THE CENTURY MAGAZINE VOL. LVIII. MAY, 1899. No. 1. THE SOLAR ECLIPSE AT BENARES. TEXT AND PICTURES BY R. D. MACKENZIE. Holy Benares, hail to thee! Hail, hail, hail! F ROM the long white dusty high- ways of India were streaming millions of religious pilgrims into their gate of paradise, Kashi (Benares), the holiest city in In- dia, the creation of Vishnu, and the home of Siva. They came from remote village and lonely homestead, scattered over the whole of northern India, to mingle in one vast emotional throng on the day of the eclipse, to wash away in the Ganges the dust of hundreds of weary miles and the sins of a lifetime. They came also, not to see an eclipse, but to witness what to them was to be a life-and-death struggle be- tween the sun and the great black demons Rahu and Kaytu, who were going to try and devour the sun; yes, to blot out absolutely the very life of the world. Thus, while astronomers were striving to obtain a position in the center of the moons shadow that THE STUDIO. would pass over India on January 22, 1898, to view the phenomena of a total solar eclipse, I was content to remain at Benares, on the extreme outer edge of this shadowy belt. Few may imagine the agony of soul experienced by these multitudes of troubled spirits who lined the banks of the Ganges and all its sacred branches. Through- out the breadth of India arose one long-continued wail of human emotion, which the en- lightenment of Western civilization makes it almost impossible to realize; for the super- stitious ignorance of the dark ages still sways the daily thoughts of millions in the East. Copyright, 1899, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved. 4 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. The day of the eclipse has dawned; it is mid- gentle chink-chink of silver anklets, draped winter on the plains of India; the cool gray in the thinnest of cotton cloth, white or of shade of night is sweeping to the west, fol- the most delicate tints, with here and there lowed by a semicircle of silvery light, edged a touch of strong color, and all moving in with a rainbow of delicate rose that has just one directionto the river. become visible at the zenith, while the sky They have been coming since dawn, and is one vast translucent dome. The rosy bow now thousands are covering the long flights bends more and more to the west, growing of stone steps, or ghats, which form the river- ~n color as it pushes the curtain of night bank for a distance of nearly three miles. nearer and nearer the horizon. The narrow streams of people winding The night has gone; the east is saturated their way in the hazy morning light sug- with light, which has descended to the pin- gest rivulets of mother-of-pearl, where nacles of the holy city, and creeps slowly white, the highest light, partakes of that down, transforming the dull sandstone beautifully soft pearly gray, while the azure, temples into fairy palaces of rose and the rose, and the emerald melt into the violet, immersed in the gray-green water, atmosphere. Now on the river-bank the del- as the immense orb of the sun rises a glow- icate glow of the rising sun makes of each ing crimson over the sandy wastes of the figure a rosy-edged silhouette, with its long, eternal river, tender, vanishing, violet-gray shadow. It is Through all the labyrinth of crooked pas- simply a dream in pearls. In an instant all sages which serve as streets between the is changed. The crimson sun has turned crowded mass of high, flat-roofed buildings yellow; in another moment it is pale and which seem to push the temples into the dazzling; it seems to soar up by leaps and water, are seen long processions of men, bounds out of the distant vapor. The steel- women, and children, silent but for the gray surface of the river, which stretches THE DEMONS DEVOUHING THE SUN. rj~ Q 6 to the horizon, is cut with the reflection, as of glowing quicksilver, the dancing globules of which quiver and break on the sand at your feet. I am comfortably seated on the flat, roomy top of one of the many house-boats which may always be seen clinging to the bathing- ghats. It is rowed by six men, and makes a ~Jelightful studio, just high enough from the water, and with absolutely nothing to inter- rupt the view; even the boatmen are all on the lower deck. I have procured a large THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. A portion of the ruin still stands, and forms part of the masjid walls, so that on one side it is a mosque and on the other a temple, an ever-present witness to the deathless te- nacity of Hinduism. The men have stopped rowing, and we drift slowly with the stream past the ghats. The sun is already high in the morning sky; its light and heat strike flat against the temples and ghats, producing a monotony of light-absorbing, dusty, sandy color, with scarcely a shadow. Brahman umbrella, fully nine feet in diam- eter, which has been mounted on a bam- boo at my back. Memory wanders away for an instant to Venice and its gondolas. Yes, this is Indias Venice. But there is one great and vital difference between the two: Benares lives; it is to-day what it was centuries ago; behind those sandstone temples honey- combed with mythologic sculpture are the shrines and idols, the effigies of gods or god- like men, that existed before the tall minarets of Aurung-Zebs mosque caught the first and last rays of the sun of Hindustan, and cast their shadows on the most sacred of Hindu possessions. The mosque was built on the ruins of a Hindu temple destroyed for that purpose; but it exists only as a monument which records the deeds of a conqueror; to the eye it speaks, but to the soul it is dead. In front of this moves a symphony of pure and delicate color. These whites and browns, pinks, blues, yellows, greens, violets, and reds glow, harmonize, and compose, as the ever- moving multitudes attach themselves to every available space on these high stone stairs, balconies, and cornices, in and about the temples, down to and into the water, out on long narrow rafts, or platforms, just touch- ing the surface of the river, fastened by numerous bamboos, the long, tapering, bend- ing points of which, twenty feet in the air, give the impression of a forest of gigantic reeds. Long pendants of colored cloth wet from the river hang slowly swaying from the high balconies, multiplying the graceful accidents of effect. If the eye becomes dazed with the light and color and the ever-increasing mul- titude, what must be its hopeless perplexity when confronted by the intoxicating reflec THEY CAME SLOWLY DRIFTING. THE EVER-MOVING MULTITUDE. tions in the jasper-colored water beneath, all dancing in ripples! To the painter it is simply a palette run mad. The eye seeks repose by returning once more to the general mass, where time and natures simplifying hand still hold their own. Here the temples, the ghats, the sand, the thousands of Brahman umbrellas, the very trees and sky, seem of but one tone and colorthe local color of the East, sand and dust, the begin- ning and the end of all human efforts. Everything else, animate or inanimate, is soon covered with Indias dusty shroud, loses its individuality, and either sinks into the sand or is parched into invisibility by the terrible sun. This sun should be the embodiment of the three great powers that make up the perfect Hindu DeityBrahman, Vishnu, and Siva, Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer: but as Creator and Preserver its work is invisible; only the dry, parched, shriveled, dusty remains of gaunt and naked nature are visible through the scorching glare of its awful presence. The tender green of spring lasts but a day. Childhood awakes only to perish. Youth is stifled, and maturity is shriveled into the dust. Winter draws but one breath and vanishes. Old age has been cut off, and premature spring is born again. What a beautiful, soft, luminous effect these sacred monu- ments produce as one drifts slowly past! They appear like pin- nacles of crystallized sand, not built, but worn out of the bank of the river into their peculiar pyramidical shapes by the rains and rivulets of centuries. Every sort of river craft, from the graceful structure of the native prince, with its gilded ornaments and kincob curtains, to the leaky timbers and patched and tattered sails of the Chunar sandstone barge, is there. Crowded to the waters edge with huddled HAV~F TONE PLATE ENGRAVED BA ROBERT VORLEY. THE SOLAR ECLIPSE AT BENARES. 9 masses of human freight, they come slowly drifting, like floating beds of lotus-flowers, and settle in clusters along the front of the ghats. Gradually and leisurely their living freight is transferred to the already packed terraced steps. One would now think that not another hu- man being could possibly squeeze in; yet I catch sight of a richly caparisoned palanquin, carried by four gaudily dressed bearers, pre- ceded by a mace-bearer, pushing a zigzag passage, which immediately closes behind down to xvithin a few feet of the water. Here it stops on a flat pedestal projection. The crowd squeeze out another foot or two of space, and the palanquin is set down, the curtains are lifted, and out steps a raja, a perfect Rubenesque figure, glittering from head to toe in gold embroideries. He has come in all his splendor for the same purpose as the poor, emaciated, blind religious men- dicant, whom I also see feeling his way with slow and measured movements, absolutely alone in that dense crowd; but he moves with confidence born of faith, and strengthened by years of daily gropings down these same stone stairs to his sacred bath. To him all that charms, confuses, and estranges the sense of sight has no existence. His path is as clear and solitary to-day in the midst of ten thousand as it was yesterday, when he stood on those steps alone, bent, and naked but for his loin-cloth, gazing with sightless eyes straight into the orb of the dazzling sun, with his offering of the water of the sacred Ganges dripping through the hollow of his outstretched hands. The hour of the eclipse is approaching. My studio boat has drifted along almost the en- tire length of the city front, and is now returning. It goes farther out toward the middle of the great river to gain relief from the bewildering detail, and to enable me to view the broader lines of this wonderful panorama. Whichever way the eye may turn, it is held a prisoner by the domes and minarets of Aurung-Zebs mosque, which rises above the whole mass of the city. Its audacity is admirable, and the beauty of its slender shafts, as they melt into the hot sky, is ex- quisitely fascinating. Its picturesque value can scarcely be questioned; without it, one would have a monotonous mass, with no dominating or central motive.1 I have almost forgotten the eclipse and the anxious multitude that literally paves the city front from end to end and from top to waters edge. From this distance they ap- pear like a motionless sea, the foam-topped waves of which have been transfixed in the act of engulfing the city. As one draws nearer again, the motionless panorama re- solves itself into a living scene. The sun is high in the heavens, its rays are almost ver- tical, while the multitude below has become an absolutely concrete body; no movement in it is possible unless instigated by some common impulse. That impulse is about to be given. There is the death-like calm that precedes a storm at sea, when only the mur- mur of the approaching tempest is borne hoarsely to the ear. The long-anticipated signal from the top of the old observatory is caught by the tempest of a million nervous voices; it sweeps in excited gusts from side to side, unites, and rolls in one vast tremulous wave from top to bottom, where it heaves and sways for an instant. But such an instant! It seems an eternity; and the frantic, surging, straining multitude in front, bound almost to strangulation in one anothers arms, seems as if tottering on the brink of another world. The edge of the moon has just begun to intercept the suns rays, the heavenly duel has begun, the black monsters dare to con- sume the light of the world. The water at the feet of the struggling mortals below is ready to absorb and carry away their black- est sins, even as it does the mud churned by their trembling feet. Hesitate? No, they do not hesitate. But each in his sinful eagerness retards his neighbor, and there, although forgiveness is at his feet, not one has the power to embrace it. This tension cannot last long; the reced- ing wave has been caught up again and heaves forward, carrying all before it deep into the bosom of the mother of waters. Wave after wave of struggling humanity surges down to the flowing tide, till the sight threatens to frenzy the mind as the livid light of the dying sun casts a mystery of shadow over those frantic, staring, dusky faces, with their never-ceasing, weird, wail- ing howl of supplication. 1 This mosque was built by the great Hindu architect Mddho D~s, by command of the emperor. 9- VOL. LVJJI.2. THE VIZIER OF THE TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER. BY FRANK R. STOCKTON. WITH PICTURES BY R. B. BIRCH. PART III. )UT four months after my first acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Crowder, I found my- self again in New York; and when I called at the house of my friends, I received from them a most earnest invitation to take up my abode with them during my stay in the city. Of course this invitation was eagerly ac- cepted; for not only was the Crowder house a home of the most charming hospitality, but my interest in the extraordinary man who was evidently so glad to be my host was such that not one day had passed since I last saw him in which I did not think of him, and consider his marvelous statements from every point of view which my judgment was capa- ble of commanding. I found Mr. Crowder unchanged in appearance and manner, and his wife was the same charming young woman I had known. But there was nothing surpris- ing in this. People generally do not change very much in four months; and yet, in talk- ing to Mr. Crowder, I could not prevent myself from earnestly scanning his features to see if he had grown any older. He noticed this, and laughed heartily. It is natural enough, he said, that you should wish to assure yourself that there s .a good foundation to your belief in what I have told you; but you are in too great a hurry: you must wait some years for that sort of proof, one way or the other. But I believe that you do believe in me, and I am not in the least disturbed by the way you look at me. After dinner, on the first day of my visit, when we were smoking together, I asked Mr. Crowder if he would not continue the recital of his experiences, which were of such absorbing interest to me that sometimes I found them occupying my mind to an extent which excluded the consideration of every- thing relating to myself and the present time. From one point of view, he said, that would be a bad thing for you: but I dont look at it in that way; in fact, I hope you may become my biographer. I will furnish you with material enough, and you can ar- 10 range it and put it in shape; that is, if in the course of a few years you consider that, in doing what I ask of you, you will be writing the true life of a man, and not a collection of fanciful stories. So I hope you may find that you have not lost your time when think- ing so mnch of a man of the past. Now, there is no doubt that I did most thoroughly believe in Crowder. I had argued with myself against this belief to the utmost extent of my ability, and I had now given up the effort. If I shonld disbelieve him I would deprive myself of one of the most precious privileges of my existence, and I did not in- tend to do so until I found myself absolutely forced to admit that I was mistaken. Time would settle all this, and all that I had to do now was to listen, enjoy, and be thankful for the opportunity. I am not going to tell any stories now,~ he said, for my wife has not overcome her dislike to tobacco smoke, and she has insisted that she shall be one of my hearers when I tell stories of my past life to you; but I can tell you this, my friend: she will believe every word I say; there can be no possible doubt of that. I have told her a good many things since I saw you last, and her faith in me is a joy unspeak~ble. Of course I was delighted to hear that this charming lady was to be my fellow- auditor, and said so. I often think of you two, said Mr. Crowder, contemplatively leaning back in his arm-chair. I think of you together, but I am bound to say that the thought is not altogether pleasant. I showed my amazement at this remark. It cant be helped, he said; it cant be helped. It s one of the things I have to suffer. I have suffered it over and over again thousands of times, but I never get used to it. Here you are, two young people, young enough to be my children: one is my wife; the other, I am proud to say, my best friend. You are the only persons in the world who know my story. You have faith in me, and the thought of that faith is the greatest pleasure of my life.

THE VIZIER OF THE TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER. BY FRANK R. STOCKTON. WITH PICTURES BY R. B. BIRCH. PART III. )UT four months after my first acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Crowder, I found my- self again in New York; and when I called at the house of my friends, I received from them a most earnest invitation to take up my abode with them during my stay in the city. Of course this invitation was eagerly ac- cepted; for not only was the Crowder house a home of the most charming hospitality, but my interest in the extraordinary man who was evidently so glad to be my host was such that not one day had passed since I last saw him in which I did not think of him, and consider his marvelous statements from every point of view which my judgment was capa- ble of commanding. I found Mr. Crowder unchanged in appearance and manner, and his wife was the same charming young woman I had known. But there was nothing surpris- ing in this. People generally do not change very much in four months; and yet, in talk- ing to Mr. Crowder, I could not prevent myself from earnestly scanning his features to see if he had grown any older. He noticed this, and laughed heartily. It is natural enough, he said, that you should wish to assure yourself that there s .a good foundation to your belief in what I have told you; but you are in too great a hurry: you must wait some years for that sort of proof, one way or the other. But I believe that you do believe in me, and I am not in the least disturbed by the way you look at me. After dinner, on the first day of my visit, when we were smoking together, I asked Mr. Crowder if he would not continue the recital of his experiences, which were of such absorbing interest to me that sometimes I found them occupying my mind to an extent which excluded the consideration of every- thing relating to myself and the present time. From one point of view, he said, that would be a bad thing for you: but I dont look at it in that way; in fact, I hope you may become my biographer. I will furnish you with material enough, and you can ar- 10 range it and put it in shape; that is, if in the course of a few years you consider that, in doing what I ask of you, you will be writing the true life of a man, and not a collection of fanciful stories. So I hope you may find that you have not lost your time when think- ing so mnch of a man of the past. Now, there is no doubt that I did most thoroughly believe in Crowder. I had argued with myself against this belief to the utmost extent of my ability, and I had now given up the effort. If I shonld disbelieve him I would deprive myself of one of the most precious privileges of my existence, and I did not in- tend to do so until I found myself absolutely forced to admit that I was mistaken. Time would settle all this, and all that I had to do now was to listen, enjoy, and be thankful for the opportunity. I am not going to tell any stories now,~ he said, for my wife has not overcome her dislike to tobacco smoke, and she has insisted that she shall be one of my hearers when I tell stories of my past life to you; but I can tell you this, my friend: she will believe every word I say; there can be no possible doubt of that. I have told her a good many things since I saw you last, and her faith in me is a joy unspeak~ble. Of course I was delighted to hear that this charming lady was to be my fellow- auditor, and said so. I often think of you two, said Mr. Crowder, contemplatively leaning back in his arm-chair. I think of you together, but I am bound to say that the thought is not altogether pleasant. I showed my amazement at this remark. It cant be helped, he said; it cant be helped. It s one of the things I have to suffer. I have suffered it over and over again thousands of times, but I never get used to it. Here you are, two young people, young enough to be my children: one is my wife; the other, I am proud to say, my best friend. You are the only persons in the world who know my story. You have faith in me, and the thought of that faith is the greatest pleasure of my life. THE VIZIER OF THE TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER. 11 Year by year you two will grow older; year by year you will more nearly approach my own age, and become, according to the ordinary opinion of the world, more suitable compan- ions for me. Then you will reach my age. We shall be three gray-haired friends. Then will come the saddening time, the mournful days. You two will grow older and older, and I shall remain where I amalways fifty- three. Then you will grow to be elderly elderly people; ~t last, aged people. If you live long enough I shall look up to you as I would to my parents. This was a state of things I had never con- templated. I could scarcely appreciate it. Of course, he continued, I wish you both to live long; but dont you see how it affects me? But enough of that. Here comes Mrs. Crowder, and with her all subjects must be pleasant ones. I think thee must buy some short cigars,,~ she said, just putting her head inside the door, to smoke after dinner. If large ones are necessary, they can be smoked after I go to bed. I am getting very impatient; for now that Mr. Randolph is here, I believe that thee is going to be unusually interesting. We arose immediately, and joined Mrs. Crowder in the library. This ladys use of the plain speech cus- tomary with Quakers was very pleasant to me. I had had but little acquaintance with it, and at first its independence of grammati- cal rules struck upon me unpleasantly; but I soon began to enjoy Mrs. Crowders speech when she was addressing her husband much more than I did the remarks she made to me, thelatterbeingalways couched inth e most cor- rect English. There was a sweetness about her thee which had the quality of gentle music; and when she used the word thy it was pronounced so much like thee that I could scarcely perceive the difference. To her husband and child she always used the Quaker speech of the present day; and as I did not like being set aside in this way, I said to her that I hoped there was no rule of the Society of Friends which would compel her to make a change in her form of speech when she addressed me. If thee likes, she said, with a smile, thee is welcome to all the plain speech thee wants. And after that, when she spoke to me, she did not turn me out among the worlds people. Now, you know, said Mr. Crowder, that I m not going to play the part of an historian. That sort of discourse would bore me, and it would bore you. If there is any kind of thing that you would like to hear about, all you have to do is to ask me; and if you dont care to do this, I will tell you whatever comes up in my memory, without any regard to chronology or geography, just as I talked to you before. If I were to begin at the beginning and go straight~along, even if I skipped ever so much, the story would it would be a great deal too long. I am sure that Mrs. Crowder and I both felt what he did not Wish to saythat we were not likely to live to hear it all. There are a great many things I should like to ask thee, said Mrs. Crowder, speak- ing quickly, as if to change the sul~ject of her thoughts; but I believe I have forgotten most of them. But here is something I should like to knowthat is, she said, turning to me, if thee has nt anything in thy mind which thee wishes to ask about? I noticed that she pronounced thy very distinctly, a little bit of grammatical con- science probably obtruding itself. Of course I had nothing to ask, and she put her ques- tion: What did thee do in the dark ages? Crowder laughed. That is a big ques- tion, said he, and the only answer I can give you in a general way is that there were so many things that I was not able to do, or did not dare to do, that I look upon those centuries as the most disagreeable part of my whole life. But you must not suppose that everybody felt as I did. A great many of the people by whom I was surrounded at that doleful period appeared to be happier and better satisfied with their circumstances than any I have known before or after. There was little ambition, less responsibility; and if the poor and weak suffered from the rapacity and violence of the rich and strong, they ac- cepted their misfortunes as if they were something theywere bound to expect, such as bad weather. I am not going to talk his- tory, and there is one thing that your question reminds me of. During that portion of the middle ages which is designated as dark, I employed myself in a great many different ways: I was laborer, sailor, teacher, and I cannot tell you what besides; but more fre- quently than anything else I was a teacher. Thee must have been an angel of light, Mrs. Crowder remarked. No, said he; an angel of light would have been very conspicuous in those days. I did nt pose for such a part. In fact, if I had not succeeded in appearing like a par- tial ignoramus I should have been obliged to go into a monastery, for in those days the monks were the only people who knew any- thing. All teaching they expected to do; 12 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. but, for all that, a few scholars cropped up now and then, and here and there, who did not care to have monks for masters; and by teaching these in a very modest, quiet way I frequently managed to make a living. I should think, I said, that at any time and in any period you would have been a person of importance, with your experience and knowledge of men. Mr. Crowder shook his head. No, said he; not so. To make myself of importance in that time I must have been a soldier, and the profession of arms, you know, is one I have always avoided. A man who cannot be killed should take care that he be not wounded. I am so glad that thee did take care, ejaculated Mrs. Crowder; but even I cannot see how thee kept out of fighting in those disorderly times. I did not keep out of it altogether, but in every possible way I tried to do so, and for the most part succeeded. Whenever I was likely to be involved in military opera- tions, I let my hair and beard grow, and the white-haired old man was usually exempted. I have had far more experience in keeping out of battles than any other human being has had in the art of winning them. But what you two want is a story, and I will give you oue. During some of the earlier years of the seventh century, I was living in Ravenna, and there I had three or four scholars whom I taught occasionally. I did not dare to keep a regular school, with fixed hours and all that; but while I was not working at my trade, which was then that of a mason, I gave les- sons to some young people in the neighbor- hood. Sometimes I taught in the evening, sometimes in bad weather when we did not work out of doors. No one of my scholars showed any intelligence, except a girl about eighteen years old. Her father, I think, was a professional robber; for his family lived very well, and he was generally absent from home at the head of a little band of desperate fellows, of whom there were a great many in that region. This girl, whose name was Rina, had an earnest desire for knowledge, and showed a great capacity for imbibing it and retaining it. In fact, I believe she was the most intel- ligent person in that region. Was she pretty? asked Mrs. Crowder. Yes, replied her husband; she was very good-looking. I was so interested in her de- sire for knowledge that I taught her a great deal more than I would have dared to teach anybody else; and the more I taught, the more she wanted to learn. I soon becameverymuch concerned about Rina. Some man of the neighborhood, old or young, would be sure to marry her before very long, and then there would be an end of the development of what I considered the brightest intellect of the day. So to keep that from happening to her, thee married her thyself? asked Mrs. Crowder. Her husband smiled. Yes; that is what I did. You know, he said, addressing me, that I believe that Mrs. Crowder takes more interest in my marriages than in anything else I have done in the course of my career. Certainly I do, she said, with a little flush. Of course thee had to be married, and it is natural enough that I should want to know whom thee married, and all about it. Well, said Mr. Crowder, we must get on with this. A priest with whom I was ac- quainted married us, and we immediately fled from Ravenna. After a year or two of wan- dering through benighted countries where even kings and rulers could not write their names, and where reading seemed to be a lost art except in the monasteries, we made irp our minds, if possible, we would go from darkness into light; and so we set out on a journey to China. At this statement Mrs. Crowder and I looked surprised. I dont wonder you open your eyes, said he. It must seem odd to you, unless you are very familiar with the history of the period, that we should go from Europe to China in search of enlightenment and civili- zation; but that is what we did, and we found what we looked for. As the Pope had sent an envoy to China, and as some Nestorian missionaries had gone there, I believed that we could go. This journey to the Chinese province of Nan-hae occupied the greater part of five years; but to me personally that was of no account, for I had time enough. Although we passed through all sorts of hardships and dangers, my wife was greatly interested in the strange things and people she met. Some- times we traveled by water, sometimes on horses and asses, and very often we walked. During the last part of the journey we joined a caravan which went through central Asia. At that time Chinawas ruled bya woman, the Empress Woo. For a longtime back there had been a period of great intellectual activ- ity in China. Literature and the arts flour- THE VIZIER OF THE TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER. 13 ished, and while the great personages of Europe did not know how to write, these people were printing from wooden blocks. The empress was a remarkable woman. She had been a widow of one monarch, and when his son succeeded to the throne she mar- ried him. She had great ambition and great ability. She put down her enemies, and she put herself forward. She took her husbands place in all the imperial consultations and decisions, and very soon set him aside, and for forty years was actual ruler of the empire. ~She was a great woman, this Empress Woo. Very little happened in her dominions that she did not know, and when two wan- derers arrived from the far and unknown West, she sent for me and my wife to appear before her at the palace. We were received with much favor, for we could do her no possible harm, and she was very eager for knowledge. My wife was an object of great curiosity to her, as she was so different from the Chinese women. But as poor Rina could never acquire a word of the language of the country, the empress soon ceased to take interest in her. As I was always very good at picking up languages, she had me at the palace a great deal, asking all sorts of questions about the Western countries and people. I was also able to tell her much about bygone ages, which information she thought, of course, I had acquired by reading. One day the empress asked me about the marriage customs in the West, and wanted to know how many wives a man could have in our country. She seemed to be so much in earnest, as she spoke, that I was frightened. I did not know what to answer. But fortunately one of her generals was announced, and she did not press the question. As I was leaving the palace, one of the officers of the court took me aside, and told me that the empress was thinking of marry- ing me, and that I had better put on some fine clothes when I came again. This was terrible news, but I was bound to tell my wife, and we sat up all night talking about it. To escape from that region would have been impossible. We were obliged to stay and face the in- evitable, whatever it might be. The question which Rina and I had to decide was a very simple one, hut terribly difficult ~ for all that. If I should tell the empress that men of my country believed that it was right to have but one wife, Rin~ would quickly be disposed of; so she had to decide whether she would prefer to die so that I might marry the empress, or to preserve her life and lose her undivided possession of a husband. I know what I would have done, said Mrs. Crowder, her eyes very bright; I would have let her kill me. I would never have consented for thee to marry the wretch. That would have pleased her, said Mr. Crowder; for she would have had me all the same, and you would have been out of the way.~~ Then I would not have died, said the little Quakeress, almost fiercely; I would not have done anything to please her. ASKING ALL SORTS OF QUESTIONS.~ 14 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. But I dont know. What did thee and thy wife do? We talked and talked and talked, said Mr. Crowder, and at last I persuaded her to live; that is to say, not to make herself an obstacle to the wishes of the empress. It was a terrible trial, but she consented. The more insignificant she became, I told her, the greater her chances of safety. The next day the empress sent for me, as I was sure she would do. You did not tell me, she said, how many wives your men have. That all de- pends upon the will of our sovereign, I re- plied; in matrimonial affairs we do as we are commanded. When we have no commands from the throne, our circumstances regulate the matter. Thee did tell a dreadful lie while thee was about it, said Mrs. Crowder, but I suppose thee had to. You are right there, said her husband; and my answer pleased the empress. That is what I like, she said. The monarch should settle all these matters. I hope some day to settle them in this country. Then, without any hesitation or preface, she an- nounced her intention of marrying me. I greatly need, she said, a learned man for an imperial consort. My present husband knows nothing. I never trust him with any affairs of state. But I have never asked you anything to which you did not give me a satisfactory answer. Now, my dear, said Mr. Crowder, you see the reward of vanity. If I had pretended to be a fool instead of asDiring to be a philosopher and an historian, I should never have attracted the interest of the queen.~~ And did thee marry her? asked his wife. I do so pity poor Rina! I 11 tell you how it turned out, he con- tinued. After pressing me a good deal, the empress said: I had intended to marry you in a few days, or as soon as the preparations could be made; but I have now postponed that ceremony. I find that military affairs must occupy me for some time, and it would be better for me at present to marry one of my generals. A military man is what the country needs. But I shall want a counselor of your sort very soon, so you must hold yourself ready to marry me whenever I shall notify you. My instincts prompted me to ask her what the imperial general might be apt to think about the increase in her matrimonial forces, but I was wise enough to hold my tongue. When the general should cease to be of use to her, I knew very well that he would not be likely to offer opposition to anything on earth. How glad I am, ejaculated Mrs. Crow- der, that thee did nt ask any questions, and that thee consented to everything the wicked creature said! So am I, he replied; and I was glad to get out of that palace, which I never entered again. From that day I began to grow old as fast as I could. My hair and beard be- came very long; I ate but little; I stooped more and more each day, and walked with a staff. I began to be very forgetful when people asked me questions. About a year afterward the queen saw me. I was in the crowd near the palace, where I had pur- posely gone that I might be seen. She looked at me, but gave no sign that she recognized me. The next day an officer came to me, and roughly told me that the empress had no use for dotards in her dominions, and that the sooner I went away the better for me. I afterward heard that the execution of two strangers had been ordered, but that a certain superstition in the mind of the empress had prevented this. She had heard, through persons who had met the Nesto- rians, that people of our country were pro- tected in some strange manner which she did not understand. Rina and I could not leave China, for I had now no money; but we went to a distant province, where I lived for more than ten years, passing as a Chinaman. And Rinapoor Rina? asked Mrs. Crowder. She soon died, said her husband. She was in a state of fear nearly all the time. She could not speak the language, and it may be said that she gave up her life in her pur- suit of knowledge. In this respect she was as wonderful a woman as was the Empress Woo. And a thousand times better, said Mrs. Crowder, earnestly. And then? Then, said her husband, I married a Chinese woman.~~ What! exclaimed Mrs. Crowder, her eyes almost round. Yes, my dear; it was a great deal safer for me to be married, and to become as nearly as possible like the people by whom I was surrounded. But thee did nt have several wives, did thee? asked Mrs. Crowder. Oh, no, he answered; I was too poor for anything of that kind to be expected of me. When an opportunity came to join a caravan and get away, I took my Chinese THE VIZIER OF THE TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER. 15 wife with me, and eventually reached Ara- bia. There we stayed for a long time, for I found it impossible to prosecute my journey- ing. Eventually, however, we reached the island of Malta, where my wife lived to be over seventy. Travel, hardships, and danger seemed to agree with her. She never spoke AND ROUGHLY TOLD ~ any language but her own, and as she was of a quiet disposition, and took no interest in the things she saw, she generally passed as an imbecile. But she was the first Chinese woman who ever visited Europe. I guess thee was very sorry thee brought her before thee got through with her. I dont approve of that matrimonial alliance at all, said Mrs. Crowder. During this and succeeding evenings of narration, it must not be supposed I sat silent, making no remarks upon what I heard; but, in fact, what I said was of hardly any importance, and certainly not worth intro- ducing into this account of Mr. Crowders experiences. But the effect of his words upon Mrs. Crowder, as shown both by the play of her features and her frequent ques- tions and exclamations, interested me almost as much as the statements of my host. I had previously known her as the gentlest, the sweetest, and the most attractive of my female acquaintances; but now I found her to be a woman of keen intellect and quick appre- ciation. Her remarks, which were very frequent, and which I shall not always record, werelike season- ing and spice to the narrative of Mr. Crowder. Never before had a wife heard such stories from a husband, and there never could have been a woman who would have heard them with such al- most religious faith. Naturally, she showed me a most friendly confidence. The fact that we were both the loyal disciples of one master was a bond between us. He was so much older than either of us, and he regarded us some- times with what looked so much like parental affection, that it would not have been surprising if persons, not believers as we were, should have entertained the idea that, in course of time, he would pass away, and that we two should be left to comfort each other as well as we might. But I, who had heard my friend speak of the coming years, could not for- get the picture he had drawn of two aged and feeble people, looked up to in love and veneration by a fresh and heartyman of fifty-three. Thee never seemed to have any trouble in getting married, said Mrs. Crowder. Did thee ever stay an old bachelor any length of time? Crowder laughed. Such questions from his wife amused him very much. I was thinking of changing the subject, said he, and was about to tell you some- thing which had not anything to do with wives and marriages. I thought you might be tired of that sort of thing.~~ Not at all, said she, quickly; thats just what I want to hear. Very well, answered he; I will give you a little instance of one of my failures in l6ve-making. 16 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. It was long before my visit to Empress Woo; in fact, it was about eleven hundred years before Christ, and I was living in Syria, where I was teaching school in the little town of Timnath. I became very much in- terested in one of the girls of my class. She was a good deal older than any of the others; in fact, she was a young woman. She had a bright mind, and was eager to learn, and I naturally became interested in her; and in the course of time she pleased me so much that I determined to marry her. It seems thee was in the habit of marry- ing thy scholars, said Mrs. Crowder. There is nothing very strange in that, he replied; a schoolmaster usually becomes very well acquainted with some of his schol- ars, and if a girl pleases him very much it is not surprising that he should prefer to marry her, or, at least, to try to, than to go out among comparative strangers to look for a wife. If I had been in thy place, said Mrs. Crowder, reflectively, sometimes I would have enjoyed a long rest of bachelordom; it would have been a variety. Oh, I have had variety of that kind, said he. For many succeeding decades I have been widower, or bachelor, whichever you choose to call it. As I was saying, this girl pleased me very much. She was good-looking, bright, and witty, and her dark, flashing eyes won her a great deal of attention from the young men of the place; but she would not have anything to do with them. They could not boast much in regard to intelligence or edu- cation, nor were any of them in very good circumstances; and so, in spite of my years, she seemed to take very kindly to me, and I made up my mind I would marry her the approaching autumn. I had some money, and there was a house with a piece of land for SHE TURNED HER HEAD. THE VIZIER OF THE TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER. 17 sale near the town. This I planned to buy, and to settle down as an agriculturist. I was tired of school-teaching. No wonder, said Mrs. Crowder, as thee intended to take out of it its principal at- traction. We were walking, one evening, over the fields, talking of astronomy, in which she took a great interest, when we saw a man approaching who was evidently a stranger. He was a fellow of medium height, but he gave the impression of great size and vigor. As he came nearer, striding over the rough places, and paying no attention to paths, I saw that he was very broad-shouldered, with a heavy body and thick neck. His legs were probably of average size, but they looked somewhat small in comparison with his body and his long arms, which swung by his sides as he walked. He was a young man, bushy- bearded, with bright and observant eyes. As he passed us, he looked.very hard at my com- panion, and, I am sorry to say, she turned her head and gazed steadfastly at him. That s a fine figure of a man, she said. He looks strong enough for anything. I did nt encourage her admiration. He might be made useful on a farm, I said; if his legs were as big as the rest of him, he could draw a plow as well as an ox.~ She made no answer to this; but her interest in astronomy seemed to decrease, and she soon proposed that we should turn back to the town. On the way we met the stranger again, and this time he stopped and asked us some questions about the country and the neighborhood. All the time we were talking he and my scholar were looking at each other, and each of them seemed en- tirely satisfied with the survey. The next day the girl was very inattentive at school, and in the afternoon, when I hoped to take a walk with her, I could not find her, and went out by myself. Before long I saw her sitting under a tree, talking to the stranger of yesterday. She was a regular flirt, said Mrs. Crowder. Apparently she was, replied her hus- band; but although I might have excused her, considering how much better suited this stranger was to her, in point of years at least, I was not willing to withdraw and leave her to another, especially as he might be a per- son entirely unworthy of her. I did not disturb them, but I went back to the town and made some inquiries about the stranger. I found~that he was a Danite, and lived with his parents in Zorah, and that his name was Samson. I also learned that his family was possessed of considerable means. It soon became plain that it would not be easy for me to carry out my marriage plans and settle down among my vines and fig-trees. Samson went home, told his pa- rents of his desire to marry this girl, and in the course of time they all came down to Timnath and made regular matrimonial propositions to her parents. Was this the great Samson who tore lions apart and threw down temples? asked Mrs. Crowder, in amazement. The very man, was the reply; and he was the most formidable rival I ever had in that sort of affair. The proper thing for me to do, according to the custom of the times, would have been to take him aside, as soon as I found that he was paying atten- tions to my sweetheart, and fight him; but the more I looked at him and his peculiar propor- tions, the more I was convinced that he was not a man with whom I wanted to fight. I should think not, said Mrs. Crowder. How glad I am thee never touched him! The result might not have been disas- trous to me, he said; for although I have always avoided military matters as much as possible, I was probably better versed in the use of a sword than he was. But I did not care to kill him, and from what I heard of him afterward, I am sure that if he had ever got those long arms around me I should have been a mass of broken bones. So, taking everything into consideration, I gave up my plan to marry Delilah, and it was nt long before I was very glad I did so. She proved to be a tricky creature, and gave her husband a great deal of trouble. I left that region and traveled far away. It was nearly a hundred years after that before I heard of those great exploits of Samson which have given him such wide-spread fame. (To be continued.) VOL. LVIJL3. THE MATTER OF A MASHIE. BY DAVID GRAY, Author of Gallops. WITH PICTURES BY HENRY S. WATSON. IUTTING had been taken into the firm, to the disgust of the junior partners. They agreed that he would never amount to much, being given over to sports and unprofitable ways of life. It came about as a result of Cutting get- ting himself engaged. There was no excuse for his getting himself engaged. He was poor, and she was poor, and they both had rich friends and expensive ideas of life. But, as sometimes happens in such cases, Provi- dence was fairly shocked into making unex- pected arrangements. Cuttings uncle was the head of the firm. Said he: I am going to give you six months trial. If you are not satisfactory you will have to get out. Good morning. The elder Cutting was a great lawyer. As a man he was a gruff-spoken, soft-hearted old person. He was a believer in moral discipline. For forty-five years he had reached his office 18 at nine oclock in the morning, and had re- mained there till six at night. After that he went to the club and took his exercise at a whist-table. He considered the new out-of- door habits of professional men a scandal. The junior partners had grown up in this school of thought, and as a matter of course they disapproved of Mr. Richard Cutting. It was unfortunate that Mr. Cutting cared little whether they disapproved or not. It was also imprudent; for the junior partners set to work to make his connection with the firm end with his six months probation. The previous week a crisis had been reached. Cutting was away two entire days for a Long Island golf tournament. The junior partners conferred with the senior partner, and there was a very complete unpleasantness. I shall be forced to terminate our arrange- ment unless I hear better reports of you from my associates, said the elder Cutting, in 1ff ~$ //AK HERE THE OFFICE BOY APPEARED AGAIN.

