the outside, but no casualty was reported. Nor did any of our consorts drop out of line or slacken fire. Yet the Spanish ensigns still flew and their broadsides still thundered when we had completed our third run past their line and had been engaged for an hour and a half.

There was some natural impatience for visible results. As we headed to the eastward for the fourth run, preparations were made to close, in order to try the effect of stationary practice. The Olympia was headed southeast to cross the five-fathom curve. At this instant the Reina Cristina was seen to move to a gap in the line and to turn her bows to seaward. The two flagships drew together as if for a duel, but the Olympia was covering more ground than her opponent, who was exposed to the concentrated fire of several broadsides. The slow advance continued until the Cristina was within 1,200 yards and we could see our shells strike home. Dark clouds of smoke poured up from the bow and stern and a plume of white steam made another signal of distress. A shell had pierced the superheater, the ship was on fire in two places, the steering-engine was shot away and most of the guns were disabled. So the ship turned inshore and sought refuge in shoal water close to the Arsenal. The object of her charge need not be considered. As usual, the Spaniards were reduced to counsels of desperation. Perhaps some dream of attack by ramming or using torpedoes inspired the effort. The Don Juan de Austria had made a similar movement earlier in the fight, but her rush was still more brief and ineffective. This battle had to be fought out with guns, though the enemy found that a hard saying.

Again we steamed to the westward, while Admiral Montojo was shifting his flag to the Isla de Cuba. In passing the Castilla, it was noted that she, too, was on fire. Turning within 1,500 yards of the batteries on the point, the fleet stood out toward the middle of the bay. The fine rifled guns on shore were as ineffective at 1,200 yards as they were at 12,000. They followed us with steady fire as we steamed to the northward, and the heavy guns outside the walls of Manila resumed their task of bombardment. Their shells of 9.5 inches calibre might have been powerfully destructive

had their descending flight landed them on our decks, but they all missed, even when our two groups made a motionless cluster of nine vessels within range of their cross-fire. The Spanish Captain-General telegraphed to Madrid that we " withdrew behind the merchant shipping to transfer wounded." The rest of the world insists in prose and verse that we stopped fighting to get breakfast. There may have been other considerations, but we had done a morning's work,—a bigger one than we knew-and breakfast was welcome. There were sardines, corned beef and hard-tack on a corner of the wardroom table, still encumbered by the surgeons' ghastly gear, which was all unstained, however. Indeed, the answer to the signal, "Report casualties," had been comfortable. Half-a-dozen men slightly wounded by the shock of that erratic shell which traversed the Baltimore's upper deck covered everything. A capable observer watching the fight from one of our colliers was able to give the net result of our work as soon as we stopped firing, but he estimated the American loss as not less than 400. Let us be thankful that it was not so, though we may not know why our men's lives were spared.

The crews had glorious opportunities for cheering each other. The big Baltimore and the little Petrel drew special attention as the two extremes of our fleet, but not one ship was slighted, nor was there a word of captious comparison mixed with the generous burst of applause. All had fought gallantly and loyally, and all had escaped unharmed. Natural selection had done its work on the niceties of naval uniform while we were cleared for action. Golf caps and pith helmets. were seen in high places; officers and men came on the bridge in obsolescent pajamas or inadequate undershirts; the turret crews were frankly primeval in their attire. But good spirits and prompt obedience were the natural order of the day. There had been no need to promote them by signalling commonplace maxims. There was neither shirking nor flinching among the 1,700 men under the Commodore's pennant on the first of May.

The smoking hour and the consultation of captains after breakfast were enlivened and inspired by frequent explosions

of ammunition in the burning ships off Cavité. The inevitable decision was that the work should be finished. The records show that this movement began at 10:45 A. M., but it might have been six hours or a week later if one had to trust individual impressions. The Baltimore was designated to lead the line, and the intervals were closed, as Sangley Point was approached from the westward. One gun from the point was still in action when the Baltimore stopped her engines and turned her heavy broadside on the earthworks. Her sixinch and eight-inch shells were soon bursting and throwing up showers of sand close to the guns. The other ships ranged past in succession, and the Olympia poured in a galling fire from her six-pounders at a distance of 1,800 yards. In passing the Baltimore each ship had to stop firing and take to cheering, which seemed to have a decisive effect, as the batteries were silenced and deserted by their demoralized garrisons. One ship attempted to keep up the battle. The Don Antonio de Ulloa fired two or three shots, but she was soon silenced and sunk by shells from the Boston and Raleigh, which were turning the point to approach the Arsenal. She was the only ship sent to the bottom by our projectiles. Others were burned, blown up, or driven ashore by our fire. The Spanish flag still waved from the lofty shears at the Cavité Arsenal, but a few well-aimed shells from the Raleigh shattered buildings and scattered troops about the navy-yard. The red and yellow flag came down; a white sheet was shown from the Commandant's quarters, and Cavité was surrendered.

The Petrel had stood in ahead of the other ships assisting in the bombardment, and she was now sent in to finish the task of destroying the Spanish vessels, which had taken refuge behind the Arsenal and scattered themselves in shoal water close to the wharves, which were thronged by troops under arms and by the beaten crews who had escaped from the squadron. Lieutenant Hughes lowered the Petrel's soundest whaleboat and dashed in past these forces, supported by Lieutenant Fiske in another whaleboat. For the first time that day Americans and Spaniards came face to face. But the Spanish officers seemed to realize the responsibilities of surrender, and the work of destruction was not opposed. Cruisers sunk

within pistol range of the quays were boarded and set on fire by our boats' crews, and a flotilla of tugs and launches was gathered and brought out by the Petrel. The armed transport Manila was found to be uninjured and was also made a prize for the fleet. Meanwhile the Concord, supported by the Olympia, had stood in toward Las Pinas on a similar errand. The steamer Isla de Mindanao, which had held a place in the Spanish line during the action, had drifted ashore there, and her crew were driven off and the ship set on fire by the Concord's shells. This vessel was armed, and there is evidence that she fired during the action. She had brought war material on her last voyage from Spain, and she had been towing disabled cruisers just before the action. Her owners had intended to dispatch her to Spain on the next Saturday, May 7. They showed a lamentable lack of faith in American activity, and insurance companies refuse to pay for losses due to imprudent delay and belligerent behavior.

This second action lasted about two hours, or nearly as long. as the first. It was performed before a larger audience, as the British steamer Esmeralda had just entered the harbor with a journalist or two on board. In spite of various destructive and dramatic incidents, the vital inspiration of battle was lacking. The enemy failed to stand to his guns. Only half-adozen shells were fired by the Spaniards, while a thousand or so were discharged from their ships in the early morning. But we had to make sure that all resistance was over. Our victory at Cavité also silenced the batteries at Manila forever. The Captain-General was warned that further firing would compel the fleet to bombard the walled city. In acceding to this warning he admitted total defeat.

The wanton and ineffectual employment of batteries adjacent to a defenseless city furnishes an instance of the desperate futility of Spanish traditions. The legend runs that the Governor-General had forbidden the batteries to fire, but that the Colonel of Artillery felt himself bound by technical rules affecting his military honor. So he persisted until defeat was demonstrated. He was told that the next day would see him under close arrest. He did not linger until the day of grace himself in the Plaza before the palace of

was done, but shot