



Produced by Ron Swanson





[Frontispiece: Midshipman Dewey.]




THE HERO OF MANILA

DEWEY ON THE MISSISSIPPI AND THE PACIFIC




BY ROSSITER JOHNSON

AUTHOR OF PHAETON ROGERS, A HISTORY OF THE WAR OF SECESSION, ETC.




WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY B. WEST CLINEDINST AND OTHERS




NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1899




COPYRIGHT, 1899,
BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.




PREFACE.


If this little book does not show for itself why it was written, how it
was written, and for whom it was written, not only a preface but the
entire text would be useless. The author believes that in every life
that is greatly useful to mankind there is a plan and a purpose from
the beginning, whether the immediate owner of that life is aware of it
or not; and that the art of the biographer--whether he is dealing with
facts exclusively or is mingling fact and fiction--should make it
discernible by the reader.

The authorities that have been consulted include the Life of David
Glasgow Farragut, by his son; Admiral Ammen's Atlantic Coast; Greene's
The Mississippi; Battles and Leaders of the Civil War; The Rebellion
Record; Marshall's History of the Naval Academy, and especially
Adelbert M. Dewey's Life and Letters of Admiral Dewey.

R. J.

AMAGANSETT, _September 8, 1899_.




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER

   I.--THE PHILOSOPHY OF FIGHTING

  II.--ON THE RIVER BANK

 III.--BATTLE ROYAL

  IV.--EDUCATION AT NORWICH

   V.--LIFE AT ANNAPOLIS

  VI.--THE BEGINNING OF WAR

 VII.--THE FIGHT FOR NEW ORLEANS

VIII.--THE BATTLE AT PORT HUDSON

  IX.--THE CAPTURE OF FORT FISHER

   X.--IN TIME OF PEACE

  XI.--THE BATTLE OF MANILA

 XII.--AFTER THE BATTLE

XIII.--THE PROBLEM ON LAND

 XIV.--HONORS

  XV.--LETTERS




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


Midshipman Dewey
  By B. West Clinedinst

An early battle
  By B. West Clinedinst

A schoolroom episode
  By B. West Clinedinst

Scene of naval operations in Western rivers

Farragut and Dewey
  By B. West Clinedinst

Whitewashing the decks
  By B. West Clinedinst

Order of attack on Forts Jackson and St. Philip

Farragut's fleet passing the forts

Order of attack on Port Hudson

Passage of the batteries of Port Hudson

Removing the wounded
  By B. West Clinedinst

Diagram of Manila Bay

U.S. Cruiser Olympia, Admiral Dewey's Flagship

The battle of Manila

Admiral Dewey on the bridge of the Olympia

Medal presented by Congress

Sword presented by Congress

Shield presented to the Olympia

Dewey Triumphal Arch, New York
  Charles R. Lamb, Architect




[Illustration: The house in which Admiral Dewey was born in Montpelier,
Vermont.]




THE HERO OF MANILA.




CHAPTER I.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF FIGHTING.


It is not necessary to visit the Bay of Naples in order to witness a
beautiful sunset. Our own atmosphere and our own waters produce those
that are quite as gorgeous, while our own mountains and woodlands give
them as worthy a setting as any in the world.

Half a century ago a little boy sat at his chamber window in Vermont
looking at a summer sunset. He was so absorbed in the scene before him
and in his own thoughts that he did not notice the entrance of his
father until he spoke.

"What are you thinking about, George?" said the father.

"About ships," the boy answered, without turning his head.

"What kind of ships?"

"I can see nearly every kind," said George.

"See them--where?" said his father, looking over his shoulder.

"Right there in the sunset clouds," said the boy.

"Oh!" said his father; and then, after looking a while, added, "Suppose
you point out a few of them."

"Do you see that small cloud, at some distance from the others--the one
that is rather long and narrow, with a narrower one alongside?"

"Yes, I see that."

"Well, that," said the boy, "is a Brazilian catamaran, and those little
knobs at the top are the heads of the men that are paddling it."

"Just so," said his father. "What else can you see?"

"The catamaran," said George, "is pulling out to that clipper ship
which has just come to anchor off the port. The clipper is the large
one, with her sails furled. Probably the Indians have some fruit on
board, which they hope to sell to the sailors."

"Quite natural," said the father.

"And that smaller one, under full sail, fore-and-aft rigged, is a
schooner in the coasting trade."

"That one appears to be changing shape rapidly," said the father.

"Yes," said the boy. "She is tacking, and you see her at a different
angle."

"I might have suspected as much," said the father, "but I never was a
good sailor."

"That very large one," continued the boy, "with a big spread of canvas
and holes in her hull, where the red sunlight pours through, is an
old-fashioned seventy-four, with all her battle-lanterns lit."

"A pretty fancy," said the father, who evidently was becoming more
interested and better able to see the pictures that were so vivid to
his son.

"Do you see that dark one over at the right, with one near it that is
very red and very ragged?" said the boy.

"I do."

"Those are the Constitution and the Java. They had their famous battle
yesterday, and the Java was so badly cut up that to-day Bainbridge has
removed her crew and set her on fire. She will blow up pretty soon."

"I should like to see it," said the father.

"And if you look over there to the left," said the boy, "you see quite
a collection of rather small ones, most of them very red, some half red
and half black. It looks a little confused at first, but when you know
what it is you can see plainly enough that it is the battle of Lake
Erie. In the very center there is a small boat, and on it something
that looks black and blue and red, with a little white. The black is
cannon smoke. The blue and red and white is the American flag, which
Perry is taking over to the Niagara, because the Lawrence is so badly
damaged that he has had to leave her. That one with only one mast
standing is the Lawrence."

"Yes, my son, I think you have accounted beautifully for everything
there except one. What is that dark one, with rounded ends and no mast,
just beyond the clipper?"

"Oh, that," said the boy, taking a moment for reflection. "I think that
must be a bullhead boat on the Delaware and Hudson Canal."

"It is a good representation of one," said his father, smiling. "But,
George, how came you to know so much about ships and boats and naval
history?"

"By reading all I could find about them, sir."

"Well, George, I am really pleased," said Dr. Dewey; "pleased and
encouraged to know that you have taken to reading instead of fighting.
I was afraid you never would love books; but now that you have begun,
you shall have all the good ones you will read."

"Thank you, father, I shall be glad of them."

"But come now, my son, supper is ready, and your sister is waiting for
us."

"I will come pretty soon," said George, and his father descended the
stairs.

A little later the boy went slowly down, and quietly slipped into his
place at the table.

In a few minutes Dr. Dewey looked up, then started as if surprised, and
dropped his hands to the edge of the table. He took a sharp look at
George, and then said:

"What does that mean? How came you by that black eye?"

"There is only one way to get a black eye that I know of," said the
boy.

"Fighting?"

"Yes, sir."

The doctor was silent for several minutes, and then said:

"I don't know what to say to you or do to you, my son. You know what I
have said to you about your fighting habit, and you know that I mean
it, for I have not only talked to you, but punished you. When I found
you had been reading history I took new hope, for I thought you must
have got past the fighting age and given your mind to better things.
But here you are again with the marks of a pugilist."

"I don't fight when I can help it, and I'm afraid I never shall get
past the fighting age," said George.

"Don't fight when you can help it?" said his father. "Can't you always
help it?"

"I might by running away. Do you want me to do that?" the boy answered
quietly.

"Of course I don't," said the doctor quickly. "But can't you _keep_
away?"

"I have to go to school," said George, "and I have to be with the boys;
and some of them are quarrelsome, and some are full of conceit, and
some need a good licking now and then."

"And you consider it your duty to administer it," said the doctor.
"Conceit is a crime that can not be too severely punished."

The boy felt the irony of his father's remark, and saw that he did not
quite understand that use of the word "conceit," so he proceeded to
explain:

"When a boy goes about bragging how many boys he has licked, and how
many others he can lick, and how he will do this, that, and the other
thing, if everybody doesn't look out, we say he is too conceited and he
ought to have the conceit taken out of him; and the first good chance
we get we take it out."

"Suppose you left it in him and paid no attention to it--what would
happen in that case?" said the doctor.

"He would grow more and more conceited," said George, "and make himself
so disagreeable that the boys couldn't enjoy life, and before a great
while you would find him picking on smaller boys than himself and
licking them, just to have more brag."

"Do you really have any such boys among your schoolfellows, or is this
only theoretical?" the doctor inquired.

"There are a few," said George.

"And how do you determine whose duty it is to take the conceit out of
one of them? Do you draw lots, or take turns?"

"The boy that enjoys the job the most generally gets it," said George.

"Just so," said the doctor. "And is there some one boy in the school
who enjoys the job, as you call it, more than all the others?"

George evidently felt that this question came so near home he ought not
to be expected to answer it, and he was silent.

His elder sister, Mary (they had lost their mother five years before),
now spoke for the first time.

"Perhaps," said she, "we ought to ask George to tell us the
circumstances of this last fight. I don't believe he is always the one
to blame."

"Certainly," said the doctor; "that is only fair. Tell us all about it,
George."

Thereupon the boy proceeded to tell them all about it in a very
animated manner.

"Bill Ammon," he began, "is one of the bossingest boys in school. He
expects to have everything his way. I don't blame a boy for wanting
things his own way if he takes fair means to get them so, but Bill
doesn't always. You and the teacher tell me that bad habits grow worse
and worse, and I suppose it was that way with Bill. At any rate, we
found out a few days ago that he was taking regular toll out of two
smaller boys--Jimmy Nash and Teddy Hawkins--for not licking them. Each
of them had to bring him something twice a week--apples, or nuts, or
marbles, or candy, or something else that he wanted--and he threatened
not only to lick them if they did not bring the things, but to lick
them twice as hard if they told any one about it."

"Why did those boys submit to such treatment?" said the doctor.

"Well, you see," said George, "Jimmy Nash's father is a Quaker, and
doesn't believe in hurting anybody, and so if Jimmy gets into any
trouble he whales him like fury as soon as he finds it out. And Teddy
Hawkins's mother gives him plenty of spending money, so he is always
able to buy a little something to please Bill, and I suppose he would
rather do that than fight."

"If they were boys of any spirit," said the doctor indignantly, "I
should think they would join forces and give Bill the thrashing he
deserves. The two together ought to be able to do it."

"Yes, they could," said George; "but, you see, they are not twins, and
can't always be together--in fact, they live a long way apart--and as
soon as Bill caught either of them alone he would make him pay dear for
it. He needed to be licked by some one boy."

"I see," said the doctor; "a Decatur was wanted, to put an end to the
tribute."

"Exactly!" said George, and his father's eyes twinkled with pleasure to
see that he understood the allusion. He was specially anxious that his
boy should become familiar with American history, but he had no
anticipation that his son would one day make American history.

"When we found it out," George continued, "Bill tried to make us
believe that Jimmy and Teddy were simply paying him to protect them. He
said he was their best friend. 'What protection do they need?' said I.
'They are peaceable little fellows, and there is nobody that would be
coward enough to attack them.' Bill saw that he was cornered on the
argument, and at the same time he got mad at the word coward, thinking
I meant it for him. I didn't, for I don't consider him a coward at
all."

"Not if he _is_ a bully?" said the doctor.

"No, sir," said George. "He certainly is something of a bully, but he
is not cowardly."

"There you agree with Charles Lamb," said the doctor.

"Who is Charles Lamb?" said George.

"He was an Englishman, who died fifteen or twenty years ago," said the
doctor, "and I hope you'll read his delightful essays some day--but not
till you've mastered American history. Attend to that first."

"I'll try to," said George. "When Bill flared up at that word he seemed
to lose his head a little. 'Who are you calling a coward?' said he,
coming up close to me, with his fist clenched. I said I never called
anybody a coward, because if he wasn't one it wouldn't be true, and if
he was everybody would find it out soon enough, without my telling
them. 'Well, you meant it for me,' said he, 'and you'll have to fight
it out, so you'd better take off your jacket mighty quick.' I said I
had no objection----"

"You had no objection!" exclaimed his sister Mary.

"Well--that is--under the circumstances," said George, "I didn't see
how I could have any. I had no right to have any. Those two boys did
need protection--they needed to be protected against Bill Ammon, who
was robbing them. And I thought I might as well do it as anybody. So I
said, 'Come over to the orchard, boys,' and we all went. Teddy Hawkins
held my jacket, and Sim Nelson held Bill's. We squared off and sparred
a little while, and I suppose I must have been careless, for Bill got
the first clip at me, landing on my eye. But pretty soon I fetched him
a good one under the cheek bone, and followed that up with a smasher
on----"

[Illustration: An early battle.]

Here Mary turned pale, and showed signs of uneasiness and repugnance.
George, who was warming up with his subject, did not notice her, but
was going on with his description of the fight, when his father stopped
him.

"Your sister," he said, "has no taste for these particulars. Never mind
them until some time when you and I are alone. Only tell us how it
turned out."

"The boys said it turned out that I gave Bill what he deserved, and I
hope I did, but I didn't tell them what a mighty hard job I found it."

"Bravo, George!" exclaimed the doctor, and then quickly added: "But
don't fight any more."




CHAPTER II.

ON THE RIVER BANK.


A group of boys sat on the bank of Onion River, looking at the water
and occasionally casting pebbles into it. Wet hair, bare feet, and
other circumstances indicated that they had not long been out of it.
Below them, in one of the comparatively shallow, flat-bottomed reaches,
a company of smaller boys were paddling about, some taking their first
lessons in swimming, some struggling to duck each other, and some
carefully keeping aloof for fear of being ducked. Trees, rocks, broken
sunlight, and a summer breeze made the little scene quite Arcadian.

"My uncle is going to California to dig gold," said one of the larger
boys, who answered to the name of Tom Kennedy.

"My father says they have discovered gold mines in Australia that are
richer than those in California," said another, Felix Ostrom by name.

"But that is twice as far away," said the first speaker, "and you can
only get there by a long sea voyage. You can go overland to California,
and be in our own country all the time. Isn't that a great deal better,
even if you don't get quite so much gold?"

"It wouldn't be better for me," answered George Dewey. "I would rather
go by sea, and would rather go to other countries. I want to see as
many of them as I can. I would especially like to sail in the Pacific
Ocean."

"Why the Pacific?" said Tom.

"Because," said George, "that is not only the largest ocean in the
world, but it has the most islands and touches the countries that we
know the least about."

"It's an ugly thing to get to it, round Cape Horn," said Felix.

"You can go through the Strait of Magellan," said George. "Last week I
found a book of voyages in my Aunt Lavinia's house, and I've been
reading all about Magellan. He was the discoverer of the Pacific Ocean,
and he sailed through that strait to find it."

"He must have been a very modest man," said Tom.

"Why?"

"Because he didn't name it Magellan Ocean."

"He called it the Pacific because he found it so calm," said George.
"And he sailed clear across it. Just think of coming to an unknown sea
five or six thousand miles wide, and sailing right out into it, and on
and on, past islands and reefs, and sometimes long stretches with
nothing in sight but sky and water, and no way to tell when you'll come
to the end of it! And when you stop at an island you don't know what
you'll find, or whether you'll find anything--even good drinking-water.
And he didn't know whether the earth was really round, for no one had
ever sailed round it before. I think that beats Columbus."

"Was he really the first one to sail round the world?" said Felix.

"Not exactly," said George. "His ship was the first that ever went
round, but he didn't get round with her."

"Why not?"

"Because when they got to the Philippine Islands, which they
discovered, they went ashore on one of them and had a fight with the
natives, and Magellan was killed."

"I guess the Philippine Islands are pretty good ones to keep away
from," said Sammy Atkinson.

"I should be willing to take my chances, if I could get there," said
George. "But I suppose I never shall."

"You can't tell," said Sandy Miller, a boy who had recently come from
Scotland with his parents, "what savage countries you may visit afore
you die. Two years ago I didn't dream I'd ever come to America."

"Do you call ours a savage country?" said Felix, with a twinkle in his
eye.

"I didn't exactly mean to," said Sandy, "and yet I think I might, when
I remember how all you boys wanted to fight me the first week I was
here, only because I was a stranger."

"Not quite all," said George.

"No, I take that back," said Sandy. "You say truly not quite all, for
you yourself didn't, and I mustn't forget it of you. I suppose it's
human nature to want to fight all strangers, and maybe that's the
reason the Philippine men killed Master Magellan. I suppose they'd try
to do the same if anybody went there now. But I wish you'd tell us more
about him and about the Pacific and the Philippines, for I am aye fond
of the sea; I enjoyed every wave on the Atlantic when we came over."

Thereupon George, being urged by the other boys as well, gave an
account, as nearly as he could remember, of what he had read.

"What has become of those islands?" said Bill Ammon.

"They are there yet," said George.

"Did you think they were sunk in the sea?" said Tom Kennedy.

"It might not be very ridiculous if he did," said George, "for they
have terrific earthquakes, and a good many of them."

"Of course I meant," Bill explained, "who owns them?"

"Spain says she does," said George, "and she has had them a long time,
for she took possession of them about fifty years after they were
discovered; but she came pretty near losing them forever about a
century ago."

"How was that?" Bill inquired.

"A British force attacked them," said George, "and stormed Manila, the
capital, and the city had its choice to pay five million dollars or be
given up to the soldiers for plunder. It paid the money."

"Do you think that was right?" Felix Ostrom asked.

"I don't know enough about it to say," George answered; "but I suppose
war is war, and when it has to be made at all it ought to be made so as
to accomplish something."

"What was the name of Magellan's ship?" asked Tom Kennedy.

"He started with five ships," said George, "but four of them were lost.
The largest was only eighty feet long. The one that went round the
world and got home was the Victoria."

"Huh!" said Tom, "I might have known it--just like those Britishers,
naming everything after their queen."

"Magellan was not a Britisher, he was Portuguese," said George. "And
Queen Victoria was not born till about three hundred years after his
famous voyage."

The boys burst into a roar of laughter and hooted at Tom.

"It's all very well for you to laugh," said Tom when the merriment had
subsided a little, "but I'd like to know how many of you would have
known that I made a blunder if George Dewey hadn't explained it to
you--probably not one. I can't see that anybody but George has a right
to laugh at me, and I noticed that he laughed least of all."

The boys appeared to feel the sting of Tom's argument, but at the same
time they felt that any opportunity to laugh at him should be improved,
because he was critical and sarcastic above all the rest. They wanted
to resent his remark, but did not know of any way to do it effectively,
and were all getting into ill humor when Felix Ostrom thought of a way
to turn the subject and restore good feeling.

"Look here, boys," said he, "as we are talking about the sea, and some
of us intend to be sailors when we are old enough, I'd like to propose
that Sandy Miller sing us a sea song. He knows a ripping good one, and
I know he can sing it, for I heard him once at his house."

There was an immediate demand for the song, which was so loud and
emphatic and unanimous that Sandy could not refuse.

"It's one that my great aunt, Miss Corbett, wrote," said he. "I can't
remember it all, but I'll sing you a bit of it as well as I can. Ye'll
just remember that I'm no Jenny Lind nor the choir of the Presbyterian
church." Then he sang:

  "I've seen the waves as blue as air,
     I've seen them green as grass;
   But I never feared their heaving yet,
     From Grangemouth to the Bass.
   I've seen the sea as black as pitch,
     I've seen it white as snow;
   But I never feared its foaming yet,
     Though the waves blew high or low.
         When sails hang flapping on the masts,
           While through the waves we snore,
         When in a calm we're tempest-tossed,
           We'll go to sea no more--
               No more--
           We'll go to sea no more.