THE MATTER OF A MASHIE. BY DAVID GRAY, Author of Gallops. WITH PICTURES BY HENRY S. WATSON. IUTTING had been taken into the firm, to the disgust of the junior partners. They agreed that he would never amount to much, being given over to sports and unprofitable ways of life. It came about as a result of Cutting get- ting himself engaged. There was no excuse for his getting himself engaged. He was poor, and she was poor, and they both had rich friends and expensive ideas of life. But, as sometimes happens in such cases, Provi- dence was fairly shocked into making unex- pected arrangements. Cuttings uncle was the head of the firm. Said he: I am going to give you six months trial. If you are not satisfactory you will have to get out. Good morning. The elder Cutting was a great lawyer. As a man he was a gruff-spoken, soft-hearted old person. He was a believer in moral discipline. For forty-five years he had reached his office 18 at nine oclock in the morning, and had re- mained there till six at night. After that he went to the club and took his exercise at a whist-table. He considered the new out-of- door habits of professional men a scandal. The junior partners had grown up in this school of thought, and as a matter of course they disapproved of Mr. Richard Cutting. It was unfortunate that Mr. Cutting cared little whether they disapproved or not. It was also imprudent; for the junior partners set to work to make his connection with the firm end with his six months probation. The previous week a crisis had been reached. Cutting was away two entire days for a Long Island golf tournament. The junior partners conferred with the senior partner, and there was a very complete unpleasantness. I shall be forced to terminate our arrange- ment unless I hear better reports of you from my associates, said the elder Cutting, in 1ff ~$ //AK HERE THE OFFICE BOY APPEARED AGAIN. THE MATTER OF A MASHIE. 19 conclusion. He believed it his duty to say this; he was also honestly irritated. The junior partners were gratified; they considered that they had settled the younger Cutting. IT was a muggy August morning, and the office force was hot and irritable. Something unusual and disturbing was in the air. The junior partners were consulting anxiously in the big general room where most of the clerks worked, and where the younger Cutting had his desk. The younger Cutting had not yet appeared. He came in as the clock was pointing to twelve minutes past ten. The junior partners glanced up at the clock, and went on again in animated undertones. Cutting opened his desk, sat down, and unfolded his newspaper. He was a beautiful, clean-looking youth with an air of calm and deliberation. He regarded the junior part- ners with composure, and began to read. No, Mr. Bruce was saying; it is too late to do anything about it now. The case is on to-days calendar, and will be called the first thing after lunch. Our witnesses have nt been notified or subpcenaed, and the law has nt been looked up. Smith shook his head sourly. The old man is getting more absent-minded every year, he said. We cant trust him to look after his business any longer. The manag- ing clerk gave him a weeks notice, and told him about it again yesterday. You think there is no chance of getting more time? Bruce looked at his colleague with con- tempt. You might, he said sarcastically; I cant. Oh, I 11 take your word for it, said Smith. I dont want to tackle Heminway. Bruce laughed dryly. The case has been put over for us I dont know how many times already, he said. I dont blame Heminway. He gave us ample notice that he could nt do it again. That s true, said Smith. Reed vs. Hawkins, the case in question, was a litigation of small financial impor- tance, about which the senior Cutting had formed a novel and ingenious theory of de- fense. Instead of turning it over to the younger men, he kept it as a legal recrea- tion. But he never got to it. It was his Carcassonne. The day of trial would come, and he would smile blandly, and remark: True! That has slipped my mind completely. Bruce, kindly send over to Heminway and ask him to put it over the term. I want to try that case myself. A very interesting point of law, Bruce, very interesting. The last time this had happened, the great Mr. Heminway observed that professional etiquette had been overtaxed, and that the Reed case must go on. People who knew Mr. Heminway did not waste their breath urging him to change his mind. Messrs. Bruce and Smith considered the situation for a time in silence. Well, said Smith, at last, its bad for the firm to let a judgment be taken against us by default, but I dont see anything else to do. At this moment the elder Cutting emerged from his private office with his hat on. Ob- viously he was in a hurry, but he paused as he came through. Have you attended to that Reed matter? he asked. There s nothing to do but let it go by default, said Bruce. Mr. Cutting stopped. Get more time! he said sharply. I cant, said Bruce. Heminway has put his foot down. No one can make him change his mind now.~~ Stuff! said Mr. Cutting. Dick, go over and tell Heminway I want that Reed case put over the term. And he went out. Cutting finished the Gravesend races, laid the paper on his desk, scribbled a stipula- tion, and leisurely departed. As the door closed, the junior partners looked at each other and smiled. Then said Smith, I wish I could be there and see it. Bruce chuckled. He could imagine the scene tolerably well. It will do him a lot of good, he said. Then he added: Dont you think I had better write personally to Hawkins and explain matters? Of course we shall have to pay the costs. Yes, said Smith; its better to explain at once. It s a piece of bad business. THE younger Cutting announced himself as Mr. Cutting, of Cutting, Bruce & Smith. That was a name which carried weight, and the office boy jumped up and looked at him curiously, for he took him for the Mr. Cut- ting. Then he led him down a private pas- sage into the inner and holy place of the great Mr. Heminway. He 11 be back in a moment, sir, said the boy. He s stepped into Mr. Ansons office. Mr. Anson was the junior partner. The door into the waiting-room was ajar about an inch. Cutting peeped through it, and saw the people who wished to consult the great lawyer. He knew some of them. 20 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. There was a banker who had recently thrown Wall street into confusion by buying two railroads in one day. There were others equally well known, and a woman whose in- come was a theme for the Sunday newspapers. Cutting watched them stewing and fidgeting with an unlovely satisfaction. It was un- usual for such persons to wait for anybody. He discovered that by walking briskly to- ward the door he could make them start and eye one another suspiciously, like men in a barber-shop at the call of Next! When this entertainment palled, he played with his hat. Still the great man did not come, and presently Cutting took a tour of in- spection about the room. As he reached the lawyers desk, a golf-club caught his eye, and he stopped. It was a strangely weighted, mammoth mashie. He picked it up and swung it. What an extraordinary thing! he mut- tered. It weighs a pound. He looked for the makers name, but the steel head had not been stamped. He put it back on the desk-top, and was turning away when a row of books caught his eye. Half concealed by a pile of papers was the Badminton golf-book, an American book of rules, a score-hook, a work entitled Hints for Beginners, and a pamphlet of Golf Donts. In the pigeonhole above lay several deeply scarred balls. Cuttinglaughed. Just then he heard a step, and turned has- tilv around. A tall, imposing figure stood in the private doorwaya man of sixty, with a grim, clean-cut face. Well? said Mr. Heminway, question- ingly. He had a blunt, aggressive manner that made Cutting feel as if he were about to ask a great favor. Well? he repeated. I m busy. Please tell me what I can do for you. My name s Cutting, the young man be- gan Richard Cutting, of Cutting, Bruce & Smith. The great lawyers face softened, and a friendly light came into his eyes. I am glad to know you, he said. I knew your father. Your uncle and I were class- mates. That was a long time ago. Are you the R. Cutting who won the golf tourna- ment down on Long Island last week? Cutting nodded. Well, well, he exclaimed, then you re a crack! You see, he added, I ye taken it up in a mild way myself. I m afraid I shall never be able to get really interested, but it s an excuse for keeping out of doors. I wish I had begun it at your age. Every afternoon on the links is so much health stored up for after life. Remember that! They say it is wholesome, said Cutting. I gathered that you played. I saw a mashie on your desk. If you dont think me rude, would you tell me where you got that thing? Or is it some sort of advertisement? Mr. Heminway looked surprised. Adver- tisement? he repeated. Oh, no. That s an idea of my own. You see, I need a heavy club to get distance. I had this made. It weighs fourteen ounces, he went on. What do you think of it? He handed the thing over, and watched Cuttings face. Do you want my honest opinion? said Cutting. The lawyer nodded. Then giveitaway, Mr. Heminway, saidthe young man, respectfully, or melt it into rails. You know you cant play golf with that. The lawyer looked puzzled. What do you mean? he asked. Why, distance is nt a question of weight! said Cutting. It s a fact that you get the best distance with the lightest clubs. Most professionals use ladies cleeks. The great lawyer looked thoughtful. Is that so? he asked. He was trying to ac- count for this doctrine out of his experience. It seems absurd, he added. It s so, though, said Cutting. He heard the banker in the next room cough omi- nously. He took up his hat. Sit down, sit down! exclaimed the lawyer. I want to find out about this. I ye been doing pretty well, except at the quarry- hole. That beats me. It s only one hundred and twenty-five yards, so that I m ashamed to use a driver; and with an iron I go inI go in too often. Everybody~ goes in at times, Cutting remarked encouragingly; it s a sort of nerve hazard, you know. I go in more than at times, said the lawyer. Last Saturday I lost sixteen balls thereand my self-respect. That s too much, is nt it? Cutting looked severely away at the por- trait of Chief Justice Marshall. Yes, he said; that is rather often. The idea of Mr. Herninway profanely filling up the hill quarry with golf-balls appealed to him. Still, he went on, you must pardon me, but I dont think it could have been because your clubs were too light. Well, demanded the lawyer, what do I do that s wrong? Cutting looked him over critically. Of course I ye never seen you play, he said. THE MATTER OF A MASHIE. 21 I should judge, though, that you hit too hard, for one thing. I suppose I do, said the lawyer. I get irritated. It appears so simple. You see, Cutting continued, there are three things that you ought always to keep in mind There was a rap on the door, and a clerk put his head in. Mr. Pendleton, he began, mentioning the bankers name. The lawyer waved him out. I m busy, he said; tell him I 11 see him directly. Three things? he repeated, turning to Cutting. What are they? In the first place, said the young man, when you swing, you must keep your arms away, and you must nt draw back with your body. Your head must nt move from side to side. The lawyer looked puzzled. Fancy a rod running down your head and spine into the ground. Now that makes your neck a sort of pivot to turn on when you swing. It s like this. He took the club and illustrated his idea. A good way to prac- tise, he added, is to stand with your back to the sun and watch your shadow. You can tell then if your head moves. That s ingenious, observed Mr. Hemin- way. He looked about the room as if he ex- pected to find the sun in one of the corners. The awnings were down, and only a subdued light filtered in. We might manage with an electric light, he suggested. He turned on his desk-lamp, and arranged it on the top of the desk so that it cast its glare on the floor. Then he pulled down the window-shade. That s good, said Cutting, only it s rather weak. Watch the shadow of my head. He began swinging with the mashie. I see, said Mr. Heminway; that s very ingenious. It insures an even swing, said Cutting. Now, the next thing, he went on, is to come back slowly and not too far. That s the great trick about iron shots especially. You can hardly come back too slowly at first. All the golf-books will tell you that. It s put very well in McPhersons Golf Lessons. Mr. Heminway looked over the books on his desk. I know I bought McPherson, he said. I think I lent it to Anson. He s insane about the game. He rang his bell, and a boy appeared. Tell Mr. Anson that I want McPhersons Golf Lessons, he said. CRITICIZE ME NOW.~ 22 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. You see, Cutting went on, you get just as much power and more accuracy. He illustrated the half-swing several times. A stroke like that, well carried through, will give you a hundred and twenty-five yards. I have a mashie that I sometimes get a hun- dred and fifty with. The lawyer reached out for the club. That looks simple, he said; let me try it. Just then the boy came back with the book and a note. The note was from the banker. He told me to be sure and have you read it right off, said the boy. All right, said Mr. Heminway. He put the note on his desk. Tell him that I shall be at liberty in a minute. I really ought to be going, said Cutting; you are very busy. Sit down, said the lawyer. I want to get the hang of this swing. That was a pretty good one, he said, after a pause. Did I do anything wrong? No, said Cutting; only you came back too fast, and pumped up and down instead of taking it smoothly; and you moved your head. Keep your eyes on your shadow. That s better, he added. The next instant there was a heavy chug, and the fourteen-ounce mashie bit the nap off a patch of carpet. There was a commotion in the anteroom, but Mr. Heminway seemed not to hear it. I was keeping my eyes on the shadow that time, he said. Cutting laughed sympathetically. I know it s pretty hard. You have to remember about seven different things at once. It s bad for the carpet, though. You ought to have a door-mat. A door-mat is a good thing to practise on. The fiber gives very much the same surface as turf. Mr. Heminway rang his bell again. Jo- seph, he said, bring the door-mat here. Tell Mr. Lansing to get a new one for the outer office, and leave this one. The boy came back with the mat. The lawyer kicked it into position, and began again. This is better, he observed. Ill keep it here till I learn. That s the only way to do, said Cutting. Go in to win. If you practise every day with a proper club, you 11 get the hang of it in a month or two. But you must use a light club. Mr. Heminway stopped. A month or two? he asked. Why, yes, said Cutting. For a large and rather stout man, you are very active. I ye no doubt, if you give your mind to it, you can show pretty decent form in a couple of months. You ought to practise with your coat off, though; it binds you. The lawyers mouth became grim, but he took off his coat. There was an office rule against shirt-sleeves. Here the office boy appeared again, and the great man glared at him. Mrs. Carrington, said Joseph. She says she s got to see you about important business, and she cant wait, and she s going to sail for Europe to-morrow morning. Tell Mrs. Carrington, said Mr. Hemin- way, that I shall see her as soon as I am at leisure.~~ The boy withdrew hastily. The lawyer took his stance by the door- mat again, and began to swing. Cutting now settled himself in a chair, and lighted a cigarette. That s better, he said presently, much better. You re getting the trick. Mr. Heminway stopped for a minute, and straightened up. He was beginning to puff. I think I begin to see how that s done, he said. It s simple when you get the knack of it. Cutting, come down and stop next Sunday with me in the country, and we 11 go over the course. I shant be able to give you much of a game, but there are some fellows down there who can; and I want you to show me how to get over that quarry- hole. I should like to very much, said Cutting. He meant this. The girl who was going to be Mrs. Cutting was stopping at the other Hem- inways, who had the place next. The last time I played that quarry-hole, the lawyer went on, I took twenty-seven for it. He laughed. And it s all in that swing, he muttered. He moved over to the rug, and wenf to work again. Criticize me now, he said. How s this? Cutting leaned back in his chair. Oh, you must carry it through better, he said. Let your left arm take it right out. You re cramped. You re gripping too tightly. Try it without gripping with your right hand at all. You 11 get the idea of the finish. That s better. Now right through with it! Oh, Lord! he gasped. There was a crash of glass, then a great thump, and a hubbub of screams and mas- culine exclamations. The club had slipped from the lawyers hand and had sailed through the glass door into the middle of the waiting-room. The great lawyer hurriedly put on his coat. I suppose I 11 have to straighten things out in there, he observed. But that was the THE MATTER OF A MASHIE. 23 idea, was nt itright out! There was a twinkle in his eye. He opened the door. In a circle around the fourteen-ounce mashie stood his clients. Oh, just a moment, broke in Cutting. Cant that Reed case go over the term? My uncle wanted me to ask for a postponement. Certainly, said the lawyer. Tell the managing clerk to sign the stipulation. I 11 meet you Saturday at the threeten train.~~ Then he put on his cross-questioning expres- sion. Ladies and gentlemen, he said calmly, whom have I the honor of seeing first? Who that person was Cutting never knew, because he at once slipped out through the private way, and got his paper signed. Then he went back to his office, crossed over to his desk, and took up the newspaper again. There were the scores of the medal play at Shinnecock, in which he was interested. Presently Mr. Bruce happened out of his .private room, and Mr. Smith coincidently happened out of his. By the way, Mr. Cutting, said Bruce, amiably, how about that Reed matter? It s put over the term, said Cutting, without looking up. Here s the stipulation. Hello! he added, half aloud, here s Broad- head winning at Newport, four up and three to play. That s funny. Did you see that, Bruce? He s been all off his form, too. No, said Mr. Bruce. The junior partners retired with the stipu- lation, and were closeted together for a long time. It puzzled them. They were impressed, and to each other they admitted it. Finally Mr. Smith rose and said that he had to go. Perhaps we have made a mistake, he observed. There must be something to him. He got this. He waved the stipulation. We had better give him more of a chance, said Bruce. And they did. Gradually they began to comprehend him, and then to like him. As for Cutting, he unbent himself, and got interested in his work. At the end of the six months they spoke well of him, so that he continued on in the firm; and when he was married they sent him a very beauti- ful etching of The Angelus~ THERE WAS A CRASH OF GLASS. ALEXANDER IN EGYPT. ALEXANDER THE GREAT: SEVENTH PAPER. BY BENJAMIN IDE WHEELER, Professor of Greek, Cornell University. IITHILE Alexanderwas at Gaza he received H notice of the action of the council of the Greek states at Corinth, held on the occa- sion of the Isthmian games of that year (332), which had voted to send to him by fifteen special commissioners a golden crown in recognition of the victory at Issusa recog- nition tardy enough, and almost too late to be longer of consequence or value to the conqueror of Tyre and lord of the iEgean, or for the Greeks themselves a testimony to aught but their own fickleness. The Jewish writers, particularly Josephus, report that after the capture of Gaza Alex- ander went to Jerusalem, was received by the high priest, and offered sacrifice in the temple. The absence of all reference to this in any of the historians of Alexander, as well as of any mention of the Jews either by them or by the historians of the next century, coupled with the self-contradictions and im- probabilities of the narrative, makes it un- likely that the story is anything more than an invention of the Hellenists of the first century B. c., who sought to establish in this way, as in others, an early connection with Greek history. It was November (332) when Alexander set forth along the coast to enter Egypt. An entire year since the battle of Issus (November, 333) had been spent in Phenicia and Palestine. The task of isolating Persia from the Mediterranean was advancing, how- ever, toward its completion. At Sidon and Tyre he had dammed the ancient channel by which the trade and civilization of the Euphrates valley, following the reverse of the river course, had found an outlet into the western sea. The IEgean was fast be- coming an inland sea of Alexanders Mace- donian empire, a Greek sea instead of a Greek boundary. Since the conqueror had entered Asia two and a half years had elapsed. One third of his brief reign was spent, but the land area of his conquests included yet scarcely more than a tenth part of what they were to be. It was not, however, land that he was now con- quering: it was the seathe sea included be- tween Greece, Asia, Egypt, which the fates of geography had made to be the central mart and meeting-place of all the civilizations which his world could know. To it were tributary the two great river valleys in which had shaped themselves the two types of ordered life that summarized the begin- nings of human civilization. Egypt found its natural outlet with the Nile; Mesopotamia, reversing the currents of the Euphrates, poured in its influences through the broad delta of Tyre and Sidon, or let them slowly sift through the sands of Asia Minor. In this sea the culture of Egypt and Assyria, as the passive element, met the aggressive will of occidentalism, which was to shape and apply it, and out of the union was begotten the history which up to the present century, neglecting the world-half of India and China, we have been wont to call the world-history. It is because Alexander conquered first this sea and then its tributaries that his career is the navel of history. As far as the land is concerned he had thus far traversed three areas of human life and habitation: first, the western hem of Asia Minor (from May to November, 334), where the Greek spirit, language, and blood were predominant; second, the central and south- ern districts of Asia Minor (from November, 334, to November, 333), where, with all variety of tribe and tongue, Carian and Phrygian ele- ments predominated, but no national unity existed or ever had, except such as the Lydian empire of two centuries before achieved; third, the narrow coast selvage of Syria (from November, 333, to November,332), where the Semitic spirit and the Semitic tongue were in full sway, and the name of Phenicia set the standard. Next in his way lay Egypt. The march of his phalanx took thus in review, one after the other, the nations and civilizations of men. Hitherto he had seen, though, only the mid- dlemen who were handing on what they had received; now he was coming to a fountain- head. If an established order of civilized life 24

ALEXANDER IN EGYPT. ALEXANDER THE GREAT: SEVENTH PAPER. BY BENJAMIN IDE WHEELER, Professor of Greek, Cornell University. IITHILE Alexanderwas at Gaza he received H notice of the action of the council of the Greek states at Corinth, held on the occa- sion of the Isthmian games of that year (332), which had voted to send to him by fifteen special commissioners a golden crown in recognition of the victory at Issusa recog- nition tardy enough, and almost too late to be longer of consequence or value to the conqueror of Tyre and lord of the iEgean, or for the Greeks themselves a testimony to aught but their own fickleness. The Jewish writers, particularly Josephus, report that after the capture of Gaza Alex- ander went to Jerusalem, was received by the high priest, and offered sacrifice in the temple. The absence of all reference to this in any of the historians of Alexander, as well as of any mention of the Jews either by them or by the historians of the next century, coupled with the self-contradictions and im- probabilities of the narrative, makes it un- likely that the story is anything more than an invention of the Hellenists of the first century B. c., who sought to establish in this way, as in others, an early connection with Greek history. It was November (332) when Alexander set forth along the coast to enter Egypt. An entire year since the battle of Issus (November, 333) had been spent in Phenicia and Palestine. The task of isolating Persia from the Mediterranean was advancing, how- ever, toward its completion. At Sidon and Tyre he had dammed the ancient channel by which the trade and civilization of the Euphrates valley, following the reverse of the river course, had found an outlet into the western sea. The IEgean was fast be- coming an inland sea of Alexanders Mace- donian empire, a Greek sea instead of a Greek boundary. Since the conqueror had entered Asia two and a half years had elapsed. One third of his brief reign was spent, but the land area of his conquests included yet scarcely more than a tenth part of what they were to be. It was not, however, land that he was now con- quering: it was the seathe sea included be- tween Greece, Asia, Egypt, which the fates of geography had made to be the central mart and meeting-place of all the civilizations which his world could know. To it were tributary the two great river valleys in which had shaped themselves the two types of ordered life that summarized the begin- nings of human civilization. Egypt found its natural outlet with the Nile; Mesopotamia, reversing the currents of the Euphrates, poured in its influences through the broad delta of Tyre and Sidon, or let them slowly sift through the sands of Asia Minor. In this sea the culture of Egypt and Assyria, as the passive element, met the aggressive will of occidentalism, which was to shape and apply it, and out of the union was begotten the history which up to the present century, neglecting the world-half of India and China, we have been wont to call the world-history. It is because Alexander conquered first this sea and then its tributaries that his career is the navel of history. As far as the land is concerned he had thus far traversed three areas of human life and habitation: first, the western hem of Asia Minor (from May to November, 334), where the Greek spirit, language, and blood were predominant; second, the central and south- ern districts of Asia Minor (from November, 334, to November, 333), where, with all variety of tribe and tongue, Carian and Phrygian ele- ments predominated, but no national unity existed or ever had, except such as the Lydian empire of two centuries before achieved; third, the narrow coast selvage of Syria (from November, 333, to November,332), where the Semitic spirit and the Semitic tongue were in full sway, and the name of Phenicia set the standard. Next in his way lay Egypt. The march of his phalanx took thus in review, one after the other, the nations and civilizations of men. Hitherto he had seen, though, only the mid- dlemen who were handing on what they had received; now he was coming to a fountain- head. If an established order of civilized life 24 DRAWN DY A. CASTAIGNE. THE SIEGE OF GAZA. For a description of the siege, see THE CEKTURY for April, page 831. VOL. LVJII.4. 26 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. anywhere in the wide world can be identified as born alone of the soil where it abides, that can be claimed most confidently for the civ- ilization which clings to the banks of the Nile. Egypt is the Nile, and the Nile is Egypt, and the long experience of genera- tions of men, whose lives the hungry desert bound to the river-line, as to a life-line in the waste of waters, had taught these men to tolerate one another, and created for them a scheme and polity of existence so well confirmed that innovation found no hope. By virtue of its very longuess Egypt could not be rid of itself. So it tolerated itself and abode stable. The real Egypt, the fertile Nile valley from the first cataract to the sea, though stretching out in a length equal to the dis- tance from Richmond, Virginia, to Port- land, Maine, is in area scarcely one fourth the size of Pennsylvania, and of this area more than half is included within the Delta. Above Cairo it is merely a strip of ver- dure, rarely more than from four to eight miles broad, sharply bounded by the bluffs which bear the desert. Within this narrow band Egyptian life took its shape, coming now to a focus at Memphis, the old metropolis of Lower Egypt, across the river from modern Cairo, now at Thebes in Upper Egypt. Long centuries of almost undisturbed isolation fixed it in molds of custom, thought, and religion firmer, perhaps, than human life has ever elsewhere known. It was an intensely practical life. Realism colored all its thought. The solidity of its religious institutions, guar- anteed by a powerful priesthood which swayed society and state and held the reins of the Nile, was no product of imagination or of fervor, but a witness merely to its unfalter- ing conservatism. Even the yearning for the life beyond expressed itself in crude practical device, not in visions or in specu- lations. The typical Egyptian was then, as he is to-day, a man of peace, averse to rude- ness and brutality, courteous, patient, prac- tical, and prudent. The Greek thought him effeminate, and,from Herodotus on, the Greek writers refer with abhorrence to a develop- ment of womens rights in Egypt which made men the subjects of the women. It is indeed a fact that under Egyptian law mar- ried women had independent property rights and rights of contract. Wealth, too, it appears, was often largely in the hands of women. Egyptian history persistently refuses to speak in terms of dates, but sure it is that the civilization into which Alexander was here to be introduced represented an antiquity be- fore which all that he had seen, had heard of, and had read of in his native Macedonia or Greece, or in the lands through which his march had brought him, was paltry modern- ity itself. Even the Trojan days, with which Homer had inspired his youthful idealism, reached back at the best but a fourth or fifth of the way to the building of the Pyramids, and of the centuries that looked down from those hoary heads upon Napoleon and his men two out of every three were there to look down upon Alexander. It was not likely that a man of Alexanders temper and of his keen susceptibility to all that spoke, whether in the language of religion, art, or custom, with the authority of antiquity and through the forms of ancient culture, should pass by this all unmoved and un- changed. He was a youth fresh from the New World, alert-minded and sensitive; here was his London and Rome. From Gaza the one way leading into Egypt was the old caravan route along the shore, by which through the ages Palestine and Egypt had been joined. In seven days it brought Alexander and his army to Pelu- 5mm, the key of Egypt, a strongly fortified city near the easternmost mouth of the Nile. A few miles to the west of its site passes now the track of the Suez Canal, approach- ing its exit at Port Said. The city opened its gates to the conqueror. Nowhere, indeed, in all the land was opposition awaiting him. The Persian satrap Masakes, who had been appointed successor of Sabakes, slain a year before in the battle of Issus, found himself utterly without resource, in fleet, army, or good will, for a defense. The people of the land with one accord hailed the coming of Alexander as tle coming of a liberator. For almost two centuries they had borne the de- tested yoke of Persia, and the victor of Issus they had esteemed to be their own avenger. Masakes, therefore, hastened to offer sur- render of the land, and so without the strik- ing of a blow Alexander added to his empire a domain almost equal in extent to all his previous conquests. With this act the long, strange history of ancient Egypt was closed. Egypt was merged in the world-all, and a new Egypt began its life. From Pelusium the Macedonian army proceeded in triumphal march along the east bank of the Pelusian arm of the Nile. The fleet which had been in waiting at Pelusium attended it. Most of the way led through the land of Goshen, Israels place of sojourn a thousand years and more before, and brought the army, after a march of a little ALEXANDER AT THE TEMPLE OP APIS IN MEMPHIS. 28 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. over one hundred miles, to the famous old Heliopolis (On),the Cityof the Sun, whence tradition says that Joseph had his wife, Asenath, daughter of Poti-phera, a priest of the sun (Gen. xli. 45). Here were still stand- ing, as they had been for thirteen hundred years, along with others of their kind, doing honor to the god as guards about his temple, the two obelisks which three cen- turies later were transplanted by Augustus C~esar to Alexandria, and now in these latest years, following the track of empire, have come to find Northern homes, the one on the Thames Embankment in London, the other in Central Park, New York. A few miles beyond Heliopolis Alexander was at the site of modern Cairo, the apex of the Delta. Then crossing the Nile, now the undivided river, he approached Memphis, the capital. On the terraced bluffs which marked the sharp frontier between the life of the plain and the desert of death were arrayed in stately order, relieved against the sands and the western sky, from Gizeh southward fifteen miles to Dahshfir, the Pyramids, which, min- gled with countless humbler habitations, marked the worlds greatest city of the dead. Below in the plain, stretching itself out in miles of continuous streets and homes, was Egypts greatest city of the living. Its focus was found in the temple of its local deity, the god Ptah, the world-builder, who was wor- shiped in the form of a living bull called Apis. In the life of a bull chosen by his priests Ptah found his ever-recurring incarnations, and received the most distinguished honors. At death the bull was buried with most elaborate and costly obsequies, and the Serapeum, con- structed for the tombs of the long succes- sion, still remains in monstrous vaulted ruins, where no less than three thousand monu- ments of different wearers of the Apis honor have been found. The city of the dead has far outlived the city of the living, and Mem- phis, enormous as it was, has yielded to cen- turies of spoilers, and all but vanished off the face of the earth. The founding of Alex- andria marked the beginning of its decline. On entering the city, Alexander hastened to pay the honor of special sacrifice to Apis. Nothing was more likely to win him the sym- pathy of the people, especially as his action stood in severest contrast with the tradi- tions of Persian sacrilege of Cambyses, who with his own hand had wounded to the death a sacred bull, and of Darius Ochus, who had caused one to be slaughtered. Diodorus says: The Egyptians, in view of the fact that the Persians had violated their holy rites and had domineered rudely over them, welcomed the Macedonians gladly.1 In this action Alexander was thoroughly consistent with himself. Wherever he went he treated with respect the local religion. He was evidentlybyhis practice a believer in home rulein matters of religion. In this he was not acting merely the part of a clever poli- tician. In matters of religion he was no agnos- tic; his attitude toward faith was never that of easy unconcern. A vein of deep religious mysticism, perhaps inherited or learned from his mother Olympias, ran through his nature and colored all his conduct. He stood with awe and respect, though never with terror, in the presence of supernatural power con- trolling a realm of which the world of or- dinary things was only a feeble part, and controlling it with foresight and intelligence, though by ordinary men but feebly discerned. He was no eclectic in matters of religion. The foresight and purpose of the power out- side and beyond betrayed itself through many a rift in the veil, and he had learned no canons of criticism, not even the common one called prejudice. He had too much emo- tional insight to be an agnostic, and had in a short life seen too much of the world to be a bigot. Nowhere in the world has the religious factor played a larger part in the life of a people than in ancient Egypt. No wonder that even the four months of Alexanders stay exercised so powerful an influence in shaping and stimulating his religious sensi- bilities. He was, as it were, in a great temple, always in the presence of the religious ex- pression. The weird issue of his visit to the sanctuary ~f Jupiter Ammon must be judged and interpreted in the light of this experience. The mass of the army, which could not have numbered altogether much above twenty thousand men, was left in winter quarters at Memphis. Alexander, accompanied by the hypaspists, the archers, the Agrianians, and the ag~ma of cavalry, in all perhaps four or five thousand men, sailed down the river to Canopus (modern Abukir), at the mouth of the westernmost branch of the Nile. From here he passed into the Mareotis Lake, then a large body of water fifteen miles wide, navigable for the largest vessels, but now little more than a swamp. In Strabos time it was fed by numerous canals from the Nile, and was the all-important means of commu- nication with the inland. Now, cut off from 1 Diodorus, xvii, 49. THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. PORTRAIT BUST OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT, FOUND AT ALEXANDRIA. FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY MANSELL & CO., OF TEE ORIGINAL IN TEE BRITISH MUSEUM. the Nile, its waters are salt, and the fertility which in antiquity lined its shores and yielded the wines which Horace and Virgil extol is displaced by sandy dunes. At a spot about thirteen or fourteen miles southwest of Ca- nopus, on the long, narrow strip of sandy land separating the Mareotis Lake from the sea, Alexander went ashore, and, being deeply impressed by the favorable location, decided to build a city. The place seemed to be the meeting-point of the whole Nile region with the Mediterranean world. On one side was the lake-harbor connected with the Nile; on the other were two sea-harbors, sheltered from the open sea by the island Pharos, four fifths of a mile offshore, the one open- ing to the west, the other to the east. Here was to be equipped the only safe harbor open for ships on the six-hundred-mile stretch of Asiatic and African coast from Joppa to Par~etonium. The neck of land itself was about a mile to a mile and a half wide. A city built upon it would be reason- ably protected from land attack and yet ac cessible from the land. Through the Nile and the old canal of Pharaoh Necho, connecting it with the Red Sea, the com- merce of Egypt, Arabia, and India could here be brought to meet the com- merce of the Mediter- ranean. There are no indications that Alexander set out on this particular excursion through the lake with a view of seeking a city site, but there can be little doubt that the idea was more than the impulse of a moment. Tyre was de- stroyed. The coast of Egypt offered no conve- nient harbor suitable to intercourse on a large scale. The encourage- ment of intercourse and mutual understanding be- tween the nations was al- ready developing as his dominant idea. The Greek element had long since come to make itself felt in the Delta, and Naucratis, a thriving Greek settlement tolerated by Amasis in the sixth century,was onlyfifty miles to the southeast. The custom intro- duced in the seventh century, by Psammet- ichus I, of employing Greek mercenaries to do the fighting, toward which, with the decay of the warrior caste, the Egyptians themselves had become so averse, had served to bring Greeks into the land. What more probable than that Alexander had already framed the plan, and that unexpectedly the discovered site fitted it? In any case, his selection was a good one, as the event proved. The Alexandria which rose on the spot became speedily a great city, and not by artificial stimulation, though it certainly was most fortunate in its first ruler, Ptolemy Soter, who succeeded Alexander, but through the operation of natural conditions. It proved a convenient exchange for the joint use of Africa, Asia, and Europe. Hence it natu- rally became the metropolis of the great world of free and open markets which Alex- anders conquests created, the capital of the Hellenistic civiliEation which for three centuries passed current as Greek, and an ALEXANDER IN EGYPT. 81 amalgamation point for the peoples such as the conquerors dream had desired. Seventy- five years after Alexanders death it had be- come, after Carthage and Antioch, the great- est city of the Western world. By the year 60 B. c. it had grown to a population, as Diodorus tells us, of three hundred thousand freemen, that is to say, reckoning the slaves, of approximately half a million,so that it was commonly regarded the greatest city of the world. In the first century after Christ its population was undoubtedly far greater, perhaps three quarters of a million or more, but for this definite data are lacking. Rome, which in Augustuss time had at least, ac- cording to Belochs conservative reckoning, from eight hundred thousand to one million inhabitants, was the only city which had out- stripped it. Up to Alexanders time there had been no monster cities. The city population of Athens proper, together with its harbor town, was probably about 175,000. Syracuse, in the fourth century, was only a little larger. Cor- inth at the same time had, according to Be- loch, who, however, reckons the slave popu- lation certainly far too low, about 70,000; Sparta, Argos, and Thebes, from 40,000 to 50,000; Selinus, from 20,000 to 25,000; Tyre and Sidon, not over 40,000 each. By t1i first century B. c., a time whose literature affords us, through stray allusions, the first means of forming an estimate, the in- ternational trade of Alexandria had grown to enormous proportions. From the interior of Africa, from Arabia and India, caravans and fleets of merchant ships brought hither the rarest and most precious products which the new luxury of the West was demanding of all the landsthe spices and perfumes of Araby, gold-dust, precious stones, and fine fabrics from India, pearls from the Persian Gulf, silk from China, gold and tortoise-shell from the coasts of the Red Sea, ivory from Africa, and grain from Egypt. Annually one hundred and twenty ships, on an average, left the inner harbor for the voyage to India alone. The industries of Alexandria were spurred to their utmost to provide wares for the return cargoes. Foremost were the prod- ucts of the loom, for which the city was famed, and which were distributed far and wide over the world, even to far Britain. Especially were sought the fine linens from SEASIDE view IN MODERN ALEXANDRIA. The photograph was taken before the obelisk called cleopatras Needle was removed to New York. On the map, page 34, two obelisks are indicate near the south side of the Great Harbor. These obelisks were brought from ileliopolis about three hundred years after Alexanders death, in the time of Au~ustus cnsar, and placed in front of the so-called cnsars Temple. The companion obelisk to the one in the picture, which lay 0 the ground, was remove to Lon on efore thi was given to New York city. H 0 r;172 H z 0 Cl) H H 0 H H ALEXANDER IN EGYPT. 33 the famous native flax, and the many-colored textures of wool, wrought in artistic patterns and with figures of animals and menrugs, porti~res, and tapestries. The manufacture of paper from the native papyrus almost monopolized the trade of the world. Then there were the glass-blowers, whose artistic products commanded a price like that for cups of gold, and perfumers, and makers of toi- let-oils and essences, whose repute matched that of the Parisians of to-day. No one in this busy city, so wrote Hadrian in 134 A. D was without a craft and occupation. Even the blind and the gouty were busy. Money is their god; him worship Jews, Christians, and all alike. It was a center of learning and culture as well as of industry and trade. About the university, called the MusEeum, and its famous library, a foundation of the wise Ptolemies, was assembled the best learning of the world. The savant, or philologos, is in- deed, so far as Western civilization is con- cerned, a distinctive and original Alexandrine product. It was through Alexandrine learn- ing, and chiefly in Alexandrine guise, that Rome, and so the European world, received the wisdom and culture of Greece. Letters, philology, philosophy, mathematics, astron- omy, music, law, medicine, received here their professional mold as branches of skilled and learned activity, and in such mold were transmitted and kept, until the Renaissance brought fresh life from the fountainhead. But we must return to the days of the beginnings. Alexander, after conceiving his scheme, immediately proceeded to mark out the plan of the city, including the sites for market- place, streets, public buildings, temples of the different deities, each of them being espe- cially assigned, and the circuit of the wall. The basis of the plan were made two main streets crossing each other at right angles, each, so says Strabo, one hundred feet wide, and lined with colonnades. Qther streets, running parallel to these, laid out the whole in regular squares covering a length of about three miles and a width of about one. The excavations and investigations conducted by Mahmud Bey and completed in 1867 found the city plan essentially as Strabo describes it. The two broad central avenuesthat run- ning east and west called the Canobus avenue, that north and south the Dromos (Corso) were found with traces of the splendid colonnades which lined them. In the cen- ter of these avenues was found still in place a pavement of gray granite blocks forty-six VOL. LVIH.5. feet wide, which served as the carriageway. In the parallel streets this pavement was only half this width. The private houses were low, flat-roofed, and of stone. The circuit of the city proper was found to be a little less than ten miles. For definite knowledge regarding the location and character of the great public buildings we must await the further revelations of the spade. In the course of the present year (1899) the German Archa~ological Institute, under direction of Dr. Dirpfeld, is expected to begin the long- desired work. Meantime we must be content with Strabo. Near the center of the city lay the royal buildings, occupying, with their gardens, a fourth of the citys area. Here, besides the palaces, were the Mus~eum and the Sema, the latter the great mausoleum in which lay inclosed in its alabaster coffin the body of Alexander. The site of the Paneum, an artificial circular mound resembling a rocky bill, to which a winding way ascends, and from wbich a commanding view of the whole city and its harbors was obtained, can now be identified with the knoll, one hun- dred and twelve feet above the ordinary city level, which carries the reservoir of the modern Alexandria. Near by, on the Dromos, lay the Gymnasium, stretched out, with its pillared porches, in a length of a stadium (one ninth of a mile). The island of Pharos was joined to the mainland by a wide mole, called the Heptastadium, about three quarters of a mile long, in which were two bridges over channels communicating between the eastern and the western harbors. This mole has now widened out into a neck of land almost a mile in width, on which stands the greater part of the modern city. At the eastern end of the island was built by Ptolemy Soter and his son, and completed about 282 B.c., the famous Pharos, one of the seven wonders, which became the prototype of all the worlds light- houses. A story of the first rough planning, given by all the sources, may best be presented in Plutarchs statement: As chalk-dust was lacking, they laid out their lines on the black loamy soil with flour, first swinging a circle to inclose a wide space, and then drawing lines as chords of the arcs to complete with harmonious proportions something like the oblong form of a soldiers cape. While the king was congratulating himself on his plan, on a sudden a countless number of birds of various sorts flew over from the land and the lake in clouds, and settling upon the spot, devoured in a short time all the flour; so that Alexander was much disturbed in mind at ANCIENT CITY OF ALEXANDRIA. L(NE S/lOWS SI/APE or f-IOOERN ALCXANDRIA - TEG1 ~ 4IvEoSS \ or 4~i,M~R~p GREAT TENPLE OPARTENIS. ~ LOCH/AS PROMONTORY, I. ANTIRRH BUS. WITH THE ROYAL PALACE. ~ k Ti/ION/UN gARB OR EUNOSTUS ~, ~ POSIDIUM. EARR~. 08 TAURUS HARBOR ~ ~ ~ 77F1F7ASEWi}SN~ ARTER. -~ _____ __ XAM~BIC GATE. ~ HElL] REI L9LIL\ -D~ LAGEUM. F IL IL ~1F~TJ~~iE. ________ ILl..--- i IL ___ ____ ir. K - -~ t-: J[. J[N~( J1EARL~ 11 iL [.sEl*APEJ$,-1 iF ]i~111 ~ THE ANCIENT C AN ii ONE HALF/liLt ~ I.. _ I _ ( N A7Ooe~,t1 *410RE LINE. + +. /IAR& OTIS SEA B -, z This map, based on the map in Brockhauss Conversations-Lexicon, showing Alexandria a century before and after Christ, which follows the plan of Mahmud Bey, shows also by the cross-and-dash lines the present wide extension, now thickly built upon, of the Heptastadium, which originally connected the mainland with Pharos Island. At the east end of the tsland is shown the site of the famous Pharos, or lighthouse, one of the seven wondcrs of the world, a reconstruction of which, by Castaigne, may be found in THE CENTURY for April, 1898, page 900. The site of the ancient Pharos, after its destruction, was occupied by a fort. The breakwater extending on the right hand from the mainland to complete the Great Harbor no longer exists. tile omen involved, till the augurs restored his Confidence again, telling him the city he was planning was destined to be rich in its resources, and a feeder of the nations of men, The work of founding the city he left in the hands of workmen under the direction of the architect Dinocrates, who was certainly not a man of small ideas. He is the same who once proposed to carve Mount Athos, the peak which rises abruptly sixty-five hun- dred feet out of the Thracian Sea, into a colossal statue of Alexander, which should bear in one hand a city of ten thousand in- habitants, and from the other should pour in bold cascade a great mountain stream into the sea beneath. Another plan of his, ~o build, in memory of Philadelphuss queen, Arsino~, a temple with ceiling of lodestone, so that the iron statue of the goddess-queen might hang suspended in the air, we learn, to our regret, failed of fulfilment through his inopportune death. At about this timeit was midwinter of 332331 Alexander was visited by Hegelo- chus, the commander of his fleet in the north, who brought welcome intelligence concern- ing the final dispersion of the Persian fleet and the recovery of the island cities lost dur- 34 ing the spring of 833. The Tenedans had revolted from the Persians and returned to Macedonian rule. Mitylene had been wrested from the hands of Chares, and the other Lesbian cities had voluntarily submitted. Another revolution in Chios had placed the democracy, friendly to Alexander, at the helm, and Cos had surrendered to a fleet of sixty ships sent to it at its own suggestion. Pharnabazus was a fugitive. The IEgean was therefore clear, and entirely in Alexanders control, as was also, with one sole exception, the complete circuit of lands contributing to its waters, the entire world with which Greece and the Greeks had dealings east of Italy and Sicily. Sparta alone remained incorrigible. We have seen how, four years before, she an- swered Alexanders summons to accept his leadership, It is not tradition with us to follow others, but ourselves to lead others. Ever since she had been waiting for oppor- tunity to lead revolt. Spartan ambassadors were all the time at the court of Darius. When the tidings of Issus reached Greece (November, 333) we remember that the Spartan king Agis was in conference with the Persian admiral at Siphnos. While the Persian power in the IEgean was steadily ALEXANDER IN EGYPT. 35 melting away, Agiss stubbornness, fed upon desperation, lifted itself into aggression. Dur- ing the months that Alexander was busy at Tyre, Agis and his Spartans were making Crete a stronghold of the opposition, in hope of contesting through that the control of the sea. Some of the Greek mercenaries who had escaped from Issus found their way into Crete, and gave him the nucleus of an army. During the winter of 332331 Agis raised openly the standard of revolt in the Pelopon- nesus. The Eleans, the Acha~ans, and, ex- cepting Megalopolis, the Arcadians, joined him. A small Macedonian force that sought to quell the revolt was annihilated. Through the summer of 331 the movement grew. A revolt of the Illyrians kept Antipater, the Macedonian regent, busy at the north, and from week to week his much-needed coming was delayed. The flame threatened to be- come a conflagration. When news of the trouble reached Alexander he was far away in Mesopotamia. While we are here con- quering Darius, he said, it seems they are having a war of the mice in Arcadia. The composure of his faith received its reward. The next tidings told how Antipater had at last appeared, had found the Spartans be- sieging the walls of Megalopolis, and there on the plain before the city, in a fearful battle which left fifty-three hundred of the enemy, among them King Agis, lying on the field, had utterly broken and humbled all resistance (October or November, 331), and received at last the submission of Sparta. This was a blow from which the Spartan state never recovered. But our story has carried us almost a year beyond the point where we left Alexander just committing the building of his city to his architects hands. From the site of Alex- andria the king turned his face suddenly to- ward the west, and began a march along the African coast. The Western world, which now lay before him, a world in whose history Sicily now occupied the central post,has thus far occupied none of our attention, and will not hereafter, for it was as yet a world by itself, engaged with problems of its own, into which Alexanders brief career was des- tined not to intrude. Sicily was just recovering from its struggle to hold the Carthaginians at bay, and the Greeks of Italy were now beginning to feel the pressure of Rome from the north. In 326 Naples passed into Roman hands. Car- thage had been too seriously occupied in the effort to maintain herself in the western Mediterranean even to bring help to her mother-city Tyre, or to take any part in the great conflict now going on between the Greek and the Oriental, direct as her natural interest was. This fact kept her outside the range of Alexanders notice, and left her to be dealt with later by Rome (first Punic war, 264241 B.c.). Alexanders present movement westward had no designs on Carthage; that, for the time, belonged in another world. For two hundred miles he followed the dreary coast, until at Para~tonium he came to the domain of Cyrene, a Greek city four hundred miles farther on. Here met him a Cyrenian embassy offering presents and ask- ing alliance, and this marked the western limit of his conquests. He was now left free to indulge his sense for the romantic. The necessities of war, for the present, no longer claimed him. He turned suddenly aside upon an errand he could hardly have planned from the first, as the route he had taken may fairly prove, and took his way across the desert to- ward the famous sanctuary of Ammon, nearly two hundred miles away. It was a difficult task he had undertaken; for there were no landmarks along the road, nor mountain anywhere, nor any trees, nor any elevation of any sort by which a traveler might shape his course as sailors do by the stars (Arrian), and often the wan- derers seemed to have lost the way. Memories of the hardships and risks, the strange ex- periences, the uncanny surroundings, the unexpected deliverances, grew in later days into stories of the miraculous. One tells that two serpents glided in front of the line, show- ing it the way; another, that two ravens flew before them and waited for them when they lingered and fell behind; but the most mar- velous thing is what Callisthenes tells, that if any went astfay by night, they would call to them and keep up a croaking until they brought them back on to the trail again. These are samples of that atmosphere of the marvelous which came to surround this whole adventure. On arriving at the oracle, which was situated in the oasis of Siwah, a tract four or five miles wide, blessed with olives and palms in abundance, a spring of water, and the refreshment of dew, Alexander hastened to show his respect for the oracle, and at the same time to gratify his curiosity by asking certain questions. He first asked, so report has it, whether any of his fathers mur- derers had escaped punishment, whereupon the priest is said to have rebuked him and charged him to speak with more respect, seeing that his father was not a mortal be- 36 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. ing. Changing his question, he then asked if Philips murderers had all been punished. Being assured that they had been, he then inquired whether he was to gain the empire of the world. Of this he also received assur- ance. This, Plutarch says, is what most au- thorities give concerning the responses of the oracle; but Alexander himself, in writing to his mother, says there were certain secret re- sponses, which he himself would tell her alone on his return. Some say the prophet, wishing, by way of courtesy, to address him in Greek, and intending to saypaidios ( myboy),made a slip on the last sound, and said pai Di6s (son of Zeus). Alexander, theysay,welcomed the blunder, and the word went out that the god had addressed him as son of Zeus. Diodorus and Curtius Rufus report much the same, without indulging in the gram- matical reminiscence. Arrian keeps on solid ground with the simple remark: Having heard what was, as he said, agreeable to his desire, he set out on his way back to Egypt. In all probability the older authorities, Aris- totle and Ptolemy, whom Arrian follows most closely, reported nothing concerning what passed between Alexander and the priest. Callisthenes, indeed, says that Alexander was entirely alone when he consulted the oracle. The later authorities probably dressed out the incident with various ornamentation, and all that remains of solid material seems to be the tradition that the priest addressed him as son of Ra, or son of Ammon, which really meant no more, in the language of the place and time, than king. The famous response of the Delphic Pythia to the Spartan king Lysander,1 I know not whether to call thee god or man, illustrates how even in the Greek sense the heroic blended into the divine. Modern historians have given to this inci- dent a great importance in estimating the de- velopment of Alexanders character. Grote2 speaks of it as marking his increasing self- adoration, and inflation above the limits of humanity, and the same writer credits him from this time on with a belief that Zeus was his real father a genuine faith, a simple exaggeration of that exorbitant vanity which from the beginning reigned so largely in his bosom. With this it is customary to connect a deliberate purpose, maintained through- out his life, of establishing the worship of himself as a god, and a number of incidents 1 Herodotus, i, 65. 2 See also Kaerst, Historisehe Zeitschrift, lxxiv (1895), pp. 1 if., 193 if.,who follows in the track of Grote. are cited in support of such a view. It is, furthermore, claimed that the trip to Siwah was undertaken with the premeditated pur- pose of obtaining the sanction of the oracle for his ambition. While we are unquestionably dealing here with the folly of an abnormally successful and very young man, it is still worth while to seek an exact determination of the limits of this folly. This surely cannot be done if the subject of it is isolated from all connec- tion with his own traditional conceptions and his own peculiar prejudices, and treated as an absolute or sterilized specimen. The confidence in an ultimately divine origin was an essential part of every family tree among the noble families of the older Greece. All the great heroes were sons of gods. If Minos was the son of Zeus, Theseus must needs, as Bacchylidess paean (xvii) shows it, prove himself Poseidons son. The gods were, as ancestors, dignified to be the citizens of honor in the state. That was what made the state and gave it its dignity. It was a fraternity in which great immortals, known as gods, were members as we should call them, honorary members. Alexander had always traced his origin, with pardonable pride, to Hercules and Perseus. He had not, on that account, felt himself less human than other men. He had probably thought him- self more select. His fondness for the stories of Homer, and his choice of Achilles, who was goddess-born, as a prototype, quickened his fancy for the marvelous in genealogy. He was now in Egypt, subject to the profound religious impressions its sturdy faith and plodding piety were likely to beget. Its Pharaohs had always, on ascending the throne, presented themselves at The temple of Amun-Ra (Am- mon) to receive his recognition: Alexander was now a Pharaoh, and he would do the same, choosing not the sanctuary at Thebes, but the one at Siwah, to which his great ancestor Hercules had gone. His mother, the fanatical, corybantic Olympias, had always been haunted with the delusion that her son was begotten of a god. That Alexander gave himself to such a whimsical vagary with any real or practi- cal faith in sober moments is certainly to be doubted. It was a satisfaction to his mother that he visited the oracle and received such a response. The words of the priest made an impression, too, on his mind, sensitive as it was to the mystical, and under the glamour of his marvelous success meant something to him in a mystical waybut how much in ALEXANDER IN EGYPT. 37 practical substance? Plutarchs remarks are in point here: He is said, in listening to the philosopher Psammon in Egypt, to have been most pleased with this remark of his: Every man is ruled by a god, because that which is at the head and which has the strength in each man is ipso facto divine. Even more profound was the teaching which Alex- ander himself laid down on this point, to the effect that, though God is the common father of all men, in a particular way does he claim the noblest as his own. He tolerated and even demanded among the Persians the adoration (proskymesis) characteristic of their court etiquette, and at times even committed, it appears, the odious folly of asking it from Macedonians, and that, too, when it was given him as a divine being. Yet this was no settled plan with him; it rather appears as an occasional vagary, though one that provoked much irritation and disgust among those who were his most loyal friends. It was the old Macedonians, not the Greeks, who made the chief protest against these notions of the king. The Greeks, accustomed to such mythological conceits, could understand how little was really meant by them; to the Macedonians they were bold, prosaic claims of fact. It is, furthermore, to be noted that the Macedonians protests arose in con- nection with their jealousy of the kings leanings toward a new cosmopolitanism, which, in their view, threatened to alienate him from them and rob them of the fruits of victory. Plutarch says of him: Toward the bar- barians he conducted himself altogether with sternness, as one fully persuaded of his divine origin, yes, and parentage too, but toward the Greeks more reasonably and with less affectation of divinity. . . . Once, be- ing wounded with an arrow and suffering much pain, he said: This which is flowing here, my friends, is blood, not ichor, and, citing a verse of Homer: Ichor, such as flows from the immortal gods. At another time, when there was a heavy clap of thunder and everybody was frightened, Aristarchus the professor, who was by, said to him: Whether you could nt do something of the sort, seeing you are the son of Zeus? With a laugh he answered: I have no mind to be a terror to my friends, as you would have me, who despise my table for being provided with fish instead of with the heads of satraps. . . . From what I have said it is evident that Alexander was not mentally affected or insanely puffed up, but was merely seeking to maintain authority over others through the claim of divinity. The idea that he undertook to establish a formal cult of himself, and to impose it upon the nations under his rule, particularly upon the Greeks, lacks all foundation. The story that after his return to the West he issued a decree demanding of the Greek cities the pay- ment of divine honors to himself has been care- fully examined by Mr. Hogarth, and found to rest upon no sound basis.2 That after his death he was recognized widely as divine is undoubted. It is noticeable that it is not during his life that his portrait appears upon the coinage to displace the traditional representations of the gods. After his death he appears on the coins as the genius of the Macedonian empire, the personified bond of unity. That the Alexander cult, which is found in various places and survived down into the Roman imperial age, was not a creation of Alexanders lifetime could not be more dis- tinctly demonstrated than by the fact that its institution at Alexandria itself is due to a successor, Ptolemy II, fifty years or more after the heros death. The notion that Alexander utilized the doctrine of his divin- ity as a fundamental and constitutive prin- ciple for his empire is so utterly at variance with the plain historical facts, so utterly lacking in support from any known facts, as to possess no interest except for its ab- surdity. It is a mere nightmare of some schematizing historians. After making rich gifts to the temple, Alexander returned to Memphis, where he found various delegations from Greece await- ing him. There were Chians and Rhodians to ask withdrawal of the garrisons from their cities, defegates from Mitylene to seek reimbursement for their expenditures in resisting the Persians, Cyprians and Athenians and many others to bring con- gratulations and ask this or that remission or favor. All of them he sent away ~atisfied. Recruits for his army began, too, to come in from Antipater, and others were to meet him on his outward march at Pelusium. The month left him in Egypt he devoted to the organization of its government. Repeating the plan he had applied in other provinces, the first illustration of which we saw in Lydia, he divided the administration among different departments, carrying, however, the division, as was suited to the greatness 1 English Historical Review, 1887, p. 322 if. 2 A like result is reached hy Benedictus Niese, His- torische Zeitschrift, lxxix (1897), p. 1 if. 38 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. and complexity of Egyptian population and resources, much further than in any pre- vious case. The administration of Egypt and the government of its native population was separated from that of the Greeks and other resident foreigners. Libya and Arabia were made distinct administrative districts. The military and the financial administra- tions were also kept distinct. Garrisons were left in Pelusium and Memphis. Early in the spring (331) he returned with his army into Phenicia, and made halt at Tyre to effect the last governmental arrange- ments before turning his back on the West. Here came to greet him and pledge anew the loyalty of their city Athenian ambassadors, borne in the sacred state trireme, the famous old Paralos. Their renewed request for the release of their countrymen taken prisoners while serving the Persians at Granicus was finally granted. At the end a great athletic and musical Thte was inaugurated. Singers and actors came from various Greek cities. The Cyprian kings supplied the choruses. Stately sacrifices were offered to Hercules, the god of the place. A genuine Hellenic festival; in reality the funeral games of the old Hellas! When they were over, Alex- anders army turned its back upon the Gre- cian sea, the hem of which had hitherto been its battle-ground, and plunged into the heart of Asia. (To be continued.) A SONG FOR SPRING. BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS. 1 1ST! List! The buds confer: LThis noonday they ye had news of her; The south bank has had views of her; The thorn shall exact his dues of her; The willows adream By the freshet stream Shall ask what boon they choose of her. Up! Up! The mold s astir; The would-be green has word of her; Root and germ have heard of her, Coming to break Their sleep, and wake Their hearts with every bird of her. See! See! How swift concur Sun, wind, and rain at the name of her, A-wondering what became of her; The fields flower at the flame of her; The glad air sings With dancing wings And the silvery-shrill acclaim of her.

