CHAPTER II.
THE OPENING DAYS OF THE WAR. — THE FIRST BLOW STRUCK IN THE PACIFIC. — DEWEY AND HIS FLEET. — THE BATTLE AT MANILA. — AN EYE-WITNESS' STORY. — DELAY AND DOUBT IN THE EAST. — DULL TIMES FOR THE BLUE-JACKETS. — THE DISCOVERY OF CERVERA. — HOBSON'S EXPLOIT. — THE OUTLOOK.
Strangely enough the first warlike stroke at Spain was not delivered in or about Cuba, where the quarrel arose, but in the other hemisphere, in the far-away waters of the Asiatic Pacific, where the American flag is almost a stranger and the power and wealth of the great American Republic are unknown. In the Philippine Islands Spain retains one of the colonies with which she once encircled the globe. More than 7,000,000 people—a peace-loving, kindly, intelligent race—are there ruled by the Spaniards, and as the rule was of the characteristic Spanish kind, with all the accompaniments of slaughter, dishonor, and extortion, the natives—as in Cuba—were in a chronic state of rebellion. One uprising, which had assumed very considerable proportions, was reported by the Spaniards as suppressed just before our declaration of war. That event, however, aroused the revolutionists again and, as we shall see, they were of the greatest service to us as allies.
When war was declared an American squadron of six warships lay at Hong Kong. The vessels were the "Olympia," protected cruiser; "Raleigh," "Baltimore," and "Boston," cruisers; "Concord" and "Petrel," gunboats, and the revenue cutter "McCulloch." Not a very powerful fleet—not a battle-ship nor even an armored cruiser among them—but the ships carried crews of as sturdy Yankee blue-jackets as ever trained a gun, and when the time came for daring an enemy's fire the little "Petrel" was as dashing and defiant as the stoutest of steel-clads could be. In command of the squadron was Admiral George Dewey, a Vermonter, who served with Farragut and had his baptism of fire at the forts below New Orleans. In time of peace the war record of a subaltern is quickly forgotten, and Dewey patiently climbed the ladder of promotion until 1898 found him a commodore and in command of the Asiatic squadron, without anybody's remembering particularly that this officer in far Hong Kong had seen fighting and knew how to bear himself under fire. It is a significant fact that when he had won the first great victory of the war, and the newspapers were searching everywhere for stories illustrative of his character, it was discovered that he had chiefly impressed himself on the Washington mind by his excessive punctiliousness in matters of dress.
Four days after the declaration of war there was a commotion on the ships of Dewey's squadron. The signal to weigh anchor flew from the foremast of the "Olympia," and everybody knew that the admiral had received fighting orders. For some days past the ships had been in their battle rigging. The white paint had been covered by a dull greenish-gray. All woodwork, railings, and unnecessary hamper had been stripped off and sent ashore. The officers' baggage was reduced to the barest necessities. Nothing was left anywhere on board which could be turned into a cloud of flying splinters by a shell, or which cumbered the decks to the inconvenience of the gunners. The warships which, in time of peace, were as bright and sparkling as a well-kept yacht, had put on the sullen, vicious air of war.
Dewey's objective point when he set sail from the harbor of Hong Kong was the Asiatic squadron of Spain, under the command of Admiral Montojo. There was every reason to believe that he would find the enemy under the protecting guns of the forts that guarded the harbor of Manila. In themselves the Spanish ships were no match for the American fleet. Three good ships had Admiral Montojo—the "Reina Cristina," the "Castilla," and the "Don Antonio de Ulloa"; but his others were old-fashioned and lacking in modern armament. But should they take positions under the guns of the Spanish forts, at the end of a channel plentifully guarded by mines and torpedoes, the disparity in forces would disappear. As it occurred this was precisely what they did, giving Admiral Dewey opportunity to put into practice tactics which it seems he had studied for months in anticipation of exactly such an emergency.
On the night of April 30 the American ships arrived at the entrance of Manila harbor, unseen by the sentries on the forts. It was known that Montojo was inside, and every light was extinguished and every noise hushed on the Yankee ships, for the admiral had planned a midnight entrance to the stronghold. The ships were stripped for action, boats covered with canvas, nettings spread to prevent splinters from flying, partitions removed, and ammunition hoists and bullet shields put up. At midnight the entrance to the harbor began, the ships steaming in single column at about six knots an hour, with the "Olympia" leading. Strangely enough not a single torpedo or mine in the channel was exploded, though the Spaniards discovered the advance of the ships and opened fire from the forts. The first shot in answer was fired by a gunner on the "Boston," without orders. He saw the flash of a gun on a shore battery and instantly fired his piece without altering its elevation. That dismantled a gun in the Spanish works and killed thirty men.
For a few hours after passing the forts the wearied blue-jackets slept at their guns. With the approach of day came the signal from the flagship to prepare for action. In the gray dawn the Spanish fleet could be seen about two miles distant, at such a point that their fire could be re-enforced by the guns of the forts. A most graphic story of the action that followed, as seen from the view-point of "the man behind the gun," whom Captain Mahan eulogizes, is told by Chief Gunner Evans of the "Boston," from whose narrative I quote the following paragraphs:
