Finding they could not withstand such a combined attack, and with the Texas hurrying to the scene, the destroyers turned tail, as if to make for the shore. As the turn was made a huge shell, flying over the masts of the Gloucester, hit the Pluton directly amidship, and with a crash and a splutter she broke and sank, leaving the still living members of her crew struggling in the boiling waters for their lives.
Left to herself, the Furor again paused, like some wild animal seeking in vain for cover. She started to get behind the Oquendo, but, in spite of the fire from the shore batteries, the Gloucester went in after her, with every available gun doing its utmost, and fairly filling her with small holes. At last the destroyer could stand it no longer, and with a lurch she struck on a reef and began to break. In a moment more the water poured over her sides, and her crew was compelled to surrender. The instant the surrender was made, the converted yacht, from being an angel of vengeance, became an angel of mercy, and to gallant Lieutenant-commander Wainwright fell the honor of rescuing hundreds of wounded and drowning Spaniards who must otherwise have perished.
Such was the close of this running fight. At the front, the four big warships were still trying to push on, with the Brooklyn, Oregon, Iowa, Texas, and Indiana in the chase. With a full head of steam the noble Oregon reached a position between Commodore Schley's flagship and the Texas, and every vessel in the line belched forth its messengers of death and destruction.
Presently a cry echoed throughout the squadron regarding the Oquendo. "She is on fire! See, she is burning in three places!"
The report was true. A shell had burst near the quarterdeck of the warship, and now high to the sky arose a column of yellowish red smoke. Then the flames burst out of her bow. In vain the Spaniards tried to man their fire-hose. A shower of projectiles from the fighting-tops of our own ships assailed them and drove them to shelter, while the big guns continued to "pump up" shot and shell as never before.
But the Oquendo was no worse off than the Maria Teresa, if as badly. She staggered on, and a few minutes later passed her sister ship as if looking for aid, when aid could not be given.
"The Maria Teresa is on fire!" was the next cry, but a few minutes later. "Down goes Cervera's flag! Hurrah, boys, we've got em 'on the run! Give it to 'em hot!"
Yes, the admiral's flag was down, and so was the mast that had held it. Would the Spanish emblem go up again? All watched anxiously, and meanwhile the Brooklyn continued to pour in her hottest fire.
"She's going ashore!" rang through the American flagship. "She's burning up!" and then came a heavy shot from the Brooklyn, another from the Texas, and staggering like a thing of life, the Maria Teresa ran for the beach, a mass of seething and roaring flames. Admiral Cervera's doom was sealed. Five minutes later the Oquendo was also cast on the shore.
Four of the enemy's ships had been laid low, but the great fight was by no means over. Shot and shell were flying around the Vizcaya and Cristobal Colon, but both warships kept on their way, the Colon slowly but surely forging to the front. Both Spanish ships were returning the Americans' hot fire, and many a shot hit the Brooklyn and many a shell burst over her deck. But as yet no serious damage had been inflicted.