38 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. and complexity of Egyptian population and resources, much further than in any pre- vious case. The administration of Egypt and the government of its native population was separated from that of the Greeks and other resident foreigners. Libya and Arabia were made distinct administrative districts. The military and the financial administra- tions were also kept distinct. Garrisons were left in Pelusium and Memphis. Early in the spring (331) he returned with his army into Phenicia, and made halt at Tyre to effect the last governmental arrange- ments before turning his back on the West. Here came to greet him and pledge anew the loyalty of their city Athenian ambassadors, borne in the sacred state trireme, the famous old Paralos. Their renewed request for the release of their countrymen taken prisoners while serving the Persians at Granicus was finally granted. At the end a great athletic and musical Thte was inaugurated. Singers and actors came from various Greek cities. The Cyprian kings supplied the choruses. Stately sacrifices were offered to Hercules, the god of the place. A genuine Hellenic festival; in reality the funeral games of the old Hellas! When they were over, Alex- anders army turned its back upon the Gre- cian sea, the hem of which had hitherto been its battle-ground, and plunged into the heart of Asia. (To be continued.) A SONG FOR SPRING. BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS. 1 1ST! List! The buds confer: LThis noonday they ye had news of her; The south bank has had views of her; The thorn shall exact his dues of her; The willows adream By the freshet stream Shall ask what boon they choose of her. Up! Up! The mold s astir; The would-be green has word of her; Root and germ have heard of her, Coming to break Their sleep, and wake Their hearts with every bird of her. See! See! How swift concur Sun, wind, and rain at the name of her, A-wondering what became of her; The fields flower at the flame of her; The glad air sings With dancing wings And the silvery-shrill acclaim of her. (BEGUN IN THE NOYBMEER NUMBER.) VIA CRUCJS.1 A ROMANCE OF THE SECOND CRUSADE. BY F. MARION CRAWFORD, Author of Mr. Isaacs, Saracinesca, Casa Braccio, etc. WITH A PICTURE BY LOUIS LOEB. XIV. THREE weeks the French armies lay en- camped without the walls of Constan- tinople, while the Emperor of the Greeks used every art and every means to rid him- self of the unwelcome host without giving overmuch offense to his royal guests. The army of Conrad, he said, had gained a great victory in Asia Minor. Travel-stained mes- sengers arrived at Chrysopolis, and were brought across the Bosporus to appear be- fore the King and Queen of France with tales of great and marvelous deeds of arms against the infidels. Fifty thousand Seljuks had been drowned in their own blood, three times that number had fled from the field and were scattered fainting and wounded in the Eastern hills, vast spoils of gold and silver had fallen to the Christians, and if the French- men craved a share in the victories of the cross or hoped for some part and parcel of the splendid booty, it was high time that they should be marching to join the Germans in the field. Yet Lewis would have tarried longer, to complete the full month of devo- tions and thanksgiving for the march accom- plished, and many of his followers would cheerfully have spent the remainder of their days on the pleasant shores of the Bosporus and the Golden Horn; but the queen was weary of the long preface to her unwritten history of arms, and grew impatient, and took the Greek emperors side, believing all the messages which he provided for her imagination. And so at last the great mul- titude was brought over to Asia by boats, and marched by quick stages to the plain of NicEea. There they pitched their camp by the Lake of Ascania, and waited for news of the Germans ; for the messengers had brought inforlnation that the German emperor desired to make Nic~ea the trysting-place. But the messengers had all been Greeks, and the French waited maiiy days in vain, spoiling 1 Copyright, 1898, by F. Marion Crawford. the country of all they could take, though it was in the dominion of Christians, and no man dared raise a hand to defend his own against the crusaders. Among the French there were many, both of the great lords and of the simple knights, and of poor men-at-arms, who would have counted it mortal sin to take anything from a stranger without payment, who had come for faiths sake, to fight for faith, and who looked for faiths reward. Yet as there can be in logic nothing good excepting by its own comparison with things evil, so in that great pilgrimage of arms the worst followed the best in a greedy throng, as the jackal and the~raven cross the desert in the royal lions train. And the roads by which they had marched, and the lands wherein they had camped, lay as waste as the wheat-fields of Palestine in June, when the plague of locusts has eaten its way from east to west. When they came to a resting-place after many days march, mud-stained or white with dust, weary and foot-sore, their horses lame, their mules overladen with the burdens of those that had died by the way, beards half grown, hair unkempt, faces grimy, clothes worn shapeless, They were more like a mul- titude of barbarians wandering upon the plains of Asia than like nobles of France and high-born crusaders. At first, when they reached the halting-place by stream or river or lake, there was a struggle for drinking and a strife for the watering of horses and beasts of burden, so that some- times men and mules were trampled down and hurt, and some were killed. It mat- tered little in so great a host, and a spades depth of earth was enough for a man, if a priest could be found to bless his body on the spot where he lay, since he had died on the road to Jerusalem; but the jackals and wild dogs followed the march and lay in wait for dead beasts. Then when the first con- fusion was over, when hunger and thirst 39

(BEGUN IN THE NOYBMEER NUMBER.) VIA CRUCJS.1 A ROMANCE OF THE SECOND CRUSADE. BY F. MARION CRAWFORD, Author of Mr. Isaacs, Saracinesca, Casa Braccio, etc. WITH A PICTURE BY LOUIS LOEB. XIV. THREE weeks the French armies lay en- camped without the walls of Constan- tinople, while the Emperor of the Greeks used every art and every means to rid him- self of the unwelcome host without giving overmuch offense to his royal guests. The army of Conrad, he said, had gained a great victory in Asia Minor. Travel-stained mes- sengers arrived at Chrysopolis, and were brought across the Bosporus to appear be- fore the King and Queen of France with tales of great and marvelous deeds of arms against the infidels. Fifty thousand Seljuks had been drowned in their own blood, three times that number had fled from the field and were scattered fainting and wounded in the Eastern hills, vast spoils of gold and silver had fallen to the Christians, and if the French- men craved a share in the victories of the cross or hoped for some part and parcel of the splendid booty, it was high time that they should be marching to join the Germans in the field. Yet Lewis would have tarried longer, to complete the full month of devo- tions and thanksgiving for the march accom- plished, and many of his followers would cheerfully have spent the remainder of their days on the pleasant shores of the Bosporus and the Golden Horn; but the queen was weary of the long preface to her unwritten history of arms, and grew impatient, and took the Greek emperors side, believing all the messages which he provided for her imagination. And so at last the great mul- titude was brought over to Asia by boats, and marched by quick stages to the plain of NicEea. There they pitched their camp by the Lake of Ascania, and waited for news of the Germans ; for the messengers had brought inforlnation that the German emperor desired to make Nic~ea the trysting-place. But the messengers had all been Greeks, and the French waited maiiy days in vain, spoiling 1 Copyright, 1898, by F. Marion Crawford. the country of all they could take, though it was in the dominion of Christians, and no man dared raise a hand to defend his own against the crusaders. Among the French there were many, both of the great lords and of the simple knights, and of poor men-at-arms, who would have counted it mortal sin to take anything from a stranger without payment, who had come for faiths sake, to fight for faith, and who looked for faiths reward. Yet as there can be in logic nothing good excepting by its own comparison with things evil, so in that great pilgrimage of arms the worst followed the best in a greedy throng, as the jackal and the~raven cross the desert in the royal lions train. And the roads by which they had marched, and the lands wherein they had camped, lay as waste as the wheat-fields of Palestine in June, when the plague of locusts has eaten its way from east to west. When they came to a resting-place after many days march, mud-stained or white with dust, weary and foot-sore, their horses lame, their mules overladen with the burdens of those that had died by the way, beards half grown, hair unkempt, faces grimy, clothes worn shapeless, They were more like a mul- titude of barbarians wandering upon the plains of Asia than like nobles of France and high-born crusaders. At first, when they reached the halting-place by stream or river or lake, there was a struggle for drinking and a strife for the watering of horses and beasts of burden, so that some- times men and mules were trampled down and hurt, and some were killed. It mat- tered little in so great a host, and a spades depth of earth was enough for a man, if a priest could be found to bless his body on the spot where he lay, since he had died on the road to Jerusalem; but the jackals and wild dogs followed the march and lay in wait for dead beasts. Then when the first con- fusion was over, when hunger and thirst 39 40 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. were satisfied, the tents were unpacked with their poles, and the sound of the great wooden mallets, striking upon the tent-pegs, was like the irregular pounding stroke of the fullers hammers as the water-wheel makes them rise and fall; and though the army had crossed Europe and had encamped in many places, the colors of the tents were bright still, and the pennants floated in streaks of vivid color against the sky. Soon, when the first work was over and the little villages of red and green and purple and white canvas were built up in their long, irregular lines, the smoke of camp-fires rose in curling wreaths, and bag and baggage, pack and parcel, were opened and the contents spread out. As if for some great festival, men and women chose their gayest clothes and rich- est ornaments, so that when they met again before the open tents which were set up for chapels, one for each little band of fellow- townsmen and neighbors at home, and after- ward when they ate and drank together ac- cording to their rank, under wide awnings at noontide, or beneath the clear sky in the cool of the evening, it was a goodly sight, and every mans heart was lightened and his courage returned as he felt that he himself had his share and part of the glorious whole. For it was as it always is and always must be, where power and wealth are masters of the scene, and there is no acting-room for misery or sorrow or such poor strolling players as sickness and death. The things which please not the eye are quick to offend souls nursed in a faultless taste, and the charnel-house of failure receives whatsoever things have not the power of pleasing. Now, when they came to NicEea, hope was high, and the light of victories to come seemed to be shining in every mans eyes. There for the first time Queen Eleanor led out her three hundred ladies in battle array, clad in bright mail, with skirts of silk and cloth of gold, and long white mantles, each with a scarlet cross upon the shoulder; and on their heads they wore light caps of steel ornamented with chiseled gold and silver, and here and there with a metal crest such as a birds wing beaten out of thin silver plate. It was at noonday under the fair autumn sun. A broad meadow, green in patches, where the grass had not been burned brown by the summer heat, stretched toward the Lake of Ascania, where the ground rose in hillocks, to end abruptly in a sheer fall of thirty or forty feet to the waters edge. There were places where there was no grass at all, and where the dry gravel lay bare and dusty, yet on the whole it was a fair field for a great assembly of men on horseback and on foot. To southward the meadow rose, rolling away to the distant wooded hills, whither the German host was already gone. The great lords, with their men-at-arms and squires, riding each in the midst of his vassal knights, went out thither to see such a sight as none had seen before, and ranged them- selves by ranks around the field, so that there was room for all. And thither Gilbert went also with his man Dunstan, in the kings train, for he owed no service or allegiance to any man there. They waited long for the queen. She came at last, leading her company and mounted on a beautiful white Arab mare, the gift of the Greek emperor, as gentle a crea- ture as ever obeyed voice and hand, and as swift as the swiftest of the breed of ~Nejd. She rode alone, ten lengths before the rest, as tall and straight in the saddle as any man, a lance in her right hand, while her left held the bridle low and lightly; and at the very first glance every soldier in that great field knew that there was none like her in the troop. Yet her fair ladies made a good show- ing and rode not badly as they cantered by, as brilliant and changing as a shower of blos- soms, with black eyes, and blue, and brown, fair cheeks and dark, and laughing lips not made to talk of rough deeds, save to praise them in husband or lover. Next to the queen and before the follow- ing ranks rode one who bore the standard of Eleanors ancient house, St. George and the dragon, displayed on a white ground and now for the first time quartered in a cross. The Lady Anne of Auch was very dark, and her black hair st}eamed like a shadow in the air behind her, while her dark eyes looked up- ward and onward. Splendidly handsome she was, and doubtless Eleanor had chosen her for her beauty to be standard-bearer of the troop, well knowing that no living face could be compared with her own, and willing to out- shine a rival whose features and form were the honor of the South. They rode in a sort of order, in squadrons of fifty each, but not in serried ranks, for they had not the skill to keep in line, though they rode well and boldly. Before each squadron rode a lady who for her beauty or her rank, or for both, was captain, and wore upon her steel cap a gilded crest. Each squadron had a color of its own, scarlet and green and violet and the tender shade of anemones in spring, and their mantles had been dyed with VIA CRUCIS. 41 each hue in the dyeing-vats of Venice, and were lined with delicately tinted silks from the East, brought4o the harbors of France by Italian traders. For the merchants of Amalfi filled the Mediterranean with their busy commerce and had quarters of their own in every Eastern city, and had then but lately founded the saintly order of the Knights Hospitalers of St. John of Jerusalem, whence grew the noble community of the Knights of Malta, which was to live through many cen- turies even to our day. Nor could the queens ladies have worn mail and steel and wielded sword and lance, so that at a long stones throw they might almost have passed for men, but that cunning jewelers and artificers of Italy, and Moorish smiths from Spain, had been brought at great pains and cost to France to make such armor and weapons as had never been wrought before. The mail was of finest rings of steel sewn upon soft doeskin, fitted so closely that there was no room for gambeson or jerkin; and though it might have stopped a broad arrow or turned the edge of a blade, a sharp dagger could have made a wound beneath it, and against a blow it afforded less protection than a woolen cloak. Many had little rings of gold sewn regularly in the rows of steel ones, that caught the light with a warmer sparkle, and the clasps of their mantles were chiseled gold and silver. The trappings of each horse were matched in color with the ladies mantles, and the cap- tains of the squadrons wore golden spurs. They dropped the points of their lances as they passed the king where be sat on his horse, a stones throw from the high shore of the lake, in the midst of his chief barons, his pale face expressing neither interest nor pleasure in what he saw, and his eyes dis- trustful, as always, of his queen and her many caprices. She, when she had saluted him with a smile that was almost a laugh, rode on a little way, and then, with a sharply uttered word of command, she wheeled by the left, crossed half the broad field, and led her ladies back straight toward the king. Within five lengths of him she halted sud- denly, almost bringing her horses haunches to the ground, and keeping her seat in a way that would have done credit to a man brought up in the saddle. To tell the trutb, very few of her ladies were able to perform such a feat with any ease or assurance, and in the sudden halt there was more than a little disorder, accompanied by all sorts of excla- mations of annoyance and ejaculations of surprise: yet, in spite of difficulty, the whole VOL. LVIIJ.6. troop came to a standstill; moreover, a hundred thousand or more of knights and soldiers on horseback and on foot were so much more interested in the looks of the riders than in their horsemanship, and the whole effect of the gay confusion, with its many colors, its gleam of gold and glint of silver, was so pretty and altogether novel, that a great cry of enthusiasm and delight rang in the sunny air. A faint flush of pleasure rose in the queens cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with triumph at the long ap- plause which was on her side against the kings disapproval. She dropped the point of her lance until it almost touched the ground, and spoke to her husband in a higb, clear voice that was heard by many. I present to your Grace this troop of brave knights, she said. In strength the advantage is yours; in numbers you far outdo us; in age you are older; in experience there are those with you who have lived a lifetime in arms: yet we have some skill also, and those who are old in battles know that the victory belongs to the spirit and the heart, before it is the work of the hand; and in these my knights are not behind yours. The men who heard her words and saw the lovely light in her wondrous face threw up their right hands and shouted great cheers for her and her three hundred riders; but the king spoke no word of praise, and his face was still and sour. Again the queens cheek flushed. Your Grace leads the army of France,~~ she said, an army of brave men. My knights are many, and brave too, the troops of Guienne and of Poitou and of Gascony and of more than half of all the duchies that speak our tongue and owe me allegiance. But of them all, ~nd before them all, to ride in the van of this holy war, I choose these three hundred ladies. My lord king, and you lords, barons, knights, and men who have taken upon you the sign of the cross, you the flower of French chivalry and manhood, your comrades in arms are these, the flowers of France! Long live the king! She threw up her lance and caught it easily in her right hand as she uttered the cry, laughing in the kings face, and well knowing her power compared with his: and as the high young voices behind her took up the shout, the great multitude that bordered the meadow took it up also; but one word was changed, and a hundred thousand throats shouted, Long live the queen! When there was silence at last, the king looked awkwardly to his right and left as if 42 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. seeking advice; but the nobles about him were watching the fair ladies, and had per- haps no counsel to offer. In the great stillness the queen waited, still smiling triumphantly, and still he could find nothing to say, so that a soft titter ran through the ladies ranks, whereat the king looked more sour than ever. Madam, he began at last. And after that he seemed to be speaking, but no one heard what he said. Apparently with the intention of showing that he had nothing more to say, and indeed it was of very little importance whether he bad or not,he waved his hand with a rather awkward gesture and slightly bowed his head. Long live the monk! said Eleanor, audi- bly, as she wheeled to the right to lead her troop away. Gilbert Warde sat on his horse in the front line of the spectators, some fifty yards from the king and near the edge of the lake; and as the queen cantered along the line, gathering her harvest of admiration in mens faces, her eyes met the young Englishmans and recognized him. On his great Norman horse he sat half a head taller than the men on each side of him, as motionless as a statue. Yet his look expressed something which she had never seen in his face till then; for, being freed from her immediate influence and at liberty to look on her merely as the loveliest sight in the world, more strangely beautiful than ever in her gleaming armor, he had not thought of concealing the pleasure he felt in watching her. Not all the cheering of the great army, not all the light in the thousand eyes that followed her, could have done more than bring a faint color to her face, nor could any man in all that host have found a word to make her heart beat faster. But when she saw Gilbert the blood sank suddenly and her eyes grew darker. They lingered on him as she rode by, and turned back to him a little with drooping lids and a slight bend of the head that had in it a glance beyond her own knowledge or intention. He, like those beside him, threw up his hand and cheered again, and she did not see that almost before she had passed him he was looking along the ranks for another face. The three hundred cantered slowly round half the meadow, and the cheer followed them as they went, like the moving cry of birds on the wing; and first they rode along the line of the kings men, but presently they came to the knights and soldiers of Eleanors great vassalage, and all at once there were flowers in the air, wild flowers from the fields and autumn roses from tlje gardens of NicEea, plucked early by young squires and boys, and tied into nosegays and carefully shielded from the sun, that they might be still fresh when the time came to throw them. The light blossoms scattered in the air, and the leaves were blown into the faces of the fair women as they passed. Moreover, some of the knights had silken scarfs of red and white, and waved them above their heads while they cheered and shouted. And so the troop rode round three sides of the great meadow. But at the last side there was a change that fell like a chill upon the whole multitude of men and women, and a cry came ringing down the air that struck a discor& through the triumphant notes, long, harsh, as bad to hear as the howl of wild beasts when the fire licks up the grass of the wilderness be- hind them. At the sound, men turned their heads and looked in the direction whence it came, and many, by old instinct, slipped their left hands to the hilts of sword and dagger, and felt that each blade was loose in its sheath. As she galloped along, Queen Elea- nors white mare threw up her head sidewise with a snort and swirved, almost wrenching the bridle from the queens hold, and at the same moment the lusty cheering broke high in the air and died fitfully away. The in- stinct of fear and the foreknowledge of great evil were present, unseen and terrible, and of the three hundred ladies who reined in their horses as the queen halted, nine out of ten felt that they changed color, scarcely knowing why. With one common impulse all turned their eyes toward the rising ground to southward There were strange figures upon the low hillocks, riding out of the woods at furious speed toward the meadow, and already the deep lines began to open and part to make way for the rush. There were men bare- headed, with rags of mantles streaming in the wind, spurring lame and jaded horses to the speed of a charge, and crying out strange words in tones of terror. But only one word was understood by some of those who heard: The Seljuks! The Seijuks! Down the gentle slope they came spurring like madmen. As they drew nearer, one could see that there was blood on their armor, blood on the rags of their cloaks, blood on their faces and on their hands; some were wounded in the head, and the clotted gore made streaks upon their necks; VIA CRUCIS. 43 some had bandages upon them made of strips of torn-up clothes; and one man who rode in the front, when his horse sprang a ditch at the foot of the hill, threw up an arm that was without a hand. No man of all the throng who had ever seen war doubted the truth for one moment after the first of the wild riders was in sight, and the older and more experienced men instinctively looked into one anothers faces and came forward together. But even had they been warned in time, they could have done nothing against the fright that seized the younger men and the women at the throat like a bodily enemy, choking out hope and strength and youth in the dreadful premoni- tion of untimely death. The squires pressed upon the knights, the boys and young men- at-arms and the followers of the camp forced their weight inward next, and the inner circle yielded and allowed itself to be crushed in upon the troop of ladies, whose horses began to plunge and rear with their riders fright; and still, on one side, the crowd tried to part before the coming fugitives. The first came tearing down, his horses nostrils streaming with blood, himself wild-eyed, with foam- flecked lips that howled the words of terror: The Seljuks! The Seljuks! A dozen lengths before the terror-stricken wall of human beings that could not make way to let him in, without warning, without a death-gasp, the horse doubled his head under himself as he galloped his last stride, and falling in a round heap, rolled over and over, forward, with frightful violence, till he suddenly lay stiff and stark, with twisted neck and outstretched heels, within a yard of the shrinking crowd, his rider crushed to death on the grass behind him. And still the others came tearing down the hill, more and more, faster and faster, as if no earthly power could stop their rush: first a score and then a hundred, and then the torn rem- nants of a vanquished host, blown as it were like fallen leaves by the whirlwind of the death they had just escaped. Many of them, not knowing and not caring what they did, and remembering only the wrath from which they fled, did not even try to rein in their horses, and the beasts themselves, mad with fright and pain, charged right at the ranks of people on foot, and reared their full height at the last bound, rather than override a living man; and many were crushed in the press, and many fell from their jaded mounts, too weary to rise, and too much exhausted to utter any words save a cry for water. Nevertheless, two or three who had more life in them than the rest were able to stand, and were presently led round the close- packed crowd to the edge of the lake, where the king was quietly waiting with his cour- tiers until the confusion should end itself, saying a prayer or two for the welfare of every one concerned, but making not the slightest attempt to restrain the panic or to restore order. But the queen and her ladies were in danger of being crushed to death in the very midst of the seething, bruising, stifling mass of humanity. Gilbert was near the king, and sitting high on his great horse, saw farther than most men above the wild confusion. It was as if some frightful, unseen monster were gather- ing a hundred thousand men in iron coils, always inward, as great snakes crush their prey, thousands upon thousands, the bodies of horses and men upon men and horses, with resistless force, till the human beings could struggle no longer, and the beasts them- selves could neither kick nor plunge, but only trample all that was near them, while they moved slowly toward the center. By thousands and thousands, again, on an al- most even level, the small round caps of many colors were pressed together, till it seemed impossible that there could be room for the bodies that belonged to them. As when, in vintage-time, the gathered fruit is brought home to the vats in the sweating panniers of wood pressed down and level to the brim, and the red and white and blue and green grapes lie closely touching one another, almost floating in the juice, rocking and bobbing all at once with every step of the laden mule, so, as Gilbert looked out be- fore him, the bright-hued, close-fitting caps moved restlessly and without ceasing all around a. centra{ turmoil of splendid color, shaded by tender tones of violet and olive, and shot by the glare of sunlit gold, and the sheen of silver, and the cold light of pol- ished steel. But in the heart of the press there was danger, and from far away Gil- bert saw clearly enough, through the cloud of light and color, the lifeless tones that are like nothing else of nature, the deadly un- reflecting paleness of frightened faces. The cries of women hurt and in terror came ris- ing over the heads of the multitude. He sat still and looked before him as if his sight could distinguish the features of one or an- other at that distance, and he felt icy cold when he thought of what might happen, and that all those fair young girls and women, in their beauty and in their youth, in their fanciful dresses, might be crushed and tram- 44 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. pled and kicked to death before thousands who would have died to save them. His first instinct was to charge the crowd before him, to force the way, even by the sword, and to bring the queen and her ladies safely back; but a moments thought showed him how utterly futile any such attempt must be, and that even if the whole throng had felt as he felt himself, and had wished to make way for any one, it would have had no power to do so. There was only one chance of saving the women, and that evidently lay in leading off the crowd by some excitement counter to its present fear. The instant the difficulty and the danger flashed upon him Gilbert began to look about him for some means of safety for those in peril, and in his distress of mind every lost minute was monstrously lengthened as it passed. Beside him, his man Dunstan stood in silence, apparently indifferent to all that was taking place, his quiet face a trifle more drawn and keen than usual; possibly a very slight movement of the curved nostrils ex- pressed some inward excitement, but that was scarcely perceptible. Gilbert knew that his own face showed his extreme anxiety, and as he in vain attempted to find some ex- pedient, the mans excessive coolness began to irritate him. You stand there, said Gilbert, rather coldly, as if you did not care that three hundred ladies of France are being crushed to death and that we Englishmen can do nothing to help them. Dunstan raised his lids and looked up at his master without lifting his head. I am not so indifferent as the king, sir, he answered, barely raising a finger in the direc- tion of the knot of courtiers, in the midst of whom, some fifty yards away, the cold, pale face of the king was just then distinctly visible. France might be burned before his eyes, yet he would prayfor his own soulrather than lift a hand for the lives of others. We are as bad as he, retorted Gilbert, almost angrily, and moving uneasily in his saddle as he felt himself powerless. Dunstan did not answer at once, and he bit one side of his lower lip with his pointed teeth nervously. Suddenly he stooped down and picked up something against which his foot had struck as he moved. Gilbert paid no attention to what he did. Do you wish to draw away the crowd so as to make room for the queen? he asked. Of course I do! Gilbert looked at his man inquiringly, though his tone was harsh and almost angry. We cannot cut a way for them through the crowd, he added, looking before him again. Dunstan laughed quietly. I will lay my life against a new tunic that I can make this multitude spin on itself like a whipped top, he said. But I admit that you could not, sir. Why not? asked Gilbert, instantly bend- ing down in order to hear better. What can you do that I cannot? What gentle blood could never do, re- plied the man, with a shade of bitterness. Shall I have the new tunic if I save the Lady Beatrixand the Queen of France? Twenty! Anything you ask for! But be quick! Dunstan stooped again, and again picked up something from under his foot. I am only a churl, he said as he stood upright again, but I can risk my life like you for a lady, and if I win, I would rather win a sword than a bit of finery. You shall win more than that, Gilbert answered, his tone changing. But if you know of anything to do, in the name of God do it quickly, for it is time! Good-by, sir. Gilbert heard the two words, and while they were still in his ears, half understood, Dunstan had slipped away among the squires and knights about them, and was lost to sight. One minute had not passed when a wild yell rent the air, with fierce words, high and clear, which thousands must have beard at the very first, even had they not been re- peated again and again: The king has betrayed us! The king is a traitor to the cross! At the very instant a stone flew straight from L~unstan.~s unerring hand, and struck the kings horse fairly between the eyes, upon the rich frontlet, heavy with gold embroidery. The charger reared up violently to his height, and before he had got his head down to plunge, Dunstans furious scream split the air again, and the second stone struck the king himself full on the breast, and rolled to the saddle and then to the ground: The king has betrayed us all! Traitor! traitor! traitor! There never yet was a feverish, terror- stricken throng of men, suddenly disheart- ened by the unanswerable evidence of a great defeat by which they themselves might be lost, that would not take up the cry of Trai- tor! against their leaders. Before he raised his voice, Dunstan had got among men wTho knew him neither by sight nor by name, and VIA CRUCIS. 45 the second stone had not sped home before he was gone again in a new direction, silent now, with compressed lips, his dark, inscruta- ble eyes looking sharply about him. He had done his work, and he knew what might happen to him if he were afterward recog- nized. But none heeded him. The uproar went surging toward the king with a rising fury, like the turn of the tide in a winter storm, roaring up to the breaking pitch, and many would have stoned him and torn him to pieces; but there were many also, older and cooler men, who pressed round him, shoulder to shoulder, with swords drawn and flashing in the sunlight, and faces set to defend their liege lord and sovereign. In an instant the flying Germans were forgotten; and the emperor and his army, and the mean- ing of the holy war and of the cross itself, were gone from mens minds in the fury of riot on the one side, in the stern determina- tion of defense on the other. The vast weight of men rolled forward, pushed by those be- hind, forcing the king and those who stood by him to higher ground. In dire distress, and almost hopeless of extricating her gentle troop from destruction, the queen heard the new tumult far away, and felt the close press yielding on one side. The word traitor ran along like a quick echo from mouth to mouth, repeated again and again, sometimes angrily, sometimes in tones of unbelief, but always repeated, until there was scarcely one man in a hundred thousand whose lips had not formed the syllables. Eleanor saw her hus- band and his companions, with their drawn swords moving in the air, on the knoll; she heard the stinging word, and a hard and scornful look lingered in her face a moment. She knew that the accusation was false, that it was too utterly empty to have mean- ing for honest men: yet she despised her husband merely because a madman could cast such a word at him; and in the security of power and dominions far greater than his, as well as of a popularity to which he could never attain, she looked upon him in her heart as a contemptible kinglet, to marry whom had been her most foolish mistake. And it had become the object of her life to put him away if she could. For a few moments she looked on across the sea of heads that had already begun to move away. Her mare was quieter now in the larger space, being a docile creature, but many of the other ladies horses were still plunging and kicking, though so crowded that they could do one another little hurt. She saw how the knights were forcing their way to the kings side, and how the great herd of footmen resisted them, while the word of shame rose louder in their yells; and though she despised the king, the fierce instinct of the great noble against the rabble ran through her like a painful shock, and her face turned pale as she felt her anger in her throat. There was room now, for the great throng was rushing from her, spreading like a river, and dividing at the hillock where it met the knights swords, and flowing to right and left along the edge of the lake. The queen looked behind her, to see what ladies were nearest to her, and she saw her standard-bearer, Anne of Auch, fighting her rearing charger; and next to her, quiet and pale, on a vicious Hungarian gelding a great deal too big for her, but which she seemed to manage with extraordinary ease, sat Beatrix de Curboil, a small, slim figure in a delicate mail that looked no stronger than a Silver fishing-net, her shape half hidden by her flowing mantle of soft olive-green with a scarlet cross on the shoulder, and wearing a silver doves wing on her steel cap. Her eyes met Eleanors, and lightened in sympathy of thought, so that the other un- derstood in a flash. The queens right hand went up, lifting the lance high in air; half wheeling to the left, and turning her head still farther, she called out to those behind her: Ladies of France! The rabble is at the king! Forward! An instant later, the fleet Arab mare was galloping straight for the crowd, and Eleanor did not look behind her again, but held her lance before her and a little raised, so that it was just ready to fall into rest. Directly behind her rode the Lady Anne, the shaft of the standard in the socket of her stirrup, her arm run through the thong, so that she had both hands free; she sat erect in the saddle, her horse already at a racing gallop, neck out, eyes up, red nostrils wide, delight- ing in being free from restraint: and Beatrix was there too, like a feather on her big brown Hungarian, that thundered along like a storm, his wicked ears laid straight back, and his yellowish teeth showing white in the noon sunshine. But of all the three hundred ladies none followed them. The others had not understood the queens command, or had not heard, or could not manage their horses, or were afraid. And the three women rode at the mob, that was now four hundred yards away. Straight they rode, heedless and unaware 46 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. that they were alone, nor counting how little three women could do against thousands. But the people heard the hammering hoofs of the two big horses, and the Arabs light footfall resounded quickly and steadily, as the fingers of a dancer striking the tambourine. Hundreds glanced back to see who rode so fast, and thousands turned their heads to know why the others looked; and all, seeing the queen, pressed back to right and left, making way, partly in respect for her and much in fear for themselves. Far up the rising ground, the riot ceased as suddenly as it had begun; the men-at-arms drew back in shame, and many tried to hide their faces, lest they should be known again. The tide of human beings divided before the swiftly riding women, as the cloud-bank splits before the northwest wind in winter, and the white mare sped like a ray of light between long, wavering lines of rough faces and gleaming arms. The queen glanced scornfully to each side as she passed in a gale, and the dear sense of power soothed her stirred pride. Still the line opened, and still she rode on, scarcely rising and sinking with the mares wonderful stride. But the way that was made for her was not straight to the king now; the throng was more dense there, and the people parted as they could, so that the three ladies had to follow the only open passage. Suddenly, before them, there was an end, where the rolling ground broke away sharply in a fall of forty feet to the edge of the lake below. The heads of the last of the crowd who stood at the brink were clear and distinct against the pale sky. The queen could not see the water, but she felt that there was death in the leap. Her two companions looked beyond her and saw also. Eleanor dropped her lance quietly to the right, so that it should not make her fol- lowers fall, and with hands low and weight thrown back in the deep saddle, she pulled with all her might. Her favorite black horse, broken to her own hand, would have obeyed her; she might have been able to stop Bea- trixs great Hungarian, for her white hands were as strong as steel; but the Arab mare was trained only to the touch of an Arab halter and the deep caress of an Arab voice, and at the first strain of the cruel French bit she threw up her head, swerved, caught the steel in her teeth, and shot forward again at twice her speed. Eleanor tried in vain to wrench the mares head to one side, into the shrinking crowd. The queens face turned gray, but her lips were set and her eyes steady, as she looked death in the face. Behind her, Beatrixs little gloved hands were like white moths on the steadily jerking bridle, the Hungarian~s terrific stride threw up the sod behind her, and there was a hopeless, far-away look in her face, almost like a death-smile. Only the strong, dark woman of the South seemed still to have control over her horse, and he slowly slackened his speed and fell a little behind the other two. In the fearful danger the crowd was silent and breathless, and many men turned pale as they saw. But none moved. One second, two seconds, three seconds, and to every second two strides: the end of three womens lives was counted by the wild hoof-strokes. The race might last while one could count ten more. Gilbert Warde had at first tried to press nearer to the king, but he saw that it was use- less, because the king was already shoulder to shoulder with the nobles and knights. So he had turned back to face the crowd with those about him, and with the fiat of his blade he had beaten down some few swords which men had dared to draw; but he had wounded no one, for he knew that it was a mad- ness which must pass and must be for- given. Then he found himself xvith his horse on the very edge of the open track made by the dividing people, and he looked and saw the queen, and Beatrix three or four lengths behind her, as the matchless Arab gained ground in the race. He had seen also the deep fall, and understood. Instantly he was on his feet on the turf, a step out in the perilous way; and he wished that he had the strength of Lancelot in his hands, with the leap of a wild beast in his feet: but his heart did not fail him. In one second he lived an hour. His life was nothing, but he could give it only once, and save one woman, and she must be Beatrix, let such chance befall Eleanor as might. Yet Eleanor was the queen, and she had been kind to him, and in the fateful instant of doom his eyes were on her face; he would try to save the other, but unconsciously he made one step forward again and stood waiting in midway. One second for a lifetimes thought, one for the step he made, and the next was the last. He could hear the rush of the wind, and Eleanor was looking at him. In that supreme moment her face changed, and the desperate calm in her eyes changed to desperate fear for him she loved even better than she knew. VIA CRUCIS. 47 Back! she cried, and the cry was a wo- mans agonized scream, but not for herself. With all her might, but utterly in vain, she wrenched sidewise at the mares mouth, and she closed her eyes lest she should see the man die. He had meant to let her pass to her death, for the girl was dearer to him, and he had gathered his strength like a bent spring to serve him. But he saw her eyes and heard her cry, and in the flash of instinct he knew she loved him, and that she wished him to save himself rather than her; and thereby is real love proved on the touch- stone of fear. As he sprang, he knew that he had no choice, though he did not love her. The fall of her mare, if his grip held, might stop the rest. He sprang; he saw only the Arabs hony head and the gold on the bridle, as both his hands grasped it. Then he saw nothing more, but yet he held, and, dead, he would have held still, as the steel jaws of the hunt- ers trap hold upon the wolfs leg-bone. He knew that he was thrown down, dragged, pounded, bruised, twisted like a rope till his joints cracked. But he held, and felt no pain, while earth and sky whirled with him. It was not a second; it was an hour, a year, a life- time: yet he could not have loosed his hold, had he wished to let go, for there were in him the blood and the soul of the race that never yielded its grip on whatsoever it held. It lasted a breathing-space, while the mare plunged wildly and staggered, and her head almost touched the ground and dragged the mans hands on the turf; then as his weight wrenched her neck back, her violent speed threw her hind quarters round, as a vane is blown from the gale. At the same instant the great Hungarian horse was upon her, tried to leap her in his stride, struck her empty saddle with his broad chest, and fell against her and upon her with all his enor- mous weight, and the two rolled over each other, frantically kicking. The standard- bearers horse, less mad than the others and some lengths behind, checked himself clev- erly, and after two or three short, violent strides, that almost unseated his rider, planted his fore feet in the turf and stood stock-still, heaving and trembling. The race was over. With the strength and instinct of the per- fect rider, Eleanor had slipped her feet from the stirrups and had let herself be thrown, lifting herself with her hands on the high pommel and vaulting clear away. She fell, but was on her feet before any man of the dazed throng could help her. She saw Gil- hert lying his full length on his side, his body passive, but his arms stretched beyond his head, while his gloved hands still clenched upon the bridle and were pulled from side to side by the mares faintly struggling head. His eyes were half open toward the queen, but they were pale and saw nothing. The Hungarian had rolled half upon his back, lit- tle hurt, and the pommels of the saddle under him kept him from turning completely over. Beatrix lay like one dead. She had been thrown over the Arabs back, striking her head on the turf, and the mare in her final struggle had rolled upon her feet. The light steel cap had been forced down over her forehead in spite of its cushioned lining, and the chiseled rim had cut into the flesh so that a little line of dark blood was slowly running across the white skin; and hqr white gloved hands were lying palm upward, half open and motionless. The queen scarcely glanced at her. Many men sprang forward when the dan- ger was past, and they dragged Beatrix out and began to get her horse upon his feet. Eleanor knelt by Gilbert and tried to take his fingers from the bridle, but could not, so that she had to loose the buckles from the long bars of the bit. Her hands clasped his temples softly, and she bent lower and blew upon his face, that her cool breath might wake him. There were drops of blood on his forehead and on his chin; his cloth tunic was torn in many places, and the white linen showed at the rents: but Eleanor saw only the look in his face, serene and strong even in his unconsciousness, while in the dream of his swoon he saved her life again. In that moment, knowing that he could not see her, she thought not of her own face as she gazed upon his, nor of hiding what she felt; and th~ thing she felt was evil, and it was sweet. But suddenly there was life in his look, with a gentle smile, and the strained fingers were loosed with a sigh, and a long-unused word came from his lips: Mother! Eleanor shook her beautiful head slowly. Then Gilberts face darkened with under- standing, and the old pain clutched at his heart sharply, even before the keen bodily hurt awoke in his wrung limbs. All at once thought came, and he knew how, in a quick fall of his heart, he had forgotten Beatrix and had almost given his life to save the queen. As if he had been stung, he started and raised himself on one hand, though it was as if he forced his body among hot knives. She is dead! he cried, with twisting lips. 48 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. No; you saved us both. The words came soft and clear, as Eleanor laid her hand upon his shoulder to quiet him, and watched the change as the agony in his eyes faded to relief and brightened to peace. Thank God! He sank upon her arm, for he was much bruised. But her face changed, too, and she suffered new things, because in her there was good as well as evil; for as she loved him more than before he had saved her, so she would give him more, if she might, even to forgetting herself. And so, for a few moments, she knelt and watched him, heedless of the people about her, scarcely seeing a dark man whom she had never noticed before, and who bent so low that she could not see his face, quietly loosening his masters collar and then feel- ing along his arms and legs for any bone hurt there might be. Who are you? asked the queen at last, gently, as to one who was be]ping him she loved. His man, answered Dunstan, laconically, without looking up. Take care of him, and bring me word of him, she answered, and from a wallet she wore she gave him gold, which he took, silently bending his head still lower in thanks. He, too, had saved her that day, and knew it, though she did not. She stood up at last, gathering her man- tle round her. Less than ten minutes had passed since she had thrown up her hand and called to her ladies to follow her. Since then the world had been in herself and on fire, leaving no room for other thoughts; but now the crowd had parted wide, and the king was coming toward her, slow and late, to know whether she were hurt, for he had seen her ride. Madam, he said, when he had dis- mounted, I thank the mercy of Heaven, which deigned to hear the prayers I was continually offering up for your safety while your life was threatened by that dangerous animal. We will render thanks in divine services during ten days before proceeding farther, or during a fortnight if you prefer it. Your Grace, said Eleanor, coldly, is at liberty to praise Heaven by the month if it seems good to you. Had it not been for that poor Englishman, who lies there in a swoon, and who caught my horses bridle at the risk of his life, you might have been ordering masses for my soul instead of for my bodily preservation. They would have been much needed had I been killed just then. The king crossed himself devoutly, half closed his eyes, bent himself a little, and whispered a short prayer. It would be better, observed the queen, to move on at once and support the em- peror. It has pleased God that the army of the emperor should be totally destroyed, an- swered the king, calmly. The emperor him- self will be here in a few hours, unless he has perished with the rest of his knights, slain by the Seijuk horsemen who are pur- suing the fugitives. The more reason why we should save those who are still alive. My army shall march to-morrow at daybreak your Grace may stay behind and pray for us. She turned from him scornfully. Dunstan and some foot-soldiers had made stretcbers with lances and pikes, and were just begin- ning to carry Beatrix and Gilbert away, northward, in the direction of the camp. (To be continued.) K U HE HELD, . . . WHILE EARTH AND SKY WHIRLED WITH HIH. VOL. LVIII.7. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. PERSONAL NARRATIVES OF THE NAVAL ENGAGEMENT NEAR SANTIAGO DE CUBA, JULY 8, 1898, BY OFFICERS OF THE AMERICAN FLEET. Captain ROBLEY D. EVANS of the Iowa. Lieutenant E. W. EBERLE (with a note on Captain HENRY C. TAYLOR of the Indiana. Cerveras strategy by Captain Clark) of Lieut.-Com. R. WAINWRIGHT of the Gloucester. the Oregon. Captain J. W. PHILIP of the Texas. Captain F. E. CHADWICK of the New York. Captain F. A COOK of the Brooklyn. Lieutenant H. P. HUSH of the Gloucester. Chaplain W. G. CASSARD of the Indiana. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS, INCLUDING PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN ON THE DAY OF THE BATTLE ON THE IOWA, INDIANA, GLOUCESTER, TEXAS, BROOKLYN, OREGON, NEW YORK, AND HIST. 1 THE IOWA AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN ROBLEY D. EVANS. SUNDAY, July 3,1898, was one of those beautiful days sometimes seen on the south Coast of Cuba, and the air was so pure that the outlines of the distant mountains were Clearly visible, with the Spanish block- houses picturesquely perched on the loftiest peaks. There was no haze, and the blue of the mountains blended with the blue of the sky. At nine oclock in the morning, Admiral Sampson having an engagement with Gen- eral Shafter, the flagship New York had gone eastward, flying the signal, Disre- gard the movements of the commander-in- chief The American squadron was arranged in a half-circle around the entrance of Santiago harbor, three miles distant from the Morro, and in the following order: beginning on the right, the auxiliary Glouicester, Lieutenant- Commander WainWright, close to the shore off Aguadores; next, the battle-ship Indiana, Captain Taylor; next, the battle-ship Oregon, Captain Clark; then the battle-ship Iowa, Captain Evans, directly off the mouth of the harbor; next, the battle-ship Texas, Captain Philip; next, the armored cruiser Brooklyn, flying the pennant of Commodore Schley, Captain Cook commanding; and close to the land, off Cabafias, the auxiliary Vixen, Lieu- tenant Sharp. The rusty, lead-colored squad- ron looked very business like as it rolled gently in the long southeast swell. Like leviathans afloat lay their bulwarks on the brine. The officers and crews were at preliminary Sunday morning inspection, dressed in spot- less white. Battle-hatches were off tempo- rarily, to give what little relief was possible to the sweltering crews; electric-firing bat- teries and alnmunition-hoists had been care- fully examined: in a word, everything had been done to prepare the ships for the in- spection of commanding officers, who appre- ciated their position off an enemys coast, liable at any moment to engage a fleet com- manded by an officer whose reputation for daring and courage was equaled by few and surpassed by none in his profession. I had just finished my breakfast, and was sitting smokii~g at my cabin table, in con- versation with my son, a naval cadet, who fortunately had been left on picket duty the night before by his ship, the Massachusetts, and who had taken refuge with me until her return from Guantanamo, where she had gone for coal. At thirty-one minutes after nine oclock the general alarm for action rang all over the ship. My son jumped to his feet, exclaiming, Papa, the enemys ships are coming out! and we both started as fast as we could go for the bridge. Be- fore I reached the spar-deck I heard a gun fired from the Iowa, and upon reaching the bridge found the signal flying, Enemys ships coming out. The engine-gongs rang, 1 The reader will find in the preceding number of THE CENTURY Admiral Sampsons personal narrative of the campaign The Atlantic Fleet in the Spanish War, including synchronous maps of the move ments of the vessels under Cervera, Sampson, and Schley, a plan of the blockade of Santiago, and a series of eight birds-eye plans of the engagementEDITOR. 50

THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. PERSONAL NARRATIVES OF THE NAVAL ENGAGEMENT NEAR SANTIAGO DE CUBA, JULY 8, 1898, BY OFFICERS OF THE AMERICAN FLEET. Captain ROBLEY D. EVANS of the Iowa. Lieutenant E. W. EBERLE (with a note on Captain HENRY C. TAYLOR of the Indiana. Cerveras strategy by Captain Clark) of Lieut.-Com. R. WAINWRIGHT of the Gloucester. the Oregon. Captain J. W. PHILIP of the Texas. Captain F. E. CHADWICK of the New York. Captain F. A COOK of the Brooklyn. Lieutenant H. P. HUSH of the Gloucester. Chaplain W. G. CASSARD of the Indiana. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS, INCLUDING PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN ON THE DAY OF THE BATTLE ON THE IOWA, INDIANA, GLOUCESTER, TEXAS, BROOKLYN, OREGON, NEW YORK, AND HIST. 1 THE IOWA AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN ROBLEY D. EVANS. SUNDAY, July 3,1898, was one of those beautiful days sometimes seen on the south Coast of Cuba, and the air was so pure that the outlines of the distant mountains were Clearly visible, with the Spanish block- houses picturesquely perched on the loftiest peaks. There was no haze, and the blue of the mountains blended with the blue of the sky. At nine oclock in the morning, Admiral Sampson having an engagement with Gen- eral Shafter, the flagship New York had gone eastward, flying the signal, Disre- gard the movements of the commander-in- chief The American squadron was arranged in a half-circle around the entrance of Santiago harbor, three miles distant from the Morro, and in the following order: beginning on the right, the auxiliary Glouicester, Lieutenant- Commander WainWright, close to the shore off Aguadores; next, the battle-ship Indiana, Captain Taylor; next, the battle-ship Oregon, Captain Clark; then the battle-ship Iowa, Captain Evans, directly off the mouth of the harbor; next, the battle-ship Texas, Captain Philip; next, the armored cruiser Brooklyn, flying the pennant of Commodore Schley, Captain Cook commanding; and close to the land, off Cabafias, the auxiliary Vixen, Lieu- tenant Sharp. The rusty, lead-colored squad- ron looked very business like as it rolled gently in the long southeast swell. Like leviathans afloat lay their bulwarks on the brine. The officers and crews were at preliminary Sunday morning inspection, dressed in spot- less white. Battle-hatches were off tempo- rarily, to give what little relief was possible to the sweltering crews; electric-firing bat- teries and alnmunition-hoists had been care- fully examined: in a word, everything had been done to prepare the ships for the in- spection of commanding officers, who appre- ciated their position off an enemys coast, liable at any moment to engage a fleet com- manded by an officer whose reputation for daring and courage was equaled by few and surpassed by none in his profession. I had just finished my breakfast, and was sitting smokii~g at my cabin table, in con- versation with my son, a naval cadet, who fortunately had been left on picket duty the night before by his ship, the Massachusetts, and who had taken refuge with me until her return from Guantanamo, where she had gone for coal. At thirty-one minutes after nine oclock the general alarm for action rang all over the ship. My son jumped to his feet, exclaiming, Papa, the enemys ships are coming out! and we both started as fast as we could go for the bridge. Be- fore I reached the spar-deck I heard a gun fired from the Iowa, and upon reaching the bridge found the signal flying, Enemys ships coming out. The engine-gongs rang, 1 The reader will find in the preceding number of THE CENTURY Admiral Sampsons personal narrative of the campaign The Atlantic Fleet in the Spanish War, including synchronous maps of the move ments of the vessels under Cervera, Sampson, and Schley, a plan of the blockade of Santiago, and a series of eight birds-eye plans of the engagementEDITOR. 50 THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 51 Full speed ahead, and the Iowa closed in as she slowly gathered speed. At this mo- ment the Spanish cruiser Infanta Maria Teresa was in plain view, coming around Smith Cay in front of the Punta Gorda bat- tery, her magnificent battle-flag just showing clear of the land as I reached the bridge. The battle-hatches of the Iowa were rat- tling into place, her sturdy crew stopping for a moment to cheer the Spanish ship as she stood boldly out. The shot I had heard as I came up was a six-pounder fired by Lieu- tenant Hill, who, with Lieutenant Scheutze, the navigating officer, had discovered the Teresa as her bows came around the inter- vening land. It may be well to state here that the Iowa was the first to discover the Spanish ships not because of any greater watchfulness on her part, but because of her position, by which she was enabled to see farther into the harbor than any other ship. All the ves- sels were most vigilant and watchful, as is shown by the fact that no fewer than three REAR-ADMIRAL WILLIAM T. SAMPSON. 52 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. claim to have been the first to see the Span- iards. At sundown on July 2, Lieutenant Hill, who at the time was officer of the deck, reported to me suspicious movements on the part of the Spanish fleet, judging from the six columns of smoke which were discernible over the land and close to the mouth of the harbor. After a careful look I decided that, as these columns of smoke had often been seen before, they were probably owing to the Spaniards freshening up their fires, and I paid no further attention to them. It seems, however, that the quartermaster and the signalman on watch took the matter more seriously to heart, and bent on the signal 250, Enemys ships coming out; and it remained so bent on until it was hoisted on the morning of July 3. This accounts for the instantaneous hoisting of the signal when the first of the enemys ships was seen. From the bridge of the Iowa at this time, about thirty-four minutes after nine, the following seemed to be the positions and movements of the different vessels of the squadron: the Gloucester heading to the westward, close under the land; three battle-ships, the In- diana, the Oregon, and the Iowa, closing in straight for the Morro; the Texas heading to the northward and eastward, also closing on the Morro; the Brooklyn with her helm to port turning to the eastward; and the Vixen heading to the southward toward the Brooklyn. About this time I gave the order, Man the starboard battery; rapid-fire-guns crews in reserve! and heading the Iowa so as to bring the Teresa on her starboard bow, signaled, Commence firingrange five CAPTAIN ROBLEY D. EVANS. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 53 thousand yards. Three of the enemys ships were now in plain sight, and moving rapidly down the channel for the entrance of the harbor. The Oregon and the Iowa were using their heavy guns on the Teresa, which was leading and showing the flag of Admiral Cervera. The Indiana was closing in on the Morro, and as the Spanish flagship cleared that point the heavy guns of this battle-ship added their roar to the already deafening din. When clear of the entrance, the Teresa opened furiously, and her broadsides followed one another with startling rapidity as she changed her course and headed to the west- ward. A very few minutes later the other three Spanish ships had cle~red the en- trance, and all, heading in column to the westward, presented the finest spectacle that has probably ever been seen on the water. These cruisers had evidently been well cared for, and though they stood high out of the water, making fine targets for our gunners, they looked as fit for battle as any cruisers could ever be. Their broadsides came with mechanical rapidity, and in striking contrast to the deliberate fire of the American ships. A torrent of projectiles was sailing over us, harmlessly exploding in the water beyond. Several eleven-inch shells, and particularly those from the Teresa, passed over the fore- castle of the Iowa, very close to our forward twelve-inch turret and the conning-tower; but none struck. We can- not, therefore, state with certainty what would be the effect upon harvey- ized armor of heavy shot actually striking under battle conditions. The speed of the enemys ships we esti- mated at this time to be about thirteen knots, and it was soon evident to me that I could not ram either the first or the second ship, which, up to this time, it had been my intention to do. I therefore put my helm hard astarboard, swung off to port, and gave the Teresa my entire broadside at a range of twenty-five hundred yards. Then, quickly shifting my helm to port, I again headed in, keeping the second ship of the enemy open on my starboard bow. The forward eight- inch guns of the port battery now opened on the Teresa, and my starboard battery kept firing at the Vizcaya and the Almirante Oquendo. As the Vizcaya ranged up ahead of me, my helm was again put hard astar- board, and she received the benefit of my starboard broadside. Again I swung back with port helm, and laid the Iowa to cross the bows of the Oquendo. I soon found, how- ever, that the best speed I could get out of my good ship was ten knots, and that the Oquendo would pass me at a range of about sixteen hundred yards. I therefore put my helm to starboard and laid a course parallel to that steered by her. At this time she was about abeam of me. Orders were given to man the rapid-fire battery, and every gun on the starboard side roared and barked at the unfortunate Spanish ship. The Indiana was lying on her quarter, pounding away at her, DRAWN BR B. WEST ELINEDINST. HALF-TONE PLATE ENARAVED BY F. A. WELLINATAN. CAPTAIN EVANS DECLINING CAPTAIN EULATES OFFER OF HIS SWORD. SPANIARDS FROM THE VIZCAYA CAPTURED BY CUBANS. This picture closely follows a photograplimade by Lieutenant F. II. ilunicke of the fist, while in a boat under his command going to the rescue of the VizcayaS crew. Lieutenant Hnnicke writes When alongside of her we picked up twenty-three Spaniards hanging to the rigging, each one badly wounded, and although she was one mass of flames, aad her ammunition was ~0nstantly exploding, I took two pictures. My camera was then laid in the after-thwart, for I had to draw my revolver to threaten to shoot some of the poor wretches who attempted to crawl up into my boat before I had placed sucli as had already been taken in. ~nfortnnately, these fellows were so frightened as to disregard my camera, and allowed the water to drip into it, thus ruining probably two of the best pictures taken during the war. My boat was built to carry seventeen; at that time I had twenty- nine men in her, including myself. Lieutenant c. W. ilazietine, who was in command of the fist, states that her two boats (the other being in charge of Assistant Engineer E. 5. Kellogg) took from the ship, the water, and the beach one hundred and sixty- six of the Vizeayas crew, the others being taken on board the Ericsson and the lowe. The fist stood by the Vizcctqct from 11 A. iu. to 6:30 rn. The prisoners were assembled on shore by the cubans, who temporarily eared for ttiemn. They were nearly an nude and almost starved, and were provided by the fist with food, water, cloth- ing, and medical attention.---EDLTOR. and the Oregon was giving her at the same time a dose on her port bow. For a few minutes she seemed to stop her engines, and as the smoke from our exploding shells and her own broadside lifted, we all thought she would strike her colors, so deplorable was her condition; but immediately she gathered way and stood on after her fleeing consorts. In the meantime the Crist6bal Col6n, com- ing inside the other ships at high speed, had passed them all, giving us, as she went by, two ugly blows on the starboard bowone at the water-line, and another, a six-inch shell, a few feet above the water-line. This last 54 projectile passed through the cellulose belt, and explode~il on the berth-deck with tremen- dous force, literally destroying everything in the dispensary, and setting fire to the linoleum which was cemented down to the steel deck. As the Col6n made her gallant dash for liberty, Clark of the Oregon saw his job clearly cut out for him, and without an instants hesitation put his helm to starboard, and came through the lee of the Iowa with the speed of a locomotive. So sudden was his change of position in the dense smoke that he had great difficulty, as he afterward told THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 55 me, in preventing his men from firing into battle-ships, and the end would have come us, as they took us for one of the enemys very suddenly. If his object had been to do ships. As it was, he did not waste much time, us all the damage possible and send his fleet and as he cleared us on our port side, his to the bottom in doing it, he should have thirteen-inch guns fairly raised the scalps of come out closed up in column, with his tor- those in the conning-tower of the Iowa. We pedo-boats close under the stern of the rear may all live a hundred years, and fight fifty ship, and thus charged straight at the center naval battles, but we can never hope again of our line. to see such a sight as the Oregon was on this As the torpedo-boats cleared the Morro, beautiful Sunday morning. We could see the signal flew from the Indiana, Enemys her for a moment only as she sped on after torpedo-boats coming out; and the Glouces- the Col6n, completely enveloped in the smoke ter, evidently taking this for a signal to of her own gunsa great white puff-ball, engage the torpedo-boats, stood for them decorated every second with vicious flashes with a great burst of speed. At the same as her guns spoke out. moment the rapid-fire batteries of the In- As the Iowa swung her head to the west- diana, Iowa, and Oregon were turned on the ward, the two Spanish torpedo-boats Furor venturesome little craft, and surely no braver and Plut6n were discovered coming out about sight was ever seen than when these gallant two thousand yards astern of the Spanish little paper shells actually returned the fire ships. One interesting and most exciting of the battle-ships. In a moment the water period of the battle had passed, that is to was boiling about them, and before very say, when the three battle-ships standing long one was seen to be in distress. A great in found themselves engaged by the four column of steam fringed with coal and coal- Spanish cruisers, and the latter in the most favorable position for ramming or using torpedoes. We watched them eagerly, hop- ing they might close, ready at any moment to send our How- ells in reply to their White- beads, and firmly believing all the time that no floating thing could live within eight hundred yards of our broadsides; but our Spanish opponents evidently had all they could attend to without coming any nearer to us, and, as far as I could see, during the entire action no Spanish ship gave the slightest indication of using either ram or torpedo. Admiral Cervera adopted the plan of escape which was most likely to succeed. He could have shaped his course to the east- - ward after passing the Morro, but he would have had to engage the Indiana, the Oregon, and the New York at close range; and if he escaped from them he would still have had to settle with the vessels at Guantanamo, among them the Massachusetts and the Newark, flagship of Commodore Watson. He could have spread his vessels fan-shape after pass- ing the Morro, but in this case each of his ships would have had to pass between two of our ADIOS, VIZCAYA! (CAPTAIN EULATES FAREWELL TO HIS SHIP.) dust arose from her fifty to one hundred feet in the air, and we knew that her boiler was done for. A large projectile, we believed from the Iowa, seemed to cut her in two. At the same moment she fired a shell which passed within six feet of my head; then she swung slowly around under the tremendous fire of the Gloucester, and disappeared. When the Gloucester made her magnificent dash at the Spanish torpedo-boats the Iowa was firing at them with her rapid-fire battery and two eight-inch guns. Beingcloseintothe land, and owing to the dense smoke, our gun- ners did not see her. The executive officer, Lieutenant-Commander Rodgers, came hur- rying to me on the bridge, and said, Look out, captain; you will sink the Gloucester. Just as he spoke, one of the after eight4nch guns was fired, and the shell barely missed her, striking close under her bows. I at once sounded, Cease firing, cautioned all hands of the danger, and opened again. While watching the beautiful handling of this little ship I was struck with the splen- did execution she was doing. Both of her Colt automatic guns were blazing, fairly sweeping the decks of the torpedo-boats, and her broadside guns on both sides were firing with mechanical rapidity. She was really spitting fire in every direction, and presented a wonderful picture to those who were fortunate enough to see it. 56 One hears curious things in a conning- tower. As I watched the small remaining torpedo-boat through the peep-holes, I heard a boatswains mate on the superstructure- deck say, Now, boys, mind them torpedo- boats; give em hell for the Maine! and the clear voice of Lieutenant Hill cautioning the men, Steady, there; dont waste your ammunition! At this moment I discovered a cadet, lately from Annapolis, standing on the forward turret of the Iowa, deliberately tilting a camera in his efforts to get a snap shot at the Oquendo while the machine-guns of that ship were making the air sing. I think he got his snap shot, and he will prob- ably remember for many years to come the few words I addressed to him. The two torpedo-boats were now de- stroyed, one being sunk and the other run on the rocks. Eight minutes only had elapsed since they first came under the fire of the American ships. The vessels of our squadron had all swung to the westward, and were in an irregular column: the Brooklyn, farthest to the southward and westward, in full chase of the Col6n, and apparently punishing the Vizcaya very severely; the Oregon, astern of the Brooklyn and farther inshore, firing at everything in sight; the Texas next, off the port quarter of the Oregon, paying her at- tention also to the Vizeaya; then the iowa, a little inshore of the Oregon, and the mdi BURYING THE SPANISH DEAD. 57 THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. and directly astern of the Iowa. The Oquendo discovered that the Vizcaya was on fire aft, and the Teresa, in the meantime, had found and at once stood for her, and, as she still the pace too hot for them, and turning in had the Spanish flag flying at her masthead, a grand sweep, they headed for the beach opened fire again with the twelve-inch guns. about twenty minutes after they had cleared At twenty-five minutes after ten she was the entrance to the harbor, dense columns seen to be in flames, burning fore and aft, of black smoke pouring from their after- heading for the beach at Aserraderos. I ran hatches. As they neared the beach, the up as near to her as the depth of water would flames broke out fore and aft, their colors safely permit, stopped my engines, hoisted were lowered, and they came to their last out boats, and prepared to rescue her crew. resting-places on the rocky shores they had The New York had discovered the enemy sailed so far to defend. The Teresa grounded from her position off Siboney about the time six miles to the westward of the Morro, and the action began, and hastened back with all the Oquendo six miles and a half. possible despatch to join in the fight. As The two remaining Spanish ships, the she passed the torpedo-boat engaged with Col6n and the Vizeaga, were still heading to the Gloucester, I observed that she fired two the westward, doing their utmost to escape; or three shots. She passed me as I was about but for the latter it was, even now, hopeless. hoisting out boats near the Vizcaya, and As the Oregon passed her she shied away, stood on after the Col6n. I estimated her and then, as the Texas and the Iowa drew speed at the time to be about sixteen knots. near, firing all the time, she put her helm over As she passed, my men gave Sampson cheer and headed for the beach. The captains of after cheer, and I shall never forget the yell the Iowa and the Indiana both thought that that came from her deck as, in reply to the this was an effort on the part of the Vizcaya commander-in-chiefs hail, How many men to return to Santiago, and headed inshore to have you lost?~~ I answered, Not a man prevent her from doing so. In a moment I hurt aboard the ship. EXPLOSION OF THE VIZCAYA AS SEEN FROM THE IOWA. THE VESSEL ON THE RIGHT IS THE HIST. VoL. LVJIJ.8. THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. At this moment the Col6n was hull down to the westward, and theBroo/ci, nand the Oregon nearly so. Looking intently with a glass at the Or~qon, I saw two white puffs of smoke; and from that moment I knew that the fate of the Col6n was sealed, for I realized that Clark had opened on her with his thirteen- inch guns. I felt sure that, even should the Brooklyn and the Oregon fail to catch her, the New York certainly would, as it was full moon that night, and the Spaniard would not have darkness to aid him. As the Iowa could be of no use in the chase, I determined that my part of the fight was done, and that I should at once, in the cause of humanity, proceed to the rescue of prisoners who were suffering on the beach. Many of the officers and crew of the Vizeaga had jumped over- board to save themselves. The ship had grounded about four hundred yards from the beach, and between her and the shore was a sand-spit on which many had taken refuge, the water being about up to their armpits. The Cuban insurgents had opened fire on them from the shore, and with a glass I could see plainly the bullets snipping the water up among them. The sharks, made ravenous by the blood of the wounded, were attacking them from the outside. Many of the wounded still remained on the deck of the Vizcaya, crowded on the forward and after ends of her, and were likely to be burned to death by the rapidly heating ship. It was an awful sight, and one long to be remem- bered by those who witnessed it. The alac- rity with which our men manned our boats showed plainly their sympathy for their prisoners, and the care and tenderness with which they handled the wounded elicited the warm admiration of our own officers, and must have convinced all who saw it that ill treatment of prisoners was not a favorite pastime among American seamen. While rescuing the officers and crew of the Vizeaya, a boatswains mate named Trainor showed wonderful nerve and courage, and was afterward promoted, at my request, for hi~ conduct. The boat of which Trainor was acting cockswain was lying near the stern of the burning cruiser, and most of the Span- ish sailors crowded on her upper deck aft had been persuaded to jump overboard, and were thus saved. Three remained, however, holding on to the rail, with their bodies hang- ing over the side of the almost red-hot ship. Trainor was heard to say, We must save them men somehow, and without orders he jumped overboard, swam to the side of the Vizcaya, clambered up to the deck at the imminent risk of his life, kicked the three men overboard, took a header himself, and succeeded in rescuing all three of them. The water was full of sharks snapping and tearing at the Spanish dead and wounded. The torpedo-boat Ericsson and the auxil- iary Hist came along about this time, and were sent in to assist in getting off the prisoners. Our boats soon began to arrive, filled with horribly mangled men. The effect of our shell fire had been most terrific, as was shown by the wounds of these unfortu- nates. Many arms and legs were literally torn off. The salt-water bath had in many cases saved life by stopping the bleeding. It was soon reported to me that the captain of the Vizcaya was coming alongside. A guard was paraded, and preparations were made to receive him with the honors due his rank. As the boat approached the gangway I saw that Captain Eulate was wounded, and a chair was slung and lowered for his accommoda- tion. As the boat lay at the gangway she presented a spectacle that could be seen only in war, and rarely then, I imagine. There was a foot of water in her bottom, and in this rolled two dead men, terribly torn to pieces by fragments of shells; the water was red with their blood. In the stern-sheets sat Captain Eulate, supported by one of our DRAWN BR FRANCIS DAY, AFTER A PASTRARAPH. CRPRRIAHT, DAD, DR A. S. BAFFARM. RALF-TANE PLATE ENARAVED BR T. RERADALER. CAPTAIN DON ANTONIO EULATE, COMMANDER OF THE VIZCAYA. HAL ~TANE PLATE ENGRAVED BA A DAVIDSON THL LA T OF THE VJZCAYA 60 naval cadets; and about his feet lay five or six wounded Spanish sailors. As the unfor- tunate captain was raised over the side, and the chair on which he sat placed on the THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. most of them stripped to the waist, black- ened with powder and covered with perspi- ration, crowded over the after-turrets and superstructure, and, as I declined the sword ADMIRAL CERVERA 5 RECEPTION ON BOARD, THE IOWA. The officer on the left is Captain Evans, the one on the right is Lieuteisant-Coinniander Wain wright. The admirals son, Lieutenant AnWel Cervera, is just hacir ot him. quarter-deck, the guard presented arms, the officer of the deck saluted, and the Spanish prisoners already on board stood at atten- tion. Captain Eulate slowly straightened himself up, with an effort unbuckled his sword-belt, kissed the hilt of his sword, and with a graceful bow presented it to me. I declined the sword, but accepted the sur- render of himself, officers, and crew as prisoners to Admiral Sampson, in command of the American fleet. The crew of the Iowa, of the Spanish captain, broke out into ring- ing cheers. Taking the captains arm, I conducted him aft on our way to the cabin, where the medical officers were waiting to dress his wounds. He was evidently a man of great feeling, impulsive, and devoted to his profession. That he loved the ship he had lately commanded, and felt keenly his defeat, no one who saw him could doubt. His distress was most touching. As we reached the head of the cabin ladder, he THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. EU turned toward his ship, and, stretching up hL right hand, exclaimed, Adios, Vizcaya! As the words left his lips, the forward maga- zine of the Vizcaya exploded with a tremen- dous roar, and a column of smoke went up that was seen fifteen miles away. The scene was painfully dramatic, and must remain in all our memories as long as we live. When Captain Eulate entered the cabin of the Iowa I offered him a cigara Key West, but the best I had. He accepted it courte- ously, and stood looking at it as he turned it in his hand; then he went down into the inside pocket of his drenched uniform coat, and brought out a beautiful hut very wet Havana cigar. He bowed, and handed it to me with the remark, Captain, I left fifteen thousand aboard the Vizcaya. We received on board the captain and twenty-five officers from the Vizcaya, to- gether with two hundred and fifty petty officers and men, of whom thirty-two were wounded. There were also received on board the bodies of five dead sailors, who died in our boats after being taken from the water. rrhese bodies were placed on the quarter- deck, covered with the Spanish flag, and prep- arations made to bury them with the same ceremony that would have attended the funeral of our own dead. At this time I received word from two ves- sels that there was a Spanish battle-ship com- ing in from the eastward. The information was so positive that I felt compelled to leave the rescue of the remainder of the prisoners to the Hist. I at once cleared for action, and stood out to meet the supposed Spaniard, who was nowin sight and rapidlyapproaching. She was preceded by fifteen or twenty American transports, all doing the best they could to escape from the supposed enemy. When they saw me standing out to meet her, they all rounded to, and in a group followed me slowly out to sea. The position in which I found myself was a very curious one. Two hundred and fifty prisoners about my decks, and on the eve of engaging an enemys battle-ship! How to protect these prisoners from the fire of their own countrymen was a difficult prob- lem to solve. I went to the cabin at once, and asked Captain Eulate and three of his officers to give me their verbal parole against any act of treachery or violence on the part of any Spanish prisoner. This was willingly given, and at once relieved the situation. Captain Eulate at the same time assured me that he did not believe that there was a Spanish vessel of any size still afloat on this side of the Atlantic. I soon discovered that the supposed Spanish battle-ship was an BRAWN BY B. WEST ELINESINST, HALF-TONE PLATE ENGRAAED BA J. W. EVANS. ADMIRAL CERVERA VISITING THE SPANISH WOUNDED ON BOARD THE IOWA2 62 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. Austrian cruiser, and I at once stopped my engines, called, All hands to bury the dead, and consigned the Spanish dead to their last resting-place. Here again was an impressive and, I imagine, unparalleled sight: five dead Spanish sailors buried from the deck of a battle-ship of a nation with whom they were at war, the burial service conducted by their own padre, in the presence of their own commanding officer and their own ship- mates, and the bodies launched overboard from under the folds of their own flagall this, be it remembered, in the presence of two vessels of war, and a large fleet of trans- ports with their colors at half-staff. Just before the ceremony, the padre of the Vizcaya complained that he could not perform the burial service because his uni- form hat had been lost overboard. The chaplain of the Iowa courteously offered his hat for the occasion, the offer was accepted, and that was the last he ever saw of his head- gear, as the Spaniard wore it North the fol- lowing day. About noon I resumed my blockading station, and immediately thereafter received on board, from Captain Wainwright of the Gloucester, Admiral Cervera, his son, and the commanding officers of the late Spanish tor- pedo-boats Furor and Plut6n. All prepara- tions were made to receive the admiral with the honors due his rank. The full marine guard of eighty men was paraded; officers mustered on the starboard side of the quar- ter-deck; the officers and crew of the Vizeaga were arranged on the port side of the quar- ter-deck; and the crew of the Iowa, just as they came out of battle, clustered over the turrets and superstructure. Captain Wain- wright personally accompanied the admiral. The guard presented arms; the~officers un- covered; the bugles rang out their flourishes; and as the distinguished officer, who had lost more in one hour than any other man has lost in modern times, stepped on to the quarter-deck, the crew of the Iowa broke out into cheers, and for fully a minute Admiral Cervera stood bowing his thanks. It was the recognition of gallantry by brave men, and the recipient of it was fully aware of its meaning. Though he was scantily clad, bareheaded, and without shoes, he was an admiral, every inch of him. With perfect composure and a manner of quiet dignity he received the plaudits of his late enemies and the silent sympathy of his conquered companions. After the reception was over I gave the admiral a seat under a small boat- awning aft, and a cigar, and for several hours discussed with him in a friendly way the in- cidents of this never-to-be-forgotten battle. After receiving the salutations of his own officers, Admiral Cerveras first thought seemed to be for the dead and wounded men of his squadron. As soon as the wounded from the Vizcaya had been treated by the surgeons, he asked permission to visit them; and it was a touching sight to note the rever- ence with which those unhappy men greeted him as he passed through the sick-bay, speak- in~ a word of encouragement to each. Every- thing was done by the officers and crew of the Iowa to make these prisoner guests as comfortable as possible. They were clothed and fed, and furnished with tobacco; in a word, we did what we could to render their position as bearable as possible. The day closed, as it had opened, beautiful and fair. The battle of Santiago had been fought, the much-dreaded fleet of Admiral Cervera destroyed, and its gallant officers and men were either dead or prisoners, al- most without e~xception. The man behind the gun had indeed proved himself a giant. THE INDIANA AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN HENRY C. TAYLOR. THE morning of July 3, 1898, found the battle-ship Indiana holding the eastern end of the line of battle-ships and armored cruisers off Santiago. For two days and two nights the labor of the officers and crew had been intense: they had coaled ship at Guantanamo until midnight of July 1, and then had hastened to the fleet off Santiago to take part in the spirited engagement ofJuly2 with the batteries defending the entrance of that bay. Signaling our arrival to the flag- ship before daybreak, the answering signal flashed back, Take position between flag- ship and Oregon, and clear ship for action.~~ The coal-dust was still thick on the deck and on the faces of officers and crew, and most of them had not had more than an hour or two of sleep, caught hurriedly and without undressing; but at this stirring and welcome signal, fatigue of body and mind vanished, and all sprang to their stations with a cool exultation of spirit characteristic of our

