Ready! Surely that was satire on Dewey's part, for just one second later the bridge under his feet leaped like a springboard as the great gun beneath it gave the signal. Scarcely had the shell left the muzzle when an answering roar came from the other ships. The battle had begun, the Spanish ships were riddled with a shower of bursting shells, their crews cut to pieces, and the ships themselves set on fire. The guns of the American squadron roared with clocklike regularity, while the firing from the Spanish ships steadily decreased. Two hours of this work, and the smoke hung so heavy over the water that it was difficult to distinguish the enemy's ships.
"What time is it, Rees?" asked Dewey, of his executive officer.
"Seven forty-five, sir."
"Breakfast time," said Dewey, with a queer smile. "Run up the signals, 'Cease firing,' and 'Follow me.'"
Again it was a lesson from Farragut, and Dewey, steaming back down the harbor, signalled "Let the men go to breakfast." His captains, coming aboard the Olympia, gave a series of reports unique in naval history. Not a man had been killed, not a gun disabled, not a ship seriously injured. Three hours were devoted to cooling off and cleaning the guns, getting up more ammunition, and breakfast was leisurely eaten.
Meanwhile, across the bay, on the riddled and sinking Spanish ships the wildest confusion reigned. At eleven o'clock, the American fleet was seen again approaching, and a few minutes later, that terrible storm of fire recommenced. There was practically no reply. Three of the Spanish ships were on fire, and their magazines exploded one after another with a mighty roar; a broadside from the Baltimore sank a fourth; a shell from the Raleigh exploded the magazine of a fifth, and so, one by one, the Spanish ships were blown to pieces, until not one remained. An hour later, the shore batteries had been silenced, and Dewey hoisted the signal, "Cease firing."
So ended the greatest naval battle since Trafalgar—a battle which riveted the attention of the world, and brought home to Europe a realization of the fact that here was a new world-power to be reckoned with. With six ships, carrying 1,668 men and fifty-three guns, Dewey had destroyed the Spanish squadron of nine ships, carrying 1,875 men and forty-two guns; not an American had been killed, and only six wounded, while the Spanish loss was 618 killed and wounded; and not an American vessel had been injured. And, in addition to destroying the Spanish fleet, a series of powerful shore batteries had been silenced, and the way prepared for the American occupation of the Philippines. Dewey's place as one of the great commanders of history was secure.
News of the victory created the wildest excitement and enthusiasm in the United States. Dewey became a popular hero, and when he returned from the Philippines, was welcomed with triumphal honors, which recalled the great days of the Roman empire. He was commissioned admiral of the navy, a rank which had been created for Farragut, and which has been held by only two men besides him.
Another great American naval victory marked the brief war with Spain—the destruction of Admiral Cervera's powerful fleet as it tried to escape from the harbor of Santiago, Cuba, on the third day of July, 1898—a victory which made the Independence Day which followed one long to be remembered in the United States. There, as at Manila, the entire Spanish fleet was destroyed, without a single American vessel being seriously injured, and with a loss of only one killed and one wounded on the American side. But the victory at Santiago was the victory of no one man. The ranking officer, William Thomas Sampson, was miles away when the engagement began. The next in rank, Winfield Scott Schley, so conducted himself that he was brought before a court of inquiry. The battle was really fought and won by the commanders of the various ships—Robley D. Evans, John W. Philip, Charles E. Clark, Henry C. Taylor, Richard Wainwright—by the very simple procedure of getting as close to the enemy as they could, and hammering him as hard as their guns would let them. One and all, they behaved with the utmost gallantry. But most remarkable of all in the history of the navy from first to last has been the superb work of the "men behind the guns," whose marksmanship has been the despair and envy of the world.