The Baltimore and the Boston now took up the cue, and sent their tremendous shells crashing into the enemy, who replied vociferously. The din was deafening, and over and around all the American ships was the shriek and scream of terrifying shells. Some of these fell upon the decks, some smashed into the woodwork; but—as if providentially—not an American was hit.
“Open with all the guns,” signaled the Commodore; and all the ships joined together in a roaring chorus, as if Cerberus and all the dogs of hell had opened their mighty throats.
And thus with incessant firing, the battle-line passed the whole length of the stationary Spanish fleet, then slowly swang round and began the return to its starting-point, keeping up the same flash and clatter, the Spaniards responding furiously. It was at this time that a shot passed clean through the Baltimore, though, fortunately, no one was hurt. Lieutenant Brumbuys had the signal halyard shot out of his hands; while on the Boston a shell burst in the state-room of Ensign Dodridge, and another passed through the Boston’s foremast.
During the third round the Raleigh was carried by the strong current against the bows of two of the Spanish cruisers, where all aboard seemed too bewildered to take advantage of their opportunity. Captain Coughlan, however, did not lose his presence of mind, but poured a destructive broadside into the enemy. His vessel was then carried back into the line.
The Fate of the Reina Cristina.
While this fierce combat was waging, the Reina Cristina moved out of the Spanish line and made direct for the American flagship, which hurled a perfect tornado of lead into the approaching cruiser, her immense hulk being soon riddled with large holes, where the eight-inch shells had entered. The port-bridge, where Admiral Montojo was standing, was also struck; but he bravely stuck to his post, while ton after ton of steel fell upon the deck.
No ship, however, could withstand such a fire, and the gallant Reina Cristina turned round and made for the shore. As she swang round, Captain Gridley gave her a parting shot, that caused her to tremble and stagger, while the 250-pound shell crashed through the bowels of the ship and there exploded, hurling its deadly contents all round, while from the shattered deck rose columns of steam, mingled with human fragments. The ship, now completely disabled, continued her retreat. Sixty of her crew had been killed, and had she continued longer within the Americans’ range, all would have met a like fate.
Meanwhile, the little Petrel was engaged in a duel with two Spanish torpedo boats, headed for the American line. One of these she chased to the shore, where the crew sought shelter in the woods, while their abandoned vessel was blown into pieces by the daring American. The other advanced to within 500 yards of the Olympia, braving the storm of shot and shell that threatened to overwhelm her. As it was, a shell ploughed its way into her middle, where it exploded. From stern to beam she shivered, gave a forward plunge, and sank beneath the waves.
The Baltimore, too, was engaged in an encounter with the Castilla, that resulted most disastrously to the latter; for she was soon a blazing wreck.