62 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. Austrian cruiser, and I at once stopped my engines, called, All hands to bury the dead, and consigned the Spanish dead to their last resting-place. Here again was an impressive and, I imagine, unparalleled sight: five dead Spanish sailors buried from the deck of a battle-ship of a nation with whom they were at war, the burial service conducted by their own padre, in the presence of their own commanding officer and their own ship- mates, and the bodies launched overboard from under the folds of their own flagall this, be it remembered, in the presence of two vessels of war, and a large fleet of trans- ports with their colors at half-staff. Just before the ceremony, the padre of the Vizcaya complained that he could not perform the burial service because his uni- form hat had been lost overboard. The chaplain of the Iowa courteously offered his hat for the occasion, the offer was accepted, and that was the last he ever saw of his head- gear, as the Spaniard wore it North the fol- lowing day. About noon I resumed my blockading station, and immediately thereafter received on board, from Captain Wainwright of the Gloucester, Admiral Cervera, his son, and the commanding officers of the late Spanish tor- pedo-boats Furor and Plut6n. All prepara- tions were made to receive the admiral with the honors due his rank. The full marine guard of eighty men was paraded; officers mustered on the starboard side of the quar- ter-deck; the officers and crew of the Vizeaga were arranged on the port side of the quar- ter-deck; and the crew of the Iowa, just as they came out of battle, clustered over the turrets and superstructure. Captain Wain- wright personally accompanied the admiral. The guard presented arms; the~officers un- covered; the bugles rang out their flourishes; and as the distinguished officer, who had lost more in one hour than any other man has lost in modern times, stepped on to the quarter-deck, the crew of the Iowa broke out into cheers, and for fully a minute Admiral Cervera stood bowing his thanks. It was the recognition of gallantry by brave men, and the recipient of it was fully aware of its meaning. Though he was scantily clad, bareheaded, and without shoes, he was an admiral, every inch of him. With perfect composure and a manner of quiet dignity he received the plaudits of his late enemies and the silent sympathy of his conquered companions. After the reception was over I gave the admiral a seat under a small boat- awning aft, and a cigar, and for several hours discussed with him in a friendly way the in- cidents of this never-to-be-forgotten battle. After receiving the salutations of his own officers, Admiral Cerveras first thought seemed to be for the dead and wounded men of his squadron. As soon as the wounded from the Vizcaya had been treated by the surgeons, he asked permission to visit them; and it was a touching sight to note the rever- ence with which those unhappy men greeted him as he passed through the sick-bay, speak- in~ a word of encouragement to each. Every- thing was done by the officers and crew of the Iowa to make these prisoner guests as comfortable as possible. They were clothed and fed, and furnished with tobacco; in a word, we did what we could to render their position as bearable as possible. The day closed, as it had opened, beautiful and fair. The battle of Santiago had been fought, the much-dreaded fleet of Admiral Cervera destroyed, and its gallant officers and men were either dead or prisoners, al- most without e~xception. The man behind the gun had indeed proved himself a giant. THE INDIANA AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN HENRY C. TAYLOR. THE morning of July 3, 1898, found the battle-ship Indiana holding the eastern end of the line of battle-ships and armored cruisers off Santiago. For two days and two nights the labor of the officers and crew had been intense: they had coaled ship at Guantanamo until midnight of July 1, and then had hastened to the fleet off Santiago to take part in the spirited engagement ofJuly2 with the batteries defending the entrance of that bay. Signaling our arrival to the flag- ship before daybreak, the answering signal flashed back, Take position between flag- ship and Oregon, and clear ship for action.~~ The coal-dust was still thick on the deck and on the faces of officers and crew, and most of them had not had more than an hour or two of sleep, caught hurriedly and without undressing; but at this stirring and welcome signal, fatigue of body and mind vanished, and all sprang to their stations with a cool exultation of spirit characteristic of our THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. ships company during t ie various battles of the war. We dropped into our place in the column in the gray of early morning, and by the time the Morro and Socapa batteries were plainly visible the signal flew to open fire. Nearer and nearer we drew in to the entrance, and faster grew our firing, until one of our well-directed shells carried away the Spanish flag which had flaunted so long in our faces from the old Spanish fort. Nor were the enemys guns idle, at least not ~until we had silenced them. But my story is not of that days fight. When the signal flew to withdraw from action, and we had dropped out of range, the day was spent in cleaning ship and washing away the stains and smears of coal-dust and powder-smoke from decks and turrets and from our own hands and faces. During the night of July 2, after a few hours sleep in the early part of the night, the Indianas crew was again on a strain, this time one we were accustomed to, but none the less fatiguing. Ours was the duty that night to guard the harbor from mid- night to sunrise, keeping all guns of our broadside trained upon the entrance, while near us lay the Iowa and the Oregon, dividing the night between them, their task being to illuminate the channel with their search- lights. At broad daylight of Sunday, July 3, the Indiana withdrew out of range, and resumed her station at the eastern end of the line of blockading ships. The weather was quiet, the sea smooth, and, foreseeing no event of importance, we prepared for general muster and the public reading of the Articles of PHOTOGRAPH HYHOLLINGE & Co. CAPTAIN H. C. TAYLOR. EM THE CENTUT Y MAGAZINE. War, to be followed by church service, for ordinary muster and inspection. The There was nothing to indicate the startling division officers were reporting their divi- event that was about to occur; the bow of sions present to the exec tive officer, while a tugboat or of one of the Spanish de- the commanding officer stood on t e quarter- stroyers had been seen at sunrise, just appa- rent around the bend of the channel, a mile inside the entrance, but nothing had come of it, and as the morning wore on, it was for- gotten. At half-past nine the call to quarters sounded, and the ships company assembled deck, awaiting the final report of the execu- tive. Our ship lay with her head to the northwest, and the Morro was about two miles away on our starboard bow. The Thole scene, if not of peaceful appearance, was eminently a quiet ou The men were THE SEARCH-LIGHT IN ACTION. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 65 formed for parade rather than for battle. But we were ready; no military body, whether fleet or army, was ever more so. Officers and men, trained for years before the war in drill and marksmanship and the handling of heavy ships, had now, in addition, become hardened and cool through the daily spur of the necessities and obligations of war, through the watchfulness of many nights, through the experiences under fire at San Juan de Puerto Rico and with the Socapa and Morro batteries of Santiago. These experiences had toughened their fiber, while beneath all was a patriotic enthusiasm which I had seen grow week by week into a hunger and thirst for battle. These essential qualities of a fighting force had been trained, molded, and exalted to their highest usefulness by the vigorous and controlling influence of our commander-in-chief. Under Admiral Samp- sons wise and vigilant direction we had pressed nearer and nearer the entrance, had grown day by day more eager and alert, until on the third day of July our condition had come to be that of complete and con- tinuous readiness by day and by night. Thus it was when through the perfect quiet of the fleet and ship, of sea and air, the sharp report of a light gun rang out, drawing all eyes to the westward; and as we gazed eagerly, the signal flew from the Iowa, which was abreast the entrance and could see up the channels length, Enemys ships coming ouL A second to realize the fateful meaning of the signal, another to give the orders: Sound the general alarm! Clear ship for action! Bugles call to general quarters!~ Then came the quiet but impetuous movement of eager men and officers from parade attitude to their battle stations; and the voices of the divisional officers took on a new meaning as, with tones carefully regulated, but with fire in their hearts, the orders passed in rapid succession: Turn on the current of the electric hoists! Steam and pressure on the turrets! Hoist the battle-flags! Lay aloft range-finders in the tops and give us our distance from the Morro! Then from the bridge and the conning-tower, as the officers stationed there reached their posts, orders followed one another in rapid succes- sion through the speaking-tube to the central station below, and were sent thence to the various parts of the great ship between- decks: Engines ahead full speed! Be ready with the forced draft! The star- board battery will engage! Set your sights for four thousand yards! VOL. LVIII.9. The length of time required to execute all these orders was not, it seemed to me, two minutes from the time of the first signal until the Indianas engines were turning over and the guns trained upon the Morro; for until Admiral Cerveras leading ship was seen coming out of the entrance directly under the Morro, that was the point from which range and direction were taken. The time was probably less than two minutes, though how much less I cannot tell, but the impatience of all hands made it seem much longer than it really was. Lieutenant Hen- derson, commanding the powder division, whose men, in getting below to their sta- tions, were obliged to pass through one or two narrow hatches, or scuttles, told me that it seemed an hour to him getting his one hun- dred and seventy men below to their stations, but that it was really less than two minutes. To hurry them he shouted, They will all get away; two of them are outside the Morro already! at which, desperate at the thought of such a thing, his men simply fell below, throwing themselves down the steep ladder in their eagerness to reach their posts, until the ammunition-deck was swarming with bruised and bleeding men, staggering to th~eir feet, and limping to their stations. Less time was needed for the men who manned the guns, and as they crowded toward the scuttles and ports of the thirteen-inch and eight-inch turrets their clothes seemed to fall from them, and by the time they had reached their stations they were, for the most part, naked to the waist. From my position on the bridge the men on the forecastle and about the forward turrets were within sight and hearing as I called down to them, Get to your guns, lads; our chance has come at last! The deafen- ing cheer which responded indicated more than the ordinary exultation of men about to engage an enemy. There was in it some- thing of the fierce satisfaction one hears in the growl of a powerful animal when loosed and free to fall upon its antagonist. There had been cheers in the bombardment of San Juan de Puerto Rico, in the affairs of June 22 and July 2 with the Santiago batteries, but never before had I heard this sound of fierce eagerness, so satisfactory to the heart of a commanding officer. Once at their posts, under the cool and able management of Lieutenants Smith and Chapin in the thirteen-inch turrets, and of Lieutenants Decker, Washington, and Olmsted at the eight-inch and six-inch guns, the men set- tled instantly to the business of the hour. 66 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. What was that business? It was gun fire, ward the enemys ships and rapidly closing and gun fire only. There was, to be sure, a with them, our thirteen-inch guns also r~- brief period of doubt as to the intention of ceived some consideration from me, and I the enemys fleet. Two of the four ships of gave the order to reserve the fire of these Cerveras squadron seemed, as they emerged from the narrow entrance under the Morro, to be heading toward our east wing, and the question of ramming and receiving a ram- ming blow demanded for a moment a strained and eager attention. During this moment of anxious waiting, while we were heading to- guns until I could decide whether the ene- mys ships would steer directly for us; and later, when we had fired them, I gave the order, Load the thirteen-inch guns and stand by! This was done in case the enemy should attempt to break through our column, and in order that the heavy guns, which take DRAWN DO H. REUTERDAAL. HALF-TONE PLATE ENARAVED BY H. OHOIDOON. THE FIGHTING-TOP OF THE INDIANA DURING THE OPENING OF THE BATTLE. captain Taylor states that the record of the Indiene shows that twenty-five shots were fired from the fighting-top. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 67 longer to load than the smaller ones, should he ready to deliver their crushing blows at close range as the enemy passed through our formation. These precautions were, however, not long needed, the Spaniards one after another turning with port helm to the westward and making a running fight of it. A little later a second doubt presented itself as the torpedo-boat destroyers, bring- ing up the rear of the column, passed out by the Morro. Would they perform their r6le properly, and, dashing through the smoke, come close enough to deliver their torpedoes at a practicable range? Fortunately, the mode of procedure of the Indiana, deter- mined upon beforehand, in case of such conditions arising, did not involve any marked deviation from the course we were then pursuing. In case of an attempt to ram by an enemy, and equally in the case of a torpedo-hoat attack, it was my intention so to direct our course as to keep the approach- ing enemy, whether ramming vessel or tor- pedo-boat, under the fire of our entire broadside battery, and to continue this course at full speed until the enemy had drawn so near as to make it necessary to turn bows on and, steering directly for him, accept the issue thus created. So great was our confidence in our gunnery practice that we felt assured that our powerful broadside would cripple or sink the approaching vessel before the moment of actual crashing to- gether should arrive; and if this did not come to pass,for the uncertainties of close action are many, and its hazards and chances not to be disregarded,still we would be bows on to the threatened blow, with equal chance if it were from the ram of a heavy ship, and with more than equal chance if it were from a torpedo, that our bow wave would sweep it clear of our hull. Meantime the enemys ships, though fail- ing in accuracy of fire, were keeping up a very brisk cannonade. Their energy, if not their skill, was commendable. We had a great advantage over them as to range: it had been our daily, hourly habit for many weeks to estimate our distance from the Morro by the eye and verify it with our sextants and stadiometers; and in emerging from the narrow entrance the Spanish ships almost touched the Morro, so that in the first few minutes, which were, in fact, the deciding moments of the battle, we had their range absolutely. It might be urged that they could have learned our distance quite as exactly from their shore batteries at the Morro as they passed out of the en- trance, or at least the distance of the In- diana, Iowa, and Oregon, which vessels they must first engage. The suggestion is perti- nent. That they did not do so can be ex- plained only by the apathy and hopelessness with which, from the very outbreak of hos- tilities, they had confronted, albeit bravely enough, the conditions of actual war. As it was, they fired high at first. I could hear, from the Indianas bridge, the screech and hum of many shells passing over our heads from the Teresa and the Vizcaya as they poured in their first broadsides; and as their con- sorts engaged and added their fire, the sound became continuous and gradually closer to our ears and louder, as they slowlyall too slowly for their own goodcorrected their range and reduced the elevation of their guns. The intensity of our own fire during this period was beyond my expectations. The official record of our gunners books shows that we fired eighteen hundred and seventy- six projectiles, of which only twenty-five were as small as one-pounders, and nearly all of these were fired in the first forty minutes of the engagement. Our course, previously determined upon, caused us, in the present instance, to deviate but little from the direction we were then pursuing. We advanced, therefore, in this direction, and gaining full speed, approached the shore and Cerveras fleet at an angle, and it was not long before we entered what we were in the habit of calling the bad squares of the checker-board. These were certain areas off the entrance upon which the guns of the Spanish batteries were alw~ys trained, and upon which they were fired without further sighting whenever one of our ships entered them. My attention was so engrossed in observing the enemys ships and the effects of our fire upon them that I did not at first distinguish between the fire of these batteries and that from Cerveras squadron. The latter had now be- come intense, though wild, and the screech- ing of their shells about us was incessant. At this moment I observed, however, that a great many projectiles were falling in the water close about us and not ricochetting, a sign that they were the high-angle fire from the mortars of the Morro and Socapa bat- teries. At the same instant, Lieutenant Dawson, of the marines, who was the signal- officer with me on the bridge, and who with his spy-glass was observing closely all move- ments of the enemy, said: Captain, the bat- teries have opened fire on us. We are in the 68 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. had squares. It was then for the first time that my attention was drawn to our consorts in the line of battle, for until then all thought had been absorbed in carrying out the rigid instructions with which Admiral Sampson had prepared our minds and energies for such a possible occasion, and which can be ex- pressed in the two words; Close in. Now, having closed in, the leading ship of the enemy was drawing so far ahead as to make our broadside guns ineffective against her. The torpedo-boats showed no disposition to approach within torpedo-range, and were fol- lowing in the wake of their heavy ships. Feel- ing that the time had come to turn and pursue a course parallel to that of the Spanish ships, I looked through the smoke at the other vessels of our squadron, and found them apparently in the act of turning to the westward. Putting our helm to starboard, therefore, we swung into column and re- doubled our fire upon the enemys ships. These were now all clear of the entrance. Their opening broadsides appeared to have been directed at us, as might have been ex- pected, for the direction they pursued was southwesterly upon emerging, and the Indi- ana was approaching them from a south- easterly quarter, and was hence directly upon the Spaniards port broadside. These con- ditions were also favorable to our projectiles striking them, for their broadsides presented to our gunners the largest possible targets. This advantage diminished for our ships in proportion as they lay farther to the west- ward, being at a greater distance from the entrance, and with the enemys ships pre- senting their bows, rather than their sides, to them. The Indiana was, in fact, upon the flank of the Spanish column as it emerged, and the effect of its fire was marked. One of our heavy shells struck the Teresa early in the action and exploded, doing great dam- age. Another hit the Vizcaya abaft the funnels, and its explosion was followed by a burst of flame which for a moment obscured the after-part of that vessel. The Col6n and the Oquendo, as soon as they were clear of Morro point, fired their first broadsides, ap- parently at the Indiana and the Iowa, both of which vessels replied vigorously and with excellent effect. The Oquendo was struck by several of the Indianas shells, and at least one of our projectiles penetrated the Col6n. Shortly after this one of our heavy shells, of either eight-inch or thirteen-inch caliber, was seen to strike one of the destroyers, an explosion and flames following. Which one it struck could not be certainly decided in the confusion of the smoke, but it was thought to be the Furor. In this period of the battle, beginning withlthe first gun and ending with the de- struction of all the Spanish force except the Col6n, the heat and intensity of the fight were concentrated. My attention naturally was engaged with the work in hand during this time, and could be given only slightly to any- thing else than the handling of my own ship and its battery, and the observation of the vessels near us. The Iowa, next to the west- ward of the Indiana, was engaging the enemys ships with the utmost spirit, Captain Evans maneuvering his vessel with great skill and efficiency; while Wainwright, in the Gloucester, next to the eastward of us, threw himself upon the Plut6n and the Furor with a vigor and gallantry that excited our admiration. His danger was not only from the enemys guns, but from the Indianas and the Iowas. In his official report he states that he was reassured as to the risk he ran from our battle-ships batteries by the signal made by Captain Taylor, Gunboats close in. The signal I really made was, Enemys tor- pedo-boats coming out, and the Gloucester did, in fact, narrowly escape being fired upon by both the Iowa and the Indiana, the smoke of battle concealing her position from us, as it had obscured our signals a few minutes be- fore, and caused them to be misinterpreted by the Gloucester. All s well that ends well. We did not fire at her; and even if Wain- wright had rightly understood my signal, it is not likely that any risk would have checked him in his plucky dash at the destroyers. By this time our long column of ships was hotly engaged with the enemy. The Col6n had forged ahead, bearing one mark at least from 6ur guns. Following her, but at a considerable distance, was the Vizcaya, upon which our batteries had done good exe- cution; and following her, also at consider- able distance, were the Teresa and the Oquen- do, now beginning to send columns of smoke from their hatches, and by their slackened fire showing their distress. Presently a shout of exultation came fromour men at the upper batteries on the superstructure and bridge, as the Teresa turned her head toward the beach and struck her colors, with flame and black smoke belching from all her hatches. A few minutes later another shout, rising into a cheer of triumph, sounded through the ship, as the Oquendo, on fire fore and aft, turned toward the beach and, hauling down her colors, headed for a point on the shore a few hundred yards west of the Teresa. DRAWN BY H. REUTERORAL, FROM FROTOARAPAR TRUER ON iRE INDiANA, JULY A, lUAU. THE INDIANA AFTER THE FIGHT. The hattie-flags are still flying, and Spanish prisoners are seen on deck. During the latter part of this period our had been devoting itself principally to the secondary battery of six-pounder and one- Teresa and the Oquendo, was diverted to pounder guns, which, under the able man- the destroyers Plut6n and Furor, in order agement of Captain Waller of the marines, to assist the Gloucester in her plucky fight. 70 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. Early in the action the smoke from the six-pounders had embarrassed the eight- inch guns in the starboard after-turret; and Lieutenant-Commander Rodgers, who was present everywhere in the battery, supervis- ing the lire and remedying defects as they occurred, sent word to the magazines to send up smokeless-powder charges for these guns. The ship had been provided with a certain proportion of these six-pound charges, and the six-pounders were thus enabled to keep up a steady hail of well-directed shots, first upon the enemys large ships, and afterward upon the Plut6n and the Furor, which were being so gallantly engaged by the Glouce.ster. These two destroyers, from which so much had been expected, were quickly rendered harmless, one of them sinking and the other being driven ashore into the breakers. With the destruction of the Oquendo, Teresa, Plut6n, and Furor, and with no signs of more vessels coming out, the intensity of the battle diminished, and our fire at the Vizeaga became deliberate and at longer range. As we left the beaten cruisers farther and farther astern, burning on the beach, the Vizcaya, on our starboard bow, and exposed to the fire of our forward thirteen-inch and eight-inch guns and to the closer fire of the other vessels ahead of us in the column, showed signs of weakening, and turned her head toward the shore at a point called Aserraderos. Smoke was coming from her, but not in such volumes as to make it seem a hopeless case for her; and as three of our consorts were then well to the westward in chase of the fleeing Col6n, and as the Viz- eagas natural line of escape would have been to turn and run to the eastward, the Indiana turned inshore to head her off, in case she should contemplate that mode of escape. At the same time, and actuated probably by the same reasons, our next ahead, the Iowa, turned in the same direction. It soon be- came apparent, however, that such was not the intention of the now beaten Spanish ship, and she continued to head steadily for the beach, and presently struck her colors in token of surrender. Our bugles now sounded,Cease firing, nud as the only remaining enemy, the Col6n, was seen to the westward near tbe shore, with the Oregon closing in on her, and the Texas and the Brooklyn near at hand, the word was passed to the turrets, magazines, and engine-rooms that the day was won; whereupon there swarmed out on the forecastle and on top of the forward turrets a crowd of cheering men, covered with coal-dust and powder- smoke, naked to the waist, and elevated, by their patriotic enthusiasm and consciousness of victory achieved, to the very pinnacle of fighting ardor. At this moment the flagship New York, flying Admiral Sampsons flag, whose ap- proach from the eastward had been watched for by us, was abreast of us, and made signal to return and guard the harbor entrance; and so, turning to the eastward, and cheering as we passed the still burning ships, we prepared to take our station at the point between the SENOR DON JCAN BAUTISTA LAZAGA, COMMANDER OF THE OQUENDO. (DROWNED.) DRAWN DY FRANCIS DAY. PRRN PIARTARRAPH. CAPTAIN DON VICTOR CONCAS, OF THE INFANTA MARIA TERESA. DRAWN BY FRANCIS DAY, FRJM APANIRA PAINT. HALP~TANE PLATE ENARAVED DR harbor entrance and the wrecked Oquertdo and Teresa where we could watch the en- trance and at the same time send relief parties to rescue the injured and prisoners. Before we could undertake this task of hu- manity, however, we were drawn still farther to the eastward by the report brought by two of our light-armored vessels, the Harvard and the Resolute, of a Spanish battle-ship ap- proaching from the eastward and attacking our transports that lay in great numbers near Siboney and Daiquiri. We soon made out the vessel approaching, and when I could no longer doubt that her flag was that of Spain, I again sounded the call to quarters and sent the men to the guns. We had al- ready had three hours at the guns, preceded by several days of excessive fatigue; but the tremendous cheer with which our crew re- sponded to this call for more fighting was additional and most convincing proof of the instinctive love of battle which has ever dis- tinguished the American seaman, and which, without depreciation of the gallant work done in former times by fleets of other na- tions, was a conspicuous feature in the char- 71 DRAWN ~ HALF~TONE PLATE ENGRAVED RY H. DAVIDSON. THE LIEUTENANT FROM THE AUSTRIAN CRUISER ON THE BRIDGE OF THE INDIANA -~ .~ ~ Q 0 Z~v 0 0 ~0 ~ ~ ~-0 ~IP2 H ~ 0 .0 THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 73 acter of the officers and crew of the Indiana, and of all of Admiral Sampsons fleet. There was evident disappointment among the crew when, finally, at the point of open- ing fire, we discovered the stranger to be the Austrian ship Kaiserin Maria Theresa. We read her signals just in time, at a dis- tance of three miles. Every gun was trained upon her. The best eyes and judgment had been called to my assistance on the bridge. Lieutenant Comly, our navigator, whose ad- vice in critical times was always valuable, reinforced the judgment of the executive officer and the signal-officer; and we could none of us make her out to be anything but Spanish. There was nothing to do, then, but to open fire at the proper range, which I considered to be six thousand yards; and we were rapidly approaching that distance when the international signals she displayed pro- claimed her identity. Approaching her slowlywith guns bearing, for fear it might be a ruse, she signaled a wish to communicate with us, and we both hove to, and an Austrian lieutenant came aboard of us. He was in full uniform, with a brilliant display of epaulets and gold lace, white waistcoat and trousers. He found us covered with the smoke and dust of battle, groups of half-naked men lining up to salute him as he passed, their faces streaked with powder-smoke and coal-dust. He reached me on the bridge, finally, in a state of polite bewilderment, and presented his captain~s request for permission to pass in through our blockading lines and bring out from Santiago Austrian refugees desiring to leave that besieged town. After referring him to Admiral Sampson, and telling him he would be found some distance to the westward, he asked for news, and I told him we had just come out of action with Cerveras squadron. He showed great surprise, and said: Then there has been a battle?~ Yes, I replied. And the result?~~ he asked eagerly. We have defeated them. But where is Cerveras fleet now?~~ he Oquendo burning. On this side, nearer to us, is the Plut6n, sunk in the breakers; and the Furor is near her, but is on the bottom in deeper water, and is not visible. But, he interrupted, you have then destroyed half those splendid vessels of Cer- veras! Wait, lieutenant, I continued, and look a few miles farther to the westward, and you will see another column of smoke; that is the Vizcaya, on the ieach near Aserraderos. As to the Col6n, she is still farther to the west- ward, out of sight from us here, but you will see her presently as your captain steers in that direction to find Admiral Sampson, who is at that end of our line. His eyes ranged along the shore as I pointed out the different vessels. Mein Gott! he exclaimed. Then you have destroyed the whole of that splendid squadron! I did not think it possible. After a moment more of silent astonish- ment, he said, with a polite sympathy which concealed eager professional curiosity: And your injuries, captain? What losses has the American squadron sustained? None, I replied. But, captain, you do not understand; it is what casualtieswhat ships lost or dis- abledthat I ask. None, lieutenant, I said. The Indiana was struck but twice, suffered no injury, no loss. The other ~ships are virtually in the same condition. We are all of us perfectly ready for another battleas much so as be- fore Cervera came out this morning. His astonishment was now complete. Mein Gott! he exclaimed again. Ad- miral Sampsons fleet has destroyed these great Spanish ships, and without injury to his own squadron! Sir, it is unheard of. I must go to inform my captain. And after politely expressing his congratu- lations, he took his leave and boarded his own ship, which proceeded westward alongshore in search of our commander-in-chief. At this time Lieutenant Usher came alongside in his torpedo-boat, the Ericsson, and I di- inquired. rected him to proceed to the westward and His flagship, the Maria Teresa, is there, warn all of our ships that the stranger was lieutenant, I answered, pointing, at the same Austrian, not Spanish. time, to the beach a few miles distant. I then moved the Indiana to a position But I see nothing there but some smoke, where we could watch the harbors mouth and captain! at the same time send help to our late an It is the smoke of the Teresa burning, tagonists, now helpless on the beach. Space lieutenant; she is a wreck upon the beach. does not permit my telling here the story of He was silent, and I continued: the relief of the wounded, of the unwearied Close to her on the beach you will see work of our line officers, surgeons, and chap- another column of smoke; that is the lain in the many dangerous situations by VOL. LVJII.1O. 74 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. which they were confronted in their humane attempts. The work continued into the night and through the night, two hundred and fifteen prisoners heing guarded by us on hoard the Indiana until the afternoon of the next day. But enough has been said and xvritten elsewhere to convince the humane and the merciful, and especially our gentle countrywomen, that the officers and crew of the Indiana, as well as all her consorts, were as helpful and kind to the vanquished after the battle as they had been relentless a few hours before in compelling their surrender to our victorious arms. Admiral Cerveras tactics have been criti- cized by some, hut we must remember the limitations which circumstances imposed upon him. Under the conditions existing at the time of his sortie on the 3d of July, and granting that escape was his only aim, and that he had no hope of inflicting injury on our ships, it appears to the writer that his plan offered a good chance of escaping with a portion of his squadron. The heavier armed of our vessels, the Indiana, Oregon, and Iowa, were lying either south of the en- trance or to the southeastward, while to the southwestward were the lighter armed Te as and the still lighter armed Brooklyn. If Cer- vera had turned to the eastward he would have been for a longer time under the broad- sides of the three battle-ships, and those of his ships that might have happened to run this gantlet unscathed would have had to en- counter the swift New York, then only a few miles farther east, and approaching rapidly from Siboney. Forty miles farther in that direction, the Massachusetts was at anchor in Guantanamo Bay, and in telegraphic com- munication with Siboney. Certainly escape to the westward was simpler and promised better than to the eastward. If he had, on the other hand, steered south from the Morro, heading for the center of our line of battle, he might have inflicted considerably more damage upon us before failing in his attempt to escape; for there can be little doubt that he would finally have failed in this direction, as well as by other routes. In the hour he selected, and his pref- erence for daylight rather than for darkness, he exhibited a sound tactical sense. That we were prepared at all hours for battle the facts of this engagement give sufficient evi- dence; but our readiness during the night, from sunset to sunrise, was of an intensity never, I believe, excelled by fleets or armies in history. Urged on by Admiral Sampson, we pressed in closer as skies grew darker or the shore-line more obscured by mists; and it is not too much to say that a night at- tempt of the Spanish ships to issue from that long, narrow, cafion-like entrance would probably have resulted in their being sunk in the channel by the concentrated fire of our fleet before getting past the Morro. A few hours after the battle, some of the Spanish officers, prisoners aboard the mdi DRAWN BY I. W TABER FROM A PRATRARAPH TAKEN RN TRE INDIANA, JULY A, 1898. THE AUSTRIAN MAN-OF-WAR KAISERIN MARIA THERESA, SUPPOSED TO HE A SPANISH SHIP COMING TO THE AID OF ADMIRAL CERYRRA. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 75 ana, having dined with our officers mess, were smoking with us on the quarter-deck, when one of them asked to be shown where he could sleep, and apologized for leaving the circle so early. Our officers replied that it was only natural, as he had passed a fatiguing day. It is not to-days work, gentlemen, he exclaimed, hut I have not slept at night for the last month. Why not, lieutenant? we asked. I have been trying to come out of San- tiago with the destroyer Plut6n, he replied, every night for the last thirty days; hut your watch upon the entrance has been so rigorous that I never found the ten minutes I needed to get clear of the Morro. If this was the case with the small and active torpedo-destroyers, it is not strange that Admiral Cervera should consider it im- possible to handle his large ships in that difficult channel at night, and get them out to open water before being crippled by the concentrated fire of our heavy broadsides. What might have been the gallant Cer- veras chances if he had with reckless au- dacity engaged our squadron aggressively, and sought to inflict upon it the maximum of injury, we cannot tell. The laws of strat- egy, which govern the conduct of campaigns rather than of battles, demanded imperatively that he should escape; and whatever we may think of his judgment, it was not derogatory to his bravery and high spirit that he should regard running, rather than fighting, the better means to employ for escape. His somewhat exaggerated estimate of the odds against him helped to confirm him in this decision. If his destroyers counted for any- thing, and if we allow some weight for the shore batteries, under the protection of whose fire they emerged, our force was to theirs in the proportion of three to two; but Admiral Cervera did not so regard it. In company with Captain Evans, I held some conversation upon this subject with the ad- miral and Captain Eulate of the Vizeaya, on the quarter-deck of the Iowa, a few hours after the battle. Wishing to be polite to our prisoners, we complimented the admiral upon his bringing his squadron out in the face of a force that he knew to he almost double his own. But, gentlemen, he said, it was four times my own force which I had to confront; by no calculation can I figure it at less than three and a half times stronger than my squadron. Courtesy to a brave man in defeat did not permit us to argue the point further, but the odds were surely exaggerated in the mind of this gallant officer. It is an axiom of military science, applica- ble to operations afloat or ashore, that a vigorous offensive movement carried on by a portion of a fleet or army is essential to secure the escape of the remainder of the force, if that escape is to be made in the face of a superior enemy. If the inferior force does not attack or even menace its antagonist, leaving the latter unconcerned for its own safety, and hence free to assume the offensive at its pleasure, the situation becomes distinctly favorable for the superior force; and the inferior, by such apathy, in- vites its own destruction. We cannot, however, know what difficul- ties may have confronted the Spanish com- mander-in-chief in his own squadron, or what orders from his superiors may have powerfully influenced his final plan of escape; and in closing this article the writer prefers not to look beyond Admiral Cerveras gallant bearing during the battle and his quiet dig- nity in defeat. THE CUBAN COAST NEAR SANTIAGO, SHOWING ALSO POSITIONS OF THE SPANISH VESSELS WRECKED IN THE BATTLE OP JULY 3, 1898. ~IALFToNE PLAl~~GRAVE BY H. PRAWN BY CECILIR ~CAUX. ~RICIIARD WAINWIF~IG~T, 0O~IANPER, TJ. S. Th THE GLOUCESTER AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER RICHARD WAINWRIGHT, COMMANDER, U. S. N. DAYLIGHT of the morning of July 8 found the Gloucester, as usual for the past month, under the Morro. After taking a good look around, we steamed slowly off Aguadores. Our general station being on the right of the blockading fleet, Aguadores gave us the distance prescribed by the admiral; and with the Indiana as a check, for Captain Taylor always kept his battle-ship close in position, the officer of the deck readily could keep us in place. The exigencies of the war had prevented the usual Sunday inspections of crew and ship, and here was a good oppor- tunity for a real man-of-war job in straight- ening out the little defects that will arise when the peace routine is impossible. At 9: 80 A. ~I. the officers and crew were at quarters, dressed in their best clothes, the men drawn up for inspection near their guns. I had passed along the several divisions with the executive officer, Lieutenant Harry P. Huse, and had gone below on the berth-deck, and was taking great pleasure in the tidy ap- pearance of the ship under adverse circum- stances, when I heard a shuffling of feet overhead, and a voice called down the batch, They re coming out! Before I had time to think, we were on the bridge, and Huse had jammed down the engine-room signal to Full speed ahead. The blockade, from being exciting and interesting, had become tedious. What at first had been a pleasure had become a duty, and from having numerous volunteer look- outs, it had become necessary to stir the regular ones up to the point of keeping a careful watch over the entrance. We had given up all idea that the Spanish fleet would come out. The search-light had made it al- most impossible for them to escape at night, and no one thought they would dare to make the attempt in daytime. We had heard that they were mounting guns from the ships on the forts, and using their machine-guns against our army at the front. In fact, we thought we had recognized as one of their machine-guns a piece of ordnance that had got our range at Aguadores. The Gloucester was so light and long that it was almost impossible to keep her head toward the entrance of the harbor. She could keep her position only by steaming very slowly, head to wind. The wind was offshore, and our stern was pointing toward the harbor, as the Maria Teresa came out. The men were near the guns, and as we al- ways had plenty of ammunition on deck, we were ready for the fight at once. The helm DRAWN AR FRANCIS DAY FROM A PHOTOGRAPH OR FE ANANDEC HALF 00SF ADMIRAL FERNANI)O VIILAAMIL. Adaural VillaHiflIl eonlman(ler of the (lestloyc vs was on board the Furor, and was killed toSVH1(l the close of the cugagement. 0000105 DRAW N AR HOWARD F. APRAGAB, FRRM THE DLAOEERTERA LOG AND RARER AUTHOHITATIOL INFRAHATION. MAIA OF THE ACTION OF THE GLOUCESTER IN HER ENGAGEMENT WITH THE SPANISH TORPEDO-BOATS. The positions here shown are synchronous: Fl, P1, and Gi, etc., showing simultaneous positions of the Furor, Plutda, and Gloucester.

THE GLOUCESTER AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER RICHARD WAINWRIGHT, COMMANDER, U. S. N. DAYLIGHT of the morning of July 8 found the Gloucester, as usual for the past month, under the Morro. After taking a good look around, we steamed slowly off Aguadores. Our general station being on the right of the blockading fleet, Aguadores gave us the distance prescribed by the admiral; and with the Indiana as a check, for Captain Taylor always kept his battle-ship close in position, the officer of the deck readily could keep us in place. The exigencies of the war had prevented the usual Sunday inspections of crew and ship, and here was a good oppor- tunity for a real man-of-war job in straight- ening out the little defects that will arise when the peace routine is impossible. At 9: 80 A. ~I. the officers and crew were at quarters, dressed in their best clothes, the men drawn up for inspection near their guns. I had passed along the several divisions with the executive officer, Lieutenant Harry P. Huse, and had gone below on the berth-deck, and was taking great pleasure in the tidy ap- pearance of the ship under adverse circum- stances, when I heard a shuffling of feet overhead, and a voice called down the batch, They re coming out! Before I had time to think, we were on the bridge, and Huse had jammed down the engine-room signal to Full speed ahead. The blockade, from being exciting and interesting, had become tedious. What at first had been a pleasure had become a duty, and from having numerous volunteer look- outs, it had become necessary to stir the regular ones up to the point of keeping a careful watch over the entrance. We had given up all idea that the Spanish fleet would come out. The search-light had made it al- most impossible for them to escape at night, and no one thought they would dare to make the attempt in daytime. We had heard that they were mounting guns from the ships on the forts, and using their machine-guns against our army at the front. In fact, we thought we had recognized as one of their machine-guns a piece of ordnance that had got our range at Aguadores. The Gloucester was so light and long that it was almost impossible to keep her head toward the entrance of the harbor. She could keep her position only by steaming very slowly, head to wind. The wind was offshore, and our stern was pointing toward the harbor, as the Maria Teresa came out. The men were near the guns, and as we al- ways had plenty of ammunition on deck, we were ready for the fight at once. The helm DRAWN AR FRANCIS DAY FROM A PHOTOGRAPH OR FE ANANDEC HALF 00SF ADMIRAL FERNANI)O VIILAAMIL. Adaural VillaHiflIl eonlman(ler of the (lestloyc vs was on board the Furor, and was killed toSVH1(l the close of the cugagement. 0000105 DRAW N AR HOWARD F. APRAGAB, FRRM THE DLAOEERTERA LOG AND RARER AUTHOHITATIOL INFRAHATION. MAIA OF THE ACTION OF THE GLOUCESTER IN HER ENGAGEMENT WITH THE SPANISH TORPEDO-BOATS. The positions here shown are synchronous: Fl, P1, and Gi, etc., showing simultaneous positions of the Furor, Plutda, and Gloucester. 0 0 z 0 o 0 0 0 THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 79 was put hard aport, and we opened fire, turn- ing toward the Indiana. The speed of the Gloucester was her strong- est point, and the first thing to do was to de- velop this to its highest pitch. The signal was sent through the speaking-tube to Chief Engineer McElroy to start the blowers and make the best of our forced draft. We had been obliged to economize coal, and as we had been blockading most of the time, our pace had been very slow. It was a question what she would do when forced. How well McEl- roy attended to his end of the line can be judged when it is known that, when the time came, the Gloucester made over seventeen knots, without a leaky tube or a hot bearing. It speaks well for the designer of her engines and boilers, and for the men who served them, and, best of all, for the chief engineer, who kept everything in perfect adjustment. Firing began from the after-division, com- manded by Lieutenant Wood. At first it was not rapid, because we were too far from the enemy to waste much ammunition; but Wood kept up a slow fire, making potting shots, and enabling us to keep the range of the vessels as they emerged. As we turned near the Indiana until only our bow gun could fire, we could see all four of the enemys cruisers steaming out. It was a beautiful sight to see how rapidly all our boats were firing. It was evident that the head of the enemys column must be crushed. The fire of the Indiana, which was closing in rapidly and firing beautifully, would alone have been sufficient to insure that. It took some time for our vessels to gain ,their full speed. Tbe Spaniards came out under high speed, and as they made along- shore to the westward, it soon became a running fight, all our vessels steaming so as to close in on the enemy. The heavy vessels being engaged, the next question of interest was, Where were the de- stroyers? Our temptation was great to shoot under the stern of the last cruiser, and try to damage her steering-gear or propeller. If the destroyers failed to come out, and we did not go ahead, the Gloucester would be left in the race. But it was plain that it would never do to give them a free opening to come out and possibly torpedo a battle-ship in the smoke and confusion. So we slowed to the speed of the Indiana, and fired not too rapidly at the cruisers. At last the destroyers made their appear- ance, and we rushed ahead at full speed, with all the effect of the bottled-up steam. We read the signal at this time from the Indiana, Gunboats close in. She was firing at the destroyers furiously with her secondary bat- tery. The signal assured us that Captain Taylor was on the lookout, and that we could pass his line of fire without danger from his guns. After that it was a simple matter to guide the ship. It was only necessary to steer a course that would bring us up to the Plut6n and the Furor, to steam as rapidly as possible and cut them off, and to fire the battery effectively. Ourtrainingwhen bombarding at Aguadores had made excellent gunners of us. There the men had learned to catch a quick aim and to maintain a good fire discipline. As we closed in on the destroyers, and our firing grew more rapid, it became necessary at times to cease firing, as the smoke from the six-pounders hung about the ship. The three-pounders had smokeless powder, so that they were allowed to fire whenever they could see the enemy; but the six-pounders were shut off until the smoke cleared away. We were fortunate in having officers who were all excellent shots, and as they had only a few guns to control, they were able to relieve the gun-captains and fire the guns themselves. Lieutenant Norman had charge of the forward three-pounder and the two starboard six-pounders. Ensign Edson had the two port six-pounders, and Lieutenant Wood the three three-pounders aft. Dr. Bransford had charge of one of Edsons six- pounders, and fired other guns at times. Since his resignation from the service he had had ample opportunity to indulge his pro- pensity for shooting small game, and this practice, with his remarkably strong eye- sight, made him an excellent shot. Assis- tant Engineer grocter was my aide on the bridge, ~nd when I thought a gun was not being fired rapidly enough or a gun-captain was not shooting straight, I sent him to take a band in the firing. As we neared the destroyers, the shot and shell began to whistle about us in a lively fashion. I can remember my astonish- ment at not seeing any wounded or any sign of blood when I looked about the decks. The shell from the batteries on shore also fell about us. A shot from any one of them would have ended our usefulness. I did not see a man who was not doing his best to serve the guns, or one who wasted any time watching the enemys shot. Bond, the chief boatswains mate, fired the forward three-pounder, and it was a cheering sight to see how coolly he took aim, and what beautiful shots he made. Green, a young 80 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. quartermaster, who steered the ship during the action, was as cool as at drill, and never made a mistake. When the firing-pin of one of the six-pounders dropped out in the heat of the action, the breech-block was removed and the pin replaced by Bee, chief gunners mate, as rapidly as if at drill. The Maxim automatic one-pounders from the Plut6u and the Furor appeared likely to be our most dangerous enemies. When we came within three thousand yards of the de- stroyers these guns began to play rapidly in our direction. Their fire could be traced by the splashes of the projectiles coming closer Toward the end of the action we were making over seventeen knots and closing in on the destroyers rapidly. The remainder of the enemys vessels had rounded the point ahead, and our rear vessel, the Indiana, was just rounding this point. Huse called my at- tention to the Teresa and the Oquendo, head- ing in toward shore. We thought they were attempting to escape our vessels by running inside of them and making for the harbor. Should they do this, we would be exposed to their rapid-fire battery at close range, and would be destroyed. There was only one thing to do: close in with the destroyers, so . F. SPRAGUE. THE SINKING or THE FUROR. The boats to the right going to the ~vreek of tlieptutofl are those under commandofASsistant En~ineerA.M.PrOCter (nearest the wreck) and of Lie tenant Thomas d. wood. The smoke above the point of land is from the wrecks of the Teresa and the Oqvendo. The other vesseis of the fleets are shown in the distance. and closer to us. When they began to fall about twenty yards from us, and the water was stirred up as if a hail-storm was raging, the fire suddenly ceased. Had these guno secured our range, the execution on board would have been terrible, and the Gloucester would have been disabled, if not sunk. When within twelve hundred yards I or- dered the two small Colt rifles to open fire. Paymaster Brown had been given charge of these guns at the beginning of the cruise, and he had worked over and fired them un- til they became formidable weapons in his hands. He with one gun and Chipman with the other kept a stream of small bullets pour- ing on the enemy. After the action our pris- oners spoke of the deadly effect of these guns. that they would be sunk with us by their own vessels. As we found out later, tbe iron- dads had turned in to run ashore. Shortly after this I could see that the Plut6n was slowing down, as the distance lessened between her and the Furor, and it soon became apparent that she was disabled. Up to this time the forward guns had been firing on the Plut6u and the after-guns on the Furor. I now ordered the battery to be concentrated on the latter boat. We were within six hundred yards of her, and every shot appeared to strike. And now came the most exciting moment of the day: the Pluton was run on the rocks, and blew up; and at the same time the Furor turned toward us. It appeared to be a critical situation. She THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 81 might succeed in torpedoing us, or she might escape up the harbor. But as she continued to circle, it became evident that she was disabled, and her helm was jammed hard over. Our fire had been too much for her. As the Furor turned toward us, the flag- ship New York, coming up from the east under the fire of all the batteries, let drive two or three shots at her. I hoisted the sig- nal, Enemys vessels destroyed. She gave us three cheers, and kept on under high speed after the big vessels. The work of rescuing our foes now enlisted our attention. The Socapa battery was now able to devote its entire attention to us; but I felt sure that as soon as those in charge of it saw that we were rescuing their own people they would cease to fire at us. So I ordered the boats lowered, and as soon as they cleared the ship the Spanish shells ceased to fall. Every one appeared to wish to engage in the rescue work. Wood and Norman took two boats to the Furor, and Procter one to the Plut6n. Wood, in his report, says: On reaching the Furor, a scene of horror and wreck confronted us. The ship was riddled by three- and six-pound shells, though I observed no damage by larger projectiles. She was on fire below from stem to stern, and on her spar-deck were the dead and horribly mangled bodies of some twenty of the officers and crew. One of her boats was at the davits, smashed to atoms. Another I afterward found a short distance away, bottom up and stove, but sustaining two survivors, whom I rescued. In the meantime another of the Glouces- ters boats arrived, and boarded the wreck, in charge of Lieutenant Norman, and between us we VOL. LVIII.11. saved some ten or twelve of the crew who re- mained on board. Finding it impossible to save the ship, and fearing damage to our own crew from explosion, I directed our two crews, with the survivors of the Furor, to abandon the ship and return to the Gloueester. This was done, and I was so fortunate as to find and take with me the Furors ensign. When the boats started for the destroyers I prepared to run down aboard the Furor and attempt to save her. Our fire-hose and pumps were all ready, but it soon became evident that she was doomed to destruction. When Wood returned with his boat-load of wounded, they were taken on board, and he went back to rescue those in the water and on shore. I picked up Normans boat, and, leaving Wood and Procter behind, went around the point ahead, where we had last seen the Teresa steaming toward shore; for we could see smoke arising over the point in that direction. As we left the Furor she was sinking slowly by the stern. A heavy explo- sion took place, and her bow began to rise rapidly. For a short time she stood on end, and then disappeared from sight, about two hundred yards from the shore. Procter speaks of his rescue of the Plut6ns people as follows: I made for the Plut6n, picked up a boat-load of people, and returned. I then went back to the Plut6n, and attempted to board her; but the surf was too heavy, breaking over her deck. I picked up a boat-load, and then landed in a cove near the wreck. In the meanwhile the other boats were picked up, and the Gloucester steamed out of sight. I tried, and finally succeeded with difficulty in THE SINKING OF THE DE5TROYER FUROR, AS 5EEN FROM THE GLOUCESTER.~~ FROM A PHOTOGRAPH HY w. w. WHITELOCK, AUTHOR OF A YEO MAN ON THE GLOUCESTER. TIIA~ OLUU~J ~ii~t~ ~ BOATS RESCUING THE SURVIVORS OF THE FUROR. FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY w. W. WHITELOCK, AUTHOR OF A YEOMAN ON THE GLOUCESTER 82 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. boarding one half of the Plut6n; but the surf was so heavy, and she was bouncing about at such a rate, that I could not see much. The mortality was not great from our fire, hut large numbers were drowned. I collected another full boat-load of half drowned and wounded, and sent a number aboard a press boat, and started for the ship. Rounding the point ahead, the Teresa and the Oquendo came into full view. They were all aflame, and grounded near the beach, and white flags were flying from all parts of the burning vessels. The Spaniards could be seen crowded on the bows, the nearest point to the shore, and many were in the water. We first stopped for a minute to rescue an officer who was floating on a small raft, kneel- ing with his hands raised to heaven. He proved to be the fleet surgeon, and when taken on board he collapsed from exhaustion. We steamed at full speed close between the burning ships, lowered all our boats, and made every effort to save life. The story of the rescue can be best told by quoting from the reports of the officers of the Gloucester who were engaged. Edson, who was the first to be sent away, says: I was sent, with my division, in command of the ships cutter with instructions to rescue the crew of the Infanta Maria Teresa. As we approached the vessel, which was in flames, I saw the crew crowded forward on the forecastle, and I noted that the vessel lay nearly broadside on a sandy beach, distant about two hundred yards. As we neared her I held up a ropes end to indicate my purpose. A line which they gave me I took to the beach, and called for a good swimmer to take it through the surf. Otto Braun responded so manfully to my call that it was easily seen that he was the right man for the work. With the line about his neck, he fought against the breakers for twenty minutes. He returned once to the boat for a rest. The line was more carefully tended after this by William G. Bee, and after another strug- gle, the cutter being closer in this time, Braun made the beach. I sent Keller also through the surf to secure the line ashore. The cutter was hauled to and from the ship along this line, carry- ing each time eight or ten men from the burning wreck. As we neared the beach each time, I found it necessary to throw one or more of the Spaniards into the water in order to expedite the work. The men were immediately grabbed by Keller or Braun, and passed along the line to the beach. In this manner the cutter landed about two hundred officers and men, and I believe that Admiral Cer- vera was among the number. LIEUTENANT WOOD BRINGING 5PANI5H PRI5ONER5 ABOARD TEE GLOUCESTER. FROM A PROTOGRAPE BY w. W. wEITELOCK, AUTHOR OF A YEOMAN ON THE GLOUCESTER.~~~ THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 83 The only other boat engaged in this rescue was the gig from the Gloucester, in charge of Lieu- tenant Norman. Norman had already risked his life in res- cuing the men from the Furor. He reports as follows: After the Gloucester had steamed to the west- ward to a point a mile beyond where we had driven the destroyer Plut6n on the rocks, I went away in charge of the gig to the rescue of the crew of the Teresa, who could be seen crowded on the bows of their ship, the after-part and the waist being afire and burning fiercely. The Teresa had been run aground, and lay two hundred yards from the shore. As I approached I could see some of her crew, about a dozen, already upon the beach and surrounded by a little band of Cubans. Mr. Edson, in charge of another of our boats, having carried a line from the bow of the Teresa to the shore, we immediately set about disem- barking her crew, letting those who were badly wounded be lowered by ropes to our boats, but compelling the uninjured to come down and out on the life-line until they could drop into one of our boats, which we kept a few yards from the ships side. By using one of our boats to receive the men, and the other to ferry them to the surf, we got ahead rapidly, and in less than three hours had landed all the living from the ship, to the number of 480. [Normans numbers are accurate, as he counted the survivors on shore, where he was in charge after the Gloucester left.R.W.] Of these many were wounded, but they and all the rest had to be put over into the water, when forty yards from the shore, and dragged through the surf to the beach. I received in the first boat-load from the deck of the Teresa a Spanish officer who could speak English. By retaining him in my boat I was able, in some measure, to direct the actions of those on the ship. Through him I received the promise of the officers set ashore that they would, so many as I wished, return to the Gloucester as soon as the work of rescue was finished. All through the time that we were rescuing the crew of the Teresa, small explosions were occur- ring on and between her decks. The fire was still working forward, and those still left in the ship were urging us to hurry in our work of removing them, as they feared an explosion of the forward magazine. After the crew of the Teresa had been gotten ashore, I backed my boat in on the life-line as near as possible, and sent a man ashore with orders for Admiral Cervera, the fleet captain, and the other officers next in rank to come into my boat, which they quickly obeyed, two of our men dragging along the life-line through the surf to our boats side. I then returned, with these and the officer whom I had kept with me throughout as prisoners, to the Gloucester. I remember well when Norman brought the admiral on board. When I saw that gallant gentleman in his wringing wet under- clothes, I felt as if I were a culprit. Huse had, some little time before, come from below and told me that one of the officersI think Captain Carlier of the Furorwas very de- spondent, and that he had been trying to cheer him up. He suggested that I see him and say a word. So I went down and con- gratulated him on his hard fight after his crew and vessel had suffered so severely. This seemed to brace him up mightily. When the gallant old admiral came on DRAWN BY FRANCIS DAY, FROM A SPANISH PRINT. HALF-TONE PLATE ENGRAVES BY T. JOHNSON. 5ENOR DON DIEGO cARLIER, COMMANDER OF THE DE5TROYER FUROR.~~ DRAWN DY FRANCIS GAY, FROM A SPANISH PRINT. HALF-TONE PLATE ENGRAVED BY T. JOHNSON. SENOR DON PEDRO vAEQIJEZ, COMMANDER OF TEE DE5TROYER PLUTON. 84 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. board he was no longer an enemy. Not a man but remembered that he had sent us the news of Hobsons safety, and all felt that he was a brave seaman. His tactics may be questioned, but his courage never. I felt proud of the privilege of being the first to congratulate him on his heroic fight. He had no sword to surrender, and he was Hot vessel lay with her bows inshore, and almost per- pendicular to the beach, and some three hundred yards from it. On going alongside, as near as practicable owing to the surf and great heat from the burning vessel, I could see none of her officers and crew, except some twenty or thirty crowded on the forecastle and hanging by ropes from her bows; and these I succeeded in rescuing and put- ting aboard our ship, together with some ten or a man to shed tears in public. After a cour- teous reply, his next word was for his people on shore. They were wounded and without supplies, and he mistrusted Cuban generosity. In the meantime VVood was saving life on the Oquendo. He says: After putting my prisoners on board, I was ordered to save what li e I could from the Oquendo, hard and fast ashore and burning furiously. This DRAWN RE GEORGE OGOIRN, FRAN A FRRFOGRAPR TAREN RE W. W. WRITELOCK, AUTRRR OF A ODORAN ON TOE GLOUCESTER. ADMIRAL caavaa~ COMING ON BOARD THE GLOUCE5TER. The offleer leaning over the rail is Lieutenant-commander wainwriglit, the one at the bIt is Lieutenant Huse. twelve whom I found floating on fragments of wreck. The burning cruiser, her plates many of them burst outward and red-hot, the roar of the flames, the constant explosions of small-arm am- munition from her guns or of her boilersthis, with the cries of the wretches on her bows for help, all made a scene which was indescribably impressive. My relief was great when I had all my offi- cers and men safe aboard once more. It was a most anxious time when they were at the rescue work. Their great danger was only too apparent, and Huse and I kept constant watch with our binoculars, expecting every moment to see some one of our boats overwhelmed by an explosion, and we powerless to help. After receiving Normans report and the request of the admiral, I saw it was neces- sary to care for the Spaniards on shore. Norman was sent, in charge of an armed boats crew, with all the provisions he could carry, to take charge of the prisoners. In justice to the Cubans, I must say that I do not believe there was any danger of their mal- treating the Spaniards if any Cuban officer of rank was at hand. I met several of them near the grounded vessels, and they were courageous gentlemen. Had their opponents been Spanish guerrillas instead of Spanish sailors, the case would have been different. Before any of our boats had returned to the ship, the Harvard, Captain Cotton, came steaming to the westward. I tried to signal 85 THE GLOUCESTER~ ~ BOAT UNDER LIEUTENANT WOOD RESCUING THE CREW OF THE OQUENDO. 86 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. to her that assistance was needed, and re- ceived some reply about a Spanish man-of- war coming out. She went past us so fast that we did not get the signal. Soon the Ericsson came steaming from the direction of the vanished fleets. They gave us a cheer, and Usher told me that a large Spanish cruiser had been sighted, and that he was going after her. I never saw a man more full of the joy of battle. He had had a long fight to keep his craft going when most men would have given up the job. Here was his chancenot one that many of us would seek forto stop a big vessel in broad daylight with a torpedo-boat. His broad smile was reflected on the face of all of his crew who were visible, and it looked as if their confi- dence must bring success. I almost felt sorry when I heard that the reported Span- iard turned out to be an Austrian. The India na passed us next, on her way to guard the harbor, and Captain Taylor hoisted the signal, Congratulations. This praise, from one who, we all felt, knew what good work meant, nearly upset the discipline of the ship, and for a moment we forgot the sufferings of others, and gave vent to our joy by wild cheers. Before we left the burning ships the As- sociated Press boat Wanda came from the direction of Santiago. Mr. Dunning came on board, and reported that he had ten or twelve Spaniards that he had rescued from the destroyers. Here was a complication. The IVanda flew British colors. The prison- ers were an embarrassment to the press boat, which did not wish to be placed in the light of trapping prisonePs for us. The difficulty was solved by the captain of the Furor, who, after the case was explained to him, signed a paper containing directions to the men to report on board the Gloucesterthe most comfortable solution for all. The wounded and exhausted, as soon as they reached the ship, were sent below, where they were cared for by Dr. Bransford nd his assistants, aided by Edson, who was a good surgeon as well as a brave seaman. The Spanish officers were shown into our quar- ters, and the men were placed forward, under an armed guard. Both officers and men were clothed and fed to the best of our abilities. I shall always feel proud to have served with the officers and men of the Gloucester. All, or nearly all, came to her from choice, awl I should have been deeply disappointed had any failed in the time of battle. But the danger was greater when the time came to save life, and the attending excitement when the fighting blood is up was wanting. Yet every man was more than anxious to aid in the rescue, and it was a struggle among them to see who could do the most for the prisoners. Once Paymaster Brown, who had his hands full during the fight, wanted to jump overboard to save a Spaniard when there was no boat at hand. Huse stopped him for fear of losing time when time meant lives. When there was nothing more to be done at the burning ships, we steamed off Santi- ago and reported to Captain Taylor. He directed us to report to Captain Evans of the Iowa, the senior officer who was nearest at hand. By his direction, I took Admiral Cer- vera and his staff to the Iowa, landed the well prisoners on the Indiaua, and started with the wounded for Siboney. By midnight we were back at o~ar old sta- tion off the Morro; but the direction of our most careful lookout was reversed. We now knew that our important work was to keep vessels out of the harbor. During this watch the assistant chief of staff, Lieutenant Staunton, passed us in a torpedo-boat, and gave us the welcome news that the Col6u had been caught. We had seen the smoke of the burning Vizcaya, and knew that the Iowa had rescued many of the crew, so this accounted for all the vessels that left the harbor. The victory was complete. Lieutenant Staunton also said, The admiral admired your splen- did work. This filled our cup to overflowing. I have been asked many times to what the completeness of our victory was mainly due, and how I could account for our small loss of life. To my mind, our victory was due, first, to the care and precision with which the blockade was directed by Admiral Samp- son and his staff; second, to the loyal and intelligent support given by every officer and man. Our force was sufficiently strong to insure victory; b~t had there been a weak- ness in any one link, the Spanish attempt to escape would have met with partial success. Our small loss of life can be accounted for, humanly speaking, only by our constant tar- get practice and superior nerve. Our con- stant target practice gave magnificent fire discipline and correct aiming when at rea- sonable distance. Our superior nerve (not courage, for there was ample courage on both sides of the fight) gave us the ability to hold our range when once it was obtained. Nerve in the engine- and fire-rooms, nerve at the helm, and nerve behind the guns, will account for the complete victory, with the loss of only one American sailor. THE TEXAS AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN (NOW REAR-ADMIRAL) JOHN W. PHILIP. ONCE, in the weary days of waiting before the Santiago Morro, when none of us knew whether we were to lie there inactive for a year or to be blown up the next minute by a torpedo, a man came to me, and said: Captain, I dont know about this thing of standing up to get shot at. I never thought much about the Peace Society be- fore, but I am becoming more and more con- vinced that I ought to join it. The truth is, if Cervera ever comes out of his hole and begins throwing eleven-inch shells at me, I am very much afraid that I hail be very much afraid. I met this man again on that bright July afternoon a week or two later, as we lay off Rio Tarquino, watching the quiet surrender of the last ship of the Spanish squadron, with the decks of the Texas sole-deep in saltpeter from her guns, her forward upper works shot away, the marks of a Spanish shell in her pilot-house, and the fragments of another in her fire-room, but still able to flutter the signal No casualties. He looked twenty years younger. His eyes were still bright with the joy of battle. Were you afraid? I asked. I had nt time to think about it, he re- plied. His somewhat whimsical apprehensions had been born of the tension of waiting. It is easy now to speak lightly of the blockade, but it made more than one man in our squadron hollow-eyed and fitful-pulsed. 87 REAR-ADMIRAL JOHN W. PHILIP IN THE UNIFORM OF A COMMODORE, U. S. N.