  "The sun is up, and round Inchkeith
     The breezes softly blaw;
   The gudeman has the lines on board--
     Awa'! my bairns, awa'!
   An' ye'll be back by gloamin' gray,
     An' bright the fire will low,
   An' in your tales and sangs we'll tell
     How weel the boat ye row.
         When life's last sun gaes feebly down,
           An' death comes to our door,
         When a' the world's a dream to us,
           We'll go to sea no more--
               No more--
           We'll go to sea no more."

When the applause that greeted the song had subsided, little Steve
Leonard asked: "I suppose that means they'll sail all their lives,
doesn't it?"

"Yes, it means just about that," said Tom Kennedy.

Paying no attention to the touch of sarcasm in Tom's intonation, Steve
added:

"Well, they might do that in a fishing boat, but they couldn't do it in
the navy. My Uncle Walter is an officer in the navy, and he's got to
get out of it next year, because he'll be sixty-two years old, though
there isn't a gray hair in his head."

"The people in the song _were_ fishermen," said Sandy.

At this moment there was a cry of alarm among the small boys in the
stream. One of them had got beyond his depth and had disappeared
beneath the surface.

The larger boys rushed down the bank with eager inquiries: "Where?"
"Where did he go down?"

But two of them--George Dewey and Bill Ammon--did not need to wait for
the answer. They knew the exact depth of every square yard in that part
of the river, and the set of the current at every point, for they had
been in it and through it more than a hundred times.

"Run down the bank and go in by the pine tree, Bill," said George.
"I'll go in just below the riffle and explore the cellar-hole!"

A few seconds later both of these boys had disappeared under water.

The "cellar-hole," as the boys called it, was a place where some
natural force, probably frost and the current, had excavated the bed of
the river to a depth of eight or ten feet, with almost perpendicular
walls. It was a favorite place for the larger boys to dive; and another
of their amusements consisted in floating down into it with the
current, which, just before entering the cellar-hole, ran swiftly
through a narrow channel.

The two boys were under water so long that their companions began to
fear they never would come up. From the excited state of their minds it
seemed even longer than it really was.

Bill was the first to appear, and as soon as he could get his breath he
reported "No luck!"

A moment later George came up, and it was evident that he was bringing
something. As soon as Bill saw this he swam toward him, and at the same
time two other boys plunged in from the bank. They brought ashore the
apparently lifeless body of little Jimmy Nash and laid it on the grass.

"What shall we do?" said several.

"Shake the water out of him," said one.

"Stand him on his head," said another.

"Roll him over a barrel," said a third.

"Somebody run for a doctor," said a fourth; and this suggestion was
quickly carried out by two of the smaller boys, who scampered off in
search of a physician.

"The barrel is the right idea," said George, "but there is no barrel
anywhere in sight. Boys, bring us that big log."

Half a dozen boys made a rush for the log, rolled it down the <DW72>,
and brought it to the place where it was wanted. They laid Jimmy across
it, face down, and gently rolled him back and forth, which brought
considerable water out of his lungs.

One of the boys who had run for a physician had the good fortune to
come upon Dr. Dewey, who was passing in his gig, and shouted:

"Doctor! Doctor! there's a drownded boy down here! Come quick!"

The doctor sprang to the ground, tied his horse to the fence in less
time than it takes to tell it, and followed the excited boy across the
field and down the bank.

After working over the little fellow about half an hour he brought him
back to consciousness, and at the end of another half hour Jimmy was
well enough to be taken to his home. He was very weak, and two large
boys walked beside him, supporting him by the arms, while all the
others followed in a half-mournful, half-joyful procession.

"I wonder if Jimmy's father will lick him for being drowned," said Tom
Kennedy.




CHAPTER III.

BATTLE ROYAL.


Winter came to Montpelier, and with it frost, snow, and a new school
year.

The first snowfall was in the night, and by noon of the next day it was
soft enough to pack, presenting an opportunity for fun such as American
boys never forego. Big or little, studious or indolent, every one of
those whose acquaintance we have made in the preceding pages, together
with many of their schoolmates whom we have not named, took up handfuls
of the cold, white substance, fashioned them into balls, and tried his
skill at throwing. It is the Yankee form of carnival, and woe to him
who fails to take the pelting good-naturedly.

That day the fun was thickest at the orchard near the schoolhouse. Half
a dozen boys, partly sheltered by the low stone wall, were considered
to be in a fort which a dozen others were attacking. At first it was
every man for himself, "load and fire at will," but as the contest grew
hotter (if that term will do for a snow battle) it was necessary to
organize the work a little. So the smaller boys were directed to give
their attention entirely to the making of balls, which the larger ones
threw with more accuracy and force. One boy, having a notion to vary
the game with an experiment, rolled up a ball twice as large as his
head, managed to creep up to the wall with it, and then threw it up
into the air so that it came down inside the fort. When it came down it
landed on the head and shoulders of Teddy Hawkins, broke into a
beautiful shower, and for a moment almost buried him out of sight. This
feat of military skill received its appropriate applause, but the
author of it had to pay the cost. Before he could get back to his own
lines he was a target for every marksman in the fort, and at least half
a dozen balls hit him, at all of which he laughed--with the exception
of the one that broke on his neck and dropped its fragments inside his
collar.

When there was a lull in the contest a boy looked over the wall and
hailed the besiegers with:

"Boys, see who's coming up the road!"

A tall man who carried a book under his arm and apparently was in deep
thought was approaching. This was Pangborn, the schoolmaster, fresh
from college, still a hard student, and assumed by the boys to be their
natural enemy from the simple fact that he had come there to be their
teacher.

When he appeared at this interesting moment there was no need of any
formal proclamation of truce between the contending forces. The
instinct of the country schoolboy suggested the same thought probably
to every one, whether besieger or besieged. The word passed along,
"Make a lot of them, quick! and make them hard."

The little fellows whose hands were red and stinging with cold worked
with double energy, and the larger ones ceased throwing at one another,
stepped back to places where they were not so likely to be seen from
the road, and by common consent formed an ambush for the unsuspecting
teacher.

When he came within range a ball thrown by George Dewey, which knocked
off his cap, was the signal for a general attack, and the next minute
he thought himself in the center of a hailstorm, the hailstones being
as large as country newspapers ever represent them. After the first
sensation of bewilderment, he realized the situation, and being a man
of quick wit, with some experience of boys, he saw what was the one
proper thing to do.

Coolly laying down his book on his cap where it rested on the snow, and
paying little attention to the balls that were still whizzing round
him, he proceeded to make five or six, as round and solid as could be
desired. Then, looking for the leader of the attack, and recognizing
him in Dewey, he charged upon that youngster and delivered every ball
with unerring aim. It was so good an exhibition of marksmanship that
all the other combatants stood still and looked on, their appreciation
of all good throwing balancing their repugnance to all teachers.

When he had delivered his last ball, which Master Dewey received
courageously and good-naturedly in the breast, Mr. Pangborn picked up
his book and his hat and resumed his walk, the small boys now coming to
the front and sending their feeble shots after him.

"I'm afraid he's game," said Tom Kennedy.

"I'm not afraid of it, I'm glad of it," said Sim Nelson. "I want him to
be game. Of course we must try to lick him, before the term's over, but
I hope we won't succeed. I want the school to go on, and want to learn
something. This may be my last winter, for I've got to go to a trade
pretty soon. I was just getting a good start last winter. I was nearly
through fractions when we licked old Higgins and he gave up the
school."

"Then why do we lick the teacher at all?" said Sammy Atkinson.

"I suppose it wouldn't answer not to," said Sim. "What would the boys
over in the Myers district say if we didn't give him a tug?"

"The boys in the Myers district tried it with their teacher last week,
and got licked unmercifully," said Bill Ammon.

"At any rate," said Sim, "it appears to be an old and settled fashion.
Father had a visit last night from a schoolmate, and they were talking
over old times, and I heard them give a lively description of a fight
with a teacher. After they had driven out three men in three winters,
the trustees engaged a woman teacher. She was tall and strong, and not
afraid of anything. Of course they couldn't fight her, because she was
a woman; but all the same she laced those boys with a rawhide whenever
they broke the rules. But father said she hadn't much education; she
never took them beyond simple fractions, because she didn't understand
arithmetic beyond that point herself. When they got there she would
say, 'I think now we ought to take some review lessons; I believe in
thoroughness.' And in the reading class she taught them to say
So'-crates and Her'-cules, instead of Soc'-ra-tes and Her'-cu-les.
Father said the boys learned lots of obedience that winter, but nothing
else."

"Well, of course," said Teddy Hawkins--and his words were slow, because
he was trying at the same time to bite off the end of a big stick of
Spanish licorice--"if it was the custom of our forefathers--we must
keep it up. But we want a good boy--to lead the fight and manage it. If
we do it--in a helter-skelter way--we'll--get--licked."

"Certainly!" said Sim. "And that may be the result of it any way.
Dewey's the fellow to lead the crowd and take charge of it. What do you
say--will you do it, George?"

"If he does anything that we ought to lick him for, I will," said
George. "But if you're going to be the ones to pick the quarrel, you
may count me out."

The next day the teacher brought a mysterious parcel and laid it in his
desk without undoing it. He had had charge of the school only a week,
and by overlooking many occurrences that might have been taken as a
deliberate challenge, he had hoped to make the boys see for themselves
that he bore them no ill-will. His forbearance had been taken for
timidity, and many of his pupils saw in the tall young graduate only
another victim who was destined very soon to follow the vanquished
teacher of the preceding winter.

Contrary to their expectations, Mr. Pangborn opened the school as
usual, and made no allusion to the snowballing affair.

The first class was ordered to take position before his desk. As they
filed past, one of the boys, extending his foot, tripped another. The
boy that was tripped made a great fuss about it, fell unnecessarily
over a bench, and professed to be hurt both in mind and in body.

Mr. Pangborn called the aggressor before him and said:

"I was willing to pass over what occurred yesterday at the orchard, and
I had no intention of informing your parents about it. I recognize the
fact that you are boys, and I know that boys like fun and must have it.
If you sometimes misplace your fun and overdo it, and act like
highwaymen instead of good, healthy, civilized boys, if it is outside
the schoolhouse and school hours I have no more to say about it than
any other citizen. But when you're here you've got to behave
yourselves. I will say no more about what has just occurred, but at the
least sign of any further riot or misbehavior I'll put a stop to it in
a way that you'll remember, and this will help me."

With that he opened the parcel and displayed a large new rawhide.

For a few seconds there was a dead silence in the room. Then a boy in
one of the back seats--it was George Dewey--stood up and said:

"Mr. Pangborn, I want to tell you what I think about that, and I guess
most of the boys think as I do. If they don't, I hope you'll let them
say what they do think. You've been giving us sums in proportion, and
my father tells me I must try to apply everything I learn. If I do
anything wrong I'm willing to be licked according; but I don't want to
take a big thrashing for a little thing. I don't believe any boy in
this school will do anything bad enough to deserve that rawhide; you
can't give any but the biggest thrashings with it. And so if you
attempt to use it at all we'll all turn in and lick you."

[Illustration: A schoolroom episode.]

"You've made quite a good show of argument, George," said the teacher,
"and I like to have a boy exercise his reasoning powers--that's one
thing I'm here to teach you. But there is a serious fault or two in
your statement of the case. In the first place, no boy is obliged to do
any wrong, little or great; he is at perfect liberty to obey all the
rules and behave like a gentleman, and if he does so he'll not be
touched by this rawhide or anything else. If he chooses to break the
rules he knows beforehand what it will cost him, and he has no right to
complain. In the second place, the trustees have not put you here to
govern the school or judge how it ought to be governed. They have
employed me for that; and I intend to do what I have agreed to do and
am paid for doing. I have come here to teach the school, but I can't
teach without order and obedience on the part of the pupils; and order
and obedience I will have--pleasantly if I can, forcibly if I must. If
you had stopped, George, at the end of your argument, I should stop
here with my answer, and should praise you for having reasoned out the
case as well as you could, though you did not arrive at the right
conclusion. Nothing will please me better than for the boys to
cultivate a habit of doing their own thinking and learn to think
correctly. You will always find me ready to listen to reason. But you
did not stop at the end of your argument; you added a threat to attack
me with the whole school to help you and overcome me. Whatever you may
say of big and little faults, you have now committed one of the
greatest. If I passed over such a breach of discipline, my usefulness
here would be at an end. Unless I am master there can be no school. If
you see the justice of this and are manly enough to acknowledge it, you
may simply stand up and apologize for your threat, and then we'll go on
with the lessons as if nothing had happened. If not, of course you must
take the consequences."

"I don't know how to apologize," said George, "and I'm not going to."

"Then step out here," said the teacher, as he took up the rawhide.

The boy went forward at once, with his fists clenched and his eyes
blazing.

Mr. Pangborn saw there was good stuff in him, if only it were properly
cultivated, and could not repress a feeling of admiration for his
courage.

"Now let's see you strike me," said George.

The next instant the rawhide came down across his shoulders, and with a
cry of rage the boy threw himself upon his teacher, fighting like a
terrier.

Then five or six of the larger boys came to George's aid; most of the
smaller ones followed them; those who were not anxious to fight did
their part by yelling, overthrowing desks, and spilling ink; and the
whole place was in a hideous uproar. They charged upon the teacher from
all sides, but he held fast to Dewey's collar with one hand while he
plied the rawhide with the other. The largest boy, who had received a
stinging cut across the face, got a stick from the wood-box and let it
fly at the master's head, which it narrowly missed. Feeling that his
life might be in danger, Mr. Pangborn picked up the stick and waded
into the crowd, using it as a policeman uses his club. The boy who had
thrown it was toppled over with a blow on the head, and in three
minutes all the others were driven out of the schoolhouse, some of them
feeling a little lame about the shoulders and sides--all except Dewey,
on whom the teacher had not relaxed his grip. He now resumed the
rawhide and gave the boy as much more as he thought he deserved.

A little later they left the house together and walked up the street to
Dr. Dewey's office, where the boy was turned over to his father, with a
brief statement of the circumstances. Dr. Dewey thanked the teacher for
what he had done, and the lesson to George was complete.

The next morning George was in his seat at the tap of the bell, and
throughout the day he was as orderly and studious as could be desired.
When the session was over and the teacher was leaving the house, he
found the boy waiting for him at the door. George extended his hand and
said:

"Father and I talked that matter all over, and we both came to the
conclusion that you did exactly right. I thank you for it."

From that time Zenas K. Pangborn and George Dewey were fast friends.




CHAPTER IV.

EDUCATION AT NORWICH.


A year later George Dewey left the school and went to the Morrisville
Academy, and there also Mr. Pangborn's teachings stood him in good
stead. His aptitude in sports always made Dewey a favorite with his
companions. He was one of the fastest runners and the best skaters, and
he had the knack of doing everything he did quickly and neatly, in the
way that shows the properly balanced relations between mind and eye and
body. He acted as he thought--quickly and surely--and he was certain to
resent any insult or infringement of what he considered his rights.

Dr. Dewey had been thinking over his son's future, and had decided upon
sending George to West Point, although even at this time the boy's
inclinations turned more strongly to the other branch of the service.
Yet he did not strenuously object, and so after a year at Morrisville
he was sent to Norwich University at Northfield, Vermont.

Norwich University stands on a plateau above the town of Northfield. It
is a fine old place, with a wide parade-ground extending before the
buildings, and back of it are the brick barracks that contain the
cadets' quarters and the armory and recitation rooms. Everything was
managed in military fashion, and there was no better school in which to
fit a boy for the life and habits of a soldier. It was in the year 1851
that George Dewey became a pupil there, and from the day of his coming
he manifested the powers of leadership that afterward distinguished
him.

Four or five young fellows in uniform were seated in one of the rooms
in the South Barrack. They belonged to the second-year men, and the
second year at any institution of learning is perhaps the crucial one.
If a boy gets into any mischief that is serious, it is generally in his
second year. The doings of the sophomore have cost many a dollar out of
the college treasury, to pay for stolen gates and burned fences,
smashed lamp-posts and injured constables. And it was so with the
second year's men at Norwich.

"Where's Doc. Dewey?" asked one of the boys. "We must get him into the
scheme, or the whole thing will fall through."

"If any of you fellows want to see Doc. Dewey, all you've got to do is
to come to the window," said a boy who was gazing out on the parade
ground.

At the farther end a solitary figure was patrolling up and down,
turning at the end of his beat about a large elm that stood in the
corner of the campus. The punishments at Norwich were of a military
character, and extra sentry duty was the reward for any breach of
discipline.

"I ought to be the one doing all that marching," said one of the boys,
"for George only tried to get me out of the scrape, but he wouldn't let
me tell."

"Well, he'll be off in half an hour," said another, "and we'll meet in
his rooms. What do you say?"

"So say we all of us," was the return. "We can hatch up the scheme
there better than anywhere else."

In a few minutes the party broke up, to meet later in a room down the
hallway.

Across the Connecticut River, which skirts the town of Northfield, is
the town of Hanover, the seat of old Dartmouth College. From time
immemorial the greatest rivalry had existed between the two
institutions, and in the years that preceded the civil war this feeling
had almost grown into a feud, and for a member of either institution to
cross the river was to enter the enemy's country, with all the
attendant risk. Only three or four evenings previously Dewey and one of
the other cadets had boldly crossed the bridge and appeared in the
Hanover streets in broad daylight. It had not taken long for the news
to reach the ears of a few of the Dartmouth sophomores, who were
spoiling for a row, and soon Dewey and his companions had found out
that they were followed. But it was not until they had reached the
entrance to the bridge that there was any sign of trouble. There, sure
enough, they saw four of the Dartmouth belligerents waiting for them.
An old farmer, crossing the bridge from Hanover to Northfield, was
driving a pair of rather skittish horses that were prancing as they
heard the rattling of the boards beneath their feet. It was almost time
for the evening assembly, and if the boys were to be prompt they must
not be stopped, although such, it was plain, was the intention of the
Dartmouth boys who were awaiting them. They asked the farmer if he
would give them a ride, and he declined; but they had jumped into the
wagon, and, when near the spot where their four enemies had lined
across the causeway, one of the cadets leaned forward and, picking up
the whip, struck the two horses across their backs. This was all they
needed; the Dartmouth boys had barely time to jump aside when the team
went tearing by. But it was easier to get the young horses going than
to stop them. The rattling of the bridge frightened them more and more,
and the people on the streets of Northfield were surprised to see a
runaway come roaring into town with an old man and two hatless cadets
hauling at the reins without result. It was fortunate that no harm was
done, and the horses were stopped halfway up the hill that leads to the
University; but the president had seen and recognized the two uniformed
figures, and that was one reason why Doc. Dewey was walking about the
old elm on this fine spring day.

The evening before, one of the cadets had returned from a nocturnal
excursion across the river with his coat torn and a story of being
badly treated. Revenge was being planned, and the plotters had chosen
Dewey as their leader for the coming expedition that was meant to teach
the Dartmouth fellows a lesson. This expedition resulted in a lively
encounter, in which, though outnumbered, the Norwich boys are said to
have been victorious. In the traditions of the school it is known as
the Battle of the Torn Coats.

In Dewey's last year at Norwich the faculty procured two fine
six-pounder howitzers, with limbers, to replace the old iron guns at
which the cadets had been exercised. When they arrived, the cadets took
down the old guns and brought up the new ones from the railway station.
As boys naturally would, they divided into two parties and made a
frolic of the occasion. It was tedious work getting the guns out of the
car, but as soon as they were out and limbered up the fun began. One of
the cadets has told the story very prettily in his diary.

