"Ah!" exclaimed Max, "I knew—we all knew—that it would come soon. It is well the commodore has had all our vessels put in war paint, and every preparation made for departure upon short notice."
"Yes; Commodore Dewey is a wise man and officer. I'm glad he's at the head of affairs in this fleet. It looks as if we would have some fighting soon, Raymond."
"Yes, Dale, and it behooves us to be prepared for wounds or death. We are about to fight in a good cause, I think—for the freedom of the poor, oppressed, downtrodden Cubans. But where are we to go now, do you know?"
"Only that it must be out of this harbor quite promptly. It can hardly be to travel the seven thousand miles back to San Francisco."
They were not kept long in suspense. Presently, anchors were taken up, and with bands playing and flags flying the fleet of vessels steamed out of the harbor, while the British residents of the city crowded the quay and shipping, cheering and saluting the Americans as the warships passed. That first voyage of the squadron was but a short one, a few miles up the coast to Mirs Bay, a Chinese harbor, where they anchored and awaited orders from home, the McCulloch having been left behind to bring them when they should arrive. The next day she came, bringing this message, dated Washington, April 24:
"Dewey, Asiatic Squadron: War has commenced between the United States and Spain. Proceed at once to Philippine Islands. Commence operations at once, particularly against the Spanish fleet. You must capture the vessels or destroy. Use utmost endeavors."
"Long."
This message was what Commodore Dewey had been waiting for since his arrival at Hong-Kong in January. He had formed his plans, and was ready to carry them out without delay. His captains were called to a short conference, and about midnight the fleet sailed on its errand of battle. They turned south toward the Philippine Islands, 620 miles away. The nearest United States port was San Francisco, 7000 miles distant. No neutral power would permit him to take more than enough of coal to carry his vessels home by the most direct route, so that there was but one course open to Dewey and his fleet—the capturing of a Spanish harbor somewhere in Asiatic waters, which he could make a naval base. One of Dewey's ships—the Petrel—was slow, and as the fleet of vessels must keep together, that delayed them. It was three days before they reached the line of coast of the Island of Luzon. It was reported that the enemy might be found in Subig Bay, so that was carefully reconnoitred, but the Spanish were not there; the fishermen about the harbor said they had seen no Spanish fleet, and though every nook and corner of the bay was examined, not so much as a gunboat could be found. So the American fleet passed on to Manila, 30 miles away.
It seemed evident that the Spaniards had chosen that station because there they would have the aid of shore batteries. It is said that their ships were comparatively antiquated, but not so much so as to make their defeat at all certain. Their guns were as good as those of the American ships, and they had more of them: to Dewey's six fighting ships Admiral Montojo had ten, and two torpedo boats besides. The Spaniards had no vessel to rank with the Olympia, but the numbers of their vessels, it might have been expected, would probably, in skilled hands, have more than made up for that. The Americans had the advantage in batteries, but not overwhelmingly. The McCulloch did not go into action at all, and the Spanish torpedo boats were sunk before their guns would bear. The Americans were greatly superior in everything that goes to win victory; but that they did not know until the fight had been going on for some time; and as Commodore Dewey led his fleet along the coast of Luzon, toward the harbor where he knew the enemy lay in wait for them, he had nothing less than a desperate battle to expect. The Americans were brave; we know of no cowardice among them, but to the thoughtful ones—Max Raymond among them—it was a solemn reflection that they might be nearing mutilation and sudden, painful death. The Spanish ships were anchored in a harbor protected by shore batteries. To reach them the Americans must pass down a channel sixteen miles long, guarded on each side by powerful forts armed with modern guns; and it was to be expected that it held many mines prepared to blow up our vessels.
Knowing all these things, Commodore Dewey, his officers, and his men must have been expecting a hard fight, with no certainty of winning the victory. There was probably but little sleep on board the vessel that night. About ten o'clock Saturday night the men were sent to their stations for battle.