M. Taylor, Frank B. Upham, William P. Scott, Arthur G. Kavanaugh, and Henry V. Butler.

The line officers of the Baltimore were: Captain Nehemiah M. Dyer, Lieutenant-Commander Gottfried Blockinger, Lieutenants William Braunersreuther, Frank W. Kellogg, John M. Ellicott, and Charles S. Stanworth, and Ensigns George H. Hayward, Michael J. McCormack, and N. E. Irwin.

The line officers of the Boston were: Captain Frank Wildes, Lieutenant-Commander John A. Norris, Lieutenants John Gibson and William L. Howard, and Ensigns Samuel S. Robinson, Lay H. Everhart, and John S. Doddridge.

The line officers of the Raleigh were: Captain Joseph B. Coghlan, Lieutenant-Commander Frederic Singer, Lieutenants William Winder, Benjamin Tappan, Hugh Rodman, and Casey B. Morgan, and Ensigns Frank L. Chadwick and Provoost Babin.

The line officers of the Concord were: Commander Asa Walker, Lieutenant-Commander George P. Colvocoresses, Lieutenants Thomas B. Howard and Patrick W. Hourigan, and Ensigns Louis A. Kaiser, William C. Davidson, and Orlo S. Knepper.

The line officers of the Petrel were: Commander Edward P. Wood, Lieutenants Edward M. Hughes, Bradley A. Fiske, Albert N. Wood, and Charles P. Plunkett, and Ensigns George L. Fermier and William S. Montgomery.

The cutter McCulloch was commanded by Captain Daniel B. Hodgsdon.

Medal authorized by Congress for presentation to Admiral Dewey and his officers and men.