"Ainsworth and Munson chose squads to draw them to the parade. I
chanced to be in Ainsworth's squad. Ainsworth's squad wanted to lead,
but as Munson's squad had the road ahead and we were at the side and in
sandy gutters, it was doubtful how we were to do it. They started off
with a fine spurt, getting a big lead. Going up the hill where the road
was broader we steadily gained until only the length of the trail in
the rear; then we gathered and started on a run, passing and keeping
the lead, with cheers and great glee. Climbing the hill, we proceeded
more slowly, Munson quietly in the rear, on our way round the North
Barracks and then through the usual gateway to position. As we entered
the village near the southeast corner of the parade, we noticed
Munson's squad, apparently under the lead of Dewey, making for a short
cut across the grounds, first breaking down the fence for passage. Now
our efforts were redoubled, and the boys of the other squad declare
that they never saw fellows run as we ran, or expect to see a gun jump
as that six-pounder bounded along the main street and around the
corner. But we led; round the North Barracks at double quick went gun
and gun squad, entered the barrack yard and placed the gun in position
before the west front of the South Barracks, giving three cheers for
No. 1 to the chagrin of No. 2, just approaching position. It was a
great race and pleased the faculty exceedingly."

This was only one of many episodes that prevented life at Norwich from
being dull for the boys, and sweetened their memories in after time,
though not assisting directly in any useful branch of education.




CHAPTER V.

LIFE AT ANNAPOLIS.


When Dr. Dewey had consented to his son's wishes for a naval education,
the next step was to secure his appointment to a cadetship at the
Academy at Annapolis. Each member of Congress has the privilege of
appointing a candidate when there is no cadet from his district in the
Academy; and the President has ten appointments at large, besides one
for the District of Columbia. The giving of these appointments after a
competitive examination was not so common forty years ago as it is now.
They were almost invariably bestowed arbitrarily, according to the
Congressman's personal relations with those who sought them or his idea
of his own political interests. But it was of little use to appoint a
boy who could not pass the mental and physical entrance examinations.
George Dewey obtained an appointment, but only as alternate. The first
place was given to a schoolmate two years older than he, George B.
Spalding. For some reason Spalding, though a bright boy, failed to
pass, while the alternate answered the requirements and was admitted to
the Academy. Mr. Spalding was graduated two years later at the
University of Vermont, studied theology at Andover, and has had a
creditable career as a clergyman and legislator. It is said that only
about forty per cent of the appointees are able to pass the entrance
examinations, and of those who are admitted, only about half finish the
course.

Dewey entered the Academy September 23, 1854, being then in his
seventeenth year. He was born December 26, 1837. The number of cadets
was then one hundred and sixty, the curriculum had been recently
remodeled for a four-years' course, and the first class under the new
regulation was graduated that year. Captain Louis M. Goldsborough
(afterward rear admiral) was the superintendent.

The classes are designated by numbers, the lowest (corresponding to
freshmen in a college) being called the fourth. The cadets (or
midshipmen, as they were then called; that term is no longer in use)
were under the immediate charge of an officer called the Commandant of
Midshipmen. He ranked next to the superintendent, and was the executive
officer of the institution and the instructor in seamanship, gunnery,
and naval tactics. He had three assistants. There were eight
professorships--Mathematics; Astronomy, Navigation and Surveying;
Natural and Experimental Philosophy; Field Artillery and Infantry
Tactics; Ethics and English Studies; French; Spanish; and Drawing.

The examinations of all the classes were held in February and June. A
very strict record was kept of the conduct of every student; and after
the June examination those in the second class who had not received
more than a hundred and fifty demerit marks during the year were
furloughed till October, while the others were at once embarked for the
annual practice cruise. This appears like a great number of demerit
marks for even the worst student to receive, but some offenses were
punished with more than one mark. Thus, for neglect of orders or
overstaying leave of absence the penalty was ten marks; for having a
light in one's room after taps, eight; for absence from parade or roll
call, six; for slovenly dress, four, etc. Any cadet who received more
than two hundred demerits in a year was dropped from the rolls; and it
was optional with the superintendent to dismiss a cadet from the
service for being intoxicated or having liquor in his possession; for
going beyond the limits of the institution without permission; for
giving, carrying, or accepting a challenge; for playing at cards or any
game of chance in the Academy; for offering violence or insult to a
person on public duty; for publishing anything relating to the Academy;
or for any conduct unbecoming a gentleman.

The daily routine of the Academy is of interest as showing to what
discipline the cadets were subjected, and what habits of promptness,
regularity, and accuracy were cultivated. Marshall's History of the
Academy shows us what it was at that time, and it is still practically
the same.

The morning gun-fire and reveille with the beating of the drum was at
6.15 A.M., or at 6.30, according to the season. Then came the police of
quarters and inspection of rooms. The roll call was at 6.45 or at 7.15,
according to the season. From December 1st to March 1st the later hour
was the one observed. Chapel service followed, and afterward breakfast
at 7 or at 7.30. The sick call was thirty minutes after breakfast. Then
the cadets had recreation till 8 o'clock, when the study and recitation
hours began.

Section formations took place in the front hall of the third floor,
under the supervision of the officer of the day, who, as well as the
section leaders, was responsible for preservation of silence and order.
When the signal was given by the bugle, the sections were marched to
their recitation rooms. They marched in close order, in silence, and
with strict observance of military decorum. Whenever a section left its
recitation room it was marched by its leader to the third floor, and
there dismissed.

Study alternated or intervened with recitations until one o'clock, when
the signal for dinner was given. The cadets were again formed in order
by the captains of crews, and marched into the mess hall. The
organization was into ten guns' crews, for instruction in seamanship
and gunnery, and for discipline. The captains of crews, when at the
mess table, repressed promptly all disorderly conduct, unbecoming
language, and unnecessary noise. They enforced perfect silence among
their guns' crews until the order "Seats!" had been given. Then
conversation was permitted. Silence was enforced again after the order
"Rise!" until the crews reached the main hall. At all times, in
mustering their crews, the captains were required to call the names in
the lowest tone that would secure attention. They were required to
report any irregularity in uniform or untidiness which they perceived
at any formation, as well as any infraction of regulations, disregard
of orders, or other impropriety.

The Professor of Field Artillery and Infantry Tactics was inspector of
the mess hall, and presided at the mess table. He had charge of the
police and order of the mess hall, in which duty he was assisted by the
officer of the day and the captains of crews. Each student had a seat
assigned to him at table, which he could not change without the
sanction of the inspector of the mess hall; and no student must appear
at meals negligently dressed.

Thirty minutes were allowed for breakfast, and the same time for
supper. Forty minutes were allowed for dinner.

After dinner the young gentlemen had recreation again until two
o'clock, when the afternoon study and recitation hours began. These
continued until four o'clock, followed by instruction in the art of
defense, infantry or artillery drill, and recreation until parade and
roll call at sunset. Supper followed immediately; then recreation and
call to evening studies at 6.25 or 6.55, according to the season. Study
hours continued until tattoo at half past nine, which was a signal for
extinguishing lights and inspection of rooms. After "taps" at ten
o'clock no lights were allowed in any part of the students' quarters,
except by authority of the superintendent.

On the school-ship attached to the Academy there was another set of
rules and regulations, concerning duty, conduct, and etiquette, so
minute and exacting that one would think it was a liberal education
merely to learn them all, to say nothing of obeying them daily and
hourly. Here are the greater part of them:

At reveille the midshipmen will immediately turn out, arrange their
bedding, and taking the lashing from the head clews of their hammocks,
where it was neatly coiled the night before, will lash up their
hammocks, taking seven taut turns at equal distances, and tucking in
their clews neatly. They will then place their hammocks under their
right arms, and first captains will give the order, "Stand by your
hammocks, No. -- forward, march!" at which order they will proceed in
line, by their allotted ladders, to their allotted places in their
respective nettings; when there, they will in order deliver their
hammocks to those appointed to receive them. Each first captain
delivering his hammock and falling back, will face the line of his
gun's crew, and see that proper order is maintained; each midshipman,
after delivering his hammock, will fall back, facing outboard, forming
line from first captain aft. When all are stowed, the first captains,
each at the head of his crew, will face them in the direction of their
ladder, and march them to the wash room--odd-numbered crews on
starboard, even numbers on port side of the wash room. Towels will be
marked and kept in their places, over each respective basin. No one
will leave the wash room until marched out; three guns' crews will wash
at the same time, and each week the numbers will be changed. When
ready, the first captains will march their crews to their places on the
berth deck, where they will dismiss them.

Guns' crews Nos. 1 and 2 stow hammocks in forward netting--No. 2 on
port, and No. 1 on starboard side; Nos. 3, 5, and 7 in starboard, and
Nos. 4, 6, and 8 in port quarter-deck nettings, lowest numbers of each
crew stowing forward.

Nos. 1 and 2 guns' crews leave berth deck by fore-hatch ladders, Nos. 3
and 4 by main-hatch ladders, Nos. 5 and 6 by after-hatch ladders, and
Nos. 7 and 8 by steerage ladders, each on their respective sides, and
each march to their allotted places on spar deck.

Twelve minutes from the close of reveille (which will be shown by three
taps on the drum) are allowed for lashing hammocks and to leave the
berth deck.

The guns' crews will form in two ranks, at their respective places on
gun deck: Nos. 1, 3, 5, and 7 on port side, and Nos. 2, 4, 6, and 8 on
starboard side; first and second captains on the right of their crews,
officer in charge, and adjutant forward of mainmast. Officer of the day
and superintendents forward of main hatch, fronting officer in charge;
when formed they will be faced to the front, and dressed by first
captains by the orders, "Front; right dress." The adjutant then gives
the order, "Muster your crews!" when each first captain, taking one
step to the front, faces the line of his crew, second captain stepping
forward into his interval; first captain then calls the roll from
memory, noting absentees; when finished, faces toward his place, second
captain takes backward step to his former position, and first captain
faces about to his place in the front rank; the adjutant then gives the
order, "First captains front and center!" First captains take one full
step to the front, and face the adjutant's position, second captains
filling intervals as before; the adjutant then gives the order,
"March!" at which captains march in direction of the adjutant, forming
in line abreast of him. The adjutant then gives the order, "Front!
report!" The captains report all present, thus: "All present, No. 1!"
or, if any are absent, thus: "---- absent, No. 1!" First captain of
No. 1 will begin in a short, sharp, and intelligible tone, making the
salute when he has finished, which will be the signal for first captain
of No. 2 to report, and so on to the last. The adjutant then gives the
order, "Posts! march!" the first captains facing, at the order "posts!"
in the direction of their crews, advance at the word "march!" to their
places in the ranks. The adjutant then reports to the officer in
charge, and receives his instructions; if there be any orders he
publishes them; he then gives the order, "Two files from the right, two
paces to the front, march!" when the two files from the right of each
rank step two paces to the front, and the adjutant gives the order,
"Battalion right dress!" The battalion dresses on the two files, and
the adjutant gives the order, "Battalion to the rear, open order,
march!" when the rear rank will take two steps to the rear, halt, and
be dressed by the second captain.

The officer in charge, with the adjutant, will proceed to inspect the
battalion. The adjutant will then give the order, "Rear rank, close
order, march!" when the rear rank will take two steps forward. The
adjutant then gives the order, "Officer of the day and superintendents,
relieve!" at which the officer of the day and superintendents of the
day previous will face about, and pass the orders to their reliefs, the
officer of the day delivering his side arms; they will then take
position in their respective crews.

When the officer of the day and superintendents of the day previous
have taken their places in their crews, the adjutant gives the order,
"March to breakfast!" the first captains will direct their crews by
their respective ladders to their respective mess tables. On arriving
at the mess tables, each first captain will take position in rear of
his camp stool, at the after end of the table, second captain taking
the forward end, and the crew taking position corresponding to their
places in the ranks; all will remain standing in rear of their
respective camp stools until the officer in charge gives the order,
"Seats!" at which word the midshipmen will place their caps under their
camp stools, and quietly take their seats. As the midshipmen at each
table shall have finished the meal, the first captain will rise and
look at the adjutant, who will acknowledge the report by raising his
right hand; the first captain will then resume his seat; when all shall
have reported, the adjutant will make it known to the officer in
charge, who, rising from his seat, will tap on the table and give the
order, "Rise!" at which order each midshipman will rise, put on his
cap, step to the rear of his camp stool, putting it in place, and
facing aft; at the order "March!" from the adjutant, first captains
will advance, followed by their crews in their proper order, and
proceed to their parade stations on the gun deck, where they will form
and dress their command, and bring them to parade rest in order for
prayers. All will take off their caps at the opening of prayers, and
put them on at the order "Attention!" at the close of prayers, from the
adjutant, who gives the order "Battalion, attention! right face, break
ranks, march!"

The hours for recitation and study were the same on board the training
ship as in quarters--from about eight o'clock in the morning to one
o'clock, and from about two o'clock in the afternoon to four o'clock.
The guns' crews were then assembled for exercise at the great guns for
an hour or more, or perhaps in infantry drill, or in practical
seamanship, including exercises with boats, the lead, log, etc. Evening
parade intervened, and after supper the fourth class were called to
their studies again. At tattoo, half past nine in the evening, the
midshipmen were required to arrange their books and papers neatly,
place their chairs under their desks, and at gun-fire form by crews,
when the officer in charge inspected the study tables. At "taps" all
must turn in, and all noise must cease at four bells.

The rules of etiquette were very minute. Here are some of them:

The midshipmen will not use the steerage ladders, the after ladder from
the gun deck, the starboard poop ladder, the starboard side of the
poop, quarter-deck, or gangway abaft No. 2 recitation room; they are
particularly enjoined to keep the starboard gangway clear. The
etiquette of the quarter-deck will be strictly observed. Officers on
coming up the quarter-deck ladders will make the salute. No running,
skylarking, boisterous conduct, or loud talking will be permitted on
the quarter-deck or poop. The midshipmen will never appear on the gun
deck or quarter-deck without their caps, jackets, and cravats. They
will, in ascending and descending the ladders, avoid the heavy step
upon them which is made by shore people; when absent in boats they will
yield implicit and prompt obedience to their captains, or those placed
in charge. It is particularly forbidden to get out of or into the ship
through the ports, or to sit on the rail of the ship. No one is
permitted to go out on the head-booms during study hours, or to go
aloft, without authorized permission. No one is permitted to go or come
from the berth deck during study hours by any other than the main-hatch
ladders. The midshipmen are forbidden to sit upon the study tables.

A young man who could go through with four years of such discipline as
this, and at the same time keep up such proficiency in his studies as
to pass the examinations, might well be supposed to be thoroughly
fitted for the duties of life. George Dewey went through with it, and
on graduation, in 1858, stood fifth in a class of fourteen. His
classmate, Captain Henry L. Howison, says of him: "In his studies Dewey
was exceedingly bright. At graduation he was No. 5 in our class and I
was No. 4, but after the rearrangement at the end of our final cruise
he was No. 4 and I was No. 5. He was a born fighter. He was just as
much of a fighter in a small way when he was a boy as he has been in a
large way as a man. His days at the Naval Academy proved this. He is
quick at the trigger and has a strong temper, but he has excellent
control over it. When a cadet he would always fight, and fight hard if
necessary, but he was never known to be in a brawl. I do not want to
convey the idea that he ever wanted to get into a row, because he
didn't. He would go a long way to get out of fighting if the affair was
none of his business. He was sure to be on the right side of every
fight, but the fight had to come to him. He did not seek it. If he saw
a quarrel on the street and he thought it the part of a gentleman to
help one or the other of the contestants, he would not hesitate a
moment about pitching in. He would go miles to help a friend who was in
trouble. He was fond of animals, and especially fond of horses. Ever
since I have known him he has gone horseback riding whenever he had a
chance, and has owned several fine animals. At the Academy he would
ride whenever he could get anything to ride. He had a fine horse when
we lived in Washington. I recall that Dewey as a lad was very fond of
music, and, indeed, quite a musician himself. He had a really good
baritone voice, nearly a tenor, and he used it well and frequently,
too. He also played the guitar well. He was no soloist, but could play
accompaniments all right."

When Dewey was in the Academy there was a special source of
misunderstanding, ill feeling, and quarrels in the heated condition of
politics and sectional jealousy; and then, as ever, it was customary
for the boys to settle their differences with their natural means of
offense and defense. Dewey did not escape the peculiar peril of those
days. There is a story to the effect that the leader of the Southern
party among the cadets made an occasion to give George an unmistakable
statement of his opinion of Yankees in general and George in
particular, whereupon he presently found himself provided with a black
eye. Then came a challenge to mortal combat, which George promptly
accepted. Seconds were chosen, and a meeting would undoubtedly have
taken place had not some of the students informed the faculty, who put
a stop to the scheme and made the boys give their word of honor to keep
the peace.

George participated in the annual practice cruises with his classmates,
and after graduation they were sent on a two-years' cruise in European
waters in the steam frigate Wabash, commanded by Captain Samuel Barron.
The ship attracted a great deal of attention in every port she visited.
Steam had been only recently adopted for naval vessels, and the
Americans had constructed a type of steam frigate that was superior to
anything in the other navies of the world. While the Wabash lay at
Malta a fine steam yacht came in from the sea and anchored near her. It
was said that she was the property of a distinguished nobleman, and was
one of the few first-class steam yachts then in existence. She excited
a great deal of curiosity among the officers of the Wabash. A few days
later Captain Barron gave out a general invitation, and many visitors
from the garrison and from British men-of-war in the harbor came to
inspect the new war ship from the West. Dewey and the other midshipmen
were on hand to assist in doing the honors, and when a kindly-looking
gentleman with a small party came up the gangway and saluted the
quarter-deck with a nautical air, George returned the salute and asked
if he could be of any service. The gentleman said he would like to see
whatever was to be seen, and the self-possessed young midshipman
proceeded to show him and his party over the vessel. When they had
nearly completed the rounds, Dewey ventured to offer his card by way of
introduction. The gentleman took out his own card and gave it in
return, and Dewey, as he glanced at it, read one of the highest names
in the British peerage. "Yes," said the gentleman, "that is my little
teakettle anchored under your quarter. I fear she'll seem rather
cramped after we go aboard of her from this." Dewey's conscience now
began to trouble him, and he insisted on taking the party to his
commanding officer, though, as he anticipated, from that moment his own
existence was ignored.

While nothing strictly historical took place in connection with this
cruise, there were many pleasant incidents and some that made strong
impressions on the young midshipmen in regard to duty and discipline.
Several Italian ports were visited, princes and ambassadors were
received on board, and courtesies were exchanged with the war vessels
of several nations. The Fourth of July and Washington's Birthday were
duly observed, and on the former occasion one of the officers read the
Declaration of Independence to the ship's company assembled on deck. At
Leghorn the Wabash ran aground, and a British merchant steamer assisted
in getting her off. At Genoa some of the petty officers and seamen got
into a street fight, in which a man was killed; and the captain sent
them all ashore next day for the civil authorities to identify the
participants. At Spezia, Dewey records in his journal, "five hundred
and fifty gallons of beans were surveyed, condemned, and thrown
overboard," furnished probably by contract. This is in striking
contrast with what afterward he was able to say concerning the supplies
of the fleet at Manila. On November 13, 1859, they sailed for home, and
on December 16th arrived at the port of New York. A little later
Midshipman Dewey was examined at Annapolis for a commission, and he not
only passed the examination, but was advanced in his relative standing.
He then received leave of absence to visit his home. He was
commissioned lieutenant April 19, 1861, and was ordered to the steam
sloop Mississippi.




CHAPTER VI.

THE BEGINNING OF WAR.