THE TEXAS AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN (NOW REAR-ADMIRAL) JOHN W. PHILIP. ONCE, in the weary days of waiting before the Santiago Morro, when none of us knew whether we were to lie there inactive for a year or to be blown up the next minute by a torpedo, a man came to me, and said: Captain, I dont know about this thing of standing up to get shot at. I never thought much about the Peace Society be- fore, but I am becoming more and more con- vinced that I ought to join it. The truth is, if Cervera ever comes out of his hole and begins throwing eleven-inch shells at me, I am very much afraid that I hail be very much afraid. I met this man again on that bright July afternoon a week or two later, as we lay off Rio Tarquino, watching the quiet surrender of the last ship of the Spanish squadron, with the decks of the Texas sole-deep in saltpeter from her guns, her forward upper works shot away, the marks of a Spanish shell in her pilot-house, and the fragments of another in her fire-room, but still able to flutter the signal No casualties. He looked twenty years younger. His eyes were still bright with the joy of battle. Were you afraid? I asked. I had nt time to think about it, he re- plied. His somewhat whimsical apprehensions had been born of the tension of waiting. It is easy now to speak lightly of the blockade, but it made more than one man in our squadron hollow-eyed and fitful-pulsed. 87 REAR-ADMIRAL JOHN W. PHILIP IN THE UNIFORM OF A COMMODORE, U. S. N. THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. A less equable race could never have main- taiued it as did the officers and men under the commaud of Sampson and Schley. Although this is intended to be a brief account of the battle of Santiago as seen from the Texas, I mention the blockade be- cause it was the blockade that made the battle possible. The battle was a direct consequence of the blockade, and upon the method and effectiveness of the blockade was very largely dependent the issue of the battle. It was necessary to have always be- fore the entrance to Santiago harbor a force of ships amply sufficient to cope with the Spanish squadron, should it come out to do battle, and it was necessary to have this force so disposed that none of the Spaniards could escape, if that were their object, no matter which direction they should take. Unremitting vigilance by night and by day was an absolute necessity. Under the orders of Admiral Sampson, the blockade was con- ducted with a success exemplified by the result. It was a terrible strain, that month of watching for no man knew what. For weeks hammocks were unknown on the Te as, with half the entire crew by turns on watch at night. Every one on board, from prentice to officer, met the arduous conditions cheer- fully. Rarely was there an infraction of discipline. One night two tired boys were reported to me as asleep when they should have been awake. It was an offense punish- able with death in time of war. I called them aft next morning, in the presence of the as- sembied crew and told them that the safety of all depended upon the vigilance of each. They looked for sympathy from their com- rades, but got not a glance. With a few more words of admonition, I sent them below in tears, knowing full well that never again would those two boys sleep on post. That our officers and men bore up so well under this strain, when a trip to Guantanamo for coal was a welcome relief, and a bom- bardment of the Santiago fortifications a inyons dissipation, is a cheering instance that the American character has plenty of that dogged steadfastness which is more valuable to the doing of things than dash and brilliancy alone. So, when the Spahish admiral at last made his dash to escape, we were readyready with our men, with our guns, and with our engines. Any one who intimates the con- trary is mistaken, or is desirous of provoking a technical discussion which would leave the public, not understanding the exigencies of the situation, with the impression that there xvas somewhere a culpable laxness. The Texas, for example,1 need not speak for any other ship, was churning a white wake before the first black prow of Cervera s squadron had fairly showed around Puntilla. Within three minutes of the time when the alarm was given she was under way, at full speed and firing, with every man at his post. What more can readiness~ demand? Cerveras sally had been so long expected that when it actually came it was unex- pected. I, for one, did not dream that, after declining the issue for a month, he would come out in broad daylight. On the morning of July 8 our ship was in her assigned block- ading position, a little west of south from Morro Castle, which point was exactly fifty- one hundred yards distant from the Te as, then lying between the Brooklyn and the Iowa. The Texas was somewhat farther in- shore than either the Brooklyn or the Iowa, the former being to the westward and the latter to the eastward of her. East of the Iowa, again, were the Oregon and the Indi- ana, while the Gloucester flanked the Indiana inshore, and the Vixen the Brooklyn. I was half-way up the steps leading from the cabin to the main-deck when the electric gongs sounding the general alarm smote my ears with a fierceness that made me jump. On deck officers and men were running to their assigned stations in time of action, some of the officers who had been off duty buckling on their sword-belts as they ran. I heard sonie one cry, They re coming out! Glancing toward the Morro, I saw three wreaths of smoke blackening the blue sky over the hills beyond the entrance. It was just thirty-six minuteslafter nine by our clock. The ship was already under way, headed in. From our signal-halyards flew the flags repre- senting general signal No. 2~O, The enemy is attempting to escape. Lieutenant Mark L. Bristol had been the officer on duty on the bridge, and he had lost no time when his quick eyes had discovered the signs of Cer- veras sally. Just as I reached the bridge the foremost of the advancing Spanish ships poked her nose around Puntilla. As she swung around, she fired, and almost im- mediately afterward our forward six-inch spoke. The first shell fired by Cervera threw up a column of water short of us and between the Texas and the Iowa. On each side of the Texas the Brooklyn and the Iowa were coming up with a tremen- dous rush. The dash of these two ships, as soon as the alarm was given, straight for the Ss THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 89 enemy, with cascades of water pouring away from their bows (the proverbial bone in her teeth of the writers on nautical mat- ters), was one of the most beautiful sights of the battle. They seemed to me to spring forward as a hound from the leash. Farther east, the Oregon and the Indiana were also headed in, ready for business. From some seen the leader of the advancing squadron that it became apparent that Cerveras plan was to run his ships in column westward in an effort to escape between the Brooklyn and the shore before our heavier ships could get way enough to stop him. He afterward said that he had hoped to disable the Brooklyn if she showed fight, and to show a clean pair of heels to our battle-ships. In this he made two grie- vous miscalculations: one in the speed and state of pre- paredness of our heavier ships; the other, and per- haps even more vital, as to the deadly accuracy of American fire at long range. Before he had fairly found himself outside the Morro, the entire blockading squad- ronIndiana, Oregon, Iowa, Brooklyn, and Texaswas pumping shell into him at such a rate as virtually to decide the issue of the bat- tle in the first few moments. All our ships had closed in simultaneously. When we started we were nearly three land miles distant. The first range that I sent to our twelve-inch was forty-two hundred yards. At a quarter to ten, or ten minutes after the alarm was sounded, the range was given to me as thirty-four hundred yards by Naval Cadet Reynolds, who was manipulating the range- finder on the bridge. This was for the Spanish flag- ship, which we could see was one of the Vizcaya class, and which we then thought was the Vizcaya. As every one knows now, she was the Maria Teresa. As the Spanish squadron steamed proudly past the gray-walled Morro and swung in seamanlike precision of column under the guns of Socapa, the scene from the bridge of the Texas, as the smoke lifted from time to time, was inspiring. A more beautiful morning we had rarely seen, even in those sunlit tropic waters. Scarcely a breath of air rippled the long-rolling green swell of the Caribbean. Over the waters the mountains of Santiago thrust their lofty wooded peaks into the unclouded sky. On each hand were SEARCH-LIGHT CAPTURED FROM THE VIZCAYA, NOW ON THE TEXAS.~~ of the ships fluttered the same signal that we displayed, The enemy is attempting to escape. When so many hundreds of eyes must have seen the approach of Cervera at once it is to the credit of all that none claims the distinction of having been the first to discover the sally. The executive officer of the Texas, Lieu- tenant-Commander Harber, and the navi- gator, Lieutenant Heilner, joined me on the bridge, Lieutenant Bristol hastening to his post at the port twelve-inch turret gun. It was only a few minutes after we had VOL LVIII.12. 90 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. our ships of war rushing to the fray, at close view battle-scarred and begrimed, but at our distance glistening in the sunlight and majes- tic in their suggestion of irresistible power. The picturesque old Morro, which we had come to regard with feelings of friendship, or at least of good acquaintance, rose straight ahead of us, still flaunting the red-and-yellow flag. The Spanish ships came out as gaily as brides to the altar. Handsome vessels they certainly were, and with flags enough flying for a celebration parade. They certainly mean us to think they have started out, at least, to do business, remarked an officer near me, gazing at the huge battle-flags hat swung from the peaks of the Teresa; but perhaps they have some white ones ready for an emergency. It was this array, perhaps, which caused Lieutenant Heilner suddenly to look aloft. There was the old Texas pottering along grimly without any insignia of war except the Stars and Stripes in its usual place at the stern. Where are our battle-flags? he cried. I guess they wont have any misconcep- tion about our being in battle, I remarked, as one of our six-inch shells threw up a column of spray that seemed to fall over the Teresas deck. But he wanted battle-flags. What s a battle without battle-flags. he demanded, and hurried a messenger after them. The messenger returned with the in- formation that the flags were in the locker and that the chief signal-quartermaster had the key. The signal-quartermaster just then was very busy and somewhat inaccessible, being at his post in the fore upper top. Then smash the locker, said the lieuten- ant, and at last we got our battle-flags up. I dont know that the Texas fought any better after that, but the lieutenant was certainly happier. The first shots of the Texas were directed, as I have said, at the Teresa at long range, as we were steaming almost direct for the harbor entrance. In a very few minutes the engagement had become general. Every one of the Spanish vessels fired as she came broadside on, rounding the western point of the harbor entrance, and the whistle of shells passing over our heads became unpleasantly frequent. Occasionally I saw a column of water shoot straight up in the air, geyser- like, where one of their shells had struck near the ship, but, as nearly as I could tell, most of their shots had too great elevation and were passing harmlessly over us. I had altered the Texass course to the westward, seeing that that was the direction in which the Spanish squadron was going. Then oc- curred the incident which caused me for a moment more alarm than anything Cer- vera did that day. As the Texas veered westward, the Brook- lyn was plowing up the water at a great rate in a course almost due north, direct for the oncoming Spanish ships, and nearly a mile THE NARROW ESCAPE OF THE TEXAS FROM COLLISION WITH THE BROOKLYN. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 91 away from the Texas. The smoke from our guns began to hang so heavily and densely over the ship that for a few minutes we could see nothing. We might as well have had a blanket tied over our heads. Suddenly a whiff of breeze and a lull in the firing lifted the pall, and there, bearing to- ward us and across our bows, turning on her port helm, with big waves curling over her bows and great clouds of black smoke pouring from her funnels, was the Brooklyn. She looked as big as half a dozen Great East- ems, and seemed so near that it took our breath away. Back both engines hard! went down the tube to the astonished engineers, and in a twinkling the old ship was racing against herself. The collision which seemed immi- nent, even if it was not, was averted, and as the big cruiser glidedpast,allof us on the bridge gave a sigh of relief Had the Brooklyn struck us then, it would probably have been an end of the Texas and her half-thousand men. Had the Texas rammed the Brooklyn, it would have been equally disastrous; for the Texas was not built for ramming, and she would have doubled up like a hoop. Few of our ships company knew of the incident. It was really the one time in the battle when I thought for a second that I should have to give in to that woman in Brooklyn who shook hands with me just before the Texas sailed, explaining that she was the last woman who had shaken hands with the commander of the Huron, that ship having been lost with most of her company immediately after the fatal hand-shake. I always wanted to fool that woman, if possible. This happened about a quarter to ten. The Texas, after having exchanged compli- ments with the Teresa, was thrashing the Vizcaya and the Oquendo with her main star- board battery. They were then the second and third ships in line, the Col6n, which was third in coming out, having drawn inside of the Vizcaya. The hottest part of the battle was at about this period. The Oregon and the Iowa had come up with a rush. Both, from their starting positions, came inside of the Texas, the Oregon, by reason of her superior speed, gradually forging ahead of us. We found ourselves warmly engaged with a Spaniard which subsequently proved to be the Oquendo. The supreme disadvantage was the smoke from our own guns. It got in our ears, noses, and mouths, blackened our faces, and blinded our eyes. Often for minutes at a time, for all we could see, we might as well have been down in the double bottoms as on the bridge. One had the sensation of stand- ing up against an unseen foe, the most disagreeable sensation in warfare. As the shells were screaming about our ears in un- comfortable frequency, I decidedfor the sake of the men exposed with me on the flying bridge, as well as for myselfto go to the lower bridge, which encircled the con- ning-tower. There one could see as well, and some of the bridge contingent, at least, would have the protection of being on the lee side of the tower. In addition to the executive officer, navigator, and range-finder, I had with me on or near the bridge a corps of messengers. I found the messenger system more advantageous than the sole use of tele- phones and speaking-tubes. For each watch- officer there were special messengers who answered the call of the officers name. For instance, when I wished to give a directi9n to Lieutenant Haeseler, in the starboard turret, I called, Haeseler! and instantly a messenger was at my side. I gave him the -U FROM PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN AT 11~ AA BY T. M. DIEAAIRE. CAPTAIN PHILIP, ON THE FLYING BRIDGE OF THE TEXAS, WATCHING THE COLON~~ DURING THE CHASE. 92 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. message, and in an instant it was repeated into the ears of the officer. These mes- sengers, mostly apprentice boys, I found in every case alert, eager, and fearless. After the first few moments of nervousness, they entered into the spirit of the fight with a marvelous zest. I remember hearing one of these boys, a youngster, surely not over six- teen, in the very hottest of the battle, remark to another: Fourth of July celebration, eh? A little early, but a good one! That we left the flying bridge was ex- tremely fortunate, or providential. Within a minutein fact, while we were still on the bridge, making our way down the only lad- dera shell struck the jamb of the star- board door of the pilot-house, and exploded inside, wrecking the paneling and framing, and carrying away the after-bulkhead. Had we not gone below, the wheel-man must have been killed, and probably some of the others standing on the bridge. This was the first of the three times we were struck. The Texas fired from her main battery only when a good target could be plainly seen. I gave explicit orders to that effect, and they were carried out faithfully. When the smoke lifted and the enemy could be seen, the gunners took careful aim and fired deliberately. It seemed better to fire a few shells and place them, than a great many and lose them. Had it been ne- cessary, thanks to the im- provements made in the tur- ret appliances by Lieutenant Haeseler, we could have pumped a shell every minute and a half from each of our twelve-inch guns. As it was, the men in the Texas turrets have reason to congratulate themselves on the fact that the two big shells which did find their way into the Span- ish vessels, so far as discov- ered by the official board of survey, were twelve-inch shells. There was credited to the Texas little or no confusion in any part of the ship at any time in the course of the battle, and no orders went wrong. Although most of the ships company had to work, as it were, in the dark, they had been well drilled, and did their duty with me- chanical precision fortified by intelligent patriotism. At ten minutes to ten, as we went to the lower bridge, the Iowa, Oregon, and Texas were pretty well bunched, holding a parallel course westward with the Spaniards. The Indiana was also coming up, well inside of all the others of our squadron, but a little in the rear, owing to her far eastward posi- tion at starting. The Oregon drew up with the Texas, and blanketed her fire for a mo- ment or two. In the course of our fight with the Oquendo a shell exploded over our forward superstruc- ture. The concussion lifted the bridge con- tingent off their feet. I remember pitching up in the air, with my coat-tails flying out be- hind me, as if I had been thrown by one of Roosevelts broncos, No one was hurt except Cadet Reynolds, one of whose ear-drums was split. Our port cutter was blown into kindling, the woodwork of the superstructure was torn to bits, and the ship took fire. But the Texas was ready for just such an emergency, and in a twinkling a score of willing men were playing the hose upon the blaze, regardless of danger. A few moments later the Spaniards got in a luckier shot. A shell about six inches in diameter struck forward of the ash-hoist, and, after passing through the outer plating of hammock-berthing, exploded, the mass of FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN AT 1145 BY T. GROUP OF SAILORS ON THE PORT TURRET OF THE TEXAS WATCHING THE COL6N, AT WHICH THE OREGON~~ HAS JUST FIRED. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 92 pieces penetrating the bulkhead and casing lead, with the (7ol6n not far away and inside. of the starboard s oke-pipe. This shot, for- It seemed to us as if the Col6n were trying tunately, hurt nobody, but it caused consid- to shield herself, and that was undoubtedly erable excitement in the fire-room. Frag- the reason why she gave us so long a chase. ments of the shell dropped down there; the When her sister ships were blown up she was hammocks and portions of the sailors cloth- uninjured. ing stored in the berthing caught fire and also At twenty-five minutes to eleven, as the fell below, causing such a gush of smoke in Texas passed the Oquendo, that ship ran up the fire-room that some of the men thought a white flag, and I gave the order, Cease fir- the ship had blown up. That there was no ing. The Oregon and the Brooklyn were in the panic there, nor anything like one, speaks lead, the Oregon considerably farther inshore, volumes for the discipline of the men and hammering at the Vizcaya and the Col6n. the efficiency of the engineer officers. The two Spanish ships ashore were seen to Soon after ten oclock we first observed the so- called destroy- ers, and at once turned our sec- ondary battery upon them. The Iowa, Oregon, and Indiana also de- voted their at- tention to the much-dreaded lit- tle craft. The hammering they got from the four ships must have been terrific. As we passed on down the coast, leav- ing the destroyers in the rear,we saw the Gloucester was pounding them to a finish at close range. The Furor, the leading de- stroyer, blew up with a crash that sounded high above the roar of battle. There was a great gush of black smoke, and a sheet of flame seemed to leap above the tops of the hills under which the doomed craft lay. The men of the Texas have always insisted that this was caused by a shellfrom Ensign W. K. Gises six-inch gun. About a quarter past ten the Teresa, which had been in difficulties from the mo- ment she left the shelter of the Morro, turned to seek a beaching-place. She was on fire, and we knew that she was no longer a quantity to be reckoned with. Five minutes lat r, our special enemy, the Oquendo, also turned inshore. The V~zeaya was then in the be burning fiercely. We could see boat- loads of men leaving them. The Indiana and the Gloucester went in to receive their surrender and rescue their survivors, while the rest of us pushed on after the two re- maining ships. Then we knew that the bat- tle, which had lasted less than an hour, was virtually over. But there were still two of the enemys ships to run to ground. The Col6n forged well ahead, and was running like a greyhound for safety, but keeping so far inside that she followed the sinuosities of the coast. The Texa followed the Oregon at FORWARD sUPERSTRUCTURE OF THE TEXAS, SHOWING WRECKAGE CAUSED BY THE CONCUSSION OF THE SHIPS OWN GUNS, OR BY SPANISH SHOT. 94 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. her best speed, the men in the engine- and fire-rooms working like beavers. The Viz- cowo kept blazing away viciously, but the pounding she got from our four ships, more particularly the Oregon, was too much for her, and in half an hour she too headed for the beach. At a quarter to eleven the Brooklyn was abeam of her, about two miles outside; the Oregon was nearly abeam, half a mile farther inshore; and the Texas was on the starboard quarter of the Oregon and about a mile in the rear. All three were steering parallel courses to the westward. The Viz- eoya was still firing occasionally, and at fairly long intervals our ships took a well-aimed shot at her. We could see that she was on fire, and knew that her surrender was only a question of time. Just after eleven oclock she veered toward the shore. The Oregon and the Brooklyn paid no further attention to her, hut put after the Col6n, which was scurrying westward at a great rate. As we drew up on the Vizeaya, a moment or two later, her stern flag came down on the run. There were colors still flying from her truck, however, and as she displayed no white flag, some of our officers thought that she might not yet have surrendered, and that the stern flag might have been shot away. But we could not fire on her, even if she had not surrendered. Flames were shooting from her deck fore and aft, and as her nose touched the beach two tremen- dous explosions in succession literally shook her to pieces. The Iowa having been signaled by Admiral Sampson to go in to her, I deter- mined to push on with the Texas to render assistance, if any were needed, in capturing the last survivor of the squadron. That ship, wiliest of all the Spanish ves- sels, was making a great race for liberty. Something might happen to the Oregon; the Col6n was supposed to be the superior of the Brooklyn in strength: it was very clearly the duty of the Texas to keep along in the chase, with all her energies. It gives me pleasure to be able to write that, old ship as she is, and not built for speed, the Texas held her own and even gained on the C1ol6n, in that chase. When it was seen later that there was no earthly chance for the ~7ol6n to escape, I shut off our forced draft, remembering the hard-working and gallant fellows in the en- gine- and fire-rooms. In this chase but few shots were fired on either side. It was a test of engines, and not of guns, and we hoped to capture the ship uninjured. For two hours this grim and silent chase was pursued over the smooth and foamless seas, under a sky of blue, and with a background of beautiful Cuban mountains. The ~7ol6n, fol- lowing the coast, was in a trap. The Brook- lyn, drawing ahead, made to cut her off at a point of land jutting out farther westward. The Oregon, nearly abeam, cut off any attempt to escape by striking out to the open sea. The Texas. in her wake, prevented her doubling. Hemmed in on all three sides, there was only the shore to choose, and the Coldn wisely chose it. At a quarter past one the Col6n surrendered and beached. The Texas signaled, Enemy has surrendered. The signal was repeated by the Vixen, then coming up behind us, to the New York, some miles to the eastward, but was not acknow- ledged. The Te as closed in on the Col6n a few minutes after the Brooklyn and the Oregon. It has been asserted that Cervera would have had a better chance had he led his squadron to the east instead of to the west. He then would have had a clear run, with only the Gloucester in the way, and the only one of our blockading ships supposed (on paper) to be the equal of his in speed, the Brooklyn, away over at the westward end of the line. But he must then have reckoned with the Indiana, the speed of which was impaired, but whose guns and men were not; he would have run into the teeth of the New York, coming up from the direction of Siboney, and the Oregon and the Iowa would have had as good a chance to go after him to the eastward as they had to the westward. For my part, I cannot help thinking that had Cervera been able to steam straight out, radiating the ships of his squad- ron from the Morro as a center, one or more of them, in the confusion that must have re- sulted, might have got safely away for the time. More especially would this have been the case had he sent his torpedo-boat de- stroyers in advance, under full head of steam, straight for our line of battle-ships. I do not think that the destroyers could possibly have lived long enough to do any damage to one of our ships. They would have been sacrificed, but they were sacrificed anyhow. The effect might easily have been, I conceive, that, with our ships blanketed in the dense smoke from their guns and not knowing at times whether their neighbor was friend or enemy, some of the Spaniards might have pierced our line and got to the opemi sea without ma- terial injury. But the reception they got, lit- erally at the very moment of showing them- selves, made it advisable to hug the shore and keep one eye out for a soft place to beach, where, if life survived the peril of shot and shell, it might not be snuffed out bydrowning. THE BROOKLYN AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN FRANCIS A. COOK. ON the beautiful tropical morning of July 3, 1898, the fleet of Admiral Sampson was continuing its long and tedious vigil at the entrance to Santiago harbor, to prevent the escape of the Spanish fleet under Admi- ral Cervera. The instructions from Admiral Sampson to meet such an attempt on the part of the enemy were complete, and were understood by all commanding officers. The Brooklyn was flying the flag of Com- modore W. S. Schley, second in command off Santiago. The flagship New York left her station at 9 A. M., flying the signal to disre- gard her movements, and disappeared to the eastward, leaving Commodore Schley in com- mand. Taking advantage of the exceptionally fine day, instructions had been given by me to the 95 FROM A PHOTOGRAPH. COPYRIGHT, 180R, BY CX S. O.~..SO. ~EVIEW AT NEW YORK, AUGUST AU, 1898, RN THE RETURN OF THE FLEET FRUM SANTIAGO. THE ARMORED CRUISER BROOKLYN.~~

THE BROOKLYN AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN FRANCIS A. COOK. ON the beautiful tropical morning of July 3, 1898, the fleet of Admiral Sampson was continuing its long and tedious vigil at the entrance to Santiago harbor, to prevent the escape of the Spanish fleet under Admi- ral Cervera. The instructions from Admiral Sampson to meet such an attempt on the part of the enemy were complete, and were understood by all commanding officers. The Brooklyn was flying the flag of Com- modore W. S. Schley, second in command off Santiago. The flagship New York left her station at 9 A. M., flying the signal to disre- gard her movements, and disappeared to the eastward, leaving Commodore Schley in com- mand. Taking advantage of the exceptionally fine day, instructions had been given by me to the 95 FROM A PHOTOGRAPH. COPYRIGHT, 180R, BY CX S. O.~..SO. ~EVIEW AT NEW YORK, AUGUST AU, 1898, RN THE RETURN OF THE FLEET FRUM SANTIAGO. THE ARMORED CRUISER BROOKLYN.~~ 9) THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. executive officer to go to quarters at 9:80 A.M., and to march the crew aft for general muster and inspection. White mustering- clothes had been ordered for the crew, and all white for officers. The first call for quarters had been sounded. I had laid out on my bunk my last laundered white coat, and was about to don it for the occasion, when I heard the ringing voice of the execu- tive officer, Lieutenant-Commander Mason, calling, Clear ship for action! As I had given no orders, I knew at once from the tone that it meant business. I ran to the fore- castle, and was there informed from the bridge by Lieutenant Hodgson, the naviga- tor, who was ever alert, that all was con- nected in the conning-tower and ready. He was the first in this ship to discover the Spaniards coming out from the entrance, and reported it from the bridge, where he had relieved the officer of the deck for quar- ters. I rang full speed on both engines, ordered steam on all boilers, and directed the helmsman to stand for the head of the Spanish column. Commodore Schley was standing on the platform erected around the conning-tower, in the best position for communication, and from which he could observe the movements of the fleets and direct the signaling. His aides and signalmen were directly in front of him. I got out on the forecastle, and a grander sight could not be conceived. Here was to be the culmination of our hopes, and the end of our vigil. I felt that victory was certain, though it was natural to suppose that we should suffer losses. TOGRAPH BY HOLLINGER & Co. REAR-ADMIRAL WINFIELD SCOTT ScHLEY. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 97 The Spanish fleet in column was just out- ide the entrance and heading about south- we t. It con isted of the ar a Teresa (flag), I caya, Col6n, and Oquendo, ollowed some time afterward by the destroyers Furor and Pinion. I have no personal knowledge of the movements of the torpedo-boats, as they were too far away and were obscured by smoke, ud I was intent upon the main fleet. Within five minute~ from the discovery, ye opened fire on the leading ship with our port batterj, as we stood with port helm to head off the enemy. We gave her a raking fire at about fifteen hundred yards range. Our whole fleet was pouring upon them a rapid and destructive fire, The fate of two, the Teresa and the Oquendo, was soon virtually decided. The enemy turned to the westward and close in to the land. The Brooklyn was VOL. LVIJL13. turning rapidly with port helm, and con- tinued to turn, firing all the time with the port battery, and following around until the starboard batter T was brought into action. Our tumbling-in sides enabled us to main- tain a contiun I fire while turning. The Brooklyn, in the lead, was followed by the Texas, Iowa, Oregon, Indiana, and Glouce - ter. The Vixen, which had been to the west- ward on the blockade, ran to the south- ward and eastward of us, and kept for some time off our port side, distant about one thousand yards, evidently to be ready to guard against torpedo attack on this ship. The firing from the Spanish ships was now rapid, and the whistling of shell incessant. Most of the projectiles passed over us and fell near the Vixen, some passing over her. Our escape with so little injury was miracu CAPTAIN FRANCIS A. COOK. FROM A PHOTOGRAPH MOOR DURING THE RATTLE DY GEORGE E. GRARAM. COPYRIGHT, 1099, RY GEORGE E. GRARAM. COMMODORE SCHLEY AT THE CONNING-TOWER DURING THE ENGAGEMENT. The man standing just below the commodore is Chief Yeoman Ellis, kille4 soon after this photograph was taken. bus, and can be attributed only to the bad marksmanship of the enemy. While we were wearing, the Teresa dropped astern, on fire, and, harassed by the heavy firing of our fleet, soon ran ashore. The fact was communicated through the ship, and the cheering of the crew could be heard amid the roaring of the guns. The Vizcaya, now leading, and followed by the Col6n and the Oquendo, was rapidly steaming to the west- ward. The Brooklyn was engaged with all three as the Vizcaya forged ahead. The Texas, Iowa, and Indiana were maintaining a rapid fire. The Oregon shot out from among the battle-ships, carrying a large white wave before her, the forced draft puffing thick black smoke spasmodically from her stacks. She soon outstripped the others, and came up to within about six 98 hundred yards of our starboard quarter, and maintained a position from that to within about two thousand yards until the end of the battle. We were making fourteen knots at the time she shot out from the other ships, soon after we made fifteen, and just before the end nearly sixteen knots, reckoning from the revolution counters. Soon after the falling out of the Teresa, the Oquendo wavered awhile, and then turned back and inshore, and, in flames, ran aground. Our crew, in transports of joy born of such triumph, were cheering, and forcing their best efforts at the battery. The Vizeaya and the Col6n continued on, hard pressed by the Brooklyn and the Oregon. The Col6n passed inside of the Vizeaya, and took the lead. Orders were given to fire as rapidly as possible while the two ships were THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 99 overlapped and in range. The Vizcaya, at about 10 )0 X M was seen to be on fire, and evideuth in di~tiess, and at 11 A. ~i. turned inshoie nil ablaze, an(l hauled down her flag. Firing imme liately ceased, and we con- tinued the chn~e of the C~ol6a, now about twelve t1iou~and yards away. The ranges ran from fifteen hundred to three thousand yards with the I i~coi~o as she kept in and out from the coast. When she beached and surren- dered, she bore forward of our starboard beam about a point. The Orcgoo kept a parallel course about three hundred yards inside of ours. The Cbldii kept close in to the land, running into all the bights. We steadily gained on her, and were getting more steam all the time. W~ had four main and one auxiliary boiler on, and the remaining one and the other auxil- iary were nearly ready. After running about fifty miles from the entrance, the position of the Uoldn became desperate. She was already within range of the Brooklyn and the Oregon., and could not come out without crossing the bows of both and engaging us. We expected her to do so. Our eight-inch shells were pass- ing over her stern at sixty-eight hundred yards, and the Oregon sent a heavy shell just ahead of her, fired at eighty-nine hundred yards. Immediately after this shot, and at 1: 1~ ix u., the Col6n ttirned in to the beach, fired a lee gt~n, ran ashore, and hauled (lown her colors. We had reduced our range to sixty-seven hundred yards, hut did not fire. The crews of the Brooklyn and the Oregon, wild with enthusiasm, cheered each other lustily, and complimentary signals were excnanged. Commodore Schley sent me to hoard the Col6ii to receive the surrender. While the boat was being hoisted out from the cradle, I went to my room and changed my black- alpaca coat and white sailors hat for my uniform blotise and cap, and with a quick lick and promise at hands and face, which were covered with perspiration and sulphur, I awaited the boat. Lieutenant Wells and Ensign McCauley accompanied me, and Boat- swain Hill took charge of the boat. I shall ever regret that the snap shot taken of the crew of the boat, as it shoved off from the side, by Mr. Gm ham, Associated Press correspondent on board, who had stood on deck during the entire action, coolly tak- in~ iotes, proved to be a failure, the films being ruined by the sulphur. The crew was mnscniai and well (leveloped, strippe(l to the waist and their bodies were besmeared with perspiration and the refuse of hurnt powder. They were a mild, well-disposed set of men, hut they looked angry. As we went alongside, some of the crew of the ~7ol6n called out to our men, Bravo, Americanos! And as I \vent up the gang- way I heard the reply, Bravo, Espafioles! I found most of the Spanish officers on deck. Captain Moren received me with tears in his eyes, and said: I surrender. You are too much for us. Commodore Paredes, second in command of the Spanish fleet, was much overcome by grief, and sobbed bitterly. We went to the cabin, which had heen wrecked by a shot which had passed through it, throwing table, chairs, and furniture in confusion. We had a pleasant sailor talk for a few moments, and then I told Captain Moreu that his surrender must be uncondi- tional. He replied that the officers wished to retain their personal effects, and I an- swered that the commander-in-chief was coming up, and no doubt would grant that. EThis was done.EmToa.] I left the ship at about 2:15 ixivi.,theofflcersbeingdrawn up as I left the quarter-deck. As I left the Uoi6n, the New York came in between the Brooklyn and the C~ol6n. I waited until she backed her engines, and then boarded her, and reported to Admiral Sampson the unconditional sur- render of the Cbl6n, mentioning Captain Morens request. Upon my return to the Brooklyn, Commo- dore Schley took the boat and went to the New York to report to Admiral Sampson. He soon after returned, and informed me that he had orders to go at once in chase of two armored Spanish cruisers, supposed to be the Peiayo and Corlos U, and reported by the Ilesol ale as being between us and Santi- ago. The Or~qon was to join us. We started at once, under all steam, to eastward. I said to Commodoic Schley that it might be the Curios, but I knew of no other Spanish ship that could cross the ocean. We soon sighted a large strange vessel coming rapidly west, and made out the Spanish colors. All was excitement and enthusiasm, and the crew went promptly to their stations. We were alone; the Oregon had not started; and we were short of ammunition: but the spirits of the crew were such that they would have been rea(ly for anything. Gunners Mate Diggins brought me a book of plates of the Spanish ships, and the ~ppearance of the stranger would answer only to the drawing of the Uardinol cisneros. I so told the com- modore, and added that, from all our informa- tion, that vessel was a year from completion. Darkness had now set in, and we were head- ing straight for her. She observed this, and turned her search-lights full on her flag, and also upon an international signal flying at her foremast, informing us that her colors were Austrian. We made out her flag at the same time. She proved to be the Austrian cruiser Maria Theresa. Au officer from her boarded us, and asked Commodore Schley if she could communicate with the harbor of Santiago in the morning. The commodore told him that he would probably find Admiral Sampson off Santiago in the morning, and that no doubt permission would be granted. He then asked where they had better go for the night. The commodore replied, Twenty miles off the coast, at least. This is a bad coast to-night for strangers. The Austrian then said, We will go forty miles off. We now steamed for Santiago. Just as we were abeam of the burning wreck of the Vizcaya, and at about three quarters of a mile from her, the forward magazine of the wreck blew up, throwing a column of fire and debris high in the air, from which fiery ser- pents of variegated colors flew in all direc- tions. It was a beautiful display, and, as between the Brooklyn and the Vizcaya, closed tbe incident. It was a terrible ex- plosion, but it did not lift her keel, or blow her plates inboard. These two ships had first met at the Queens Jubilee, Spithead, 100 England, where they had been sent to repre- sent their respective flags. We arrived off Santiago at midnight, and steamed close to the Indiana. It was a clear, starlight night with a calm, smooth sea. The crew of the Indiana were all up, crowding the turrets and superstructure, eager to get the news. We were hailed, and asked what had become of the Gol6n. Upon our answer that the Col6n was beached about fifty miles up the coast, and had surrendered, the cheer- ing was loud and prolonged. We then steamed down to the Iowa, and found her crew also on deck awaiting news. We were hailed and the same inquiry was made. When we told them of the fate of the Col6n, there was some clap- ping of hands and a stir of voices, but no cheering, and we were immediately informed that Admiral Cervera was on board, and many Spanish wounded. Our men were standing ready for a cheer, but upon hear- ing this news there was respectful silence, not only because they had learned that there were suffering wounded on board the Iowa, but because every man knew of the nobility displayed by Admiral Cervera in the treat- ment of Hobson and his men, and they thus recognized it. Commodore Schley went on board and paid his respects to Admiral Cer- vera. The commodore being an accomplished linguist, and being most courteously re CREW OF THE BROOKLYN CHEERING THE OREGON AS SHE FIRED AT THE COLON.~~ THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 101 ceived, had a long and pleasant conversa- tion with the admiral, who was dignified and pleasant, though naturally cast down by de- feat. He expressed himself as particularly touched by the kind treatment and the con- sideration shown him by all. Upon the return of Commodore Schley, we steamed to a station south of the Morro for the remainder of the night. Several ves- sels came within hail and asked for news of the Col6n. The little terror Suwanee, commanded by Lieutenant-Commander Delehanty, fi- nally came up for news. Upon our reply, and after hearty cheering by the crew, Lieu- tenant-Commander Delehanty called out, Well, they would nt have gotten away from the entrance if the Suwanee had been here. Loud laughter greeted this remark, but we all felt that the Suwanee would have been in the thick of it could she have had a chance. It was a glorious victory, in which all shared alike. We have a right to be proud of the fact that every vessel did her full duty, and that nothing was left undone. No better evidence of the readiness and efficiency of the fleet could be furnished than that it cannot be determined which ship first dis- covered the enemy. The Iowa was first to signal the fact, but the other vessels were in the act of hoisting the signal arranged by the admiral. Certain it is that within five minutes from the discovery our fleet was firing at the Spanish vessels. The Brooklyn was little injured, and lost but one man killed, George Ellis, chief yeo man, and one wounded, J. Burns, fireman, first-class. Ellis acted as my clerk. He had a clear and excellent record. He had served his time as a naval apprentice, and had received an honorable discharge. He re~nlisted, after a while on shore, and had been ad- vanced to chief yeoman on account of his superior qualifications as a writer. His station in battle was to assist the navigator in get- ting ranges. He had been instructed and had become proficient in the use of the stadio- meter. While engaged with the Vizcaya, he stepped forward of the turret on the forecastle and measured the distance from the enemy. He had returned, read aloud the distance, and communicated it to the navigator, when a shot passing over the deck struck his head, and he was instantly killed. Burns belonged to the reserve engineers force, and was stationed in the fire brigade. A shot passing through the superstructure near the forecastle, in which hammocks were stowed, set them on fire. Burns drew them out on deck, and was in the act of stamping out the fire when a one-pounder shot glanced from the casing of a superstructure door, burst near him, and several pieces passed through the fleshy parts of his legs, with, however, no serious injury. It had been reported to me early in the engagement that a large shot had passed through the sides in a berth-deck compart DRAWN BY FRANCIS DAY, AFTER FROTOGRAPH BY FERNANDEZ. RALY-TONE PLATE ENGRAVED BY FETER AITEEN. CAPTAIN DON EMILTO DIAZ MOREU, COMMANDER OF THE COLON.~~ DRAWN RY FRANCIA SAY, FAGS A FROTOGRAFA. AALF-TGNE FLATE GEORGE ELLIS, CHIEF YEOMAN OF THE BROOKLYN, THE ONLY MAN KILLED ON THE AMERICAN SIDE IN THE ENGAGEMENT. 102 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. ment and had exploded inside and wrecked the surroundings. Knowing that many of the crew were stationed in the compartments of the berth-deck belonging to the supply divi- sion, I thought that some must be wounded, if not killed. During the first moments of respite after the surrender of the Vizcaya, I sent one of my orderlies to the officers of the divisions to ascertain the casualties. I can never forget my surprise and gratifica- tion to find that there were none to report. The ship was struck twenty times by whole shots, but no material damage was done. The rigging, flags, and halyards were cut by flying projectiles high above the decks. A six-pounder passed through the bell of the escape-pipe of the middle smoke- stack, eighty feet from deck. A five-inch and a one-pounder shot passed through the middle stack. The Brooklyns high smoke- stacks have been the subject of much com- ment. Experience has proved that they not only furnish a great natural draft, but also a fine decoy for the enemys shot; it might be well to add another hundred feet. The most damage done was by a six-inch shot which entered the berth-deck at the midship compartment, passed through both parts of the heavy coal-chute leading from the out- sidecoaling-portto the bunkers,and exploded. The deck was badly torn up from this point to the bulkheads of the drum-room of the middle smoke-stack. Pieces tore through the iron deck and coal-bunkers, bulkheads, ladders, box-racks, etc. It is difficult to understand how any of the eight men sta- tioned in that compartment escaped. Some were dazed awhile, but none were touched. The Brooklyn is a magnificent fighting machine. American skill designed her, and American workmen built her, and every par- ticle of the material was produced from American factories. No detail of her build escaped thorough workmanship. She has been over two years in commission, and has passed through some severe tests,much more severe than could ever be given in ex- periment or trial, and has never shown a sign of weakness or defect. Her organiza- tion was complete, and her crew had been continually instructed and drilled. Every officer and man knew his duty in battle, and did it. It was my simple duty to push the button, and their work was done. DRAWN NY I-I. REUTERDAHL, FROM A PHATAGRAPA TAKEN ON THE NEW OOEK, DY A. W. ATROLLUM, AT A P. N., JALY 0. THE COLON~~ AFTER THE SURRENDER, SHOWING THE WATER POURING OUT OF HER TORPEDO-TUHE. NOTE ON CERVERAS STRATEGY. BY CAPTAIN CHARLES E. CLARK OF THE OREGON. THE article by Lieutenant Eberle which follows (see page 104), having been sent by the editor of THE CENTURY to Captain Clark, he kindly permits us to quote here his estimate of it. He says: I am very much impressed with the correctness of the account which Lieutenant Eberle has written of the part taken by the Oregon at Santiago. It is an excellent description of the engagement as I saw it. In a personal interview, in answer to a question by the editor, Captain Clark gives the follow- ing opinion of the Spanish admirals strategy: ~ASSUMING that the Spanish fleet had to iN come out (and I, for one, had given up the hope that it would do so), it is my judgment that Admiral Cervera should have preferred night to day as the time for the sortie, not- withstanding the search-light watch so rig- idly maintained at the entrance. He could have placed as guides to the channel, along the shore and on the smoke-stack or mast of the sunken Merrimac, lights screened toward the sea, so that we could not have detected them. His best chance would have been to get up his anchors and begin to move about dusk, when he would have had light enough to see the shore and the channel marks, timing the movement so that he should dash out just as darkness fell. We could not then have closed in upon him without great danger to our- selves. The firing would have had to be done virtually in the dark, for the search- lights (even supposing that others than the one regularly in use had been turned on) would soon have become ineffective, on ac- count of the smoke and from the shatter- ing force of the guns, which probably would have extinguishcd them. The di- rection of the enemy could thus have been masked, and as each of our captains would have heen concerned with the risk of his ship being rammed or torpedoed, our on- slaught would have had a far different result than it actually had when full daylight en- abled every commander to see what all the others (as well as the enemy) were doing, and exactly what was to be done. It was the difference between certainty and uncer- tainty. In the daytime we were able to choose our distance from the enemy with re- lation to the danger of being torpedoed. As all his ships were supposed to be provided with Whitehead torpedoes, I determined, unless an emergency should require it, not to go in- aide of half a mile,that being the effective tor- pedo-range, since our superiority in ordnance and armor would thus have been neutralized. Considering the courses that were open to Cervera, I should probably, in the circum- stances, have done as he didhead to the westward, keeping the fleet together in the hope of destroying any vessel which might be able to overtake me. Cienfuegos was his nearest and natural port, and there he would have been in direct communication with Ha- vana by rail, and, so to speak, would have been in a Spanish environment. If he had intended to go to Havana, it would have been better to go westward than eastward, for, though the distance is somewhat greater, the current would have favored, and there was no addi- t.ional force to be considered like that at Guantanamo. To have divided his fleet, part going eastward and part westward, would have been to leave one half to Admiral Sampson and the other half to Commodore Schley. There remained one other course. The result of the sortie shows that he might have stood a better chance of saving one or two or even more of his ships by the policy of scattering, with an ultimate rendezvous. Only three of our ships were superior in speed to his vessels; namely, the New York, the Brooklyn, and the Oregonpossibly the Texas. Even if each of these could have selected and pursued a Spanish ship, it is possible that not every one of them would have been equal to the task of destroying her chosen antagonist. The armored cruis- ers, the Brooklyn and the New York, might have found that they had caught Tartars. They could not have pierced the armor of the Spanish vessels, while the Spanish guns could readily have pierced theirs. There were no orders to our vessels for such separate action, for neither Admiral Sampson nor any one else could have anticipated such tactics. It is a matter of pure conjecture, hut I am inclined to think that the confusion resulting from such a movement would have strongly favored Cervera. 103

