This ended the fighting record of the gunboats under a Utah commander. From this period until June 24th the boats were utilized in carrying supplies and towing soldiers, laden cascos and wounded men up and down the Pampanga. On May 24th the rebel commissioners, General Gregoria del Pilar and Colonel Actia, who had gone to Manila to negotiate peace with General Otis after the crushing defeat of the insurgents at Calumpit, were taken on the gunboats and conveyed as far as Candaba. They had expressed a wish to go by way of the gunboats, as they had no desire to cross the insurgents' lines at San Fernando because General Luna was in command at that place and there was strife between the two Generals. Pilar showed great interest in the armament of the "Laguna" and said he would give all his wealth for one of the three-inch guns. The "Oceania" was sent ahead with instructions to all the commanding officers to make as large a display as possible. At San Luiz the instructions were not complied with and as the "Laguna" passed one officer and four men were falling in for guard. General Gregoria smiled. Farther up the river the case was different. Where they were in the habit of posting but one guard there was an officer and twenty men. This was repeated at all the other stations until Candaba was reached. General Gregoria's smile had faded, and he remarked that the Americans kept the country better patrolled than he had imagined. The General and Colonel were landed at Candaba and under an escort of Americans disappeared in the distant green line of woods.
On May 24th it was known among all the Utah men that their days of fighting were over, and on this date Major Grant was relieved of his command of the river boat fleet. And so ended, for Utah, the career of these wonderful ironclad river machines.
CHAPTER V.
While the fighting Utah batterymen were still living in the nipa huts at San Fernando and Baliaug and repelling the attacks of the dusky Tagalan braves at Candaba and Morong from General Otis an order came to the Cuartel. It had an unpretentious look—that slip of paper; but it carried a message of great importance to the belligerent Utahn than any he had received since the thunders of war shook the earth on the night of February 4th. It told the artilleryman to gather all his portable utensils and board the United States transport "Hancock," which lay idly in the bay waiting orders to weigh anchor and steam for America.
Almost a week passed before the scattered batteries were assembled within the familiar walls of the Cuartel. The main body at San Fernando turned over its guns to the famous Third Artillery and arrived safely at the quarters over the Manila and Dagupan railroad; Lieutenant Seaman's detachment at Baliaug dropped its war machinery and made all possible speed to Manila; Lieutenant Webb's detail on the "Cavadonga" for the first time turned its back on the enemy and fled for the protecting walls of the barracks. When these battle-begrimed veterans reached the quarters there was such a demonstration as the old walls had never seen before. The old scenes of order disappeared, the rigors of discipline were relaxed, and chaos reigned. Everything was made subservient to the one all-absorbing topic, "Home." The sturdy soldier doffed his war attire and donned his peaceful garb. The renowned Utah band paraded the streets in holiday dress and, with the blare of brass, proclaimed the happy news to the nut-brown maid. The stalwart warriors danced and sang to the music of that soul-lifting song, "A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight." The jubilant battle hero collected his ordnance and other war trappings and handed them over to the ordnance officer while he exchanged looks of mutual doubt and suspicion with that important personage. The weary and worn Utahn bade adieu to the dreamy-eyed damsel of the East with many expressions of fond attachment and love; then mustered his heterogeneous troop of relics and curiosities and joined the Nebraska regiment on the "Hancock." Two days later the officers steamed over from the gay apartments of the "Baltimore" in a brightly decorated launch and walked aboard the big boat. Finally a goodly supply of canned beef and antiquated swine were hoisted on the vessel and the Captain gave orders for the sailing flag to be put to the breeze. This was on July 1st.
When the official contingent was safely housed in spacious staterooms it was learned that quite a change had taken place in the roster of that worthy body. The shoulders of Captain Grant were adorned with the gold leaf of a Major; Lieutenant Critchlow had been elevated to a Captaincy; Lieutenant Naylor wore the single bar of a First Lieutenant, and First Sergeant John A. Anderson of Battery B shone in the glowing uniform of a Second Lieutenant. Major Young sent a letter bidding farewell to the Utahns and expressing his disappointment at not being able to accompany the batteries home.
The batteryman entertained no high opinion of the Government transport. He had become acquainted with the luxuries which Uncle Sam provides the defenders of his broad acres. He had already learned how elaborately the American Government furnishes apartments for its soldiers and food for its larder. So, after he had landed safely on the main deck and deposited his knapsack and monkeys, he was not surprised when the order came for him to take his goods and chattels and repair to the forward hold. He entered the gangway and descended four flights of stairs without any misgiving or hesitation. He threaded his way through the labyrinthian passage of his subaqueous home with a skill equal to that displayed by the blind fish of the Mammoth Cave. He beheld the wonderfully constructed bunks which glowed specter-like in the semi-darkness without evincing the least disappointment. Later when one of these had been assigned as his sole property during the voyage he accepted it and its diminutive proportions without a murmur and philosophically concluded that the Government either thought he had diminished in stature while on the islands or intended to reduce his dimensions on the way home. Thus the Utah warrior was quartered. The celerity with which he adapted himself to his environments clearly exhibited his excellent training. He quickly disposed of the problem of how to shorten his linear measurements to four feet eight inches by placing himself diagonally across his bed. The posture thus assumed was not unlike that of a "Skeleton in Armor." When his joints became cramped he straightened himself out by throwing his soles against the head of his neighbor, who instantly developed a remarkable vocabulary of explosives anent Hades, Paradise, Satan, etc.
Mess time on the "Hancock" was not an occasion of the greatest felicity to the returning volunteers. Their epicurean tastes could not totally harmonize with bogus coffee and cows that had a flavor strangely akin to that of horse flesh. When the bugle shrilly proclaimed the dinner hour the men formed in a long serpentine line and displayed their skill in keeping their equilibrium and at the same time holding their place in the procession. The rattle of Government tinware, upon which the soldier had inscribed many strange hieroglyphics descriptive of his adventures, served as a musical entertainment in lieu of the melody furnished at all other times by the combined efforts of the Utah and Nebraska bands. They facetiously derided the commissary sergeant who had long since become calloused to all sneering remarks made by the ordinary defender of the flag; for in case of any exceedingly hostile demonstration he was armed with a long cleaver and several carefully concealed bolos. They made comments, too, not at all flattering to the bill of fare, about "gold fish" and "slum-gullion" and ancient swine, but they "wasted their venom on a file." The cooks, also, came in for a share of the complimentary criticisms, for they were not blessed with a superabundance of skill in the culinary art. Occasionally the voice of a volunteer was raised in loud-mouthed protest over the meagerness of his own supply of food and the apparent excessiveness which adorned the plate of his associate. This always ended in a peculiar panegyric on the merits of a person who had a "stand in" or a "pull" with the officers. When the ravenous Utahn was handed his cheer the bestower very kindly warned him not to taste or smell the victuals, as such an act would be attendant with serious injury to his appetite; so he merely devoured the contents of his plate with his eyes and passed them on to his gastronomical organs with no further ceremony.