The United States navy had done little to distinguish itself since its
wonderful achievements in the War of 1812 with Great Britain. During
the Mexican War it took part in the occupation of California, and
performed what service it could in the Gulf, but there was no
opportunity for anything remarkable. Wilkes had made his exploring
expedition in Pacific and Antarctic waters; Ingraham, in the St. Louis,
had demanded and secured the release of Martin Koszta at Smyrna;
Tatnall, with his famous "blood is thicker than water," had
participated in the bombardment of the Chinese forts at Peiho; Hudson,
in the Niagara, had assisted in laying the first Atlantic cable; and
several cruisers had pursued pirates in the West Indies. But with the
exception of these occurrences the navy had done nothing to attract
popular attention for more than forty years. Yet it had quietly
accomplished much good work on the Coast Survey; and the Naval Academy
at Annapolis, from its establishment in 1845, educated officers who
gave character and efficiency to the service, and when the day of
battle came showed themselves to be worthy successors of the famous
captains who had preceded them.

A great crisis in the nation's history was now approaching, more
rapidly than any one suspected. The older statesmen were gone. Adams,
Jackson, Clay, Calhoun, and Webster, all had passed away within a
period of seven years. Their successors were men of different mold, and
the problem that had given them the most serious trouble, while
comparatively small in their day, had now grown to monstrous
proportions. The difficulty arose from the existence of two exactly
opposite systems of labor in the two parts of the country. In the
Southern States the laborers were of a different race from the
capitalists and ruling class, and were slaves; in the Northern States
all (except a very small proportion) were of the white race and all
were free. The different ideas and interests that arose from these two
different states of society had constantly tended to alienate the
people of one section from those of the other, and the frequent
clashing of these interests in the halls of legislation had obscured
the fact that in a much larger view, and for permanent reasons, the
interests and destiny of the whole country were the same. In the summer
when young Dewey was graduated at the Naval Academy, Abraham Lincoln,
then in the midst of a heated canvass on this question, said in a
speech that became famous: "I believe this Government can not endure
permanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be
dissolved, I do not expect the house to fall, but I do expect it will
cease to be divided. It will become all one thing, or all the other."
Most of the Southern statesmen, and a few of those at the North, looked
to a division of the country as the best, if not the inevitable,
solution of the problem. But against this there was a barrier greater
and more permanent than any wording of constitution or laws enacted in
the last century by a generation that had passed away. This was the
geography of our country. Mr. Lincoln did not distinctly name it as the
reason for his faith in the perpetuity of the Union, but he probably
felt it. History shows unmistakably that the permanent boundaries of a
country are the geographical ones. Conquest or diplomacy occasionally
establishes others, but they do not endure. Separate tribes or peoples,
if living within the same geographical boundaries, ultimately come
together and form one nation. Had our country been crossed from east to
west by a great river like the Amazon, or a chain of lakes like those
that separate us from Canada, or a high mountain range, the northern
and southern sections might never have come together, or would have
been easily separated into two distinct peoples. But with no such
natural line of division, and with the Mississippi running south
through the center of the country, and with railroads, telegraphs, and
other rapidly multiplying means of communication tying the sections
together, the perpetuity of the Union was a foregone conclusion,
whatever might be the arguments of the politician or the passions of
the people.

Nevertheless, the struggle had to come, whether this great
consideration was realized or not, and come it did. The Southern
statesmen were in earnest in their threat of disunion, and when Abraham
Lincoln was elected to the presidency in 1860 they proceeded to carry
it out. South Carolina passed an ordinance of secession in December,
and most of the other Southern States followed quickly, and the new
government, called the Confederate States of America, was organized at
Montgomery, Alabama, in February, 1861. They proceeded to take
possession of the United States forts, arsenals, and navy yards within
their territory, and soon had them all without firing a gun, except
those at Pensacola and Fort Sumter in Charleston harbor. The
Confederate forces erected several batteries within reach of Sumter,
and on April 12th opened fire on the fort and compelled its surrender.
This was the actual beginning of hostilities, and within twenty-four
hours the whole country, North and South, was ablaze with the war
spirit. The President called for volunteers to suppress the rebellion
and restore the national authority, and was offered several times as
many as he asked for. The South was already in arms. Many of the
military and naval officers who were from the South went with their
States, and young men who had been educated together at West Point or
Annapolis were now to take part on opposite sides in one of the
greatest conflicts the world has ever seen. In some instances brother
was against brother, and father against son.

Gideon Welles, of Connecticut, was Secretary of the Navy in President
Lincoln's cabinet. Though some of the naval officers resigned their
commissions and offered their services to the Confederacy, the vessels
of the navy, except a very few that were captured at Norfolk navy yard,
remained in the possession of the National Government. There was need
of all these and more, for a mighty task was about to be undertaken,
and there were large bodies of troops to be transported by sea, cities
to be captured, fortifications to be bombarded, and ports to be held
under blockade. This last was a most important duty, though little idea
of glory was connected with it, and popular reputations could not be
made in it; for the Southern States had very few manufactures, and for
arms, ammunition, and other necessaries they depended mainly on
importation.

At this time the United States navy was undergoing transformation. In
the more important vessels steam had been substituted for sail power,
but they were still constructed of wood, and the development of the
ironclad was just beginning. In the emergency the Government bought a
large number of merchant vessels of various kinds, including some
ferryboats, turning them into gunboats and transports, and began the
construction of ironclads. Many ironclads of light draught for use on
the western rivers were built in a hundred days. The Southerners were
almost without facilities for building vessels from the keel, but they
made two or three formidable rams and floating batteries by covering
the wooden hulls of some of the captured ships with railroad iron.

The first naval expedition of the war sailed in August, 1861, commanded
by Flag-Officer Silas H. Stringham. It consisted of ten vessels,
including two transports, carried about nine hundred soldiers, and was
directed against the forts that guarded Hatteras Inlet, North Carolina.
The troops, with some difficulty, were landed through the surf, and a
combined attack by them and the naval force reduced the defenses and
compelled their surrender with about seven hundred prisoners. The
garrisons had lost about fifty men, the assailants not one. This was
due to the fact that the work was done chiefly by rifled guns on the
vessels, which could be fired effectively while out of range of the
smooth-bore guns of the forts.

Late in October another expedition, commanded by Flag-Officer Samuel F.
Du Pont, sailed from Hampton Roads. It consisted of more than fifty
vessels, and carried twenty-two thousand men. A terrific gale was
encountered, one transport and one storeship were lost, and one gunboat
had to throw its battery overboard. When the storm was over, only one
vessel was in sight from the flagship. But the scattered fleet slowly
came together again and proceeded to its destination--the entrance to
Port Royal harbor, South Carolina. This was guarded by two forts. The
attack was made on the morning of November 7th. The main column, of ten
vessels, led by the flagship, was formed in line a ship's-length apart,
and steamed past the larger fort, delivering its fire at a distance of
eight hundred yards, and then turned and sailed past again, somewhat
closer. In this manner it steamed three times round a long ellipse,
delivering its fire alternately from the two broadsides. Some of the
gunboats got positions from which they enfiladed the work, and two of
the larger vessels went up closer and poured in a fire that dismounted
several guns. This was more than the garrison could endure, and they
evacuated the fort and were seen streaming out of it as if in panic.
The other column, of four vessels, attacked the smaller fort in the
same manner, with the same result.

[Illustration: SCENE OF THE NAVAL OPERATIONS IN THE WESTERN RIVERS.]

Meanwhile, a much larger and more important naval expedition than
either of these was planned at Washington. New Orleans was the largest
and richest city in the Confederacy. It had nearly one hundred and
seventy thousand inhabitants--more than Charleston, Mobile, and
Richmond together. In the year before the war it had shipped
twenty-five million dollars' worth of sugar and ninety-two million
dollars' worth of cotton. In these two articles its export trade was
larger than that of any other city in the world. And as a strategic
point it was of the first importance. The Mississippi has several
mouths, or passes, and this fact, with the frequency of violent gales
in the Gulf, made it very difficult to blockade commerce there.
Moreover, if possession of the Mississippi could be secured by the
national forces it would cut the Confederacy in two and render it
difficult if not impossible to continue the transportation of supplies
from Arkansas and Texas to feed the armies in Virginia and Tennessee.
Add to this the fact that any great city is a great prize in war,
highly valuable to the belligerent that holds it, and the importance of
New Orleans at that time may be readily appreciated.

The defenses of the city consisted of two forts--Jackson and St.
Philip--on either bank of the stream, thirty miles above the head of
the passes and about twice that distance below New Orleans. They were
below a bend which had received the name of English Turn, from the
circumstance that in 1814 the British naval vessels attempting to
ascend the stream had here been driven back by land batteries. The
forts were built by the United States Government, of earth and brick,
in the style that was common before the introduction of rifled cannon.
They were now garrisoned by fifteen hundred Confederate soldiers, and
above them lay a Confederate fleet of fifteen vessels, including an
ironclad ram and an incomplete floating battery that was cased in
railroad iron. Below the forts a heavy chain was stretched across the
river, supported on logs; and when it was broken by a freshet the logs
were replaced by hulks anchored at intervals across the stream, with
the chain passing over their decks and its ends fastened to trees on
the banks. A similar chain was stretched across the Hudson at the time
of the Revolutionary War. In addition to all this, two hundred
Confederate sharpshooters constantly patrolled the banks between the
forts and the head of the passes, to give notice of any approaching
foe, and fire at any one that might be seen on the deck of a hostile
vessel. The Confederate authorities fully appreciated the value of the
Crescent City. The problem before the national authorities was, how to
take that city in spite of all these barriers.




CHAPTER VII.

THE FIGHT FOR NEW ORLEANS.


Military scholarship is a good thing; military genius is sometimes a
better thing. When it was resolved by the authorities to attempt the
capture of New Orleans it was assumed that the two forts on the river
below the city must be first destroyed or compelled to surrender. The
chief engineer of the Army of the Potomac, whose ability was
unquestioned, made a long report to the Navy Department, in which,
after describing the forts and their situation, he said: "To pass these
works merely with a fleet and appear before New Orleans is merely a
raid, no capture." And in describing the exact method of attack he
said: "Those [vessels] on the Fort Jackson side would probably have to
make fast to the shore; those on the Saint Philip side might anchor."
Substantially the same view was afterward taken by Captain David D.
Porter, who was to have an important part in the enterprise. It was
also assumed that the forts could be reduced by bombardment, if this
was only heavy and persistent enough. In accordance with this idea,
twenty-one large mortars were cast for the work. They threw shells that
were thirteen inches in diameter and weighed two hundred and
eighty-five pounds. For each of these mortars a schooner was built; and
so great was the concussion of the atmosphere when one was fired, that
no man could stand near it without being literally deafened. Therefore
platforms projecting beyond the decks were provided, to which the
gunners could retreat just before each shot. The remainder of the
fleet, when finally it was mustered, was made up of six sloops of war,
sixteen gunboats, five other vessels, and transports carrying fifteen
thousand soldiers to co-operate in the attack or hold the forts and the
city after it should be captured. The number of guns in the fleet was
more than two hundred.

[Illustration: Farragut and Dewey.]

After this expedition (the most powerful that ever had sailed under the
American flag) was planned and partly organized, and the mortar
schooners nearly completed, the Navy Department looked about for a
suitable officer to command it, and Secretary Welles finally chose
Captain David G. Farragut. This officer had his own ideas of the best
way to effect the capture. He would have preferred to dispense with the
mortars, in which he had no faith; but they had been prepared at great
expense, and that part of the fleet was to be commanded by his friend
Porter, and so he accepted them, and as soon as it could be got ready
the expedition sailed from Hampton Roads.

When it arrived at the mouths of the Mississippi there was a gigantic
task to be performed before the fleet could enter the stream. An
American poet has thus described the delta of the great river:

  "Do you know of the dreary land,
     If land such region may seem,
   Where 'tis neither sea nor strand,
   Ocean nor good dry land,
     But the nightmare marsh of a dream--
   Where the mighty river his death-road takes,
   Mid pools and windings that coil like snakes--
   A hundred leagues of bayous and lakes--
     To die in the great Gulf Stream?"

There are five mouths or passes, spread out like the fingers of a hand.
Of course no one of them was as large and deep as the river above, and
the entrance of each was obstructed by a bar. The smaller
vessels--mortar schooners and gunboats--were taken in without
difficulty, but the larger ones required enormous labor to get them
over the bar. The Mississippi--of which Captain Melancton Smith was the
commander, and Lieutenant George Dewey the executive officer--was
lightened of everything that could be taken off, and even then had to
be dragged over by tugboats, with her keel a foot deep in the mud. She
was the only side-wheel war vessel in the fleet. It required two weeks'
labor to get the Pensacola in; and the Colorado could not be taken in
at all, as she drew seven feet more of water than there was on the bar.

The masts of the mortar schooners were dressed off with bushes so that
they could not be distinguished easily from the trees along the shore;
and as soon as they were moored in their chosen position the
bombardment was begun. The forts could not be seen from them, and the
gunners fired with a computed aim, throwing the immense shells high
into the air, that they might fall almost perpendicularly into the
forts and explode. The bombardment was kept up steadily for six days
and nights, nearly six thousand shells being thrown. They fell in and
around the fortifications, destroyed buildings, cut the levee, and
killed fourteen men and wounded thirty-nine. It is said that in modern
warfare a man's weight in lead is fired for every man that is killed;
in this instance about sixteen tons of iron were thrown for every man
that was injured. The main object, however, was not to disable the
garrisons, but to dismount the guns and render the fortifications
useless; and this result was not accomplished. The forts and their
armaments were in almost as good condition for service as ever.

Meanwhile, Farragut had made up his mind that to anchor abreast of
these fortifications and attack them would simply be to lose his
vessels. It is only in its ability to keep moving that a war ship (at
least a wooden one, and there was not an ironclad in this fleet) has an
advantage over land works of equal armament. To surrender this
advantage at the beginning is to lose the fight at the end.
Furthermore, he believed that as the sole purpose of the forts was to
protect the city, if he could lay the city under his guns the forts
would be abandoned. Consequently, in spite of the advice of the eminent
army engineer and his friend and brother officer, Porter, he determined
to pass the forts with his whole fleet (except the mortar schooners)
and appear before New Orleans.

This was a new thing in warfare, and it is important to note it here,
because George Dewey, who had been promoted to a lieutenancy at the
beginning of the war, was in that fleet, and Farragut was his
instructor as well as his commander.

The passage was to be made in the night, and Farragut--who had learned
to perform every duty that is ever required on shipboard, except those
of the surgeon--gave in his general orders minute instructions for
every preparation, and suggested that the officers and crew of each
vessel add any other precautions that their ingenuity might devise.

[Illustration: Whitewashing the decks.]

Every man in the fleet was busy. In the forecastle of the Mississippi a
group of sailors were making splinter nettings, criticising the
arrangements for the attack, and speculating as to the result.

"What's Bill Ammon going to do with that white paint?" said one.

"He's going to paint the gun deck," answered a comrade.

"What! paint it white?"

"Yes, white."

"What's that for? To make us a better target for the reb gunners?"

"It's to make it so that we can see what we're about, and find things
when we need them."

"That seems to say we're going up in the night," said the first
speaker.

"You've hit it," said another; "that's exactly what we are in for."

"Whose idea is this of painting the decks?" asked a fourth.

"Bill pretends it's his," said the boatswain's mate. "He thinks it's a
great idea. But I was by when he got his orders, and I know it
originated with Dewey."

"I don't care where the idea came from," said the sailmaker, "I don't
admire it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's just the wrong thing. The boys on the Pensacola and the
Oneida are rubbing the decks over with mud, so that the Johnnies will
have a hard time to distinguish them. I think that's the true idea."

"I can't agree with you there," said the boatswain's mate. "As soon as
we get fairly into it the smoke will be so thick that the Johnnies
can't see through it very perfectly anyway. And that's just when we
want to see everything on our own deck."

"It may be so," grumbled the sailmaker; "but if it comes to that, old
Dewey'd better have the river whitewashed, so that he can see to con
the ship."

This bit of sailor wit created laughter, of which the little company
were in much need, for some of them were not at all hopeful of the
coming contest.

"He'll con the ship all right," said another sailor, who had not spoken
before, and who answered to the nickname of Slippery Sim (his real name
being Simeon Nelson). "I knew him in Montpelier, and I know you can
depend on him every time."

"In Montpelier?" said the boatswain's mate. "Why, that was about Bill
Ammon's latitude and longitude, if my reckoning's right."

"It was, exactly," said Nelson.

"Then he ought to have known Dewey too," said the boatswain's mate.

"Know him?" said Nelson. "I should say he did know him. The most famous
of all the fights that ever took place among our boys was between him
and Dewey."

"Did you see it?" said the sailmaker eagerly.

"I did," said Nelson in an impressive tone. "I had the honor of holding
Ammon's coat."

"And which licked?" asked the sailmaker.

"Hold on!" said the boatswain's mate. "Don't answer that question.
Never spoil a good story by telling it stern foremost. Give us the
whole narratyve from beginning to end, and don't let us know which
licked till you get to the very last. If those two fellows were at it,
I know it must have been a tug. A good description of it ought to brace
us up for the lively fight that's before us."

"Yes," said another, "it may be the last story that some of us will
ever hear."

"Don't be down-hearted, Ned," said the first speaker. "I've sailed with
old Farragut nearly eighteen years, and I know he'll pull us through."

"I haven't any doubt that he'll pull the fleet through all right," said
Ned. "But even a victorious fleet generally has a few red spots on the
decks, and not so many gunners when it comes out as when it went in.
It's all right, of course. I'm not finding fault, and I'm not any more
afraid than I ought to be. I expect to stand up and do my duty, as I
know the rest of you will. But a man can't help being a human creature,
with human feelings, if he _is_ a sailor; and when he's killed he's
just as much killed, and all his pretty plans spoiled, whether it's in
a victory or in a defeat."

"That's all true enough, Ned," said the boatswain's mate; "but what we
want to cultivate just now is the spirit of fight, not the spirit of
philosophy. Save your philosophy till after the battle, and then you'll
have plenty of good company, for then everybody will be philosophizing
about it."

"They will, indeed," said the sailmaker, "and a good many of them will
be telling how they could have managed it better that we did. The great
trouble in this war is that so many of our best generals and admirals
who ought to be in the field or on shipboard have jobs in barber shops
that they don't like to give up, or can't be spared from country stores
and newspaper offices."

"Oh, belay your sarcasm," said the boatswain's mate. "Let's have the
story of the big fight between Dewey and Ammon, Sim."

Thereupon Nelson gave a minute and graphic account of that schoolboy
contest.

"I don't see," said Ned, "why Bill Ammon never has mentioned that he
was a schoolmate of Dewey's. I should think he would be proud of it."

"The reason is plain enough," said the sailmaker. "He was afraid that
might lead up to the story of this fight. Probably he would be quite
willing that it should remain untold."

"Well, whatever he was in school days," said Ned, "Bill's a pretty good
fellow now; and I don't see that he has much to be ashamed of. It seems
he put up a good stiff fight then, and I think he'll do his duty with
the best of us now."

"Yes, that's so!" responded two or three.

"Talking about that whitewashing," said the sailor who had opened the
conversation, "I think it's all right enough, but it seems to me it
might have been applied where it would have done still more good."

"Where's that, Tom?" said the boatswain's mate.

"I suppose you know," said Tom, "that the Itasca and Pinola went up
last night to break the chain and make an opening for the fleet to pass
through. Caldwell did that all right. But it's going to be a mighty
hard matter to steer these big sea-going vessels through that narrow
place in the current of a river like this and in the smoke of battle.
The thing I'm most afraid of is that some one of our ships will get
tangled up among those hulks, and then the rebs can just pound her as
if they had her in a mortar. Suppose the ship at the head of the line
should get caught across the opening, where would the whole fleet be
then?"

"Of course there is great risk," said the boatswain's mate, "but how
are you going to avoid it? They took up a new-fangled torpedo to blow
up some of the hulks and make a wider opening, but the thing wouldn't
work. Those machines that are to go off under water seldom do work."

