A little before two o'clock, Friday morning, June 3d, the Merrimac starts for the channel. Each man is at his post; each knows his duty and intends to do it. The men are not wearing their naval uniforms, but are clad only in woolen underclothes, woolen stockings, with no shoes. Each man wears a life-preserver, and a belt with a revolver fastened to it.
On, on goes the vessel, swiftly, surely, heading for the channel. Suddenly shots begin to pour upon the Merrimac; the Spaniards in the forts have seen her approach. Still she plunges on, not heeding the fire from the forts. Lieutenant Hobson gives the signal to stop the engine, to turn the vessel in the right way across the channel, to fire the torpedoes, to drop the anchors. Shells from the forts are exploding all around, and the noise is terrible. But hard luck meets the Merrimac. A shot has broken her rudder, so she cannot be steered; a shot has broken the chain of one of her anchors, so the anchor is gone; some of the torpedoes will not go off, so not enough holes can be made to sink the Merrimac quickly; the tide is sweeping her into the channel farther than she ought to go.
The "Merrimac."
The men, having done their work, lie flat on deck to avoid the shots, and wait anxiously for the moment when the vessel shall go down. In a few minutes the Merrimac tosses low to one side, then to the other, then plunges, bow foremost, into the waves. Now the men are thrown into the whirling water. But see! they manage to swim to the life-raft, which had been fastened by a long rope to the Merrimac and is now floating on the waves. They cling to the raft, only heads and hands above water. They keep quiet, for the Spaniards are out in small boats now, looking to see what damage has been done. The Spaniards do not see our men clinging to the flat raft. So Lieutenant Hobson and his crew stay in the water, which is very chilly in the early morning; their teeth chatter, their limbs ache. Meanwhile day dawns beautifully over the hills of Santiago.
An hour passes in this way. Now a steam-launch is seen coming toward the raft. Lieutenant Hobson hails the launch, asks for the officer in charge, and surrenders himself and his men. They are helped into the launch, prisoners in the hands of the Spaniards. The officer is Admiral Cervera.
Naval Cadet Powell, of the New York, performed a feat in many respects as heroic as that of Hobson and his men. He volunteered to take the launch of the flagship and a small crew, patrol the mouth of the harbor and attempt to rescue Hobson and his plucky crew should any of them survive after the Merrimac had been blown up. This is his story:
"Lieutenant Hobson took a short sleep for a few hours, which was often interrupted. A quarter to two o'clock he came on deck and made a final inspection, giving his last instructions. Then we had a little lunch.
"Hobson was just as cool as a cucumber. About two-twenty I took the men who were not going on the trip into the launch and started for the Texas, which was the nearest ship, but had to go back for one of the assistant engineers, whom Hobson finally compelled to leave. I shook hands with Hobson the last of all. He said: 'Powell, watch the boat's crew when we pull out of the harbor. We will be cracks, rowing thirty strokes to the minute.'