Young Peoples' History of the War with Spain

by Prescott Holmes

While Admiral Sampson had been fixing the blockade he had also been forming plans to close the channel, and so keep any large ship from stealing out of the bay. For, although our men watched closely, there was always a chance that in a fog or storm the Spanish ships might slip out without being seen. Admiral Sampson knew that the Spaniards could remove anything that might be sunk to close the channel, but the work would take time, and meanwhile our Army might arrive on the land back of Santiago, and then our Army and Navy could help each other. Time was what was needed in order to have all things ready for forcing the Spaniards out of Santiago and taking possession of the city.

Lieut. Richmond P. Hobson.

So, plans were made for sinking a coal steamer across the narrowest part of the channel, and thus blocking the way. Now you shall hear of one of the bravest deeds ever done in war.

The work of closing the channel was put into the hands of Lieutenant Hobson. The collier Merrimac was chosen as the vessel to be sunk. You have no idea how much had to be done before the Merrimac was ready. There were hours and hours of work. The crew had to take off all the things that were not to be sunk, the machinery had to be fixed in certain ways, the heavy anchors had to be placed in the right parts, and the torpedoes, which Lieutenant Hobson made for blowing holes in the vessel at the right moment, had to be fitted into their places. More than two thousand tons of coal had to be shoveled away from certain places in the hold to make room for the torpedoes and to leave spaces for the water to rush in and sink the vessel. So, much hard work was done before the good collier was ready to be forced under the waves.

There was only a small chance that the men who took the Merrimac into the channel would ever see their friends again. Death in the waves, or death in the hands of the Spaniards, was the prospect. Lieutenant Hobson said that he would not take one man more than was needed. A signal was put up on all the ships, to find out the men who were willing to go in the Merrimac. Hundreds of brave fellows sent in their names, begged to go, gave good reasons why they thought they ought to go, and were grieved to be refused. Lieutenant Hobson chose only six, but at the last minute a seventh man got his chance; so, counting Lieutenant Hobson, there were eight men going to almost certain death.

After the passing away of the old wooden ships of the navy, and before our war with Spain, it was often said that opportunities for individual bravery and daring had departed from the navy; but this was disproved in the case of Lieutenant Hobson and his men, and in many other instances. Every man in the fleet was ready to go on the Merrimac and do what he was told to do; and so long as such men man our ships our navy can never be conquered. They will fight to the uttermost and go down with their colors rather than strike them.

Thursday evening, the second of June, arrives, and the Merrimac is all ready for her last voyage. The men are on board, waiting for the time to start. Quietly and fearlessly they pass the night, but they do not sleep, they cannot sleep. Behind the Merrimac, farther out at sea, stand the faithful vessels of our fleet, huge, pale shadows in the night. The full moon lights up the channel that the Merrimac will enter after awhile when the moon is low. On both sides of the channel rise the high cliffs with their forts. Morro Castle frowns upon the scene. Beyond—far beyond, are the mountain tops.

A basket of food and a kettle of coffee had been sent on board by the flagship, and after midnight the men sit down on deck to eat their last meal on board the Merrimac.