"I was thinking," said Tom, "that if they had whitewashed the decks of
the hulks next to the opening it would go far to prevent such an
accident."

"You didn't go up there with Caldwell, and neither did your brother,"
said the sailmaker. "If you had, I don't think you'd have been anxious
to whitewash anything and make yourselves a better target for the
sharpshooters on shore. Our men were fired on all the while as it was."

"I think I could have managed it," said Tom.

"Tell us how."

"I would have taken up some buckets of white paint--I see you smile,
but you've got ahead of your reckoning. No, I wasn't going to say I'd
take some brushes along and make a nice job painting the decks. I'd
keep the buckets covered up till just as we were ready to come away,
and then I'd simply overturn them on the decks and push off. That would
whiten them enough to help our pilots through."

"I'm not sure but that's a good idea," said another sailor.

"Is it?" said the boatswain's mate. "I guess you've never sailed with
Caldwell or Dewey. If you had you'd know that either of them would be
more horrified at the idea of any such sloppy work, even on the deck of
an old hulk, than at doubling the risk of his ship. They're dandies,
both of 'em."

"If anything gets afoul of the hulks," remarked a sailor who had not
spoken before, "it will probably be this old spinning wheel. The
Secretary of the Navy that ordered a side-wheeler for a war ship must
have been born and brought up in the backwoods. If we could have got
the Colorado over the bar I wouldn't be here. She's the ship we ought
to have if we're going to knock those forts to pieces."

"I'm not sure that the largest ships are the best for this work," said
the sailmaker. "This whole fleet was built for sea service, and it's
out of place in a river like this."

"Of course it's a loss not to have the Colorado with us," said the
boatswain's mate. "But the best thing that was aboard of her _is_ with
us."

"What's that?" said several.

"That old sea dog Bailey," answered the boatswain's mate. "He's no
dandy, but he knows what to do with a ship in a fight or in a storm or
anywhere else. I was with him on the Lexington in forty-six, when we
went round Cape Horn to California. That was the beginning of the
Mexican War. We carried troops and army officers. Bill Sherman, who
commanded a brigade at Bull Run, was among them. So was General
Halleck--he was only a lieutenant then."

"Bailey's on the Cayuga now," said the sailor from the Colorado, "and
if Farragut understands his business he'll let him lead the line,
unless Farragut leads it himself in the flagship. I wish I could be
with him; but when we had to leave the Colorado outside they scattered
our crew all through the fleet, and I just had the luck to be sent to
this old coffee mill."

"As long as Doc. Dewey's on the bridge you needn't be afraid of her,"
said Sim Nelson, "whether she's a spinning wheel or a coffee mill--and
your opinion seems to vary on that point. There was lots of good
fighting before propellers were invented, but you appear to think we
can't do anything without a propeller."

"A propeller isn't very likely to be struck by a shot," said the man
from the Colorado; "but these old windmill sails going round on each
side of this tub can hardly help being hit."

"Now you just quit worrying, and settle your mind on an even keel,"
said Sim Nelson. "There's such a thing as ability, and there's such a
thing as luck. Ability and luck don't always go together--more's the
pity! There's McDowell at Bull Run, as able as any general there, and
he planned the battle well, and our boys put up a good stiff fight; but
just at the last the luck turned against him, and then where was he?
'Tisn't so with Doc. Dewey. I've known him ever since we were boys, and
his ability and luck always went together. I've no doubt there are
plenty of good officers in the fleet, but I'm glad to have him on the
bridge of the ship that I sail in, whether it's an old spinning wheel,
or a coffee mill, or a windmill, or whatever other name you may invent
for it."

The man from the Colorado said no more, and a few minutes later the
boatswain called away half of the men who were making netting to assist
in protecting the boilers and machinery. They piled up hammocks and
coal in such a way as to stop a good many shots that might otherwise
reach these vital parts of the ship.

They had not quite finished this task when there was a cry of "Fire
raft!" followed quickly by an order to man two boats. Hardly any time
seemed to elapse before the boats swung down from the davits and the
oarsmen pulled away with a strong, steady stroke. In the stern of each
stood two men with a long pole, on the end of which was an iron hook.

Up the stream a little way was an immense mass of flame, gliding down
with the current. In the center it was crackling, at the side
occasionally hissing where a burning stick touched the water, and above
it rose a dense column of smoke, curved at the top and swaying in the
light breeze.

"That's the fifth of those villainous valentines they've sent us," said
the man from the Colorado.

"Well, we took good care of the other four," said the boatswain, "and I
guess we can take care of this, though it's the biggest and ugliest of
all. It won't be long now before we send 'em the answer, post paid.
Back water, there! back water!"

This command was uttered and obeyed none too quickly. Two of the
gunboats--the Kineo and the Sciota--trying to avoid the fire raft,
collided violently, and the mainmast of the Sciota went overboard with
a crash and just missed striking the boat. Then both the gunboats
dragged across the bows of the Mississippi, but skillful management
prevented any further damage there, and the two small boats pulled up
close to the windward side of the fire raft, at the same time with four
boats from two other ships. The men in the stern struck their hooks
into the side of the flatboat that formed the base of the blazing pile,
and the oarsmen pulled for the shore. The heat almost shriveled the
skin on their faces, but they bent to the work with a will, and slowly
towed the monster away from the line of the fleet, down stream more
than two miles, and then over to the western bank, where they pushed it
into the shallow water and mud and left it to burn itself away, a
beautiful and harmless spectacle.

As they pulled back to their ships they noticed that the various crews
were at work "stopping" the sheet cables up and down the sides, in the
line of the engines.

"That's a splendid idea; whose is it?" asked the man at the stroke oar.

"Yes," said the boatswain, "it makes them ironclad as far as it goes.
They say it was suggested by Engineer Moore, of the Richmond."

"Splendid fellow!" said the man from the Colorado. "He was a schoolmate
of mine."

"Where was that?" said the boatswain.

"Detroit," said the man from the Colorado. "He and I used to run away
from school together and swim across to Windsor."

"Um--about half a mile," said the boatswain, musingly, "and current
eight miles an hour--very good swimming for boys. But," he added aloud,
"Mr. Moore ought to know about that. He thinks he was born and brought
up in Plattsburg, New York--I heard him say so--and that his father was
in the battle of Lake Champlain. What funny mistakes men make about
themselves sometimes!"

The man from the Colorado said no more.

Two o'clock in the morning of April 24, 1862, was fixed as the hour for
the fleet to weigh anchor and steam up the river. The moon would rise
an hour and a half later, and it was the intention to pass the forts in
darkness and have the benefit of moonlight after the gauntlet had been
run. Five minutes before two the signal was given--two red lights at
the masthead of the flagship; but it was moonrise before all were ready
and in motion. The question of a moon, however, was no longer of any
consequence, for the Confederates had observed the preparations, and
had set fire to immense piles of wood that they kept for the purpose at
the ends of the chain, so that the whole scene was as light as day.
This did not stop Farragut, who had made up his mind to pass the forts
and lay the city under his guns.

The mortar schooners moved up stream to a point near Fort Jackson, and
began a heavy bombardment. Then the fleet, in a long line, steamed
steadily up the river, passed through the opening in the chain, and
with rapid broadsides swept the bastions of the forts as they went by.
It was in three divisions. The first, consisting of eight vessels, was
led by Captain Theodorus Bailey in the Cayuga; the second, of three
vessels, by Farragut in the Hartford; and the third, of six vessels, by
Captain Henry H. Bell in the Sciota.

[Illustration: Order of attack on Forts Jackson and St. Philip.

  FIRST DIVISION--_Leading under command of Captain Theodorus Bailey_.
    1. Cayuga, Flag-Gunboat, Lieut.-Com. Harrison.
    2. Pensacola, Captain H. W. Morris.
    3. Mississippi, Captain M. Smith.
    4. Oneida, Commander S. P. Lee.
    5. Varuna, Commander C. S. Boggs.
    6. Katahdin, Lieut.-Com. G. H. Preble.
    7. Kineo, Lieut.-Com. Ransom.
    8. Wissahickon, Lieut.-Com. A. N. Smith.

  CENTER DIVISION--_Admiral Farragut_.
    9. Hartford, Commander Wainwright.
   10. Brooklyn, Captain T. T. Craven.
   11. Richmond, Commander J. Alden.

  THIRD DIVISION--_Captain H. H. Bell_.
   12. Sciota, Lieut.-Com. Edward Donaldson.
   13. Iroquois, Com. John De Camp.
   14. Kennebec, Lieut.-Com. John H. Russell.
   15. Pinola, Lieut.-Com. P. Crosby.
   16. Itasca, Lieut.-Com. C. H. B. Caldwell.
   17. Winona, Lieut.-Com. E. T. Nichols.
   18. COMMANDER PORTER'S GUNBOATS.
   19. Sloop Portsmouth, Commander S. Swartwout.]

Following the gunboat Cayuga in the first division was the sloop-of-war
Pensacola; and next came the side-wheel steamer Mississippi, commanded
by Captain Melancton Smith. Her conning bridge rested with its ends on
the tops of the high paddle-boxes, and Lieutenant George Dewey, the
executive officer, was stationed there to direct her course.

When the signal was given to go ahead Captain Smith asked, a little
anxiously, "Do you know the channel, sir?"

"Yes, sir," answered Dewey.

The question was repeated at intervals, and every time it received the
same confident answer. The lieutenant afterward admitted that his
knowledge of the channel was gained by study of a chart, which was
supplemented by his confidence that he could tell from the appearance
of the water. Here his usual luck stood him in good stead, as the
sailor in the forecastle had declared.

As soon as the Cayuga had passed through the opening in the chain, both
forts began to fire on her. Within a few minutes she was pouring a
sheet of grape and canister across Fort St. Philip, but she did not
slacken her pace, and in ten minutes more was engaged with the
Confederate fleet that was waiting for her up the stream.

The Pensacola, next in line, steamed steadily but slowly by, firing
with perfect regularity, and doing specially fine execution with a
rifled eighty-pounder and an eleven-inch pivot gun. But she paid for
her deliberation, as her loss--thirty-seven men--was the greatest in
the fleet.

Then came the Mississippi--the old spinning wheel, coffee mill,
windmill, as the discontented sailor called her. By this time the air
was so thick with smoke from the guns, bonfires, and fire rafts that it
was only by the flashes that the gunners could see where to aim. The
Mississippi went by the forts in good style, pouring in her fire as she
passed, and suffering but slight loss from them. But immediately
afterward, like the two vessels that had preceded her, she encountered
the Confederate fleet, which consisted of the ironclad ram Manassas,
the unfinished ironclad floating battery Louisiana, and a dozen
gunboats, some of which were fitted to be used as rams. The Manassas
drove straight at the Mississippi, with intention to sink her, and
would have done so had not Dewey ordered a quick shift of the helm,
which changed the direct blow into a slanting one. This, indeed, gave
her a severe cut on the port quarter, and disabled some of her
machinery; but at the same moment the Mississippi poured a tremendous
fire into the ram. Then she found herself in the thick of the fight
with the Confederate fleet. The Oneida and the Varuna came close after
her, and here was the most desperate encounter. Shells, round shot, and
canister were exchanged as rapidly as the guns could be handled, some
of which tore through the sides and found their way to the interior,
there to break the machinery or burst and scatter death, while some
swept along the decks and struck down the men at the guns. In an action
like that the men are under the greatest excitement, with every muscle
tense and every nerve strained; and when a ball strikes one it shivers
him as if he were made of glass, and scatters ghastly fragments over
his comrades. In the confined space where the men work the guns, and
with the smoke of battle enveloping them, there is no opportunity to
dodge the shot or know they are coming before they have done their
work. The only defense consists in rapid and accurate firing by the
men, with skill and quick judgment on the part of him who directs the
movements of the ship. Everything was ablaze, and the roar was
terrific, when a great shot bounced in at one of the ports of the
Mississippi, knocked over a gun, killed one gunner and wounded three
others, and passed out on the other side. Almost at the same moment the
ship from which it was fired received a discharge from the Mississippi
that swept away a whole gun's crew. Then there were rapid maneuvers, to
ram or avoid ramming, rake or avoid raking, and all the while the guns
were booming, shot and splinters were flying across the decks, man
after man was struck down, and blood ran out at the scuppers. Signal
men in the rigging, sailors with howitzers and muskets in the tops,
officers on the bridges, gunners between decks, engineers, firemen, and
surgeons below--all were in a state of intense action. The largest of
the Confederate vessels, a powerful steamer fitted as a ram, attacked
the Varuna, and was subjected to a murderous raking fire from that
ship. Finding that his bow gun was mounted too far aft to strike her
when at such close quarters, the Confederate commander depressed it and
fired through the bow of his own vessel. Then another ram came up and
joined in the attack, and the Varuna was reduced to a wreck and driven
ashore.

Meanwhile, the second division of the fleet came up, led by the
Hartford. This vessel, in attempting to avoid a fire raft, struck on a
shoal; then the ram Manassas pushed another blazing raft against her
quarter, and in a moment she was on fire. The great excitement thus
produced on board the flagship did not for a moment interfere with the
discipline. A part of her crew were called to fire quarters and put out
the flames, while the rest continued to work the guns with perfect
regularity. Then she was backed off into deep water, and continued up
stream, firing into every enemy she could reach. A steamer loaded with
men (probably intended as a boarding party) bore down upon the
flagship, but the marines promptly fired a shell into her which
exploded, and she disappeared.

[Illustration: Farragut's fleet passing the forts.]

While the Mississippi was engaged in this desperate battle an officer
on board kept his eye on Lieutenant Dewey--for on him every movement of
the ship depended--and he has described the figure of the young officer
on the high bridge as it was alternately hidden by the smoke and
illuminated by the flashes of the artillery.

"Every time the dark came back," he says, "I felt sure that we never
should see Dewey again. His cap was blown off, and his eyes were
aflame; but he gave his orders with the air of a man in thorough
command of himself."

The ram Manassas, after her encounter with the Mississippi, had passed
down the river in pursuit of other prey, and delivered a blow at the
Brooklyn which failed to sink her only because she was promptly turned
so as not to receive it at right angles. Then the ram was discovered
coming up stream, and Captain Smith signaled to the flagship for
permission to attack her with the Mississippi. This being promptly
granted, the brave old side-wheeler swung about in the stream and went
straight for her dangerous enemy. She failed in an attempt to run down
the ram, but crippled it and drove it ashore, when the crew were seen
to come out at the little hatch, jump to the levee, and disappear in
the swamp. The Mississippi then poured into her another broadside, and
she drifted down the stream and blew up.

Fourteen of Farragut's seventeen vessels had succeeded in passing the
obstructions and participating in the battle. One of these, the Varuna,
was destroyed. All the others carried the scars of battle, and all save
one had casualties on board, varying in number from thirty-seven on the
Pensacola, thirty-five on the Brooklyn, and twenty-eight on the
Iroquois, to a single one on the Portsmouth. The Mississippi lost two
men killed and six wounded. The total loss in the fleet was
thirty-seven men killed and a hundred and forty-seven wounded. On the
other hand, the Confederate fleet was destroyed, the last vessel
afloat--the ironclad Louisiana--being blown up by her commander three
days later; and the next day after that a land force commanded by
General Butler came up in rear of the forts, and they were surrendered.

When the dead were laid out side by side on the decks for the last
rites, there were manly tears on the faces of many of their shipmates,
and the eyes of dear old Farragut were not dry.

The larger part of the fleet pushed on up the river, and the next day
the city of New Orleans was captured.

No such battle as this had been seen before, and no such ever will be
seen again. A fleet of wooden vessels, all built for sea service, had
entered a river and fought against obstructions, fire rafts,
fortifications, rams, ironclads, and gunboats, and had won a complete
victory over all. This was a wonderful school for a young officer.




CHAPTER VIII.

THE BATTLE AT PORT HUDSON.


New Orleans being captured and firmly held, the next problem was to
patrol and police the Mississippi from that point to Cairo, Illinois,
and prevent the Confederates from crossing it with troops and supplies.
Thus only could the full fruits of Farragut's original and brilliant
exploit be secured. As soon as the war was fairly begun, the Government
had ordered an ironclad fleet of light draught to be built for service
on the Western rivers, and many of these vessels were completed in a
hundred days from the laying of the keel. They took pretty good care of
the river above Vicksburg, and below that point Farragut's fleet was
expected to do the work. This was an arduous and monotonous task,
calling for patience, endurance, and skill, involving almost daily loss
of single lives from field artillery and sharpshooters on shore, but
giving few opportunities for glory.

At two points, both on the eastern side of the river, the Confederates
constructed formidable works, with heavy artillery. These were
Vicksburg and Port Hudson, about a hundred miles apart. The choice of
these points was for a double reason. At each of them a line of
transportation from the southwest reached the river, by which supplies
were brought for the Confederate armies in the States farther east; and
at each of them there was a bend in the stream, with high bluffs on the
eastern side and low land on the western. Thus the two points that it
was most desirable to protect were most easily protected.

General Butler was superseded in command at New Orleans by General
Banks; and after a time it was planned that Banks should move up with a
large force to attack Port Hudson, while an army under General Grant
came from above to capture Vicksburg; and the fleets were expected to
assist in both of these campaigns.

Great difficulties were met by the national armies, and everything
appeared to move with insufferable slowness. The authorities at
Washington seemed to think that as Farragut's fleet had passed the
batteries below New Orleans, it could pass any batteries, and a spirit
of impatience was manifest because the river was not quickly and
thoroughly cleared and held. A very important difference in the
circumstances was overlooked. The forts below New Orleans were on low
ground, and as the fleet sailed by, its decks were nearly or quite on a
level with the bastions, which could be swept by the fire of the
broadsides. But at Vicksburg and Port Hudson the batteries were on high
bluffs and could send down a plunging fire on the ships, to which the
fleet could hardly reply with much effect.

Finally, the Admiral received peremptory orders to "clear the river
through," which meant, run by the fortifications of Vicksburg and
capture or destroy the Confederate vessels above that point that were
either afloat or being built. The most important of these was the
powerful ironclad ram Arkansas, which was expected to come out of the
Arkansas or the Yazoo River into the Mississippi and attack the fleet
of gunboats.

Farragut had appeared before Vicksburg in May and demanded the
surrender of the place; but this was refused, and without the
co-operation of an army the demand could not be enforced. The
construction of the defenses then proceeded more rapidly than before,
and when his peremptory orders came, late in June, the place was very
strong. On the 28th he attempted the passage with ten vessels, aided by
the mortar flotilla. While the mortars were raining shells into the
works the vessels steamed up the river in two columns, and all passed
the batteries except three of the rear division, which, from a
misunderstanding of orders, fell back. The losses in the fleet were
fifteen men killed and forty wounded. One gunboat received a shot
through the boiler, which killed six men by scalding. No other vessel
was seriously injured.

Dewey's ship, the Mississippi, did not participate in this exploit. The
affair has been described briefly here because of its influence on a
later and more hazardous one in which she did take part, to her cost.
The passage of the Vicksburg batteries convinced the men of the navy
that, with small loss, they could pass any batteries, no matter how
situated. Farragut wrote: "The Department will perceive from my report
that the forts can be passed, and we have done it, and can do it again
as often as it may be required of us."

That was in the summer of 1862, when Vicksburg was but partially
fortified and Port Hudson hardly at all. But the Confederate Government
awoke to the extreme importance of those points, and the work of
fortifying them went on rapidly. In some respects the fortifications of
Port Hudson, on the river side at least, were even more formidable than
those of Vicksburg. After a reconnoissance in the autumn of 1862,
Commander Lowry reported: "The plan appears to be this: to place their
works in such a position that, we having passed or silenced one or more
of the lower batteries, other concealed batteries open, which will
throw a cross fire into the stern of the vessels, which would then be
exposed to a cross fire from batteries yet to be approached and
silenced and from the masked ones left astern."

