The negotiations between General Shafter and the Spanish army at Santiago were still going on. The flag of truce that threatened every day to come down still floated. The Spanish soldiers had been led by their officers to believe that every man who surrendered (and the people as well), would be butchered instantly the city should fall and the American troops should come in. But when General Shafter commenced to send back convoys of captured Spanish officers, their wounds faithfully dressed and carefully placed on stretchers and borne under flags of truce to the Spanish lines at Santiago and set down at the feet of the general as a tender gift back to him, and when in astonishment he learned the object of the flag of truce and sent companies of soldiers to form in line and present arms while the cortege of wounded were borne through by American troops, a lesson was learned that went far toward the surrender of that city.
I happened to know that it was not without some very natural home criticism that General Shafter persisted in his course in the face of the time-honored custom of “hostages.” One can readily understand that the voluntary giving up of prisoners, officers at that, in view of an impending battle might seem in the light of old-time army usages a waste, to characterize it by no harder term. It is possible that none of the officers on that field had ever read the articles of the Treaty of Geneva or fully realized that that treaty had become a law or that their commander, possibly without fully realizing it himself, was acting in full accord with its wise and humane principles.
The main talk of the camp was now “yellow fever.” On Monday night occurred one of the most fearful storms which I have ever seen—rain, thunder and lightning. Our tent had been well protected and deeply ditched, but the water rolled around it in the ditches like rivers. The thunder shook the ground; the lightning blazed like a fire. As I have said, the camp was as level as a floor. No water could really run off. During the most of that night the men in the tents laid in five to six inches of water. Before daybreak the rain had ceased, some water had run away—some soaked in—and the ground was passable. The next day followed another rain. It was now discovered by the medical authorities that from there having been at first one case of fever, there were now one hundred and sixteen; that a fever camp would probably be made there and the wounded gotten away. It was advisable then that we return to our ship and attempt, as far as possible, to hold that free from contagion. I was earnestly solicited to do this in view of what was expected of our ship and of what was expected of us—that we not only protect ourselves, but our cargo and ship from all contamination and even suspicion. I faithfully promised this, and again we called for an army wagon, leaving all supplies that were useful for the men here, sending to Caney what was most needed there and taking only our personal effects, we again placed ourselves in an army wagon with a tarpaulan over us and started for Siboney. In less than twenty minutes the rain was pouring on us and for two hours it fell as from buckets. The water was from a foot and a half to two feet deep in the road as we passed along. At one time our wagon careened, the mules were held up, and we waited to see whether it should go over or could be brought out—the water a few inches only from the top of the lower side. It was scarcely possible for us to stir, hemmed in as we were, but the men from the other wagons sprang to our wheels, hanging in the air on the upper side, and we were simply saved by an inch. The mud and water was at least two and one-half feet deep where we should have gone down.
But like other things, this cleared away. We came into Siboney about three o’clock, in a bright glare of sunshine, to find the town utterly burned, all buildings gone or smoking, Dr. and Mrs. Lesser and the faithful Sisters as well, in a “yellow fever” hospital a mile and a half out of the city, reached by rail. All customary work was suspended. The atmosphere was thick and blue with smoke. Men ran about the grounds smutted and bareheaded like children. My medical knowledge was not sufficient to allow me to judge if everybody there had the yellow fever, but general observation would go far toward convincing a very ordinary mind that everybody had gone crazy.
All effort was made to hold our ship free from suspicion. The process of reasoning leading to the conclusion that a solid cargo, packed in tight boxes in the hold of a ship, anchored at sea, could become infected in a day from the land or a passing individual, is indeed, an intricate process; but we had some experience in this direction, as, for instance, Captain McCalla in his repeated humane attempts to feed the refugees around Guantanamo had called again for a hundred thousand rations, saying that if we could bring them to him soon, he could get them to the thousands starving in the woods. We lost no time, but got the food out and started with it in the night. On reaching Guantanamo we were met at a distance out and called to, asking if anyone on our ship had been on shore at Siboney within four days, if so, our supplies could not be received, and we took them away, leaving the starving to perish.
On Friday morning the constantly recurring news of the surrender of Santiago was so well established that we drew anchor and came up to the flagship and the following letter was addressed to Admiral Sampson:
“State of Texas,” July 16, 1898.
Admiral Sampson,
Commanding United States Fleet off Santiago, Flagship “New York”:
Admiral:—It is not necessary for me to explain to you my errand, nor its necessity; both your good head and heart divine it more clearly than any words of mine can represent.
I send this to you by one of our men, who can tell you all you will wish to know. Mr. Elwell has resided and done mercantile and shipping business in Santiago for the last seven years; is favorably known to all its people; has in his possession the keys to the best warehouses and residences in the city, to which he is bidden welcome by the owners. He is the person appointed four months ago to help distribute this food, and did so with me until the blockade. There seems to be nothing in the way of our getting this 1400 tons of food into a Santiago warehouse and giving it intelligently to the thousands who need and own it. I have twenty good helpers with me. The New York Committee is clamoring for the discharge of the “State of Texas,” which has been raised in price to $400 a day.