When Admiral Cervera led his ships out of the harbor of Santiago, in that brave dash for the freedom of the open sea, the veteran was engaged in his usual occupation of polishing the sleek coat of one of the big thirteen-inch guns. When the cry went up that the enemy was escaping, he gave a finishing touch to the muzzle and quickly took his station in the turret. Presently he turned to a young gunner near him and said: "Charley, I bet you a month's pay that I make a better shot at the dago beggars than you. What d'you say?"
"'Done,' was the prompt reply.
"Ten minutes later, the old gunner squinted his eye along the sight, signalled the man at the training lever to ease off a little, took the range from the officer in charge of the division, then gave the firing lanyard a quick jerk. When the smoke lifted, the eager watchers saw a great yawning hole in the port bow of the Almirante Oquendo. A cheer came from the men in the turret, and the veteran glanced triumphantly toward the younger gunner.
"The latter's turn soon came. The Oquendo, battered and helpless, drifted ashore in flames. The Oregon accompanied by the Brooklyn, sped on after the fleet-footed Colón. The rapid-fire batteries of both American ships rattled and shrieked after the fugitive. The eight-inch guns of the Brooklyn rumbled an unceasing chorus as they belched forth their shells, and occasionally a deeper roar from the thirteen-inch monsters of the Oregon would give a mightier volume to the din.
"It was after one of the latter shots that the forward turret of the Oregon echoed with a rousing cheer. Charley, the young gunner, had just dropped the firing lanyard from his hand and it was seen the Colón's conning tower was hit. 'He told me before he pulled the lanyard that he would fetch it,' exclaimed one of the gun's crew, admiringly, 'and he did.'"
A proud father, whose son was on one of the battleships during the destruction of Cervera's ships, said:
"Among the four letters I have received from my son is one which contains an amusing story of one of the officers of the Indiana. The officer in question is well known throughout the navy for his fastidiousness regarding apparel, and even on board his ship, is always the best-dressed man. He considers it his imperative duty to appear 'just so,' on every occasion.
"My son writes that when the fight began, everybody had on most of his clothes, the officers generally being in proper uniform. My boy started in with a full accompaniment of cap, shirt, coat, pants and shoes, but says that before the hour and a half was over he had shed everything except his trousers. The heat was, of course, intense and the main cause of the boy's throwing off all unnecessary garments. It has been his duty to carry messages several times from the commanding officer on the bridge to the rear of the vessel, where our dandy officer was stationed, and when the fight began he was fully uniformed. On the second trip back the officer was seen to be the only person in sight with a coat on his back, but the perspiration was rolling down his cheeks and dropping off in black beads and his face was besmeared and almost unrecognizable.