This was 10.20 a.m. Previously, the two torpedo boats had gone down, and only two dozen of their 140 men survived, these having been picked up by the Gloucester, which plucky little unprotected "dare-devil," not content with the destruction she had courted and escaped only as one of the unexplainable mysteries of Spanish gunnery, was coming up to join the chase after bigger game; and it was to Lieutenant Wainwright, her commander, that Admiral Cervera surrendered. The Maine was avenged. (Lieutenant Wainwright was executive officer on that ill-fated vessel when she was blown up February 15th.) Cervera was wounded, hatless, and almost naked when he was taken on board the Gloucester. Lieutenant Wainwright cordially saluted him and grasped him by the hand, saying, "I congratulate you, Admiral Cervera, upon as gallant a fight as was ever made upon the sea." He placed his cabin at the service of Cervera and his officers, while his surgeon dressed their wounds and his men did all they could for their comfort—Wainwright supplying the admiral with clothing. Cervera was overcome with emotion, and the face of the old gray-bearded warrior was suffused in tears. The Iowa and Indiana came up soon after the Gloucester and assisted in the rescue of the drowning Spaniards from the Oquendo and Teresa, after which they all hurried on after the vanishing Brooklyn and Oregon, which were pursuing the Vizcaya and Colon, the only two remaining vessels of Cervera's splendid fleet. From pursuer and pursued the smoke rose in volumes and the booming guns over the waters sang the song of destruction.
In twenty-four minutes after the sinking of the Teresa and Oquendo, the Vizcaya, riddled by the Oregon's great shells and burning fiercely, hauled down her flag and headed for the shore, where she hung upon the rocks. In a dying effort she had tried to ram the Brooklyn, but the fire of the big cruiser was too hot for her. The Texas and the little Vixen were seen to be about a mile to the rear, and the Vizcaya was left to them and the Iowa, the latter staying by her finally, while the Texas and Vixen followed on.
It looked like a forlorn hope to catch the Colon. She was four and one-half miles away. But the Brooklyn and the Oregon were running like express trains, and the Texas sped after the fugitives with all her might. The chase lasted two hours. Firing ceased, and every power of the ship and the nerve of commodore, captains, and officers were devoted to increasing the speed. Men from the guns, naked to the waist and perspiring in streams, were called on deck for rest and an airing. It was a grimy and dirty but jolly set of Jackies, and jokes were merrily cracked as they sped on and waited. Only the men in the fire-rooms were working as never before. It was their battle now, a battle of speed. At 12.30 it was seen the Americans were gaining. Cheers went up and all was made ready. "We may wing that fellow yet," said Commodore Schley, as he commanded Captain Clark to try a big thirteen-inch shell. "Remember the Maine" was flung out on a pennant from the mast-head of the Oregon, and at 8,500 yards she began to send her 1,000-pound shots shrieking over the Brooklyn after the flying Spaniard. One threw tons of water on board the fugitive, and the Brooklyn a few minutes later with eight-inch guns began to pelt her sides. Everyone expected a game fight from the proud and splendid Colon with her smokeless powder and rapid-fire guns; but all were surprised when, after a feeble resistance, at 1.15 o'clock her captain struck his colors and ran his ship ashore sixty miles from Santiago, opening her sea-valves to sink her after she had surrendered.
Victory was at last complete. As the Brooklyn and Oregon moved upon the prey word of the surrender was sent below, and naked men poured out of the fire-rooms, black with smoke and dirt and glistening with perspiration, but wild with joy. Commodore Schley gazed down at the grimy, gruesome, joyous firemen with glistening eyes suspicious of tears, and said, in a husky voice, eloquent with emotion, "Those are the fellows who made this day." Then he signaled—"The enemy has surrendered." The Texas, five miles to the east, repeated the signal to Admiral Sampson some miles further away, coming at top speed of the New York. Next the commodore signaled the admiral—"A glorious victory has been achieved. Details communicated later." And then, to all the ships, "This is a great day for our country," all of which were repeated by the Texas to the ships further east. The cheering was wild. Such a scene was never, perhaps, witnessed upon the ocean. Admiral Sampson arrived before the Colon sank, and placing the great nose of the New York against that vessel pushed her into shallow water, where she sank, but was not entirely submerged. Thus perished from the earth the bulk of the sea power of Spain.
MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM R. SHAFTER.
The Spanish losses were 1,800 men killed, wounded, and made prisoners, and six ships destroyed or sunk, the property loss being about $12,000,000. The American loss was one man killed and three wounded, all from the Brooklyn, a result little short of a miracle from the fact that the Brooklyn was hit thirty-six times, and nearly all the ships were struck more than once.
The prisoners were treated with the utmost courtesy. Many of them were taken or rescued entirely naked, and scores of them were wounded. Their behavior was manly and their fortitude won the admiration of their captors. Whatever may be said of Spanish marksmanship, there is no discount on Spanish courage. After a short detention Cervera and his captured sailors were sent north to New Hampshire and thence to Annapolis, where they were held until released by order of President McKinley, August 31st.
THREATENED BOMBARDMENT OF SANTIAGO AND FLIGHT OF THE REFUGEES.