In March, 1863, it was arranged that Farragut should run by the
batteries of Port Hudson, while Banks, with twelve thousand men, should
assail them on the land side. The objects to be gained by running by
the batteries were: To concentrate the fleet above Port Hudson for the
destruction of the Confederate vessels; to blockade Red River and the
bayous; and to communicate with the naval and military forces that were
besieging Vicksburg.

[Illustration: Order of attack on Port Hudson.

  A. Hartford (flagship), Captain James S. Palmer.
    _a_. Albatross, Lieut.-Com. John E. Hart.
  B. Richmond, Commander James Alden.
    _b_. Genesee, Commander W. H. Macomb.
  C. Monongahela, Captain J. P. McKinstry.
    _c_. Kineo, Lieut.-Com. John Waters.
  D. Mississippi, Captain Melancton Smith.
  E. Essex, Commander C. H. B. Caldwell.
  F. Sachem, Act. Vol. Lieut. Amos Johnson.
  G. G. Mortar schooners.
  H. Spot where Mississippi grounded.]

On the 14th Farragut completed his preparations, and that night was
selected as the time for the movement. His fleet consisted of four
ships and three gunboats, besides the mortar schooners and their
attendant gunboats. Each of the ships, except the Mississippi, was to
have a gunboat lashed to its port side, so that if one were disabled
its gunboat could tow it through or out of the fight. The Mississippi
could not take a gunboat, because she was a side-wheeler. All the
vessels were trimmed by the head, so that if one grounded it would
strike bow first and would not be swung round by the current. And the
elaborate precautions that had been taken below New Orleans were
repeated. The order of the column was this:

  The flagship Hartford, with the gunboat Albatross.
  The Richmond, with the gunboat Genesee.
  The Monongahela, with the gunboat Kineo.
  The Mississippi.

The "old spinning wheel" was still commanded by Captain Melancton
Smith, with Lieutenant Dewey as his executive officer, as when she
participated in the capture of New Orleans.

At Port Hudson there is a sharp bend in the river, and the deep channel
runs close under the bluffs of the eastern bank, while the water shoals
off to the low western shore. At dusk the signal was displayed for the
fleet to form in line and follow the flagship. This was a red lantern
hung out over the stern of the Hartford. The order was quietly and
promptly obeyed. Like every officer in the fleet, Lieutenant George
Dewey was at his post and eager for the adventure. His post now, as
before, was on the bridge, to direct the course of the ship.

Every man on board was alert. The splinter nettings were on, and the
carpenters were ready to stop shot holes or repair other damage. The
marines had their muskets in hand to repel boarders. One officer was
making sure that all was in shape for "fire quarters" if that order
should be sounded, and another was looking to the rifled gun. The men
at the great guns stood with their sleeves rolled up for instant work.

The darkness closed in rapidly, and the night was absolutely calm. The
Hartford slowly steamed ahead, and the other ships took their places in
the line.

But with all possible quietness of preparation the vigilant
Confederates were not to be deceived or surprised. Hardly was the fleet
under way when two rockets rose into the air from the right bank of the
river, and then the first of the shore batteries discharged its guns.
At the same time several great bonfires were lighted, and then
everything on the river was in plain sight until the battle had gone on
long enough to produce a great pall of cannon smoke. The other shore
batteries opened in rapid succession, and the mortar schooners promptly
began their work. The great thirteen-inch shells, with their burning
fuses, rose in beautiful curves and passed overhead like meteors, to
fall and explode within and around the fortifications. As the several
ships came within reach of the enemy they opened fire, and in a little
time the smoke was so thick that the gunners could only aim at the
flashes. But they forged ahead steadily, doing their best under a
terrific fire from the batteries on the bluff and the constant rifle
practice of sharpshooters on the western bank. The Hartford and her
gunboat got by, losing only one man killed and two wounded; but, though
she had two of the most skillful pilots, she grounded directly under
the enemy's guns, and for a little while was in danger of destruction.
By skillful handling of the gunboat she was backed off, and then
continued up stream beyond the range of fire. The Admiral now looked
for his other vessels, and they were nowhere to be seen.

[Illustration: Passage of the batteries of Port Hudson.]

The Richmond, which had almost run into the Hartford when she grounded,
had reached the last battery, and in a few minutes would have been
beyond the reach of its guns, when a shot struck her steam pipe near
the safety valves and disabled her. The gunboat was not able to take
her farther against the strong current, and they were obliged to drop
down stream out of the fight. They had lost three men killed and twelve
wounded. A cannon shot took off the leg of the executive officer, and
he died a few days later. An attempt was made to blow her up with a
torpedo, but at the moment of explosion, though it shattered the cabin
windows, it was not quite near enough to do serious damage.

The Monongahela grounded on the western shore near the bend of the
river, and for half an hour was exposed to a merciless fire. The rudder
of her gunboat had been rendered useless, and then a shot wrecked the
bridge of the Monongahela, throwing Captain McKinstry to the deck and
disabling him, and, passing on, killed three men. Though shots were
constantly striking her, and had dismounted three of her guns, perfect
coolness was maintained by the officers, with discipline on the part of
the crew. The gunboat was shifted to the other side of the ship, and
presently she was pulled off into deep water and resumed her course up
stream, firing shells and shrapnel into the fortifications. She had
almost passed the principal battery when the crank pin of her engine
became heated, and she could go no farther. Then she also was obliged
to run down with the current out of range. She had lost six men killed
and twenty-one wounded.

While Farragut was anxiously looking down stream in hope to see the
approach of his missing fleet, suddenly a great light shot up into the
sky, and the man at the masthead reported that a ship was on fire.

The Mississippi, like the other vessels, had followed steadily after
the flagship, feeling her way amid the smoke and rapidly firing her
starboard guns, when she, like the other ships, grounded at the turn
and "heeled over three streaks to port." The engine was at once
reversed, the port guns were run in, and the pressure of steam was
increased to the greatest amount that the boilers would bear, but all
in vain--she could not move herself off and she had no gunboat to
assist.

Meanwhile, three batteries had got her range, and under this terrible
cross fire she was hulled at every discharge. Her starboard guns were
still worked regularly and as rapidly as possible, to diminish the
enemy's fire. Then in quick succession came the commands from Captain
Smith:

  "Spike the port battery and throw it overboard!"

  "Spike the pivot gun and throw it overboard!"

  "Bring up the sick and the wounded!"

The spiking was done by the hands of Lieutenant Dewey, Ensign
Bachelder, and Assistant-Engineer Tower, but there was no time to throw
the guns overboard.

Every man in the ship knew the meaning of these preparations for
abandoning her.

Captain Smith was determined that, as he must lose his vessel, nothing
should be left of it for the enemy. While he was lighting a cigar he
said to Dewey:

"It is not likely that we shall escape, and we must make every
preparation to insure the destruction of the ship."

The crew were ordered to throw the small arms overboard, and the
engineers to destroy the engine. Then fire was set in the forward
storeroom, but very soon three shots that penetrated the side below the
line let in enough water to extinguish it. After that she was fired in
four places. She had been struck by the enemy's shot two hundred and
fifty times.

There were but three small boats, and these were used first to take
away the sick and the wounded. At no time was the least confusion or
disorder apparent among the crew; but when they saw how rapidly the old
ship was approaching destruction, and how limited were the means of
safety, some of them jumped overboard and swam for the shore, and these
were fired at by sharpshooters on the bank. Dewey, noticing that one of
them, a strong swimmer, suddenly became almost helpless, guessed that
he had been struck by a bullet. As the lieutenant then had little to do
but wait for the return of the boat, he plunged into the stream, struck
out for the disabled sailor, and very soon was near enough to recognize
him.

"Hello! is that you, Bill Ammon?" said Dewey.

"It is, sir," said Bill, not even in his agony forgetting the etiquette
of shipboard.

"What has happened to you?"

"A musket ball in the shoulder, sir."

The lieutenant had now reached him, and with one arm sustained him
while he swam slowly to a broken spar that fortunately was afloat at a
little distance. Finding that his old schoolmate had strength enough to
cling to this till he should be picked up (for the Essex had now come
up to assist, and her boats were out), Dewey swam back to the ship.

When all had been taken off except the captain and the executive
officer, who were standing on the quarter-deck, Captain Smith said:

"Are you sure she will burn to the water?"

"I will go down and make sure," Dewey answered; and down he went into
the wardroom, at the risk of his life, and saw that everything was
ablaze.

When he returned to the deck and reported, the captain was satisfied,
and then the two officers left in the last boat and passed down to the
Richmond under the fire of the batteries.

When the flames had sufficiently lightened the Mississippi she floated
off, swung round into the current, and drifted down stream, bow
foremost.

The port battery, which had been loaded but not fired, now went off,
sending its shot toward the enemy, as if the old craft knew herself and
wanted to do her duty to the last. At half past five o'clock in the
morning the fire reached her magazine, and the terrific explosion that
followed not only blew the vessel to fragments, but was heard and felt
at a distance of several miles. She had lost sixty-four of her crew,
some of whom were killed by shot, some drowned, and some made prisoners
when they swam ashore.

[Illustration: Removing the wounded.]




CHAPTER IX.

THE CAPTURE OF FORT FISHER.


The port of Wilmington, North Carolina, on Cape Fear River, about
twenty miles from its mouth, was one of the most difficult to blockade,
and when the other ports of the Southern States had been closed one
after another, this became the Confederacy's main reliance for such
supplies as had to be imported. Hence the desire of the national
administration and military authorities to seal it up. This could be
done only by capturing its defenses, and the principal of these was
Fort Fisher, the strongest earthwork then in existence. This
fortification, with its outworks, occupied the end of the narrow
peninsula between Cape Fear River and the ocean. It mounted
thirty-eight heavy guns; the parapets were twenty-five feet thick and
twenty feet high; there were heavy traverses, bombproofed; ditches and
palisades surrounded it; and outside of these were buried torpedoes
connected with electric batteries in the casemates. The garrison
consisted of about two thousand men.

In December, 1864, it was proposed to capture this work by a combined
land and naval force. The troops sent for the purpose were commanded by
General Butler. The fleet was the largest that ever had been gathered
under the American flag, and was commanded by Rear-Admiral David D.
Porter. It consisted of fifty-six wooden vessels and four ironclads.
The Colorado, commanded by Captain Henry K. Thatcher, was one of the
largest wooden ships; she was the one that could not be taken over the
bar to participate in the attack on the forts below New Orleans. Her
place in this battle was second ship in second division.

Lieutenant George Dewey, after his experience on the Mississippi, had
served for a time in the James River flotilla under Commander McComb,
and then was ordered to the Colorado, in which he participated in both
attacks on Fort Fisher.

An accidental explosion of a boat load of powder, a short time before,
which produced a concussion that shook down buildings, suggested the
possibility of damaging the fort by similar means, and it was resolved
to try the experiment. An old steamer filled with powder and disguised
as a blockade runner was taken in close to the fort in the night of
December 23d and exploded within three hundred yards of the beach. But
no effect whatever was produced upon the fort or its equipment.

The next day two thirds of the fleet--the remainder being held in
reserve--steamed slowly in, anchored in their appointed order, and
began a bombardment, directing their fire principally at the guns of
the fort. This was kept up all day, and there was such a play of
bursting shells over and within the works as never had been seen
before. Two magazines were exploded, and several buildings were burned.
The fire was returned by the fort, and some vessels were injured by the
shells, but no casualties resulted from it except by the explosion of a
shell in the boiler of the Mackinaw. There were serious casualties in
the fleet, however, from the bursting of hundred-pounder rifled guns.
There were four of these accidents, by which fifteen men were killed
and twenty-two wounded.

The next day, which was Christmas, the troops were landed from the
transports, and the fleet renewed the bombardment in the expectation
that the troops would be marched to the rear of the fort and storm it.
But General Butler and General Weitzel made a reconnoissance, and
agreed that the works could not be carried by assault. They therefore
re-embarked the troops and steamed back to Fort Monroe. In the two days
the fleet had fired fifteen thousand shells, and disabled nine guns in
the fort.

This fiasco was a disappointment and mortification to the President and
General Grant, who believed they had furnished a force to which they
had a right to look for substantial results. They therefore resolved
upon a second attempt, and this time the command of the troops was
intrusted to General Alfred H. Terry. Porter's fleet renewed its
supplies of coal and ammunition, and at the same time kept up a
moderate fire on the fort to prevent repair of the works or erection of
new ones.

Terry's transports arrived the first week in January, in the midst of a
heavy storm. But the vessels rode it out safely, and then preparations
were made for an early assault. On the 13th the fleet anchored as near
the fort as the depth of water would permit, in the same order as
before, and bombarded nearly all day while the troops were debarking. A
curious incident occurred when they shelled the woods back of the fort;
several hundred cattle there, intended for the garrison, were
frightened by the bursting shells and rushed down to the beach, where
Terry's men secured them.

Admiral Ammen, who commanded the Mohican in the first division, says:
"As the sun went down and the shadows fell over the waters, the
spectacle was truly grand; the smoke rose and partially drifted off,
permitting glimpses now and then of the earthwork, and the fitful yet
incessant gleams from the hundreds of shells bursting on or beyond the
parapet illuminated, like lightning flashes, the clouds above and the
smoke of battle beneath."

General Terry gave his troops a day to rest, get over the effects of
the sea voyage, and throw up intrenchments across the peninsula two
miles above the fort. The 15th was fixed upon for the grand assault,
and the entire fleet had orders to move up and bombard at an early
hour. Admiral Porter thought to assist the army further by detailing
sixteen hundred sailors and four hundred marines to land on the beach
and assail the sea face of the fort while the army stormed the land
side. The sailors were armed with cutlasses and revolvers, and looked
upon this new service as a sort of lark, but they found it a serious
matter before the day was over. They came in several detachments, from
different ships, and, never having been drilled together for any task
of this kind, did not know how to work together. But, even if they had,
it is doubtful if they could have accomplished anything; for, though
they sprang to the assault nimbly enough, a large part of the garrison
were called to that side of the work to repel them, and before they
could get near enough to use their pistols their ranks were so thinned
by grape shot and musketry that they were compelled to fall back and
seek shelter. Three times they were rallied by their officers, and once
they got within fifty yards of the parapet: but the murderous fire from
a dense mass of soldiers behind it was too much for them. Four of their
officers were killed and fifteen were wounded, while the number of
sailors killed or wounded was about three hundred.

But though this assault by the sailors and marines was a failure in
itself, it assisted the work of capture by calling a considerable part
of the garrison to the sea face while the army assailed the rear of the
fort. And the bombardment by the fleet was much more effective than in
the first battle. Colonel Lamb, who commanded the fort, says: "In the
former bombardment the fire of the fleet had been diffuse, but now it
was concentrated and the definite object was the destruction of the
land defenses by enfilade and direct fire. All day and night of the
13th and 14th the navy continued its ceaseless torment; it was
impossible to repair damages at night on the land face. The Ironsides
and the monitors bowled their eleven and fifteen-inch shells along the
parapet, scattering shrapnel in the darkness. We could scarcely gather
up and bury our dead without fresh casualties. At least two hundred had
been killed and wounded in the two days since the fight began."

In those three days the fleet fired nearly twenty-two thousand shells.
Terry's troops worked up to positions near the fort, and on the 15th,
when the fleet gave the signal for assault by blowing the steam
whistles, rushed to the work. In spite of all obstructions, they gained
the parapet; but this was only the beginning of the task, for the work
was provided with heavy traverses, and the defenders had to be driven
from one to another of these, fighting obstinately all the way, until
the last was reached and surrender could no longer be avoided. The
assailants had lost about seven hundred men, killed or wounded. When
Fort Fisher fell, the minor defenses at the mouth of the Cape Fear fell
with it, and the port of Wilmington was closed. General Lee, then
besieged at Petersburg by Grant, had sent word to its commander that
Fort Fisher must be held or he could not subsist his army.

Thus the young officer on the Colorado, who was to become the Hero of
Manila thirty-three years later, participating in this great conflict
and the resulting victory, received one more lesson in the terrible art
of war.




CHAPTER X.

IN TIME OF PEACE.


Commodore Thatcher, in his report of the attacks on Fort Fisher, paid
the highest compliment to Lieutenant Dewey, and that officer, for his
meritorious services in those actions, was promoted to the rank of
Lieutenant Commander. The next year (1866) he was sent to the European
station, on the Kearsarge, the famous ship that fought a duel with the
Alabama one Sunday in June, 1864, off the harbor of Cherbourg, and sent
her antagonist to the bottom.

Early in 1867 he was ordered to duty at the Portsmouth (New Hampshire)
navy yard; and in that city he met Miss Susie Goodwin, daughter of
Ichabod Goodwin, the "War Governor" of New Hampshire. In the autumn of
that year Commander Dewey and Miss Goodwin were married.

After service in the Colorado, the flagship of the European squadron,
he was detailed as an instructor at the Naval Academy, where he spent
two years. In 1872 Mrs. Dewey died in Newport, and the same year he was
made commander of the Narragansett and sent to the Pacific Coast
Survey, on which he spent four years. Then he was lighthouse inspector
and secretary of the Lighthouse Board till 1882, when he was assigned
to the command of the Juniata in the Asiatic squadron. The fact that he
spent two years there was probably one of the reasons that caused the
administration to choose him for a much more important mission in those
waters sixteen years later. In 1884 he received his commission as
captain and was assigned to the command of the Dolphin. This was a new
steel vessel, one of the four that formed the original "White
Squadron," marking a significant turning-point in naval architecture.

The next year Captain Dewey was in command of the Pensacola, flagship
of the European squadron; and in 1889 he was promoted to the rank of
commodore and made chief of the Bureau of Equipment and Recruiting at
Washington. In 1893 he became a member of the Lighthouse Board, and in
1896 President of the Board of Inspection and Survey.

Such is the record of an eminent naval officer in time of peace. But
though the record is brief and makes a very simple story, the services
that it represents were long and important. From the firing of the last
gun in the civil war to the first in the war with Spain, a period of
thirty-three years--the life of a generation--had elapsed. In that
interval naval architecture, naval gunnery, and naval tactics underwent
a greater change than any that they had seen since the days of Antony
and Cleopatra. If George Dewey had stepped out of the naval service
when the smoke rolled away after the battle of Fort Fisher, in 1865, he
could not have been the man to win a victory that astonished the world
in 1898. The maxim "In time of peace prepare for war" never was better
observed than by the United States Government in its construction and
treatment of the new navy in the eighties and the nineties; and it
recognized the vital point when it secured the highest possible
development of gun power by furnishing the man behind the gun with
plenty of ammunition, however costly, for constant target practice, and
established prizes for good shots. The idea of a modern torpedo boat
darting at a great cruiser and with one charge of a high explosive
sending her to the bottom is a terror, but the terror is transferred to
the other deck when the torpedo boat finds herself met with a shower of
balls, every one having great penetrating power and aimed with deadly
precision. It is said that the credit for the system of target practice
belongs primarily to Dewey's classmate and lifelong friend,
Rear-Admiral Francis M. Bunce.

In those years of peace George Dewey gained many friends and admirers
by his evident ability, his modest firmness of character, his kindly
courtesy, and his wide range of interest. In one respect he resembles
General Grant. A brother officer says of him: "I have known him fairly
well for twenty years, and I have never heard him swear or brag."




CHAPTER XI.

THE BATTLE OF MANILA.


