For some time there had been smoke in the harbor entrance in front of the warships, and many were wondering what it meant. "Must be a supply boat for the batteries," said several under-officers, and this theory was accepted as correct. Nevertheless, Commodore Schley glanced toward that smoke more than once.
"We are going to have general muster, commodore," announced Captain Cook, as he presented himself, followed by Executive Officer Mason, and the commander of the fleet pro tem. nodded. But those keen eyes were still bent shoreward.
Suddenly, from the forward bridge there came a yell through a megaphone, a yell that electrified everybody who heard it.
"After bridge there! Report to the commodore and the captain that the enemy's ships are coming out of the harbor!"
There was no necessity to report, for commodore, captain, and all others heard the cry. There was a second of silence. Could this news be true? Then came the command of the executive officer.
"Clear ship for action!"
"Hurrah! the enemy is coming out at last! To your guns, boys! Remember the Maine!" These and a score of other cries rang out, while men rushed hither and thither, dropping one garment or another as they ran, and kicking shoes right and left, for no jackie will do work worth the counting unless he is barefooted. Everybody had on his best clothing, but that did not matter, and down into the grimy depths of the big vessel dropped the firemen, coal heavers, and all the rest of the "black gang," as they are termed, for steam must be gotten up in a tremendous hurry or the enemy would surely get away. Ton after ton of coal was thrown onto the fires, and the firemen coaxed and coaxed until the black lumps grew first red and then white, and converted the water in the boilers into high-pressure steam. "Fire up! for the sake of the ship's honor, fire up!" came in a hoarse cry down the speaking-tube, and the men did fire up as never before, until all were ready to drop from the terrific heat. And all this while the engineers were watching their engines, oiling this part and that, and making every pound of steam do its utmost to send the great armored cruiser dashing and hissing through the sea to that point where the Spanish fleet was trying to escape.
For Admiral Cervera could stand it no longer inside of the harbor. With the army of invasion at the very outskirts of Santiago, and with the American fleet beyond his bay of refuge, something must be done, and done quickly. He would run for it,—run at the top of his speed—and trust to luck, if not Providence, to get out of range and reach Cienfuegos or Havana. Santiago Bay was "too hot to hold him."
It was the big prow of the Maria Teresa that first showed itself, quickly followed by the Vizcaya, Oquendo, and Colon, with the torpedo boats Pluton and Furor bringing up closely in the rear. All were under a full head of steam, and the thick smoke shot up in heavy clouds from every funnel. For an instant all seemed to pause at the gateway to the sea, then, led by the Maria Teresa, they turned westward along the coast. To this side of the blockade now lay but three American warships, the Brooklyn, Texas, and the little Vixen. If he could only get out of range of these, Admiral Cervera felt that he would, for the time being at least, be safe.
Boom! It was a three-pounder, fired from the Iowa, lying some distance to the eastward of the Texas. She, too, was flying the signal, "The enemy is escaping," in red and white and blue flags. Beyond the Iowa, still further eastward, lay the pride of the western coast, the mighty Oregon, and it was this ship that first started up her engines in pursuit, having, by chance, a good head of steam up. And as the Oregon turned in one direction, the little Resolute turned in the other, to carry the news to the absent rear-admiral.