CHAPTER XXIX
THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SPANISH FLEET
"We are lost!"
"That ship will cut us in half!"
"Give her a broadside, boys, before we go down!"
These and a hundred other cries rang out, as the Vizcaya came leaping over the waves on her awful mission of death and destruction. Then gun after gun roared out, sending shot and shell on the enemy's deck. If this was their last hour on earth, these brave jackies were going to make the most of it.
But commodore, captain, and executive officer were all on the alert and were not to be caught napping. As the Vizcaya came on, the necessary orders were given, and the Brooklyn began to turn in a twelve-point circle to starboard. Like a flash she swept past the warship dashing on to destroy her, and then the command rang out, "Give her another broadside!" And the port guns, twenty in number, vomited out their death-dealing shots and shells, raking the Spanish deck from end to end, and killing and wounding a great number of sailors and officers. To this awful fire was added that from the Oregon, which now came up to assist the flagship. Realizing that the plan to ram the Brooklyn was a failure, the Vizcaya started westward once more.
It was now high time to turn attention to the two torpedo-boat destroyers, Pluton and Furor, that were coming out of the harbor at a speed of twenty knots per hour. Once these destroyers gained the open sea, to catch them would be impossible. Like long, steel arrows glistening in the sunlight, they darted through the greenish waves and for a moment hid themselves behind their big sisters.
Then on came the Gloucester, a converted yacht, commanded by Lieutenant Wainwright. Wainwright had been executive officer of the Maine when she was blown up in Havana Harbor, and had vowed more than once to sink something if only he were given a chance. Like an avenging angel the Gloucester, but lightly armed, bore down upon the torpedo boats and sent shot after shot into them. Then the destroyers began to turn, as if to sink the little enemy who dared to molest them, but now it was too late,—the big warships were coming to the Gloucester's aid.
It was the Oregon and the Iowa that first came to the converted yacht's assistance, and as the destroyers turned, first one way and then another, as if to ram or to run, a perfect hailstorm of shot and shell landed on their sides and decks, churning up the water into a milk-white froth, and causing the destroyers to look like gigantic whales lashing themselves in their death throes. The noise was even greater than it had been before, and the smoke made the heavens above look as if a violent thunderstorm was at hand.