That was only the beginning of the story of the Alaskan gold fields, and each year brought news of other discoveries. But the one season of 1897 was enough to prove the great value of Alaska, and to show that the United States had done well to buy that great territory from the Czar of Russia. Yet gold is only a small part of its riches, and even should the fields of the Klondike yield no more of the precious mineral, the seals, the fur trade, and the cities springing up along its coast are worth much more than the $7,000,000 paid for it. It is still a land of adventure, one of the few waste places that beckon men to come and find what wealth lies hidden within its borders.
[XIV]
HOW THE "MERRIMAC" WAS SUNK IN SANTIAGO HARBOR
In the small hours of the morning of June 3, 1898, the Merrimac, a vessel that had once been a collier in the United States Navy, slipped away from the war-ships of the American fleet that lay off the coast of Cuba, and headed toward the harbor of Santiago. The moon was almost full, and there was scarcely a cloud in the sky. To the northwest lay the Brooklyn, her great mass almost white in the reflected light. On the northeast the Texas loomed dark and warlike, and farther away lay a ring of other ships, dim and ghostly in the distance. Ahead was the coast of Cuba, with an outline of mountains rising in a half-circle beyond the harbor. Five miles across the water Morro Castle guarded the entrance to the harbor, in which lay a fleet of the Spanish Admiral Cervera.
To steer directly for Morro Castle would be to keep the Merrimac full in the moon's path, and to avoid this she stood to the eastward of the course, and stole along at a slow rate of speed. The small crew on board, a commander and seven men, were stripped to their underclothes and wore life-preservers and revolver-belts. Each man had taken his life in his hand when he volunteered for this night's work. They wanted to sink the Merrimac at a narrow point in the harbor, and bottle up the Spanish fleet beyond it.
As they neared the great looming fortress of the Morro it was impossible to keep the ship hidden; the sentries on the castle must see the dark object now, and wonder what she intended. The Merrimac gave up its oblique course, and steered straight ahead. The order "Full speed!" went from Lieutenant Hobson, a naval constructor in command, to the engineer. Foam dashed over the bows, and the long shape shot for the harbor entrance, regardless of what the enemy might think or do. Soon the Morro stood up high above them, the moon clearly revealing the great central battery that crowned the fortress top.
The Spanish guns were only five hundred yards away, and yet the enemy had given no sign of having seen the Merrimac. Then suddenly a light flashed from near the water's edge on the left side of the entrance, and a roar followed. The Merrimac did not quiver. The shot must have fallen astern. Again there was a flash, and this time the crew could hear the splash of water as the projectile struck back of them. Through their night-glasses they saw a picket boat with rapid-fire guns lying close in the shadows of the shore. Her guns had probably been aimed at the Merrimac's rudder; but so far they had missed their aim. With a rapid-fire gun to reply the Merrimac might have demolished the other boat in half a minute, but she had no such equipment. She would have to pass within a ship's length of this picket. There was nothing to do but pay no heed to her aim at the Merrimac's rudder, and steer for the high wall off Morro Castle, where the deep-water channel ran close inshore. "A touch of port helm!" was the order. "A touch of port helm, sir," came the answer; and the vessel stood toward the wall.
There came a crash from the port side. "The western battery has opened on us, sir!" reported the man on the bridge to Hobson. "Very well; pay no attention to it," was the answer. The commander knew he must take the Merrimac at least another ship's length forward, and wondered if the enemy would give him that much grace. A shot crossed the bridge, and struck. No one was hurt. They had almost reached the point where they were to stop. Another moment or two, and over the engine telegraph went the order, "Stop!" The engineer obeyed. The Merrimac slowed off Morro rock.
A high rocket shot across the channel entrance. From each side came the firing of batteries. Hobson and his men were too busy to heed them. The Merrimac, still swinging under her own headway, brought her bow within thirty feet of the rock before she righted. Another ship's length, and she would be at the point where her commander had planned to take her; then the stearing-gear stopped working, and she was left at the mercy of the current.