Three centuries ago the power of Spain in the western hemisphere
covered a larger area than the foreign possessions of any other country
in Europe. And in the same year in which Cortes, by a romantic and
amazing military exploit, brought her the kingdom of Mexico, Magellan
discovered for her another rich empire in the Pacific, which she
governed, robbed, and oppressed for three hundred and seventy-seven
years, until she lost it--probably forever--one May morning, when an
American fleet sailed into the bay of Manila and won a victory as
complete and astonishing as that of Cortes. The greater part of the
reasons why such a victory was possible are indicated in the foregoing
pages, but the circumstances that gave occasion for it need
explanation.

[Illustration: Diagram of Manila Bay.]

Spain's misrule in her colonies finally produced in most of them a
chronic state of insurrection, and one after another they slipped from
her grasp. Peru, Bolivia, Colombia, the Argentine, Mexico, Louisiana,
Florida, and the greater part of the West Indies once were hers. She
ceded Louisiana to France in 1800, and Florida to the United States in
1819, and two years later Mexico achieved her independence. She still
had the rich islands of Cuba and Porto Rico in the West Indies, and the
Philippine group in the East.

Though there have been revolutions and counter revolutions in Spain
since the beginning of this century, the colonies have profited by none
of them. Whether the home government was republic or monarchy, it was
equally impressed with the idea that colonies were for plunder only. In
1848 the United States offered to buy Cuba for one hundred million
dollars, but the offer was indignantly rejected with the remark that
there was not gold enough in the world to buy that island from Spain.
Of the many insurrections there, the most serious were that which
lasted from 1868 to 1878, costing Spain a hundred thousand lives and
Cuba nearly sixty thousand, and that which broke out in 1895. In the
former of these, forty thousand prisoners who were captured by the
Spanish troops were deliberately put to death; and in the latter such
barbarous measures of repression were resorted to as subjected, not men
alone, but women and children, to the most cruel suffering. Meanwhile,
the United States Government was doing its utmost to enforce the laws
of neutrality, and a part of its navy was kept busy watching the coasts
and thwarting filibustering schemes, some of which were successful in
spite of them.

The feelings of horror excited among the American people by the
atrocities of the Spanish commander in Cuba began to demand that
somehow or other an end be put to them; and every comment on the great
powers of Europe for permitting the massacre of Armenians by the Turks,
suggested a parallel criticism in regard to the United States and Cuba.

A similar insurrection was in progress in the Philippine Islands. That
group is about two hundred miles from the coast of China. The largest
of them, Luzon, is about as large as the State of Ohio, and the next,
Mindanao, is almost as large; while the smallest are mere islets. There
are nearly two thousand in all. The total area is estimated at one
hundred and fourteen thousand square miles (about equal to the combined
areas of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Maryland), and the
total population at seven million (about equal to that of the State of
New York). Of this population more than half are on the island of
Luzon. Here also is the capital city, Manila, with a population
(including suburbs) of a quarter of a million.

Some of the original tribes remain in the islands, but the present
inhabitants are largely Malay, with about ten thousand Spaniards and a
good many Chinese. The principal exports were hemp, sugar, rice,
coffee, cocoa, and tobacco. The annual revenue before the war was about
fourteen million dollars.

The capital is in latitude fifteen degrees north, about the same as
that of Porto Rico, and the southern point of Mindanao is within five
degrees of the equator. The group has a length, north and south, of
twelve hundred miles. The capital city contained a cathedral, a
university, and a palace for the governor. It is on a beautiful
land-locked harbor, twenty-six miles from the entrance. This entrance
is twelve miles wide, but it is divided by two islands, giving one
channel two miles wide and another five miles. The city is divided by
the River Pasig, the old town being on the south side, and the new town
on the north. The principal fortifications were at Cavité, on a
promontory seven miles south of the city, but there were others on
Corregidor Island, at the entrance.

In the autumn of 1897 Commodore Dewey's health was impaired--possibly
from indoor service--and he was advised to apply for sea duty to
restore it. Various accounts are given of his next assignment, not all
of which can be true, but on the last day of November he was made
commander of the Asiatic squadron, and a month later he hoisted his
flag on the Olympia at Nagasaki, Japan.

The growing feeling in the United States of horror and indignation at
the state of affairs in Cuba and the Philippines found free expression;
this roused the resentment of the Spanish Government and people, and it
became evident that not much was required to bring on a war between the
two nations. An occurrence most deplorable--whether caused by accident
or by design--in the harbor of Havana, in the night of February 14,
1898, brought on the crisis. This was the blowing up of the United
States battle ship Maine by a submarine mine or torpedo. The vessel was
completely wrecked, and two hundred and sixty-six lives were destroyed.
She was riding at anchor, on the spot selected for her by the Spanish
harbor authorities, and the greater part of the crew were asleep in
their hammocks. Probably nine tenths of the American people believed
that the ship had been blown up by treachery, but the moderation and
forbearance of both people and Government, while they waited for the
result of an official investigation, were remarkable. The Court of
Inquiry was composed of experienced officers of high rank, who sat
twenty-three days and employed divers and experts. Their unanimous
verdict, delivered on March 21st, declared that "the ship was destroyed
by the explosion of a submarine mine, which caused the partial
explosion of two or more of her forward magazines, and no evidence has
been obtainable fixing the responsibility for the destruction of the
Maine upon any person or persons." If it was proved that the wreck was
the work of a submarine mine, it was not difficult to guess where the
responsibility lay. Congress boldly attributed the disaster to "the
crime or the criminal negligence of the Spanish officials," and the
people generally agreed with Congress on this point.

Several members of Congress, notably Senator Proctor, formerly
Secretary of War, visited Cuba to see the condition of affairs for
themselves; and their reports, with the sickening details, increased
the determination of the American people to interfere in the cause of
humanity.

On March 9th, at the President's request, Congress passed unanimously a
bill appropriating fifty million dollars as an emergency fund to be
used for the national defense.

In a special message, April 11th, the President recited the facts, and
said: "The forcible intervention of the United States as a neutral to
stop the war, according to the large dictates of humanity, and
following many historical precedents where neighboring states have
interfered to check the hopeless sacrifice of life by internecine
conflicts beyond their borders, is justifiable on rational grounds."
Eight days later Congress passed a joint resolution declaring war. This
date, April 19th, was the anniversary of the first bloodshed in the
American Revolution (1775), and also of the first in the civil war
(1861). Measures for increasing both the army and the navy had been
taken already.

The United States naval squadron at Hong Kong included most of our
force in the Pacific and was well supplied; and the cruiser Baltimore,
with a large quantity of stores and ammunition, was added. It now
consisted of four protected cruisers--the Olympia, the Baltimore, the
Boston, and the Raleigh--from 3,000 to 5,870 tons each, and the
gunboats Concord and Petrel. It carried in all one hundred and
thirty-three guns. Its commander, George Dewey, was of the same age as
Farragut at the beginning of the civil war--sixty.

The Commodore had received provisional orders, instructing him, in case
of war with Spain, to capture or destroy the Spanish fleet in the
Pacific and take possession of the Philippine Islands; and he was now
promptly notified that he might carry them out. The British authorities
at Hong Kong gave notice that the fleet must leave that port at once,
in accordance with the laws of neutrality, and on April 27th Dewey
sailed for the Chinese port in Mirs Bay, and there completed his
preparations. One day later, having given the American consul time to
get away from Manila, he sailed for Subig Bay, thirty miles north of
that city, expecting to find the Spanish fleet there; but it had just
gone to Manila Bay, where it could have the protection of shore
batteries.

This fleet was commanded by Admiral Montojo. Its fighting vessels were
seven cruisers--the Reina Maria Cristina, the Castilla, the Velasco,
the Don Antonio de Ulloa, the Don Juan de Austria, the Isla de Cuba,
and the Isla de Luzon--the gunboats El Cano and General Lezo, and four
torpedo boats. The size of the cruisers was from 1,030 to 3,520 tons,
and the whole number of guns carried was one hundred and thirteen.

Some of the Spanish officials cherished certain delusions that appear
to have originated with the Spanish newspapers. One was, that if the
United States Government engaged in a foreign war the Southern States
would again secede. Another was, that the United States navy was
without discipline and without competent officers, and that the crews
were the mere riffraff of all nations, attracted thither by the liberal
pay. The Governor-General of the Philippines issued a boastful
proclamation in which he set forth these ideas, and added (more
truthfully, perhaps, than he suspected), "The struggle will be short
and decisive."

Whether justly or not, there were suspicions of the genuineness of the
neutrality to be observed by other powers, and an incident at Hong Kong
showed that Commodore Dewey was not to be trifled with in the discharge
of his duty. The German Emperor's brother, Prince Henry, called on
Dewey in the flagship, and said in the course of the conversation, "I
will send my ships to Manila, to see that you behave." "I shall be
delighted to have your Highness do so," Dewey answered, "but permit me
to caution you to keep your ships from between my guns and the enemy."

The American fleet followed the Spanish fleet to Manila Bay without
loss of time, and early Sunday morning, May 1st, the Spaniards were
astonished to see their enemy sailing in through the south channel.
When half the squadron had passed in, one of the land batteries opened
fire, but without effect. The ships continued at slow speed across the
great bay, looking for their antagonists, and found them in a smaller
bay--known as Baker Bay--anchored in line across its entrance, their
left and right protected by batteries on the inclosing peninsula and on
the mainland. Two mines were exploded ahead of the American flagship as
it advanced, but produced no damage. When the fleets were nearly
parallel with each other, the distance being two thousand to five
thousand yards, the Commodore said to the captain of the Olympia: "You
may fire when you are ready, Gridley," and at once the battle began.
Then was seen the advantage of training and target practice to the men
behind the guns. The American fire was remarkable for its precision,
and almost every shot told, while the Spanish fire, though vigorous,
was ineffective. The Spanish flagship attempted to leave the line and
go out to engage the Olympia at close range, but at once the entire
battery of the Olympia was concentrated on her, and she retreated to
her former place.

Following the example set by Du Pont at Hilton Head in 1861, the fleet
steamed steadily by and returned in a long ellipse, firing the
starboard broadsides as they went up, and the port broadsides as they
came back. This was repeated five times. The land batteries near the
city, as well as those on Cavité point, opened fire on the fleet, but
the Americans did not reply to them, their first business being with
the Spanish vessels. Dewey sent word to the Governor-General that
unless the city batteries ceased the city would be shelled, and this
had the desired effect. The terrific assault crippled the Spanish
vessels, set two of them on fire, and killed a great many men; but the
Spanish sailors were not so deficient in courage as in skill, and they
stood by their guns manfully.

Admiral Montojo says in his report: "The enemy shortened the distance
between us, and, rectifying his aim, covered us with a rain of
rapid-fire projectiles. At half past seven one shell completely
destroyed the steering-gear. I ordered to steer by hand while the
rudder was out of action. In the meanwhile another shell exploded on
the poop and put nine men out of action. Another carried away the
mizzen masthead, bringing down the flag and my ensign, which were
replaced immediately. A fresh shell exploded in the officers' cabin,
covering the hospital with blood and destroying the wounded who were
being treated there. Another exploded in the ammunition room astern,
filling the quarters with smoke and preventing the working of the hand
steering-gear. As it was impossible to control the fire, I had to flood
the magazine when the cartridges were beginning to explode. Amidships
several shells of smaller caliber went through the smokestack, and one
of the large ones penetrated the fire room, putting out of action one
master gunner and twelve men serving the guns. Another rendered useless
the starboard bow gun. While the fire astern increased, fire was
started forward by another shell which went through the hull and
exploded on the deck. The broadside guns, being undamaged, continued
firing until only one gunner and one seaman remained unhurt for working
them, as the guns' crews had been frequently called upon to substitute
those charged with steering, all of whom were out of action. The ship
being out of control, ... I gave the order to sink and abandon her
before the magazines should explode."

[Illustration: The battle of Manila. (By the courtesy of F. A.
Munsey.)]

All this was on the flagship, and the other Spanish vessels had been
used only a little less roughly when the American fleet drew off to
rest the men and have breakfast. How much the rest and refreshment were
needed can be realized only by those who themselves have been at work
in "the iron dens and caves" while the battle was raging overhead. A
stoker on the Olympia, giving an account of his experiences during the
fight, said: "The battle hatches were all battened down, and we were
shut in this little hole, the ventilating pipes being the only things
left open. The temperature was nearly up to two hundred degrees, and it
was so hot our hair was singed. There were several leaks in the steam
pipes, and the hissing steam made things worse. The clatter of the
engines and the roar of the furnaces made such a din it seemed one's
head would burst. When a man could stand it no longer he would put his
head under the air pipe for a moment. We could tell when our guns
opened fire by the way the ship shook. Once in a while one of the
apprentice boys would come to our ventilating pipe and shout down to
tell us what was going on."

Soon after eleven o'clock the American fleet returned to the attack,
and at this time the Spaniard's flagship and most of his other vessels
were in flames. At half past twelve the firing ceased, for the task was
substantially completed; one after another the hostile ships had been
sunk or driven ashore and burned, and the Americans had also poured
such a fire into the batteries at Cavité as compelled their surrender.
Dewey's fleet then anchored near the city, leaving the gunboat Petrel
to complete the destruction of the smaller Spanish boats that remained,
which was done.

Thus in about four hours of fighting the American had annihilated the
Spanish power in the Pacific and won a new empire. Admiral Montojo
reported his losses as three hundred and eighty-one men killed or
wounded. In the American fleet seven men were slightly wounded, but
none were killed. Some of the ships were struck by the Spanish shot,
but not one was seriously injured.

A pretty anecdote is told of Dewey after the battle. When the order had
been given to strip for action a powder boy lost his coat overboard. He
asked permission to go for it, but was refused. He went to the other
side of the ship, went over, and recovered his coat, and was then
placed under arrest for disobedience; and after the battle he was tried
and found guilty. When the sentence was submitted to the Commodore he
was curious to know why any one should risk his life for a coat, and
asked the boy. The little fellow, after some hesitation, told him it
was because his mother's picture was in the pocket. The tears came to
Dewey's eyes as he gave orders for his release, saying, "A boy that
loves his mother enough to risk his life for her picture can not be
kept in irons on this fleet."

While no American had any doubt of the result of a war with Spain, the
whole world was astonished at a battle that had completely destroyed
one fleet without serious damage to the other. It was evident that a
people who had produced John Paul Jones, Hull, Porter, Stewart,
Bainbridge, Perry, Decatur, Farragut, Worden, and Winslow had not yet
lost the power of producing worthy successors to those naval heroes.

If one wishes to muse on the historic achievements of sea power, it is
not necessary to visit Copenhagen or the Nile, or sit on the shore of
Trafalgar Bay; the Mississippi and Manila Bay will answer quite as
well. The United States navy has often been criticised at home and
sneered at abroad; but it is notable that in every war in which it has
engaged it has surpassed all expectations; and there is no reason to
suppose it will not continue to do so as long as the nation endures.

  "When life's last sun gaes feebly down,
     And death comes to their door,
   When a' the world's a dream to them,
     They'll go to sea no more."




CHAPTER XII.

AFTER THE BATTLE.


The first reports of the victory in Manila Bay were received with
amazement and with considerable incredulity. Among Americans there was
little doubt--perhaps none at all--as to the result of the war; but
they did not think to get through it without considerable losses, and
they expected the heaviest ones to fall on the navy. The reason for
this was in the new and untried character of naval architecture and
armament. From the sailing vessels that fought the famous battles of
1812 to the steamers with which Farragut passed the batteries on the
Mississippi the change was not so great and radical as from these to
the fleet commanded by Dewey. The cruiser of to-day, with its massive
sides of metal, its heavy rifled guns with improved projectiles, its
rapid fire, its electric lights and signals, its search-lights and
range-finders, and other apparatus contributing to celerity and
accuracy of work, is more dangerous and destructive, so long as it
remains intact, than anything that Hull or Bainbridge, Du Pont or
Farragut, ever saw. But it is a complicated machine, and nobody knew
what it would do if seriously crippled, the probability being that it
would go to the bottom and leave not a floating plank to which any poor
sailor could cling. At the same time a great deal of money and
ingenuity had been spent in building torpedo boats--more by European
governments than by ours--and it was apprehended that these at sea
would be like the proverbial snake in the grass on land--able to dart
quickly and inflict a mortal wound on greater and nobler creations than
themselves. And then came the construction of the still swifter craft
known as torpedo-boat destroyers, with appalling stories of their
deadly nature. And with all these complex forces afloat there was a
very natural dread of seeing them tried in actual battle, for it was
feared that even the victor could not attain his victory without
fearful disaster.

[Illustration: Admiral Dewey on the bridge of the Olympia. (By the
courtesy of the Judge Company.)]

So when the news was confirmed that an American fleet, paying no heed
to the probability of torpedoes in the channel, had steamed into Manila
Bay by night and in a few hours had sunk or destroyed a fleet of nearly
equal rating, and then had silenced and captured powerful land
batteries--and this without the loss of a ship or a man--"all the world
wondered," not merely in the imagination of a poet describing a useless
exploit, but in reality, because it recognized a marvelous revolution
in the art of war. History recorded no such victory until this was
repeated in Cuban waters, two months later, by another American fleet.
Nelson had destroyed the fleets of England's enemies, but not without
blood on the English decks and sorrow in English homes. He lost nearly
nine hundred men in the battle of the Nile, nearly a thousand in the
battle of the Baltic, and more than fifteen hundred at Trafalgar.

Throughout the United States there was pride and rejoicing, and Dewey
became a household word. It appeared everywhere, and was given as an
honored name to all sorts of things, from a popgun or a terrier to a
park or a theatre. In Europe the student of history could hardly help
putting together four facts and suspecting the existence of some
significant condition or principle behind them--that American naval
vessels had demonstrated their superiority over the English in 1812;
that it was an American fleet that, a little later, put an end to the
payment of tribute by civilized nations to the Algerine pirates; that
the Monitor, an American invention, had revolutionized warfare by water
in 1862; and that American cruisers and gunboats had now had it all
their own way in spite of Spanish cruisers, submarine mines, forts, and
torpedo boats. European governments were anxious to know how it was
done, and their military authorities dispatched officers across the
Atlantic to find out. The general explanation was the superiority of
the men behind the guns, with their abundant training and perfect
discipline. The particular reasons for the result were given by Admiral
Dewey in conversation with a friend. He said:

"The battle of Manila Bay was fought in Hong Kong Harbor--that is, the
hard work was done there; the execution here was not difficult. With
the co-operation of the officers of the fleet, my plans were carefully
studied out there, and no detail was omitted. Any man who had a
suggestion to offer was heard, and if it was a good one it was adopted.
After the indications of war were so strong that it appeared
inevitable, I devoted my time and energies to making every preparation
possible. When we left Hong Kong and anchored in Mirs Bay, outside of
the neutrality limits, I had determined upon my line of action. When we
left there a few days later we sailed away ready for battle, and
expecting it as soon as we reached the neighborhood of Manila.

"From that hour of departure until we drew out of action, Sunday
morning, May 1st, after destroying the Spanish squadron, we practically
did not stop the engines of our ships. We came directly across from the
China port to that of Luzon, headed down toward the entrance of Manila
Bay, reconnoitred Subig Bay, where it had been rumored we would find
the enemy, made the entrance to Manila, passed Corregidor Island by the
south channel in the darkness of the night, and steamed across the bay
close to Manila, where at break of day we discovered the Spanish fleet
off Cavité. Signaling to prepare for action and follow the flagship, I
gave orders to steam past the enemy and engage their ships. The result
you can see by looking at the sunken vessels in the harbor.