NOTE ON CERVERAS STRATEGY. BY CAPTAIN CHARLES E. CLARK OF THE OREGON. THE article by Lieutenant Eberle which follows (see page 104), having been sent by the editor of THE CENTURY to Captain Clark, he kindly permits us to quote here his estimate of it. He says: I am very much impressed with the correctness of the account which Lieutenant Eberle has written of the part taken by the Oregon at Santiago. It is an excellent description of the engagement as I saw it. In a personal interview, in answer to a question by the editor, Captain Clark gives the follow- ing opinion of the Spanish admirals strategy: ~ASSUMING that the Spanish fleet had to iN come out (and I, for one, had given up the hope that it would do so), it is my judgment that Admiral Cervera should have preferred night to day as the time for the sortie, not- withstanding the search-light watch so rig- idly maintained at the entrance. He could have placed as guides to the channel, along the shore and on the smoke-stack or mast of the sunken Merrimac, lights screened toward the sea, so that we could not have detected them. His best chance would have been to get up his anchors and begin to move about dusk, when he would have had light enough to see the shore and the channel marks, timing the movement so that he should dash out just as darkness fell. We could not then have closed in upon him without great danger to our- selves. The firing would have had to be done virtually in the dark, for the search- lights (even supposing that others than the one regularly in use had been turned on) would soon have become ineffective, on ac- count of the smoke and from the shatter- ing force of the guns, which probably would have extinguishcd them. The di- rection of the enemy could thus have been masked, and as each of our captains would have heen concerned with the risk of his ship being rammed or torpedoed, our on- slaught would have had a far different result than it actually had when full daylight en- abled every commander to see what all the others (as well as the enemy) were doing, and exactly what was to be done. It was the difference between certainty and uncer- tainty. In the daytime we were able to choose our distance from the enemy with re- lation to the danger of being torpedoed. As all his ships were supposed to be provided with Whitehead torpedoes, I determined, unless an emergency should require it, not to go in- aide of half a mile,that being the effective tor- pedo-range, since our superiority in ordnance and armor would thus have been neutralized. Considering the courses that were open to Cervera, I should probably, in the circum- stances, have done as he didhead to the westward, keeping the fleet together in the hope of destroying any vessel which might be able to overtake me. Cienfuegos was his nearest and natural port, and there he would have been in direct communication with Ha- vana by rail, and, so to speak, would have been in a Spanish environment. If he had intended to go to Havana, it would have been better to go westward than eastward, for, though the distance is somewhat greater, the current would have favored, and there was no addi- t.ional force to be considered like that at Guantanamo. To have divided his fleet, part going eastward and part westward, would have been to leave one half to Admiral Sampson and the other half to Commodore Schley. There remained one other course. The result of the sortie shows that he might have stood a better chance of saving one or two or even more of his ships by the policy of scattering, with an ultimate rendezvous. Only three of our ships were superior in speed to his vessels; namely, the New York, the Brooklyn, and the Oregonpossibly the Texas. Even if each of these could have selected and pursued a Spanish ship, it is possible that not every one of them would have been equal to the task of destroying her chosen antagonist. The armored cruis- ers, the Brooklyn and the New York, might have found that they had caught Tartars. They could not have pierced the armor of the Spanish vessels, while the Spanish guns could readily have pierced theirs. There were no orders to our vessels for such separate action, for neither Admiral Sampson nor any one else could have anticipated such tactics. It is a matter of pure conjecture, hut I am inclined to think that the confusion resulting from such a movement would have strongly favored Cervera. 103 THE OREGON AT SANTIAGO. BY LIEUTENANT EDWARD W. EBERLE, In Command of the Forward Turret during the Battle. ON Sunday, the 3d of July, 1898, a dis- heartened lot of officers sat about the Oregons ward-room breakfast-table, off San- tiago; for the officer of the morning watch had sent down the news that a press-boat had just hailed the ship and reported that the army had suffered heavy losses in front of the city, and that the outlook was very discouraging. Our officers and men were dressed in their cleanest white, and the bugle had sounded the first call for Sunday morning inspection, when suddenly, at twen- 104 ty-eight minutes after nine, our sharp-eyed chief quartermaster sighted the masthead of a ship coming from behind Smith Cay. Immediately the alarm-gongs rang out the call to battle-stations; the emergency signal, The enemy is escaping, was hoisted; and a six-pounder was fired and the siren was sounded to attract the attention of the fleet. For thirty-four long days and nights we had constantly watched that hole in the wall, praying that Spains fleet would come out and give battle; and after having abandoned FARM A PHOTOGRAPH RD BODE & HABENICAT. AALP-TONE PLATE ENGRAVED RD T. JOHNSON. CAPTAIN CHARLES H. CLARK, COMMANDER OF THE oaEGoN.

THE OREGON AT SANTIAGO. BY LIEUTENANT EDWARD W. EBERLE, In Command of the Forward Turret during the Battle. ON Sunday, the 3d of July, 1898, a dis- heartened lot of officers sat about the Oregons ward-room breakfast-table, off San- tiago; for the officer of the morning watch had sent down the news that a press-boat had just hailed the ship and reported that the army had suffered heavy losses in front of the city, and that the outlook was very discouraging. Our officers and men were dressed in their cleanest white, and the bugle had sounded the first call for Sunday morning inspection, when suddenly, at twen- 104 ty-eight minutes after nine, our sharp-eyed chief quartermaster sighted the masthead of a ship coming from behind Smith Cay. Immediately the alarm-gongs rang out the call to battle-stations; the emergency signal, The enemy is escaping, was hoisted; and a six-pounder was fired and the siren was sounded to attract the attention of the fleet. For thirty-four long days and nights we had constantly watched that hole in the wall, praying that Spains fleet would come out and give battle; and after having abandoned FARM A PHOTOGRAPH RD BODE & HABENICAT. AALP-TONE PLATE ENGRAVED RD T. JOHNSON. CAPTAIN CHARLES H. CLARK, COMMANDER OF THE oaEGoN. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 105 hope, here they were at last! Our men jumped about the decks, waving their caps and cheering, and enthusiastically yelling, There they come! There they come! The officers were more serious, for we ex- pected a day of hot work. No artist could do justice to that fascinating and awe-in- spiring scene, when, led by the Maria Teresa, the Spanish fleet majestically swept out of he narrow harbor. Their large red-and-yel- low ensigns stood out brilliantly against the dark-green background of the Morro and Socapa headlands, and their massive black hulls, with great white waves piled under their bows, seemed veritable things of life. At the call to general quarters, the Oregon charged ahead at full speed under forced draft, and the fleet headed in to meet the enemy. The Teresa was just abreast the Morro as we opened fire with an eight-inch gun, to which she and the forts replied with a shower of shell. She turned sharply to the westward, and was followed by the Vizcaya, Col6n, and Oquendo, in the order named. As soon as they cleared the harbor their speed was increased and their fire became furious. Our ships opened a heavy fire, and then the Oregon turned more to the westward, in order to head off the rapidly moving column. VOL. LVIII.14. For some minutes Captain Clark stood on the bridge, giving orders, and studying the situation; and the thought that was then uppermost in his mind is clearly expressed in the words of his official report to Admiral Sampson: As soon as it was evident that the enemys ships were trying to break through and escape to the westward, we went ahead full speed, with the determina- tion of carrying out to the utmost your order, If the enemy tries to escape, the ships must close and engage as soon as pos- sible, and endeavor to sink his vessels or force them to run ashore. The Spaniards passed rapidly to the westward, and the firing being at long range, we sent our six-pounder crews behind the turrets for protection. Our turret crews soon settled down to steady and deliberate work, and as the ships increasing speed enabled us to close in on the enemy, our gun fire became very effective. The en- gineer force was doing magnificent work, and the Oregon was fairly jumping out of the water; and at ten minutes to ten she dashed between the Iowa and the Texas, passing within one hundred yards of the Iowa, and continued her destructive gun fire. This wonderful burst of speed, which enabled the Oregon to pass all the ships except the Brook- DRAWN DY GEORGE VARIAN, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN DARING TAD ENGAGEMENT. CAPTAIN CLARK, AT THE LEFT, AND NAVAL CADET OVERSTERET WATCHING A SHOT FIRED HY THE OREGON~~ AT THE COLON.~~ lyn, excited the astonishment and admira- tion of the officers of the Iowa. One of them described it thus: The Or~qon came racing across the Iowas bows, and charged right down on the Spanish fleet, letting go first at one vessel, then at the other, and all the time carrying a great white bone in her teeth, that told of her engine-power and wonderful speed. By this time Admiral Cerveras ships were in a well-defined column, steaming parallel with the coast-line, at high speed. The gun fire of both fleets was rapid and furious, but most of the enemys shells passed over us. As we swept past the Iowa, Captain Clark was standing in his favorite place on top of the forward thirteen-inch turret, when word came to him that the torpedo-boats were coming out. The six-pounder crews were immediately ordered to their guns, and in less time than it takes to write it they were peppering away at the two destroyers. As the leading vessel, the Plut6~, came out, she appeared to hesitate for a mc ~tent, and then turned to the westward and followed in the wake of the others. Our after-guns were also turned upon the torpedo-boats, and the fire of these guns, together with the fire of all the ships astern of us, simply overwhelmed them. There was a perfect hail of projectiles, and the water about the boats was whipped into a mass of foam; but the plucky little vessels fought their guns until a shell (xvhich, it is claimed, was fired by our after six-inch gun) struck the Furor amidships and caused an explosion. This torpedo-boat was literally torn to piec~s, and in her death-agony circled round and round before disappearing beneath the waves. Her rudder had been jammed hard over, and with the last steam in her boilers her propellers continued to turn, mangling those who had life enough left to jump overboard. With her consort destroyed and herself a battered wreck, the Plut6n crept inshore, and sank in shoal water, about four miles west of Morro Castle. Just twelve minutes of gun fire had accomplished their destruction. 106 DRAWN BE GEORGE VABIAN FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BE 0. 0. NAGILL. HALF-TONE PLATE ENORAVER BY ROBERT VARLET. CREW OF THE OREGONS STARBOARD FORWARD 8-INCH TURRET, DURING THE CHASE OF THE COLoN, WATCHING THE WORK OF THE FORWARD 13-INCH TURRET. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 107 While our after-guns were firing on the torpedo-boats, our forward guns were ham- mering away at the third and fourth armored vessels, which were now on our starboard bow, in a broken column. The Brooklyn was on our port bow, engaging the two leading ships. The Teresa was farther offshore than the other three vessels, and was being passed by them. We brought her sharp on our star- board bow, and as we gained on her our forward guns engaged her at two thousand yards range, when (about ten minutes after ten) we discovered her to be on fire. The Teresa was soon left behind by the other vessels. Smoke and flames were pouring from her upper works, and the sight of her hopeless condition served to double the energy of our ships, for their fire became more rapid and deadly than ever. The Ore- gon, Texas, and Iowa hurled their terrific broadsides into her as she turned inshore and steamed slowly for the beach at Juan Gonzales, six miles from Santiago. Only forty minutes had elapsed since the stately Teresa had led the column out of the harbor. She boldly went to her death, fighting her guns until overwhelmed by fire and shell. The Oregon now charged on after the Oquendo, and opened on her with the for- ward guns, and also with all the guns of the starboard battery as soon as they could be brought to bear. For a while the enemys vessels appeared badly bunched. The Col6n was just passing inshore of the Vizcaya, and the Oquendo was in a direct line between us and those two ships. We closed rapidly on the Oquendo, and, at a range of nine hun- dred yards, poured into her the hottest and most destructive fire of that eventful day. Each gun-captain fought his gun as if victory depended upon him alone, and within twelve minutes after the Teresa had given up the fight the Oquendo was burning fiercely. She too turned inshore, with port helm head- ing slightly to the eastward; and as we drew her abeam, our guns raked her unmercifully. The Oquendo made the pluckiest fight and suffered the most severe punishment, as is attested by her torn and battered hull, which rested upon the beach half a mile west of the Teresa. When flames burst from the Oquendo, and she turned inshore, Captain Clark, who was standing on top of the forxvard thirteen- inch turret, called out to me, We have set- tled another; look out for the rest! This was answered by a mighty cheer, which was repeated through the ammunition passages and magazines, and down among the heroes of the boiler- and engine-rooms. With bulldog determination, the Oregon continued on in her mad race after the Viz- caya, now two miles away, and opened with the forward guns. The Brooklyn, still on our port bow, was apparently about two miles HALF-TONE PLATE ENGRAVED BY ROBERT VARLEY. THE SURRENDER OF TEE COLON. The Spanish vessel is shown on the point of turning for the beach ~nd pulling dowu the flag. The American vessels from right to left are the Brooklyn, Texas, Oregon, and in th~ distance the New York. In the foreground is shown the column of water raised by tLe Oregons last shot. off the Vizcayas port beam, and all three vessels were firing furiously. The Col6n, now far ahead and close inshore, was increasing her lead. The Brooklyn signaled to the fleet, Close up, and we repeated the signal to the ships astern; but the clouds of smoke and the long distance prevented their seeing it. In fact, the only vessels that we could distinguish astern were the Texas on our starboard quarter and the Vixen on our port quarter. Our speed steadily increased, and when we were about three thousand yards from the Vizcaya, that vessel swung offshore and headed across our bow, firing her for- ward guns at the Brooklyn and her port ones at us. By this mamzeuver the Vizeaya ex- posed her broadside to us, and a big shell from one of our turret guns seemed to strike her in the port bow, when she immediately resumed her former course. A few minutes later, at about a quarter to eleven, the man in the fighting-top reported that a thirteen- inch shell had struck her amidships, heeling her to starboard and sending up a volume of steam and smoke. Cheer after cheer rang through the ship, and our gun fire increased in rapidity. The Vizeaya was on fire and heading2or the shore! Captain Clark, who had been moving about the decks commend- ing officers and men for their good work, and telling his children not to expose them- selves needlessly, was at this instant standing on top of the after thirteen-inch turret, con- versing with the officer of that turret. The 108 turret-officer was deploring the fact that his guns would not bear on the enemys remain- ing ships, when suddenly the burning Viz- caya was seen off our starboard bow, heading for the beach, and the captain exclaimed, There s your chance! There s your chance! and in another moment the after- turret was thundering away with awful effect. The close range enabled our six- pounders to play havoc with the Vizeaya~ upper works, and our fire was very heavy un- til she drew abaft our starboard beam, when, at eleven oclock, she hauled down her colors and ran ashore at Aserraderos, eighteen miles from the Morro This made the third large burning wreck within ninety minutes. When the Vizcaya gave up the fight and headed for the shore, the Brooklyn hoisted the signal, Well done, Oregon; and then began the grandest chase in naval history. The Gol6n was now six miles ahead, and for a time it looked as if she might escape; but our efficient engineer department proved equal to the occasion, and our speed increased to more than sixteen knots. The Brooklyn, now broad off our port bow, was steering for the distant headland to cut off the Col6n, while we were steadily edging in on her and forcing her nearer the shore. We sent our men to dinner by watches; but after getting a bite, they returned on deck to follow the exciting chase and take a pull at their pipes. The Brooklyn signaled, She seems built in Italy ; and Captain Clark told the signal- DRAWN BY GEORGE VARIAN, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN DURING THE ENGAGEMENT DY B G. MAGILL THE CREW OF THE OREGON~~ RETURNING CHEERS FROM THE TEXAS AFTER THE COL6N 5 SURRENDER. The New York is shown in the distance, the GoWn farther to the left. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS.~ 109 officer to answer with the following message: She may have been built in Italy, but she will end on the coast of Cuba. As we dashed onward, slowly gaining, and soon to be within range, the enthusiasm was at high pi ch. An old boatswains mate stationed in he fighting-top gave way to his excited feelings, and yelled through a megaphone, Oh, captain, I say, cant you give her a thirteen-inch shell, for Gods sake! The men in the engineer force, ever unmindful of the frightful heat, were straining every muscle to its utmost, and their heroic officers were assisting the exhausted firemen to feed the roaring furnaces. Several times the Col6n turned in as if looking for a good place to run ashore, but each time changed her mind and continued to run for her life. It was ten minutes to one hen Captain Clark gave me orders to try a thirteen-inch shell on her; and soon an 1100-pound projectile was flying after her. The chief engineer was just coming on deck o ask the cap am to fire a gun in order to encourage his exhausted men; and when they heard the old thirteen-inch roar, they knew that we were within range, and made the effort of their lives. The scene on the Oregons decks at this time was most inspiring. Officers and men were crowded on top of the forward turrets, and some were aloft, all eager to see the final work of that great day. The Brooklyn fired a few eight-inch shells, and we fired two eight-inch; but all fell short, and the eight- inch guns ceased firing. The Col6n also fired a few shots, but they fell far short of their mark. Our forward thirteen-inch guns con- tinued to fire slowly and deliberately, with increasing range, aBd the sixth shot, at a range of ninety-five hundred yards (nearly five miles), dropped just ahead of the Col6n, whereupon she headed for the shore. Our men were cheering wildly, and a few minutes later, at twelve minutes after one oclock, a thirteen-inch shell struck under the Col6ns stern. Immediately her colors dropped in a heap at the foot of her flagstaff. The bugle DRAWN BY GEORGE RARIAN, YRRM A PROTOGRAYR. THE OREGON~5~~ AMATEUR BAND PLAYING ON THE TURRET AFTER THE SURRENDER OF THE COL6N. 110 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. sounded, Cease firing! The Col6n had sur- rendered, and the last shot of July 3 had been fired. That was a moment to live for. Suddenly the thunder of heavy guns was replaced by the strains of The StarSpangled Banner from the band. On our forward deck, five hundred and fifty men, mostly bare to the waist, and begrimed with powder, smoke, and coal-dust, were embracing one another, and cheering with that fervor and joy which mark the outpouring of the hearts of men who know how to look into the face of death. There xvere rousing cheers for our beloved captain, and the tender words he spoke to the crew caused many a heart to soften. Amid ringing cheers the Brooklyn signaled, Con- gratulations upon the glorious victory; and her cheers were returned with wild enthu- siasm. After lowering her colors, the Col6n ran ashore at Rio Tarquino, one of the most beautiful spots on the south coast of Cuba, about fifty miles west of Santiago and thirty- two miles beyond the Vizeayas resting-place. Her demoralized and drunken crew treacher- ously fell to destroying her armament and equipment.1 At the time of the Col6ns surrender the Brooklyn was off our port bow, while between six and seven miles astern, and hull down, we saw the masts of two vessels which were reported as the Iowa and the Texas, but proved to be the J~vTeW York and the Texas. These two vessels and the Vi en joined us at about twenty minutes after two, just as the Brook- lyns boat was returning from the Col6n; and their splendid crews gave us rousing cheers. All commanding officers reported on board the New York, and Captain Clark received an ovation from the flagship. Thanksgiving went up from every heart when the casualty signals announced that only one life had been sacrificed in the annihilation of Spains naval power in the Western Hemisphere. Captain Clark soon returned from the flagship, with orders to go to the eastward, with the Brook- lyn, and destroy the Spanish battle-ship that was reported off Siboney. This news put new life into our tired men, for we concluded that Admiral Camaras squadron had arrived, and that we had more interesting work ahead of us. But just as we were ready to start the 1 Another officer of the American fleet makes the following statement: The condition of the crew of the Col6n was anything hut satisfactory. Her firemen and coal-passers had been on shore in the trenches with- out food for thirty-six hours, and by some mistake there was no food prepared for them when they were em- barked. To make up for this, they were liberally dosed flagship learned that the reported Spanish battle-ship was an Austrian vessel, and sig- naled, Oregon, take charge of prize and haul her off the beach. This was after four oclock. When our prize crew reached the Col6n, they found fifteen feet of water in her engine-rooms, and all valves open. The prisoners were im- mediately sent aft on the quarter-deck, and, with their effects, were transferred to the Resolute. These men had been told that we would starve them or cut their throats, and it was pitiful to see them with their pockets filled with hardtack and strips of raw meat, to subsist upon until their throats were cut. How their faces brightened when they learned that they were to be treated with every kindness and fed far better than they had ever been fed before! Five cows were found tied up on the Col6ns forecastle, and some of them succeeded in swimming ashore after our men had cut them adrift. Our souvenirs consisted of several battle-flags, pictures of the ship and officers, a captains gig, two cutters, a dog, two cats, some chickens, and a black pig. The Col6ns pig became the Oregons mascot, and was promptly named Dennis Blanco: Dennis~~ because all his predecessors in the navy had borne that name, and Blanco well, prob- with brandy to brace them up, and the result was not bad for the first hour; but then the reaction came. The Oregons men found most of them under the in- fluence of liquor, and many of them helplessly drunk. One of the first duties of the prize crew was to break or throw overboard the half-emptied brandy bottles lying about the decks.EDITOR. K cRIsT6BAL, A PET FEOM THE cOL6N, TAKEN BY THE - cazw OF THE OREGON, AND PRESENTED BY THEM TO CAPTAIN CLARK. THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 111 ably because he was of the opposite color, so very black. It soon became necessary to let go the Gol6ns anchor, and our chief boatswains mate (a man of many years naval service) was on the forecastle, getting the anchor ready, when that unfortunate vessels chief boatswains mate began giving orders, where- upon our old sheliback drew his revolver, and marched the intoxicated Spaniard aft to the quarter-deck, proudly remarking, I 11 have you understand that I am chief boat- swains mate of this ship now! Several dead bodies with bullet-holes through them were found in the fire-room and on deck, and members of the Ool6ns crew volunteered the information that these men had been shot by their own officers for attempting to come on deck from the fire- room to get a breath of fresh air. After our men had taken possession, one of the wounded prisoners died. He was wrapped in the flag of his country, and as he was lowered into the deep, one of his drunken shipmates pronounced the benediction: Pobre diablo! Viva Espafia! When the prisoners were told the name of our ship they exclaimed, Oh, that s that Yankee devil! the most gratifying compliment of tbe day. While they were being transferred, our officers and men were working like beavers to keep the Col6n afloat; but their efforts were in vain, for at eleven oclock that night she listed to starboard and turned over on her side, our officers leaving her just as she went over. The American flag had been hoisted, and went down with her. The Texas and the Oregon remained by the wreck all night, and the next morning we started for our station at Santiago. The burning and battered wrecks strewn along the beach made a pitiful picture. Floating about them were uniforms, boxes, trunks, and here and there bodies of the dead. The Oregons Fourth of July reception by the fleet off Santiago, and Commodore Schleys greeting signal of Welcome back, brave Oregon, were something to be cherished. THE NEW YORK AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN F. E. CHADWICK, CHIEF OF STAFF.1 IN the early night of the 2d of July several of the mountain-peaks about Santiago were lighted up with the burning of block- houses established on prominent points by the Spaniards. Some of these were on ele- vations of four or five thousand feet, and were so placed as to command a view down the more important valleys, in which ran the trails dignified by the Cubans with the name of roads. We of the blockading fleet came to the conclusion that the garrisons were being withdrawn, in order to reinforce Santiago. The rest of the night passed without event, and the morning of the 3d of July dawned with less wind and a smoother sea than usual. The Hist had come near the flagship to arrange for an additional three-pounder, and our carpenters force was busied in get- ting ready the material. It was found that this would take considerable time, so the flagship was turned for Siboney, accompanied by the Hist and the torpedo-boat Ericsson, in order that the admiral and his staff might meet the appointment made with General Shafter to discuss combined operations A portrait of Captain Chadwick may he found in the preceding numher of TuE CENTURY, accompanying Admiral Sampsons paper on The Atlantic Fleet in the Spanish War.EDITOE. against the entrance, so that the fleet might enter and destroy the Spanish squadron. The officer of the deck sent word ask- ing if he should increase the speed; but he was told to go at an easy gait, which was fortunate in that when the admiral, who was on deck, saw the smoke of a shot inside the entrance, we were not so far away as we otherwise should have been. I was just com- ing from below, the crew being at quarters for inspection, tis usual, at half-past nine Sunday morning, when I saw that the ship had begun to turn, and at once went for- ward, sending word to the chief engineer to get up all the steam possible. In the time of telling this all hands were at their stations for action. As I reached the bridge, the chief quartermaster said, There comes the second ship, and he called them one by one as they appeared. We were now well on our way back, and the four large Spanish ships were out. There came a considerable inter- val before the torpedo-boat destroyers ap- peared. All stood westward, well in under the land. Our ships by this time had also taken a parallel westerly course. Every ship was clearly visible, a cloud of smoke hanging about each. It seemed to me only a few mo- ments when Ensign Brumby, my aide, said

THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 111 ably because he was of the opposite color, so very black. It soon became necessary to let go the Gol6ns anchor, and our chief boatswains mate (a man of many years naval service) was on the forecastle, getting the anchor ready, when that unfortunate vessels chief boatswains mate began giving orders, where- upon our old sheliback drew his revolver, and marched the intoxicated Spaniard aft to the quarter-deck, proudly remarking, I 11 have you understand that I am chief boat- swains mate of this ship now! Several dead bodies with bullet-holes through them were found in the fire-room and on deck, and members of the Ool6ns crew volunteered the information that these men had been shot by their own officers for attempting to come on deck from the fire- room to get a breath of fresh air. After our men had taken possession, one of the wounded prisoners died. He was wrapped in the flag of his country, and as he was lowered into the deep, one of his drunken shipmates pronounced the benediction: Pobre diablo! Viva Espafia! When the prisoners were told the name of our ship they exclaimed, Oh, that s that Yankee devil! the most gratifying compliment of tbe day. While they were being transferred, our officers and men were working like beavers to keep the Col6n afloat; but their efforts were in vain, for at eleven oclock that night she listed to starboard and turned over on her side, our officers leaving her just as she went over. The American flag had been hoisted, and went down with her. The Texas and the Oregon remained by the wreck all night, and the next morning we started for our station at Santiago. The burning and battered wrecks strewn along the beach made a pitiful picture. Floating about them were uniforms, boxes, trunks, and here and there bodies of the dead. The Oregons Fourth of July reception by the fleet off Santiago, and Commodore Schleys greeting signal of Welcome back, brave Oregon, were something to be cherished. THE NEW YORK AT SANTIAGO. BY HER COMMANDER, CAPTAIN F. E. CHADWICK, CHIEF OF STAFF.1 IN the early night of the 2d of July several of the mountain-peaks about Santiago were lighted up with the burning of block- houses established on prominent points by the Spaniards. Some of these were on ele- vations of four or five thousand feet, and were so placed as to command a view down the more important valleys, in which ran the trails dignified by the Cubans with the name of roads. We of the blockading fleet came to the conclusion that the garrisons were being withdrawn, in order to reinforce Santiago. The rest of the night passed without event, and the morning of the 3d of July dawned with less wind and a smoother sea than usual. The Hist had come near the flagship to arrange for an additional three-pounder, and our carpenters force was busied in get- ting ready the material. It was found that this would take considerable time, so the flagship was turned for Siboney, accompanied by the Hist and the torpedo-boat Ericsson, in order that the admiral and his staff might meet the appointment made with General Shafter to discuss combined operations A portrait of Captain Chadwick may he found in the preceding numher of TuE CENTURY, accompanying Admiral Sampsons paper on The Atlantic Fleet in the Spanish War.EDITOE. against the entrance, so that the fleet might enter and destroy the Spanish squadron. The officer of the deck sent word ask- ing if he should increase the speed; but he was told to go at an easy gait, which was fortunate in that when the admiral, who was on deck, saw the smoke of a shot inside the entrance, we were not so far away as we otherwise should have been. I was just com- ing from below, the crew being at quarters for inspection, tis usual, at half-past nine Sunday morning, when I saw that the ship had begun to turn, and at once went for- ward, sending word to the chief engineer to get up all the steam possible. In the time of telling this all hands were at their stations for action. As I reached the bridge, the chief quartermaster said, There comes the second ship, and he called them one by one as they appeared. We were now well on our way back, and the four large Spanish ships were out. There came a considerable inter- val before the torpedo-boat destroyers ap- peared. All stood westward, well in under the land. Our ships by this time had also taken a parallel westerly course. Every ship was clearly visible, a cloud of smoke hanging about each. It seemed to me only a few mo- ments when Ensign Brumby, my aide, said 112 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. to me, There is one of the Spanish ships turning inshore, ~ afire; and only a few moments ~ after, There is another. And ~ the Teresa and the Oquendo were on the beach, having ~ made but six and six and a ~ half miles respectively from ~ the harbor entrance. ~ Appeals were being sent by messenger, by voice-tubes, and ~ by telephone to the engine- ~ room to rush the fires. SATe ~ had started with steam on ~ four of the six boilers, and ~ hot water in the fifth; the ~ sixth was ready for lighting fires, which had been done at ~ once. The New York and the Brooklyn have the peculiarity of having four sets of en- gines; the two after-sets are ~ used ordinarily, and with these n the New York can make a ~ good seventeen and a half knots, as was done later that morning. The four engines ~ cannot be run advantageously ~ togetherwithout all the boilers and at high pressure. It would n thus have been foolish to ~ couple up in starting, and equally foolish to have stopped twenty minutes to do so when ~ going over seventeen knots, ~ and when all knew that we were overhauling the chase. But we were rapidly com- ~ ing to the fray, the farther 2 ~ part of the scene being much obscured by great billowy ~ clouds of powder-smoke, against which were silhou- ~ etted the Gloucester and the torpedo-boat destroyers, fir- ing in a very lively manner. ~ We were close under the bat- n teries, but paid no attention to the shots which came over us. One of the torpedo-boats ~ bad now turned, and was evi- z dently heading toward the ~ port. We stood in a little ~ closer to head her off. The farther one at this time got ~ a shot in her boilers from one ~ of our ships, and I shall never forget the wonderful, swift __________________________________________________ jet of silvery steam, like an THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 113 ostrich-feather, that leaped five hundred feet into the air. She was clearly done for, but the actions of her comrade made me think she was endeavoring to escape, and two or three shells were fired at her from our star- board-bow four-inch gun. Knowing that the Vizcaya and the Col6n were still going to the westward, we rushed past the Gloucester and the destroyers, both of which were now clearly out of action. In a few moments we passed the Maria Teresa and the Oquendo. Both shoxved lurid masses of flame and smoke from the mainmast aft, and the men were dropping over the bows into the water. But we could not stop with an en- emy yet unsurrendered ahead, and quickly coming up with the Indiana, between ten and eleven miles beyond the port, we signaled her to go back and resume the blockade, lest an- other Spanish ship might come out of the harbor to annoy the transport fleet; and the work of rescue here was taken in hand by the Gloucester and the Hist, and shortly after- ward by the Ericsson. The Iowa, Texas, Brooklyn, and Oregon were on our port bow in the order named from aft forward, and between the Iowa and the Texas was the Vizcaya, still headed west, and directly ahead of us the Col6n. The battle by this time (11:05) had moved eigh- teen miles from the harbor entrance, when the Vizcaya turned in with colors down, and headed for the beach. She had begun to smoke slightly aft. She steamed in rather slowly, and at such short distance crossed our bows, and those of the Iowa, which had stopped near by, that the crews were vir- tually face to face, and we looked at each other,victors and vanquished,the former without a cheer, the latter huddled forward, clear of the flames, without sound or move- ment, but with emotions of the sort for which no dictionary has a transliteration. We were abreast of her almost at the moment of her striking on the reef inside of which is the little harbor of Aserraderos, and above which, on the hill, was the Cuban camp where, on the 20th of June, Garcia had met our ad- miral and General Shafter. After we had gone miles to the west of her, we saw a pillar of smoke mounting straight into the air quite a thousand feet in height, from the explosion of her forward magazine. The Iowa, by the admirals orders, had remained where she was, and was engaged in the rescue of the Vizcayas men. Well sea- ward were the Brooklyn, Oregon, and Texas, and the little Vixen. We were close inshore, with the Col6n still directly ahead, and we VOL. LVJII.15. settled down to the chase, sending the men to dinner so that all should be ready for action when we should come up with the enemy, as we knew we surely should. I said to Admiral Sampson that I knew they could not hold out at high pressure, whereas we were sure of our own men. Machinery is a good deal of an unknowable world to the Spanish mind, and I felt absolutely certain of overhaul- ing them. Our own ship was quivering fore and aft, and had set up the pleasant jingling of certain metallic objects on the bridge which we knew meant high speed. The chief engineer had reported that the en- gines were doing their best, and had also reported some time before that everything was ready for coupling the forward engines, if desired; the officer of the deck every few minutes counted the indicator show- ing the turns of the screw. The two forward ships, the Brooklyn and the Oregon, had be- gun to fire occasional eight-inch shells, and we were carefully noting their fall; but the Oregon found that these did not reach, and opened with her thirteen-inch guns. She fired six shots, beginning at 4.8 land miles, rising to 5.4 miles, and the last at a trifle over 5 miles. The Col6n now turned in and hauled down her colors. She came in under the point of land ahead of her, and slowly moved to the beach, where she drove up, her bows in eight feet of water and her stern in seventy. By the time the flagship came up, Captain Cook of the Brooklyn had boarded the Col6n; he returned from her and reported on board the New York, and immediate preparations were made for the transfer of her crew and for taking possession of the ship. It was soon found that she was sinking, her sea- valves having been opened by the Spaniards. It is claimed by them that this was done before the hauling down of her colors, and we now know that preparations for it were made before leaving port. A prize crew from the Oregon had been placed aboard, but it was soon found impossible to keep the ship from sinking. After dark she floated with the rising tide. Both her anchors were let go, and the New York, putting her stem against her starboard quarter, pushed her in on the beach so that she should not sink in deep water. The transporting of the captured crew, the search- lights against the sinking ship, the deep gloom of the mountains rising eighty-four hundred feet from the waters edge, made a wonderfully powerful and dramatic scene, a fitting climax to a day with whose sun had set that of Spains ancient dominion. 114 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. Before the CoMms crew could be trans- ferred to the several ships, as had been in- tended, the Resolute arrived, having come to report the approach of a supposed Spanish battle-ship. The prisoners were then trans- ferred to the Resolute, the commodore and his aide and Captain Moren being taken on board the New York. On the report of the Resolute, the admiral, though he felt sure that the vessel could not be a Spanish ship, ordered the Brooklyn and the Oregon to look after her. Then he remembered that a circu- lar had been issued some little time before, at tl]e instance of the Navy Department, order- ing that a lookout should be kept for the arrival of the Austrian armored cruiser Maria Theresa, and that caution should be exercised not to mistake the flag for the Spanish; in consequence he recalled the or- ders of the Oregon, which had been delayed in leaving. He knew, too, that, whatever the character of the approaching ship, she would have to pass the Iowa and the Indiana, either of which was amply able to look after a hos- tile vessel of any class. The vessel proved to be the Austrian ship. The astonishment of her lieutenant when informed of the fate of the Spanish fleet was equaled by that of an officer from the English cruiser Pallas, which came next morning from Jamaica to remove the English citizens from Santiago before the announced bombardment by the fleet. She had left Kingston before the receipt of the news of our battle of the 3d. When she came up to the fleet, a lieutenant was sent on board the flagship to request per- mission to go in. When this had been granted, he said casuallythat he supposed there would be no trouble in getting similar permission from the Spanish fleet inside, whereupon I remarked, We sank them all yesterday. His astonishment may be imagined. On the 5th of July, when Captain Paget (the English naval attach6) was sitting with me in the cabin of the New York, after we had returned from the Spanish wrecks, we heard a heavy report, and the officer of the deck sent down word that a gun had gone off on board the Oquendo, and had sunk a small boat belonging to a press-boat, cutting it in two, though, as we afterward learned, no lives were lost. It is strange that the gun should have waited two days to discharge. What fire still existed was at the bows, ex- cept here and there a smoldering piece of deck. It is a curious coincidence that the three members of the Maine inquiry board were present at Santiago to receive thus dramatically, in the condition of the Spanish wrecks, positive confirmation of their con- clusions about the manner of the destruc- tion of the Maine. A striking instance of the influence of dis- cipline upon the American crews, even in moments of recreation, came under my notice after the tension of battle was over and the fleet had assembled in Guantanamo Bay. One evening, while sitting on deck and watching the enjoyment of the men who were bathing, when the colors were sa- liited, as usual, at sunset, by the band play- ing the national air, on rising to attention myself, I noticed that every man had begun to tread water and was facing the flag by way of salute. The admiral, having made the engage- ment to consult that morning with General Shafter, and expecting to ride to headquar- ters on landing, had put on leggings and spurs (as had also the assistant chief of staff, Lieutenant Staunton), and in the excite- ment did not remove them till after the bat- tIea costume which would have surprised an uninformed observer. A ON THE GLOUCESTER AFTER THE BATTLE. BY LIEUTENANT HARRY P. HUSE, Her Executive Officer during the Engagement. Admiral Cervera came on board the \yHEN Gloucester after his surrender on shore to Lieutenant Norman, he was dressed in a fiat white sailor cap, a wet sack-coat, an undershirt, and a torn pair of trousers which might have been discarded by a tramp. He climbed up the rope ladder which was hanging down the ships side, and as he stepped on board all of the Gloucesters crew were drawn up to receive him, and Captain Wainwright stood at the gangway. [See drawing on page 84.] We had no bugle to sound the proper flourishes, and as our boatswains mates were all out of the ship, we could not even pipe the side. The cap- tain held out his hand and congratulated the admiral on the heroic fight he had made. It was just the right thing to do, and per- haps from that moment dates Admiral Cer- veras kindlyfeelingfor this country. Captain Wainwright escorted him aft, and I showed him below into the cabin, where the captain~ s private quarters were placed at his disposal. His son, Don Angel, was with him in the capacity of flag-lieutenant. Captain Concas of the Maria Teresa was given my room, and, being wounded, was cared for by our surgeon. The admiral had been on board only a few minutes when he expressed a desire to see the prisoners forward, especially those who were hurt. The captain gave his consent, and we went forward. The unwounded pris- oners were all up in the bows, where a tem- porary awning had been rigged for them. As they equaled the crew of the Gloucester in number, and many of our people were away in boats, a dead-line had been stretched across the deck, and two sailors with loaded rifles stood one at each end, with orders to shoot any Spaniard who should start to pass it. As an additional precaution, a Colt automatic rifle was pointed just over the heads of the prisoners, needing only a touch of the hand from the man stationed by it to start a fire of four hundred shots a min- ute. As the admiral passed forward, bare- foot and ragged, the crew saluted and the sentries presented arms, just as they would have done for our own commander-in-chief. He spoke a few words to his men, and asked if anything could be done for them. He seemed to be satisfied with their answers, and passed on down to the berth-deck, where the wounded lay. His cheery greetingbright ened many faces. If I remember correctly, he spoke to each man a few encouraging words, and spent several minutes by the side of Lieutenant Arderius, who had been badly injured on the Furor. It was fine to see the gallant old gentleman taking steps to secure the comfort of his men before he allowed any to be taken for his own. Not much attention had been given to preparations for luncheon. The officers store-room was almost bare, and when the steward was told to get a meal ready as soon as possible for all the Spanish officers, as well as for those of the ship, he looked a little blank. However, he rose to the emergency, and about two oclock announced that all was ready. The ward-room could not accommo- date everybody at the same time, so it was decided that our guests should eat first, and the officers of the ship should wait. Captain Wainwright sent me below to represent him at the first table, and I asked Paymaster Brown to keep us company. Admiral Cer- vera sat at one end of the table, and I at the other, while the Spanish officers, at the request of the admiral, seated themselves without regard to rank. Lieutenant Cer- vera was at my right. I think the admiral was flanked by the captains of the destroyers Plut6u and Furor, Commanders Vazquez and Carlier. Most of the Spaniards were in very informal costume, several having on only a shirt and a pair of trousers, and these in some cases had been furnished from our wardrobes. There had been no opportunity to do more than supply the most urgent needs. - Far from being depressed, the admiral was in high spirits. He had done his duty to the utmost limits, and was relieved of the terrible burden of responsibility that had weighed upon him since leaving the Cape Verde Islands. Perhaps, also, he wished to cheer his fellow-prisoners, for he gave full rein to his naturally genial temperament. I referred to the meagerness of our fare. The admiral expressed his satisfaction at having a meal before him, as he had had only a cup of chocolate brought to him on deck by his servant, very early in the morning, before starting out. For a moment there was silence, and perhaps the same thought occurred to all of us: what great changes had taken place since breakfast! A comparison of notes 115

