Historic Adventures: Tales from American History

by Rupert Sargent Holland

The ship must be sunk before the current could carry her out of the course. This was done by exploding torpedoes on the outside of the vessel. Hobson gave the order, and the first torpedo went off, blowing out the collision bulkhead. There was no reply from the second or third torpedoes. Hobson crossed the bridge, and shouted, "Fire all torpedoes!" In the roar of the Spanish batteries his voice could hardly be heard.

Meantime the guns on the shores back of the harbor were pouring their shot at the black target in the moonlight, and the din was terrific. Word came to Hobson that some of the torpedoes could not be fired, as their cells had been broken. The order was given to fire the others, and the fifth exploded promptly, but the remaining ones had been shattered by Spanish fire and were useless. The commander knew that under these circumstances it would take some time for the Merrimac to sink.

The important point was to keep the ship in the center of the harbor; but the stern-anchor had already been cut away. Hobson watched the bow move against the shore-line. There was nothing to do but wait and see where the tide would swing them.

The crew now gathered on deck. One of them, Kelly, had been dazed by an exploding shell. When he had picked himself up he started down the engine-room hatch, but found the water rising. Then he remembered the Merrimac's purpose, and tried to reach the torpedo of which he had charge. The torpedo was useless, and he headed back to the deck, climbing up on all fours. It was a strange sight to see him stealing up, and Hobson and some of the others drew their revolvers, thinking for the moment that he must be an enemy who had boarded the ship. Fortunately they recognized him almost immediately.

The tide was bearing them to the center of the channel when there came a blasting noise and shock. A mine had exploded beneath them. "Lads, they're helping us!" cried the commander. But the mine did not break the deck, and the ship only settled a little lower. For a moment it seemed as if the coal might have closed the breach made by the explosion, but just as the crew feared that they were to be carried past the point chosen for sinking the current from the opposite shore caught them, and the Merrimac settled crosswise. It was now only a matter of time before she would sink in the harbor.

The crew could now turn their attention to themselves. Hobson said to them, "We will remain here, lads, till the moon sets. When it is dark we will go down the after-hatch, to the coal, where her stern will be left out of water. We will remain inside all day, and to-night at ebb-tide try to make our way to the squadron. If the enemy comes on board, we will remain quiet until he finds us, and will repel him. If he then turns artillery on the place where we are, we will swim out to points farther forward." He started toward the bow to reconnoiter, but was persuaded not to expose himself to the enemy's fire. One of the men discovered a break in the bulwarks that gave a good view, and Hobson stood there. The moon was bright, though now low, and the muzzles of the Spanish guns were very near them. The crew, however, remained safely hidden behind the rail. From all sides came the firing, and the Americans, lying full length on the Merrimac's deck, felt the continual shock of projectiles striking around them. Some of the crew suggested that they should take to the small boat, but the commander knew that this would be certain destruction, and ordered them to remain. Presently a shot struck the boiler, and a rush of steam came up the deck near where they lay. A canteen was passed from hand to hand. Hobson, having no pockets, carried some tourniquets around his left arm, and a roll of antiseptic lint in his left hand, ready in case any of his crew were wounded.

Looking through the hole in the bulwarks the commander saw that the Merrimac was again moving. Sunk deep though she was, the tide was carrying her on, and might bear her some distance. There seemed to be no way in which they could make her sink where she was. Two more mines exploded, but missed the ship, and as she floated on it became evident that they could not block the channel completely. But shortly the Merrimac gave a lurch forward and settled to the port side. Now the Spanish Reina Mercedes was near at hand, and the Pluton was coming close inboard, but their guns and torpedoes did not hasten the sinking of the collier. She plunged again and settled in the channel.

A rush of water came up the gangway, and the crew were thrown against the bulwarks, and then into the sea. The life-preservers helped to keep them afloat, but when they looked for the life-boat they found that it had been carried away. A catamaran was the largest piece of floating wreckage, and they swam to this. The firing had now stopped. The wreckage began to drift away, and the crew were left swimming about the catamaran, apparently unseen by the enemy. The men were ordered to cling to this rude craft, their bodies in the water, their heads hidden by the boards, and to keep quiet, as Spanish boats were passing close to them. All the crew were safe, and Hobson expected that in time some Spanish officers would come out to reconnoiter the channel. He knew that his men could not swim against the tide to the harbor entrance, and even had they been able to do so it would have been too dangerous a risk, as the banks were now lined with soldiers, and the water patrolled by small boats. Their hope lay in surrendering before they were fired upon.

The moon had now nearly set, and the shadow of the high banks fell across the water. Boats rowed by Spanish sailors pulled close to the catamaran; but acting under orders from their commander the crew of the Merrimac kept well out of sight. The sun rose, and a new day came. Soon the crew could see the line of distant mountains, and the steep slopes leading to Morro Castle. A Spanish torpedo-destroyer was heading up the harbor, and a bugle at one of the batteries could be heard across the waters. Still the Americans clung to the catamaran, although their teeth were chattering, and they had to work their arms and legs to keep warm.