"Every ship and every man did his duty well, and the marvel of it all
is, that not one man on our side was killed or even seriously injured.
The only harm inflicted on the ships was of a trivial nature, although
the Spaniards kept up a lively fire until their gun decks were no
longer out of water or they had no men to man the guns. The Spanish
admiral and officers and crew fought bravely, and deserve credit for
their valor."

In giving his views of the action, he said:

"The first lesson of the battle teaches the importance of American
gunnery and good guns. It confirms my early experiences under Admiral
Farragut, that combats are decided more by skill in gunnery and the
quality of the guns than by all else. Torpedoes and other appliances
are good in their way, but are of secondary importance. The Spaniards,
with their combined fleet and forts, were equal to us in gun power, but
they were unable to harm us because of bad gunnery. Constant practice
had made our gunnery destructive, and won the victory.

"The second lesson of this battle is the complete demonstration of the
value of high-grade men. Cheap men are not wanted, are not needed, are
a loss to the United States navy. We should have none but the very best
men behind the guns. It will not do to have able officers and poor men.
The men in their class must be the equal of the officers in theirs. We
must have the best men filling all the posts on shipboard. To make the
attainments of the officers valuable, we must have, as we have in this
fleet, the best men to carry out their commands.

"The third lesson, not less important than the others, is the necessity
for inspection. Everything to be used in a battle should have been
thoroughly inspected by naval officials. If this is done, there will be
no failure at a crisis in time of danger. Look at the difference
between our ships and the Spanish ships. Everything the Spaniards had
was supplied by contract. Their shells, their powder, all their
materials were practically worthless, while ours were perfect."

While the engagement was in progress every place in Manila that
commanded a view of the bay was crowded with spectators. There is a
curious mingling of simplicity and pathos in the comments of a Spanish
newspaper published in Manila. It said: "Who could have imagined that
they would have the rashness stealthily to approach our shores,
provoking our defenders to an unavailing display of skill and valor, in
which, alas! balls could not be propelled by heart throbs, else the
result would have been different? The sound of the shots from our
batteries and those from the enemy's ships, which awakened the citizens
of Manila at five o'clock on that May morning, transformed the
character of our peaceful and happy surroundings. Frightened at the
prospect of dangers that seemed greater than they were, women and
children in carriages, or by whatever means they could, sought refuge
in the outskirts of the city, while all the men, from the highest to
the lowest, the merchant and the mechanic, the soldier and the peasant,
the dwellers in the interior and those of the coast, repaired to their
posts and took up arms, confident that never, except by passing over
their dead bodies, should the soil of Manila be defiled by the enemy,
notwithstanding that from the first it was apparent that the armored
ships and powerful guns were invulnerable to any effort at our
command.... A soldier of the first battalion of sharpshooters, who saw
the squadron so far out of range of our batteries, said, glancing up to
heaven, 'If the Holy Mary would only transform that water into land,
then the Yankees would see how we could fight.' And a Malay who was
squatting near by exclaimed, 'Let them land, and we will crush them
under heel.'"

The relative power of the opposing fleets may be seen from this
summary: The Americans had four cruisers, two gunboats, and one cutter,
carrying fifty-seven classified large guns, seventy-six rapid-firing
and machine guns, and one thousand eight hundred and eight men. The
Spaniards had seven cruisers, five gunboats, and four torpedo boats,
carrying fifty-two classified large guns, eighty-three rapid-firing and
machine guns, and one thousand nine hundred and forty-nine men.

Commodore Dewey's fleet officers were: Commander Benjamin P. Lamberton,
chief of staff; Lieutenant Thomas M. Brumby, flag lieutenant; Ensign
Harry H. Caldwell, secretary.

The line officers of the Olympia were: Captain Charles V. Gridley,
Lieutenant-Commander Sumner C. Paine, Lieutenants Corwin P. Rees,
Carlos G. Calkins, Valentine S. Nelson, Stokely Morgan, and Samuel M.
Strite, and Ensigns Montgomery M. Taylor, Frank B. Upham, William P.
Scott, Arthur G. Kavanaugh, and Henry V. Butler.

The line officers of the Baltimore were: Captain Nehemiah M. Dyer,
Lieutenant-Commander Gottfried Blockinger, Lieutenants William
Braunersreuther, Frank W. Kellogg, John M. Ellicott, and Charles S.
Stanworth, and Ensigns George H. Hayward, Michael J. McCormack, and
N. E. Irwin.

The line officers of the Boston were: Captain Frank Wildes,
Lieutenant-Commander John A. Norris, Lieutenants John Gibson and
William L. Howard, and Ensigns Samuel S. Robinson, Lay H. Everhart, and
John S. Doddridge.

The line officers of the Raleigh were: Captain Joseph B. Coghlan,
Lieutenant-Commander Frederic Singer, Lieutenants William Winder,
Benjamin Tappan, Hugh Rodman, and Casey B. Morgan, and Ensigns Frank L.
Chadwick and Provoost Babin.

The line officers of the Concord were: Commander Asa Walker,
Lieutenant-Commander George P. Colvocoresses, Lieutenants Thomas B.
Howard and Patrick W. Hourigan, and Ensigns Louis A. Kaiser, William C.
Davidson, and Orlo S. Knepper.

The line officers of the Petrel were: Commander Edward P. Wood,
Lieutenants Edward M. Hughes, Bradley A. Fiske, Albert N. Wood, and
Charles P. Plunkett, and Ensigns George L. Fermier and William S.
Montgomery.

The cutter McCulloch was commanded by Captain Daniel B. Hodgsdon.

[Illustration: Medal authorized by Congress for presentation to Admiral
Dewey and his officers and men. (Designed and copyrighted, 1898, by
D. C. French.)]




CHAPTER XIII.

THE PROBLEM ON LAND.


After the Spanish fleet had been destroyed and the forts surrendered,
Admiral Dewey demanded the surrender of the city of Manila with all its
fortifications and military stores. This the Governor-General refused.
The fleet could have bombarded the citadel and the fortifications, but
as no land force was at hand to garrison the place, and the foreign
consuls advised against it from fear of revengeful action of the
insurgents, the Admiral refrained. Instead, he established a strict
blockade of the port, while the Filipinos were besieging the city on
the land side. He destroyed six batteries at the entrance of the bay,
and occupied Cavité, where he established hospitals in which the sick
and wounded Spaniards were protected and cared for. As his proposal
that both sides use the telegraph cable unmolested was not accepted by
the Governor-General, he had it lifted and cut.

The possibility of a peaceful settlement of affairs in the island had
been destroyed by this same Governor, who in an official proclamation
had told the natives that the Americans had murdered all the original
inhabitants of North America, and that now they were coming to rob the
Filipinos of their lands, reduce many of them to slavery, and
substitute the Protestant religion for the Catholic. And the Archbishop
of Manila supplemented this with a pastoral letter in which he told the
natives that if the Americans were victorious their altars would be
desecrated, their churches turned into Protestant chapels, vice
inculcated instead of morality, and every effort made to lead their
children away from the true faith.

While affairs on shore were thus working toward a serious condition of
things for all concerned, there had been indications of unfriendliness
and a disposition to embarrass the operations of the Americans by some
of the commanders of foreign war ships. This was so marked on the part
of the Germans that there was serious danger of a rupture of the
friendly relations between the two countries; but the tact and firmness
of Dewey, who had been intrusted with full discretion by his
Government, prevented it. None the less anxiously he looked for the
arrival from the United States of a sufficient land force to capture
and hold Manila, and he was obliged to use all his skill in diplomacy
to restrain the Filipinos from attacking the city.

As soon as an expedition could be prepared, the Government sent one, in
three divisions. The first, under General Francis V. Greene, sailed
from San Francisco May 25th, and arrived at Manila June 30th; the
second, under General Thomas H. Anderson, sailed June 3d; and the
third, under General Arthur McArthur, arrived July 31st. The whole
number of troops was nearly twelve thousand. With the third section
went General Wesley Merritt, commander of the expedition, who also had
been appointed Military Governor of the Philippines; and with him went
General Elwell S. Otis, to whom was given the command of all the troops
in the Philippines, leaving General Merritt free to give his energies
to the administrative and political problems. On the 4th of August the
fleet was strengthened by the arrival of the monitor Monterey, which
had heavier ordnance than the ten-inch Krupp guns that the Spaniards
had mounted in the shore batteries.

The troops were landed at Cavité, and occupied the trenches on the
south side of the city, while the Filipino insurgents held those on the
east and north. The Spanish Governor-General resigned his authority to
the military commander, and, with the permission of Admiral Dewey, was
taken away on a German cruiser. On the 28th of July the Spaniards made
a determined assault on the American lines, but were driven back; and
on August 7th Admiral Dewey and General Merritt gave notice that in
forty-eight hours they would attack the defenses. Parleying ensued, and
the Americans extended the time nearly a week in order that General
Merritt might push his lines farther east and take possession of the
bridges, and thus be able to prevent the insurgents from entering the
city to loot it and massacre the Spaniards, which they were bent upon
doing. On the morning of August 13th the fleet bombarded the
fortifications of Malaté, setting fire to the stores and ammunition,
while the Utah battery played on the breastworks. Then the Colorado
regiment and the California troops stormed the works, drove out the
Spaniards, and fought them from house to house till they reached the
esplanade, when a white flag was displayed and the Spanish commander
surrendered and was accorded the honors of war. Bodies of insurgents
were found entering the city, and were driven back by General Greene's
troops.

General Merritt issued a proclamation in which he assured the
inhabitants of the islands that he had only come to protect them in
their homes, their occupations, and their personal and religious
rights; that the port of Manila would be open to the merchant ships of
all neutral nations; and that no person would be disturbed so long as
he preserved the peace. Additional troops were sent out, and General
Merritt returned home, leaving General Otis in command.

Meanwhile, the Spanish fleet on the coast of Cuba had been destroyed,
July 3d, by an American fleet under Acting Rear-Admiral William T.
Sampson, with Commodore Winfield S. Schley second in command; the
defenses of Santiago had been captured by the land forces under General
William R. Shafter; the island of Porto Rico was crossed and occupied
by an expedition under General Nelson A. Miles; and the French
Ambassador at Washington, in behalf of the Spanish Government, had
opened negotiations for peace. He and Secretary of State William R. Day
signed a protocol on August 12th. This provided for a cessation of
hostilities; that Spain should relinquish all claim to Cuba, and cede
Porto Rico to the United States; that the American forces should hold
the city and bay of Manila pending the conclusion of a treaty of peace,
which should determine what would be done with the Philippines; and
that peace commissioners should be appointed by both governments, to
meet in Paris not later than October 1, 1898. The commissioners on the
part of the United States were Secretary Day, Senator Cushman K. Davis,
Senator William P. Frye, Hon. Whitelaw Reid, and Senator George Gray.
The treaty of peace, as finally agreed to, November 28th, gave the
Philippines to the United States, with the stipulation that the
American Government should pay twenty million dollars to Spain for her
betterments in those islands. This treaty was promptly signed by
President McKinley, and after much delay was ratified by the Senate, in
spite of a determined attempt to defeat it. The opponents based their
objections mainly on what they considered the bad policy and dishonesty
of retaining the Philippines.

[Illustration: The Dewey Sword, the gift of the nation to Admiral
Dewey. (Tiffany & Co., New York, makers.)]




CHAPTER XIV.

HONORS.


Dewey's dispatches of May 1st and 4th, announcing the naval victory and
the capture of Cavité, were as brief and modest as possible. The shower
of honors that immediately fell upon him was such as perhaps no other
man has received within the memory of this generation. The Secretary of
the Navy, John D. Long, telegraphed to him, under date of May 7th: "The
President, in the name of the American people, thanks you and your
officers and men for your splendid achievement and overwhelming
victory. In recognition he has appointed you Acting Admiral, and will
recommend a vote of thanks to you by Congress."

Two days later the President sent a special message to Congress, in
which, after briefly recounting the victory, he said: "Outweighing any
material advantage is the moral effect of this initial success. At this
unsurpassed achievement the great heart of our nation throbs, not with
boasting nor with greed of conquest, but with deep gratitude that this
triumph has come in a just cause, and that by the grace of God an
effective step has thus been taken toward the attainment of the
wished-for peace. To those whose skill, courage, and devotion have won
the fight, to the gallant commander and the brave officers and men who
aided him, our country owes an incalculable debt. Feeling as our people
feel, and speaking in their name, I sent a message to Commodore Dewey,
thanking him and his officers and men for their splendid achievement,
and informing him that I had appointed him an Acting Rear Admiral. I
now recommend that, following our national precedents, and expressing
the fervent gratitude of every patriotic heart, the thanks of Congress
be given Acting Rear-Admiral George Dewey, of the United States navy,
for highly distinguished conduct in conflict with the enemy, and to the
officers and men under his command for their gallantry in the
destruction of the enemy's fleet and the capture of the enemy's
fortifications in the bay of Manila."

Congress promptly, enthusiastically, and unanimously, by a rising vote,
passed the joint resolution of thanks to Admiral Dewey and to the
officers and men of his fleet.

Then a bill was passed unanimously increasing the number of rear
admirals from six to seven, and the President at once promoted Dewey to
the full rank.

Furthermore, a resolution was passed unanimously instructing the
Secretary of the Navy to present a sword of honor to Admiral Dewey, and
cause bronze medals to be struck commemorating the battle of Manila
Bay, and distribute them to the officers and men who had participated
in the battle, and the sum of ten thousand dollars was appropriated for
the purpose.

Two days before the adjournment, in March, 1899, Congress passed,
without division, a bill reviving the grade and rank of Admiral in the
United States navy, "to provide prompt and adequate reward to
Rear-Admiral George Dewey, the said grade and rank to exist only during
the lifetime of this officer." The President signed the bill and gave
Admiral Dewey the commission on the 2d of March. This made him the
ranking officer not only of the navy, but of the army as well, in any
operations where the two arms of the service are employed.

Montpelier celebrated the victory with a public demonstration on the
9th of May, in which ten thousand persons participated.

The legislatures of several States passed complimentary resolutions,
and in Pennsylvania and California May 1st was made a legal holiday in
commemoration of the victory.

Money was raised by private subscription for a statue of Admiral Dewey,
to be cut in Vermont marble and placed beside that of Ethan Allen in
the State House at Montpelier. Many colleges conferred honorary degrees
upon him, and learned societies and social organizations elected him to
honorary membership.

It is proposed to erect a beautiful memorial hall, as an addition to
the buildings of Norwich Academy, and name it Dewey Hall.

When, in the summer of 1899, he was relieved and ordered home, he came
slowly, stopping often for rest on shore and being everywhere received
with honor. A great reception, with an immense procession and other
demonstrations, was prepared for him in the city of New York, where he
was to arrive on the 28th of September.

[Illustration: Bronze tablet for forward turret of Admiral Dewey's
flagship, Olympia. Presented by citizens of Olympia, Wash. (Copyright,
1899, by D. C. French.)]




CHAPTER XV.

LETTERS.


When a man has become famous, there is at once a desire on the part of
the public to know something of his character and habits of thought
aside from the work that has brought him into notice, and these are
generally shown best by his letters. We are permitted to make a few
significant extracts from Admiral Dewey's correspondence, with which we
will close this volume.

Several Confederate veterans at Clarksville, Tenn., some of whom had
belonged to the battery that destroyed the Mississippi when she was
trying to pass Port Hudson, sent him a letter of congratulation. In his
reply, dated July 23, 1898, he said: "I can assure you that, although I
have had letters, resolutions, telegrams, etc., from all parts of the
United States, none has given me more pleasure than the communication
from you. One fortunate result of this war with Spain is the healing of
all the wounds that have been rankling since 1865, and I believe that
from now on we will be a united people, with no North, no South. That
result alone will be worth all the sacrifices we have made. It would
give me much pleasure to talk over with you those stirring days around
Port Hudson, and I hope that pleasure may be in store for me."

Under date of October 3, 1898, he wrote to Mrs. Noss, of Mount
Pleasant, Penn., whose husband had been killed in the battle of Maleté:
"I wish to express to you my deepest sympathy. It must lessen your
sorrow somewhat to know that your young husband fell fighting bravely
for his country, the noblest death a man can know. From the Olympia I
watched the fight that fearful night, and wondered how many American
homes would be saddened by the martyrdom suffered by our brave men, and
my sympathy went out to each and every one of them. Your loss has been
sadder than the others, and I am unable to express the sorrow I feel
for you. Tears came to my eyes as I read the sad story of the father
who never saw his child, and then the loss of all that was left to the
brave mother. It is hard sometimes to believe, but our Heavenly Father,
in his infinite goodness, always does things for the best, and some day
father, mother, and daughter will be joined, never again to be parted.
With my tenderest sympathy, believe me your sincere friend."

[Illustration: The Dewey Triumphal Arch in Madison Square, New York.
(From the model, by the courtesy of the designer, Charles R. Lamb.)]

In a letter to a friend he wrote, after briefly describing the battle:
"The Spanish Admiral Montojo fought his ships like a hero. He stood on
his quarter-deck until his ship was ablaze from stem to stern, and
absolutely sinking under his feet; then, transferring his flag to the
Isla de Cuba, he fought with what was left of his fleet, standing
fearlessly amid a hail of shrapnel until his second ship and over one
hundred of her crew sank like lead in a whirl of water. It seems to me
that history in its roll of heroes should make mention of an admiral
who could fight his ships so bravely and stand on the bridge coolly and
calmly when his fleet captain was torn to pieces by one of our shells
at his side. I sent him a message telling him how I appreciated the
gallantry with which he had fought his ships, and the deep admiration
my officers and men felt for the commander of the Reina Cristina, who
nailed his colors to his mast and then went down with his gallant crew.
I think, my dear Norton, that had you witnessed this, as I did, you too
would have sent the brave sailor the message I caused to be sent to
him, to which he responded most courteously."

Political parties are fain to seize upon popular heroes for their
presidential candidates--often without much reference to the hero's
former political affiliations or want of them. The response is not
always such an emphatic refusal as was given once by General Sherman,
and now by Admiral Dewey. This is what the Admiral said:

"I would not accept a nomination for the presidency of the United
States. I have no desire for any political office. I am unfitted for
it, having neither the education nor the training. I am deeply grateful
for many expressions of kindly sentiment from the American people, but
I desire to retire in peace to the enjoyment of my old age. The navy is
one profession, politics is another. I am too old to learn a new
profession now. I have no political associations, and my health would
never stand the strain of a canvass. I have been approached by
politicians repeatedly, in one way or another, but I have refused
absolutely to consider any proposition whatever. This is final."




THE END.




YOUNG HEROES OF OUR NAVY.

Uniform Edition. Each, 12mo, cloth, $1.00.


The Hero of Manila.

Dewey on the Mississippi and the Pacific. By ROSSITER JOHNSON, author
of "Phaeton Rogers," "A History of the War of Secession," etc.
Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst and Others.


The Hero of Erie _(Commodore Terry)_.

By JAMES BARNES, author of "Midshipman Farragut," "Commodore
Bainbridge," etc. With 10 full-page Illustrations.


Commodore Bainbridge. _From the Gunroom to the Quarter-deck._

By JAMES BARNES. Illustrated by George Gibbs and Others.


Midshipman Farragut.

By JAMES BARNES. Illustrated by Carlton T. Chapman.


Decatur and Somers.

By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL, author of "Paul Jones," "Little Jarvis," etc.
With 6 full-page Illustrations by J. O. Davidson and Others.


Paul Jones.

By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL. With 8 full-page Illustrations.


Midshipman Paulding.

A True Story of the War of 1812. By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL. With 6
full-page Illustrations.


Little Jarvis.

The Story of the Heroic Midshipman of the Frigate Constellation. By
MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL. With 6 full-page Illustrations.


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.






End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hero of Manila, by Rossiter Johnson

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