A Sailor Boy with Dewey/Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI.
A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN CONTEST.
In this tale of adventures in and around the Island of Luzon it is not my intention to play the part of a historian and go into all of the details of the battle of Manila Bay, or, more properly, the battle off Cavité.
To be really truthful, but little of the whole battle could be seen by any one spectator, for the ships were several miles apart, and the heavy smoke hung everywhere over the bay like a murky pall. Near Cavité the fire burst up through the smoke at half a dozen points, and these marked the spots where the enemy's ships were slowly but surely going to pieces.
For the victory was Commodore Dewey's from the start, and a few hours sufficed to teach Spain a lesson which she is not likely to forget for years to come.
Our gallant commodore had come to Manila with six fighting ships, including one which was very small, and but indifferently armed. Off Cavité he engaged eight Spanish warships, and these had the strong support of the fort and the land battery.
And yet, when it was all over, what was the result? The Spanish ships lay along the shore, riddled with shot and shell and burning fiercely. Hundreds of Spanish sailors had been either shot or drowned, and those who had escaped to land were hurrying, panic-stricken, toward Manila and the mountains. More than this, Cavité itself had surrendered, and the arms and ammunition at the arsenal were our own.
We had pulled out once from the fight, to learn how matters were faring with the other ships. Commodore Dewey was afraid that one or another had been lost, and his delight was without measure when he found that not a single ship had sustained any serious injury. "Good, boys!" he said. "Go in and finish them up!" And they went in, with the vigor that only the Anglo-Saxon race knows.
Dan had been hurt by a splinter flying from some of the rigging, and I carried him into the wardroom, where the surgeons waited in readiness for any demand that might be made upon them.
He was unconscious, and I looked on anxiously as a surgeon made an examination.
"Is it serious?" I asked.
"Not very; but he must remain quiet for a while," was the answer. "I will plaster up the wound and bind it."
The battle had started early in the morning. By the middle of the afternoon it was over and a regular jubilee among the jack tars followed. They yelled, cheered, sang, and danced, while eating and drinking went on until nightfall.
Some of the ships had been sent to other places, but we lay close to Cavité. We could have taken a great number of prisoners, but Commodore Dewey had no place to put them.
"Let them go, poor fellows; they have suffered enough," said more than one officer, and in my mind I agreed with them.
"Didn't I tell you!" cried Roundstock, coming up. "Nothing can stand up against the Stars and Stripes, our glorious flag of freedom."
"What's to do, now, Roundstock?" I questioned.
"That's for the commodore and our captain to say. As for myself, I feel as if I could sleep for a week."
"Won't we go in and take Manila?"
"I suppose we will—later on."
"I would like to go in right away. I want to learn how my friends there are faring."
"You'll have to be patient."
Roundstock strode off, and I turned again to Dan, who was moaning. I found his face very hot, as if he was in a fever.
The hours of the night passed slowly, and in the morning I was much gratified to learn that my chum was better. We now received definite word from the other warships. All were in good condition and not a single man had been killed. Some were to move in close to Cavité, while others were to go down and take possession of Corregidor Island, at the bay's entrance.
By good fortune I managed to get permission to go ashore at the arsenal, and Dan insisted upon going along. Just before we left the Boston we had a parting word with the captain.
"Be careful, boys," he said. "Those Spaniards will shoot you down if you give them the least chance."
I started to say something about getting into Manila again, but thought better of it and remained silent. Perhaps it might have been much better had I spoken and had the kind-hearted commander prevented the movement. But we do not know things beforehand as we know them afterward.
It had been supposed by the Spaniards that Commodore Dewey would demand the immediate surrender of the capital, but no demand came, for the reason that the commodore was awaiting instructions from Washington, and because he had no armed force sufficiently large to hold Manila against our enemies, and against the insurgents, who were gathering about, ready to rush in and plunder at the first opportunity.
We went ashore in one of the small boats, manned by eight jack tars, and landing close to the arsenal, made our way to a deserted church, which the sailors on shore had turned into a temporary barracks.
On every hand were the signs of the fierce conflict which had raged but a few short hours. The bay about Cavité was dotted with the half-burned wrecks of the Spanish warships, and fort and batteries were torn up as only a hail of shot and shell can do the work.
"This is awful," remarked Dan, as he walked around. "How these poor wretches must have suffered during the fight!"
"I reckon they were glad enough to run for it, Dan," I answered soberly. "But see, there are some Spanish soldiers approaching!"
The men referred to were a score in number. They were without arms, almost without shoes, and their clothing was torn in countless places by their wild rushes through the brush and cane fields. They came up to a body of volunteers encamped near the church.
"They have surrendered and want protection from the insurgents," said Dan, after listening to what was said by the Spanish leader. "He states that the rebels here are worse than wild beasts, and he would rather go to an American prison than fall into their hands."
"I believe him—after my own experience, Dan."
"So do I. I'll tell you, Oliver, the fighting here isn't half over. Dewey may try to make friends of the insurgents; but, if so, he will be sorry for it."
We watched the Spaniards and saw that they were starving by the manner in which they disposed of the food furnished to them by our own volunteers. I really believe that some of them would have jumped at the chance of joining our troops had they had the chance. None of them had received a dollar of pay from Spain for months, and one told Dan that even their own of^cers treated them like dogs. "If only I was back in beautiful Spain again!" he sighed. "Or with my uncle at his tobacco works in Key West, Florida, in your own nice country!" He was sick of war.
As I have said, Cavité lay about eight miles south of Manila. Between the two places was a low, sandy beach, back of which was a rude highway, low-lying hills, covered with rice and other plantations, and thick forests. There were several settlements, but none of especial importance.
By careful inquiry we learned that the country between us and Manila had been almost deserted, but was now filling up with insurgents, who were awaiting the arrival of their principal leader, General Aguinaldo, who had gone to Hong Kong on business. If we wanted to get into the capital, therefore, we must first pass the insurgents' camps and then the Spanish pickets at the city walls.
"It's a risky thing to do, Oliver," said Dan. "We don't want to get shot."
"That is true. But I want to know how Longley is faring and how the business is faring."
"Yes, that is true. And I would like to know if Captain Kenny has shown up at Manila, too. But still"
"You haven't got to go if you don't want to, Dan. But I'm going."
"Then I'll go, and that settles it."
And it did settle it. But neither of us dreamed of the many dangers in store for us.