ON THE GLOUCESTER AFTER THE BATTLE. BY LIEUTENANT HARRY P. HUSE, Her Executive Officer during the Engagement. Admiral Cervera came on board the \yHEN Gloucester after his surrender on shore to Lieutenant Norman, he was dressed in a fiat white sailor cap, a wet sack-coat, an undershirt, and a torn pair of trousers which might have been discarded by a tramp. He climbed up the rope ladder which was hanging down the ships side, and as he stepped on board all of the Gloucesters crew were drawn up to receive him, and Captain Wainwright stood at the gangway. [See drawing on page 84.] We had no bugle to sound the proper flourishes, and as our boatswains mates were all out of the ship, we could not even pipe the side. The cap- tain held out his hand and congratulated the admiral on the heroic fight he had made. It was just the right thing to do, and per- haps from that moment dates Admiral Cer- veras kindlyfeelingfor this country. Captain Wainwright escorted him aft, and I showed him below into the cabin, where the captain~ s private quarters were placed at his disposal. His son, Don Angel, was with him in the capacity of flag-lieutenant. Captain Concas of the Maria Teresa was given my room, and, being wounded, was cared for by our surgeon. The admiral had been on board only a few minutes when he expressed a desire to see the prisoners forward, especially those who were hurt. The captain gave his consent, and we went forward. The unwounded pris- oners were all up in the bows, where a tem- porary awning had been rigged for them. As they equaled the crew of the Gloucester in number, and many of our people were away in boats, a dead-line had been stretched across the deck, and two sailors with loaded rifles stood one at each end, with orders to shoot any Spaniard who should start to pass it. As an additional precaution, a Colt automatic rifle was pointed just over the heads of the prisoners, needing only a touch of the hand from the man stationed by it to start a fire of four hundred shots a min- ute. As the admiral passed forward, bare- foot and ragged, the crew saluted and the sentries presented arms, just as they would have done for our own commander-in-chief. He spoke a few words to his men, and asked if anything could be done for them. He seemed to be satisfied with their answers, and passed on down to the berth-deck, where the wounded lay. His cheery greetingbright ened many faces. If I remember correctly, he spoke to each man a few encouraging words, and spent several minutes by the side of Lieutenant Arderius, who had been badly injured on the Furor. It was fine to see the gallant old gentleman taking steps to secure the comfort of his men before he allowed any to be taken for his own. Not much attention had been given to preparations for luncheon. The officers store-room was almost bare, and when the steward was told to get a meal ready as soon as possible for all the Spanish officers, as well as for those of the ship, he looked a little blank. However, he rose to the emergency, and about two oclock announced that all was ready. The ward-room could not accommo- date everybody at the same time, so it was decided that our guests should eat first, and the officers of the ship should wait. Captain Wainwright sent me below to represent him at the first table, and I asked Paymaster Brown to keep us company. Admiral Cer- vera sat at one end of the table, and I at the other, while the Spanish officers, at the request of the admiral, seated themselves without regard to rank. Lieutenant Cer- vera was at my right. I think the admiral was flanked by the captains of the destroyers Plut6u and Furor, Commanders Vazquez and Carlier. Most of the Spaniards were in very informal costume, several having on only a shirt and a pair of trousers, and these in some cases had been furnished from our wardrobes. There had been no opportunity to do more than supply the most urgent needs. - Far from being depressed, the admiral was in high spirits. He had done his duty to the utmost limits, and was relieved of the terrible burden of responsibility that had weighed upon him since leaving the Cape Verde Islands. Perhaps, also, he wished to cheer his fellow-prisoners, for he gave full rein to his naturally genial temperament. I referred to the meagerness of our fare. The admiral expressed his satisfaction at having a meal before him, as he had had only a cup of chocolate brought to him on deck by his servant, very early in the morning, before starting out. For a moment there was silence, and perhaps the same thought occurred to all of us: what great changes had taken place since breakfast! A comparison of notes 115 116 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. among the Spanish officers showed that all had breakfasted lightly. Mr. Brown asked his neighbor why the fleet had not come out at night, and several, hearing the question, turned toward him as if interested in the subject. The answer was that it was impossible to come out in the face of the search-light our battle-ships threw into the entrance. In this all agreed. We could not, said young Cervera. Your light was maintained continuously, without interruption, shining right up the channel. I understood from them that it was actually impossible to navigate the ships in the beam, and quite believed it, remembering an experi- ence of my own when the Brooklyn threw her light upon us. When I asked why they came out in the face of such crushing superiority, I think it was again Don Angel who answered, shrugging his shoulders: Your army sur- rounds the city, and can enter when it chooses; we were driven out. The admiral remarked that he acted under positive orders to come out. I said to Don Angel: Nous avons rem- port6 la victoire, mais la gloire est ~ vous. He called to his father at the other end of the table, and repeated the remark. Cest tr~s bien! said the old admiral, and he nodded to me approvingly. The remark was repeated in Spanish to those who had not understood the French words, and a murmur of appro- bation rose from all sides. One officer, who showed signs of the terrible strain he had been subjected to, almost broke down, and tears rolled down his cheeks. The officers naturally asked one another about their friends on the different ships, and all, especially the admiral, seemed dis- tressed at the death of Dr. LAllemand, the fleet surgeon. They could hardly believe it when told that he was safe in our sick-bay, having been rescued from a piece of floating wreckage by the dinghy. It is a strange fact that this man owed his rescue to his religious fervor. From the bridge I had seen the wreckage, and, watching through a binocular for possible signs of life, saw him raise his clasped hands in prayer. But for this move- ment he would have been lost, for our boat reached him just in time. Late in the afternoon, the admiral and a few of the higher officers were transferred to the Iowa, and all the rest of the unwounded prisoners to the Indiana. As far as our lim- ited supplies allowed, they had been clothed and made comfortable. I gave the admiral the only suit of citizens clothing I had on board. The wounded were taken to Sibo- ney, where room was found for them on the army hospital steamer Olivette. One poor fellow had died, and about half-way between Siboney and Santiago, on our return trip, the pipes of the boatswains mates were followed by the call, All hands bury the dead. The officers and men mustered on the quarter-deck, the engines were stopped, and the body of the dead sailor, sewed in a ham- mock and covered with the flag of the Furor, was brought aft. The chief master-at-arms, a ftoman Catholic, read the service. A sailors funeral at sea is always impressive, and in this case it seemed a most fitting end to the events of the day. I heard a man say, as he went forward after the ceremony: If they had hit us only once, there might have been a lot of us dropped overboard to-night in- stead of that Spaniard. And an answering voice said grimly: Yes; and perhaps the funeral would have been in the forenoon, and with nobody to read the service. RESCUING THE ENEMY. BY WILLIAM G. CASSARD, CHAPLAIN U. S. N., Attached to the Indiana. ~YHILE the Brooklyn, Oregon, Texas, and ~ New York were yet in pursuit of the fleeing Col6n, other ships of our fleet were succoring the crews of the three Spanish cruisers and the two torpedo-boat destroyers. The survivors of the Teresa and the Oquendo had escaped to the shore, and were gathered at a point near the Teresa, selected because the beach was sandy and level, while the adjacent parts of the coast were extremely rocky and precipitous. As soon as it was apparent that the fight was over, our commanding officer, Captain Taylor, hastened the organization and departure of two volunteer relief parties. Everybody not detained by duty was willing to go. The first party was in command of Lieutenant Benton C. Decker, and went in to the point where the destroyer Plut6n had been run ashore and abandoned. Mr. Decker went in cautiously, with arms lying conve- nient for use in case of resistance, as the wrecked Plut6n was within the Spanish lines to the westward of Santiago. But the few scattered Spaniards had neither means nor

116 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. among the Spanish officers showed that all had breakfasted lightly. Mr. Brown asked his neighbor why the fleet had not come out at night, and several, hearing the question, turned toward him as if interested in the subject. The answer was that it was impossible to come out in the face of the search-light our battle-ships threw into the entrance. In this all agreed. We could not, said young Cervera. Your light was maintained continuously, without interruption, shining right up the channel. I understood from them that it was actually impossible to navigate the ships in the beam, and quite believed it, remembering an experi- ence of my own when the Brooklyn threw her light upon us. When I asked why they came out in the face of such crushing superiority, I think it was again Don Angel who answered, shrugging his shoulders: Your army sur- rounds the city, and can enter when it chooses; we were driven out. The admiral remarked that he acted under positive orders to come out. I said to Don Angel: Nous avons rem- port6 la victoire, mais la gloire est ~ vous. He called to his father at the other end of the table, and repeated the remark. Cest tr~s bien! said the old admiral, and he nodded to me approvingly. The remark was repeated in Spanish to those who had not understood the French words, and a murmur of appro- bation rose from all sides. One officer, who showed signs of the terrible strain he had been subjected to, almost broke down, and tears rolled down his cheeks. The officers naturally asked one another about their friends on the different ships, and all, especially the admiral, seemed dis- tressed at the death of Dr. LAllemand, the fleet surgeon. They could hardly believe it when told that he was safe in our sick-bay, having been rescued from a piece of floating wreckage by the dinghy. It is a strange fact that this man owed his rescue to his religious fervor. From the bridge I had seen the wreckage, and, watching through a binocular for possible signs of life, saw him raise his clasped hands in prayer. But for this move- ment he would have been lost, for our boat reached him just in time. Late in the afternoon, the admiral and a few of the higher officers were transferred to the Iowa, and all the rest of the unwounded prisoners to the Indiana. As far as our lim- ited supplies allowed, they had been clothed and made comfortable. I gave the admiral the only suit of citizens clothing I had on board. The wounded were taken to Sibo- ney, where room was found for them on the army hospital steamer Olivette. One poor fellow had died, and about half-way between Siboney and Santiago, on our return trip, the pipes of the boatswains mates were followed by the call, All hands bury the dead. The officers and men mustered on the quarter-deck, the engines were stopped, and the body of the dead sailor, sewed in a ham- mock and covered with the flag of the Furor, was brought aft. The chief master-at-arms, a ftoman Catholic, read the service. A sailors funeral at sea is always impressive, and in this case it seemed a most fitting end to the events of the day. I heard a man say, as he went forward after the ceremony: If they had hit us only once, there might have been a lot of us dropped overboard to-night in- stead of that Spaniard. And an answering voice said grimly: Yes; and perhaps the funeral would have been in the forenoon, and with nobody to read the service. RESCUING THE ENEMY. BY WILLIAM G. CASSARD, CHAPLAIN U. S. N., Attached to the Indiana. ~YHILE the Brooklyn, Oregon, Texas, and ~ New York were yet in pursuit of the fleeing Col6n, other ships of our fleet were succoring the crews of the three Spanish cruisers and the two torpedo-boat destroyers. The survivors of the Teresa and the Oquendo had escaped to the shore, and were gathered at a point near the Teresa, selected because the beach was sandy and level, while the adjacent parts of the coast were extremely rocky and precipitous. As soon as it was apparent that the fight was over, our commanding officer, Captain Taylor, hastened the organization and departure of two volunteer relief parties. Everybody not detained by duty was willing to go. The first party was in command of Lieutenant Benton C. Decker, and went in to the point where the destroyer Plut6n had been run ashore and abandoned. Mr. Decker went in cautiously, with arms lying conve- nient for use in case of resistance, as the wrecked Plut6n was within the Spanish lines to the westward of Santiago. But the few scattered Spaniards had neither means nor THE STORY OF THE CAPTAINS. 117 disposition to resist. In abandoning the Plut6n, which lay in the terrific roll of the surf, they had been compelled to swim ashore, had thrown aside their clothing, and were en- tirely naked. They were, moreover, torn and bleeding from contact with the rocks, against which they had been hurled by the sea; and when Mr. Decker took them into his boat, they lay half dazed and utterly helpless. Seventeen were found at this point and brought off to the Indiana, where they were received and cared for with all possible kind- ness. Among this number was Lieutenant Nonval, a young officer from the destroyer Faror. In jumping from his sinking vessel, his foot had been caught in the propeller and cut off above the ankle. He was in the water for quite a while, and when he finally got ashore improvised a tourniquet from a rem- nant of clothing which, fortunately, had clung to him, and thus stanched the flow of blood from his wound. He was exhausted and helpless, and Mr. Decker had the men of his party lift him carefully into the boat. When he arrived on board the Indiana, it was found necessary to amputate the leg at a higher point, as the bone had been left jagged and exposed by the accident. This operation was performed in the ward-room by our senior surgeon, Dr. Ferebee, and was borne with great fortitude. The lieutenant received the most sympathetic and consid- erate treatment from all our officers, Mr. Decker being particularly gentle and unre- mitting in his ministrations. He was sent North in the hospital ship Solace. The second relief expedition went directly in to the shore, where the survivors of the Teresa and the Oquendo were gathered. The officers of this party were Captain Waller of the marine corps, Ensign Olmsted, Assis- tant Surgeon Costigan, Cadet Helm, and the writer. It was known that many wounded would be found at this point, and we carried large quantities of medical and surgical sup- plies, in addition to water and hard bread. When we reached the shore we saw a sad and memorable spectacle. On each hand lay the burning ships Teresa and Oquendo. Ex- plosions on board these ships were frequent, and the guns, which had been left loaded by the escaping crews, were being discharged by the intense heat. The forward magazine of the Teresa, with its tons of powder, was still intact, and the Spanish officers expected it to explode at any moment. The Spanish prisoners and our relief party were in great and constant danger from these sources. However, the work of relief went steadily forward, no attention being paid to the dangers of the situation. We found about six hundred prisoners from the two ships. The large auxiliary cruiser Harvard was lying just outside the wrecks, and her boats were carrying off the uninjured. We had our steam-launch, and this was at once put in use towing the Har- yards boats. The surf was running high, and our men, in steadying the boats and assist- ing the prisoners into them, were most of the time in water up to their necks. Not a mur- mur of complaint was heard, and every one seemed to think of nothing save the work of relief. Before our arrival on shore, owing to the absence of surgeons and medical stores and appliances, nothing had been done for the wounded, of whom there were about forty. We saw only three dead on the beach, and these had been drowned in at- tempting to get ashore. The Teresa and the Oquendo were only a few hundred feet off- shore, but their crews, having been ex- hausted by the dreadful ordeal through which they had passed, had been in no con- dition to battle with the surf, and it is sur- prising that so few were drowned. One of the bodies found was that of Captain Lazaga of the Oquendo, who was reported by several newspapers to have committed suicide. We examined his body carefully, and saw no marks of violence, and we were expressly informed that he had been drowned. Those who had been killed in action were burned where they fell, and doubtless many of the wounded who were in inaccessible parts of the ships shared a similar fate. Those of us who saw the quick and fierce destruction of these vessels were not surprised, when subse- quently visiting the wrecks, to find charred bodies on everyAeck. We began without delay to care for the wounded, some of whom were on rudely im- provised palm-leaf litters, while more were lying in the sand, their wounds simply cov- ered with rags. Dr. Costigan went to work with great vigor, and proved himself equal to this emergency of a lifetime. He displayed quick and accurate powers of discrimination in selecting the cases in most urgent need of attention, and great skill and sympathy in his work. Others of our party did all in their power to second the work of the sur- geon in the relief of the suffering. One Spanish surgeon had escaped, but was so shattered in nerve and exhausted in body by the awful experiences of the day as to be of little assistance. Yet he said to Dr. Costi- gan, We have surrendered; I follow your 118 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. instructions. He was one of the few pris- oners who spoke English, and I said to him, War is a sad, sad business. Yes, he an- swered; but we have met a brave and kind enemy, and Spanish honor is well now. This will end the war. All the prisoners were parched with thirst, and we met first with pitiful appeals for water, and then with pro- found thanks as, with cup and canteen, we went about doling it out. It was eight oclock before the last prisoner, including the wounded, had been sent off to the In- diana and the Harvard. As darkness came on, the fire from the burning ships threw a pale and uncertain light upon the tragic scene, and this was reinforced by the light of a large bonfire which our sailors had built; and in the somber-shadowed background, against the black outline of dense undergrowth, stood a group of gaunt, half-clothed Cuban soldiers. When we got back to the Indiana, between eight and nine oclock, we found that the care of over two hundred prisoners had fallen to our lot, at least overnight. They had been brought off by our own boats and by the gun- boat Hist, and were only the Indianas pro- portion of the entire number of prisoners. Many of these prisoners, like those rescued by Mr. Decker, were totally destitute of clothing, and the man who had a suit of pajamas or of underclothing was the envy of his companions. Our ships stores were liberally drawn upon to meet the emergency. The Spaniards donned the new uniform with calm philosophy and without comment. After the terrible defeat of the morning, they had apparently come to regard everything as a matter of course. Among our prisoners were seven officers (not including the wounded Lieutenant Nonval), and these were enter- tained in the ward-room, and treated with every courtesy due their rank. They were a modest and gentlemanly set of men, and seemed deeply touched by the consideration shown them. The enlisted men were treated to a bountiful supper, and were then given hammocks on deck, where they slept in peace. On the morning of July 4 the in- jured were transferred to the Solace, to be cared for as tenderly as our own wounded, while the uninjured were put aboard the Harvard and sent North to well-ordered military prisons. The treatment accorded the Spanish was the spontaneous act of our navy, and shows that the American sailor is as kind as he is brave. A HISTORIC SCENE ON THE TEXAS. BY T. M. DIEUAIDE, WAR CORRESPONDENT. THE battle of Santiago was over, the chase was ended; we had fought the good fight, and the victory was ours. The Texas had been in the thick of it all, and now, early in the afternoon of July 8, 1898, she lay, with engines stopped, off Rio Tarquino, sharing with the Oregon and Brooklyn in the sur- render of the Col6n. When the admiral signaled, Report casualties, the Texas was able to reply that not a man aboard bore so much as a scratch to testify to the seriousness of the combat. The other Ameri- can ships had been almost equally fortunate. They lay in a semicircle about the Col6n. Nearly every man aboard was on deck. The dominant feeling was the natural one of exultation, and far up the mountains floated the echoes of the Saxon cheers. The Texas cheered the Brooklyn, the Brooklyn cheered the Texas, and both cheered the Oregon. The American commanders called felicitations to one another across the water. From the Oregon came the jubilant strains of The Star-Spangled Banner. On the bridge of the Texas a group of hilarious officers sur- rounded their commander, Captain Philip, who seemed noticeably reserved and thought- ful. Suddenly he turned to his executive officer, and said quietly, Call all hands aft. The five hundred men of the ship trooped to the quarter-deck, which was still snow-white with the saltpeter from the guns, and lis- tened reverently while Captain Philip offered thanks to God for their preservation from the perils of battle. I want, said the cap- tain, as he stood with bared head, to make public acknowledgment here that I have complete faith in God, the Father Almighty. I want all of you, officers and crew, unless there be those who have conscientious scru- ples against so doing, to lift your hats and in your hearts to offer silent thanks to Cod. As the strong tones of the captains voice died away, every man stood reverently, for a moment or two, with bared and bowed head. Many of the men were much affected. In the eyes of more than one brawny Jacky I saw the glimmer of a moisture that was hastily brushed away. As the men were dis- persing, one big fellow called, Three cheers for our captain! and they were given with a heartiness that fairly shook the ship.

118 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. instructions. He was one of the few pris- oners who spoke English, and I said to him, War is a sad, sad business. Yes, he an- swered; but we have met a brave and kind enemy, and Spanish honor is well now. This will end the war. All the prisoners were parched with thirst, and we met first with pitiful appeals for water, and then with pro- found thanks as, with cup and canteen, we went about doling it out. It was eight oclock before the last prisoner, including the wounded, had been sent off to the In- diana and the Harvard. As darkness came on, the fire from the burning ships threw a pale and uncertain light upon the tragic scene, and this was reinforced by the light of a large bonfire which our sailors had built; and in the somber-shadowed background, against the black outline of dense undergrowth, stood a group of gaunt, half-clothed Cuban soldiers. When we got back to the Indiana, between eight and nine oclock, we found that the care of over two hundred prisoners had fallen to our lot, at least overnight. They had been brought off by our own boats and by the gun- boat Hist, and were only the Indianas pro- portion of the entire number of prisoners. Many of these prisoners, like those rescued by Mr. Decker, were totally destitute of clothing, and the man who had a suit of pajamas or of underclothing was the envy of his companions. Our ships stores were liberally drawn upon to meet the emergency. The Spaniards donned the new uniform with calm philosophy and without comment. After the terrible defeat of the morning, they had apparently come to regard everything as a matter of course. Among our prisoners were seven officers (not including the wounded Lieutenant Nonval), and these were enter- tained in the ward-room, and treated with every courtesy due their rank. They were a modest and gentlemanly set of men, and seemed deeply touched by the consideration shown them. The enlisted men were treated to a bountiful supper, and were then given hammocks on deck, where they slept in peace. On the morning of July 4 the in- jured were transferred to the Solace, to be cared for as tenderly as our own wounded, while the uninjured were put aboard the Harvard and sent North to well-ordered military prisons. The treatment accorded the Spanish was the spontaneous act of our navy, and shows that the American sailor is as kind as he is brave. A HISTORIC SCENE ON THE TEXAS. BY T. M. DIEUAIDE, WAR CORRESPONDENT. THE battle of Santiago was over, the chase was ended; we had fought the good fight, and the victory was ours. The Texas had been in the thick of it all, and now, early in the afternoon of July 8, 1898, she lay, with engines stopped, off Rio Tarquino, sharing with the Oregon and Brooklyn in the sur- render of the Col6n. When the admiral signaled, Report casualties, the Texas was able to reply that not a man aboard bore so much as a scratch to testify to the seriousness of the combat. The other Ameri- can ships had been almost equally fortunate. They lay in a semicircle about the Col6n. Nearly every man aboard was on deck. The dominant feeling was the natural one of exultation, and far up the mountains floated the echoes of the Saxon cheers. The Texas cheered the Brooklyn, the Brooklyn cheered the Texas, and both cheered the Oregon. The American commanders called felicitations to one another across the water. From the Oregon came the jubilant strains of The Star-Spangled Banner. On the bridge of the Texas a group of hilarious officers sur- rounded their commander, Captain Philip, who seemed noticeably reserved and thought- ful. Suddenly he turned to his executive officer, and said quietly, Call all hands aft. The five hundred men of the ship trooped to the quarter-deck, which was still snow-white with the saltpeter from the guns, and lis- tened reverently while Captain Philip offered thanks to God for their preservation from the perils of battle. I want, said the cap- tain, as he stood with bared head, to make public acknowledgment here that I have complete faith in God, the Father Almighty. I want all of you, officers and crew, unless there be those who have conscientious scru- ples against so doing, to lift your hats and in your hearts to offer silent thanks to Cod. As the strong tones of the captains voice died away, every man stood reverently, for a moment or two, with bared and bowed head. Many of the men were much affected. In the eyes of more than one brawny Jacky I saw the glimmer of a moisture that was hastily brushed away. As the men were dis- persing, one big fellow called, Three cheers for our captain! and they were given with a heartiness that fairly shook the ship. THE LAST OF THE MULBERRY-STREET BARONS. BY JACOB A. RIJS. HERE had been a feud of long standing between the reporters in ~ Mulberry street, and in conse- quence news was plentiful. There were mutual scores to be paid off, and we paid them off in the coin of the realm. The coin of Mulberry street was murder, fire, and sudden death (we had passed the stage of boxing-gloves, and did not speak as we passed by), and it went a long way. I do not mean, of course, that we murdered or burned up one another, but these things were the staples of our daily work as police re- porters; and when we were out~~ the pre- cinct returns received an extra sifting, with the result that many a grain of newspaper wheat that would otherwise have escaped was rescued from the dust-bin. It was in- evitable that some of the chaff went along occasionally, but the desk~ was not too critical. It was disposed to look with ap- proving eye upon those outbreaks, for any inflation of our currency meant, translated into the medium of the desk, copy, and the stage of deliberate invention of news had not yet been reached. There were emer- gencies, to be surecalamities occurring at impossible hours, which called for the exer- cise of imaginative faculties, always held in reserve against the mischance of a luckier rival being on the spot; as, for instance, when once a second alarm called the firemen to a point on the river hopelessly out of reach, with the paper going to press in fif- teen minutes. I remember the pride with which we glanced over the paper, yet damp from the press, with the half-column descrip- tion of the conflagration, even then yet in its first fury; the rush of the engines to the spot (they were mentioned by number; we had the alarm-book in the office, with the companies that were going set down against each alarm-signal), the mad gallop of the horses, the crash and grinding of the heavy wheels that struck fire from the pavement, and all that; and our constern4ion after- ward when we found out that these en- gines were the river fire-boats. We had forgotten, in our haste, that the boats were down in the book as numbered companies. But these were the minor mishaps of our life, and harmless enough. The firemen and the others~ saw to it that we did not die in our sins. We werc not often called upon to draw upon our imagination. The raw material, honestly exploited, was exciting enough, and left a sufficient margin for individual enterprise. I have a very distinct recollection of a most impalatable mess of smelt set before me by Tom Alvord, the reporter for the Herald, on the day of all days when we were going to the police cap- tains first dinner. It had poisonedthe smelt, I meana whole family, and I had missed it. I did not enjoy the dinner, but I paid my enemy back within a week with seventeen cases of trichinosis, all out of one ham, which I had ferreted out. In fact, I had diagnosed them unaided, and only after I had satisfied myself of their true character had brought the attending physicians to- gether for consultation, and put the facts before them. None of them knew of the party at which the ham had been eaten, and which their patients had all attended, and they were not in a position to guess the truth. But they saw it at a glance. It makes me laugh now to think of the frantic appeals of the beaten ones to Dr. Edson to say that it was nt so, and the despair with which they beheld under his microscope one of the little beasts curled up and taking a nap in a shred of muscle just taken from one of the patients. To me it seemed the sweetest creatuie alive. Thus does profes- sional rivalry harden the human heart. We had our specialties in this contest of wits. One was distinguished as a sleuth. He fed on detective mysteries as a cat on a chicken-bone. He thought them out by day and dreamed them out by night, to the great exasperation of the official detectives, with whom their solution was a commercial, not in the least an intellectual, affair. They solved them on the plane of the proverbial lack of honor among thieves, by the formula, You scratch my back, and I 11 scratch yours.~~ Another came out strong on fires. He knew the history of every house in town that ran any risk of being burned; knew every fireman; and could tell within a thou- 119

THE LAST OF THE MULBERRY-STREET BARONS. BY JACOB A. RIJS. HERE had been a feud of long standing between the reporters in ~ Mulberry street, and in conse- quence news was plentiful. There were mutual scores to be paid off, and we paid them off in the coin of the realm. The coin of Mulberry street was murder, fire, and sudden death (we had passed the stage of boxing-gloves, and did not speak as we passed by), and it went a long way. I do not mean, of course, that we murdered or burned up one another, but these things were the staples of our daily work as police re- porters; and when we were out~~ the pre- cinct returns received an extra sifting, with the result that many a grain of newspaper wheat that would otherwise have escaped was rescued from the dust-bin. It was in- evitable that some of the chaff went along occasionally, but the desk~ was not too critical. It was disposed to look with ap- proving eye upon those outbreaks, for any inflation of our currency meant, translated into the medium of the desk, copy, and the stage of deliberate invention of news had not yet been reached. There were emer- gencies, to be surecalamities occurring at impossible hours, which called for the exer- cise of imaginative faculties, always held in reserve against the mischance of a luckier rival being on the spot; as, for instance, when once a second alarm called the firemen to a point on the river hopelessly out of reach, with the paper going to press in fif- teen minutes. I remember the pride with which we glanced over the paper, yet damp from the press, with the half-column descrip- tion of the conflagration, even then yet in its first fury; the rush of the engines to the spot (they were mentioned by number; we had the alarm-book in the office, with the companies that were going set down against each alarm-signal), the mad gallop of the horses, the crash and grinding of the heavy wheels that struck fire from the pavement, and all that; and our constern4ion after- ward when we found out that these en- gines were the river fire-boats. We had forgotten, in our haste, that the boats were down in the book as numbered companies. But these were the minor mishaps of our life, and harmless enough. The firemen and the others~ saw to it that we did not die in our sins. We werc not often called upon to draw upon our imagination. The raw material, honestly exploited, was exciting enough, and left a sufficient margin for individual enterprise. I have a very distinct recollection of a most impalatable mess of smelt set before me by Tom Alvord, the reporter for the Herald, on the day of all days when we were going to the police cap- tains first dinner. It had poisonedthe smelt, I meana whole family, and I had missed it. I did not enjoy the dinner, but I paid my enemy back within a week with seventeen cases of trichinosis, all out of one ham, which I had ferreted out. In fact, I had diagnosed them unaided, and only after I had satisfied myself of their true character had brought the attending physicians to- gether for consultation, and put the facts before them. None of them knew of the party at which the ham had been eaten, and which their patients had all attended, and they were not in a position to guess the truth. But they saw it at a glance. It makes me laugh now to think of the frantic appeals of the beaten ones to Dr. Edson to say that it was nt so, and the despair with which they beheld under his microscope one of the little beasts curled up and taking a nap in a shred of muscle just taken from one of the patients. To me it seemed the sweetest creatuie alive. Thus does profes- sional rivalry harden the human heart. We had our specialties in this contest of wits. One was distinguished as a sleuth. He fed on detective mysteries as a cat on a chicken-bone. He thought them out by day and dreamed them out by night, to the great exasperation of the official detectives, with whom their solution was a commercial, not in the least an intellectual, affair. They solved them on the plane of the proverbial lack of honor among thieves, by the formula, You scratch my back, and I 11 scratch yours.~~ Another came out strong on fires. He knew the history of every house in town that ran any risk of being burned; knew every fireman; and could tell within a thou- 119 120 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. sand dollars, more or less, what was the value of the goods stored in any building in the dry-goods district, and for how much they were insured. If he could nt, he did any- how, and his guesses often came near the fact, as shown in the final adjustment. He sniffed a firebug from afar, and knew without asking how much salvage there was in a bale of cotton after being twenty-four hours in the fire. He is dead, poor fellow. In life he was fond of a joke, and in death the joke clung to him in a way wholly unforeseen. The firemen in the next block, with whom he made his headquarters when off duty, so that he might always be within hearing of the gong, wished to give some tangible evi- dence of their regard for the old reporter, but, being in a hurry, left it to the florist, who knew him well, to choose the design. He hit upon a floral fire-badge as the proper thing, and thus it was that when the com- pany of mourners was assembled, and the funeral service in progress, there arrived and was set upon the coffin, in the view of all, that triumph of the florists art, a shield of white roses, with this legend written across it in red immortelles: Admit within fire lines only. It was shocking, but irresistible. It brought down even the house of mourning. The incident recalls another in my experi- ence, which at the time caused me no little astonishment. A telegram from Long Branch had announced the drowning of a young actor, I think, whose three sisters lived over on Eighth Avenue. I had gone to the house to learn about the accident, and found them in the first burst of grief, dis- solved in tears. It was a very hot July day, and to guard against sunstroke I had put a cabbage-leaf in my hat. On the way over I forgot all about it, and the leaf, get- ting limp, settled down snugly upon my head like a ridiculous green skullcap. Knowing nothing of this, I was wholly unprepared for the effect my entrance, hatless, had upon the weeping family. The young ladies ceased crying, stared wildly, and then, to my utter bewilderment, broke into a fit of hysterical laughter. For the moment I thought they had gone mad. It was only when, in my per- plexity, I put up my hand to rub my head, that I came upon the cause of the strange hilarity. For years afterward the thought of it had the same effect upon me that the cabbage-leaf produced so unexpectedly in that grief-stricken home. Not the least important man in our camp was he with a nose for a count. Hunting this noble game constituted one of our most cherished diversions. There must surely be a surplus of counts somewhere that so many can be spared to the ordinary, unromantic precincts of Mulberry street. We dug them out in Wooster-street attics, in the tene- ments of the East Side, in every kind of unlikely place, and, when found, we made the most of them. In the language of the Delectable Ballad of the Waller Lot: Then dignities were heaped upon Clows noble yellow pup. The mere suggestion of a de in a name, or of the less exciting but always interesting von, sent us away on the hunt in full cry, and strangely pathetic were the disclosures that sometimes resulted. I see before me yet the room in a Clinton-street tenement, with the evening shadows creeping across the floor, where the tenant, an old cobbler, lay dead in his own blood. He had shot him- self that day, and inquiry proved true the suspicion, aroused in me by reading his very unusual name on the police slips, that he was the last descendant of Count Struensee, the unhappy minister of a feeble-minded Danish king, whose head had fallen upon the block a hundred years before, on the trumped-up charge that he had won the queens love away from her royal master. Two oceans and a century were bridged over in that dark little room, and in the red splash upon the floor the old tragedy was mirrored ~ith a new horror in my sight. It was in pursuit of the story of a Breton nobleman of hoped-for ancient lineage that I met with the most disheartening set-back of my experience. The setting of the case was most alluring. The old baronfor he was nothing less, though in Minetta Lane he passed fora cats-meat man who peddled his odd ware from door to doorhad been found by the police sick and starving in his wretched cellar, and had been taken to Belle- vue Hospital. The inevitable de suggested the story, and papers that I found in his trunk papers most carefully guarded and cher- ishedtold enough of it to whet my appetite to its keenest edge. If the owner could only be made to talk, if his stubborn family pride could only be overcome, there was every promise here of a sensation by means of which who could tell but belated justice might even be done him and his family apart from the phenomenal trouncing I should be administering through him to my rivals. Visions of conspiracies, court in- trigues, confiscations, and what not, danced before mygreedy mental vision. I flew rather THE DEAD BEE. 121 than walked up to Bellevue Hospital to offer him my paper and pen in the service of right and of vengeance, only to find that I was twenty-four hours late. The patient had al- ready been tran~f erred to the Charity Hog- pital as a bad case. The boat had gone; there would not be another for several hours. I could not wait, but it was a comfort, at all events, to know that my baron was where I could get at him on the morrow. I dreamed some more dreams of happiness as I went back, and was content. As it happened, I was very busy the next day and for several days after. The week was nearly spent when I found myself on the boat going up to the island. At the hospital office they reassured me with a queer look. Yes; my man was there, likely to stay there for a little while. The doctor would presently take me to see him on his rounds. In one of the big wards I found him at last, numbered in the row of beds among a score of other human wrecks, a little old man, bent and haggard, but with some of the dig- nity, I fancied, of his noble descent upon his white and wrinkled brow. He sat up in bed, propped by pi11ow~, arid li~teried with hirngry eyes as, in French which I had most care- fully polished up for the occasion, I told him my errand. When at last I paused, waiting anxiously for an answer, he laid one trembling hand on mineI noticed that the other hung limp from the shoulderand made, as it seemed, a superhuman effort to speak; but only inarticulate, pitiful sounds came forth. I looked appealingly at the doctor. Dumb, he said, and shook his head. Paralysis involving the vocal organs. He will never speak again. And he did nt. He was buried in the Potters Field the next week. For once I was too late. The story of the last of my barons remains untold until this hour. THE DEAD BEE. BY ALICE LENA COLE. EAD amid the dewy clover IJLies a bonny little rover Who could shape his course afar, Without compass, without star. Nevermore across the azure Shall he sail in search of treasure; Nevermore, when day is gone, Home shall hie his gulleon, From the jonquils golden chalice, And the lilys ivory palace, And the violets divine Cups of white and purple wine. Smile, smile on, thou faithless summer, To forget thine early-coiner. Say, if thou hadst first departed, Had he still been merry-hearted? On the boughs in rapture swinging, Gleefully the birds are singing. I, who mourn thee, little bee, Will pronounce thine elegy: Be it meetness or unmeetness, Thou didst garner up lifes sweetness; Wiser than the sages wist; Earth has one less optimist. VOL. LVIJI.16.

THE DEAD BEE. 121 than walked up to Bellevue Hospital to offer him my paper and pen in the service of right and of vengeance, only to find that I was twenty-four hours late. The patient had al- ready been tran~f erred to the Charity Hog- pital as a bad case. The boat had gone; there would not be another for several hours. I could not wait, but it was a comfort, at all events, to know that my baron was where I could get at him on the morrow. I dreamed some more dreams of happiness as I went back, and was content. As it happened, I was very busy the next day and for several days after. The week was nearly spent when I found myself on the boat going up to the island. At the hospital office they reassured me with a queer look. Yes; my man was there, likely to stay there for a little while. The doctor would presently take me to see him on his rounds. In one of the big wards I found him at last, numbered in the row of beds among a score of other human wrecks, a little old man, bent and haggard, but with some of the dig- nity, I fancied, of his noble descent upon his white and wrinkled brow. He sat up in bed, propped by pi11ow~, arid li~teried with hirngry eyes as, in French which I had most care- fully polished up for the occasion, I told him my errand. When at last I paused, waiting anxiously for an answer, he laid one trembling hand on mineI noticed that the other hung limp from the shoulderand made, as it seemed, a superhuman effort to speak; but only inarticulate, pitiful sounds came forth. I looked appealingly at the doctor. Dumb, he said, and shook his head. Paralysis involving the vocal organs. He will never speak again. And he did nt. He was buried in the Potters Field the next week. For once I was too late. The story of the last of my barons remains untold until this hour. THE DEAD BEE. BY ALICE LENA COLE. EAD amid the dewy clover IJLies a bonny little rover Who could shape his course afar, Without compass, without star. Nevermore across the azure Shall he sail in search of treasure; Nevermore, when day is gone, Home shall hie his gulleon, From the jonquils golden chalice, And the lilys ivory palace, And the violets divine Cups of white and purple wine. Smile, smile on, thou faithless summer, To forget thine early-coiner. Say, if thou hadst first departed, Had he still been merry-hearted? On the boughs in rapture swinging, Gleefully the birds are singing. I, who mourn thee, little bee, Will pronounce thine elegy: Be it meetness or unmeetness, Thou didst garner up lifes sweetness; Wiser than the sages wist; Earth has one less optimist. VOL. LVIJI.16. TWO LOVERS OF LITERATURE AND ART. CHARLES AND MARY COWDEN CLARKE. BY MRS. JAMES T. FIELDS. HARLES and Mary Cowden Clarke belong among the ap- preciators and disseminators of the best things in litera- ture. They may not be placed among the great originators, but they were born with reverent souls and keen artistic understanding. Perhaps a true appreciation of contemporary genius, and a reverence which makes the lesser things of the world subservient to the higher, are almost as valuable as creative power itself. Surely it is faith in the existence of such natures which serves to quicken the artist to his work. Emerson used to say that his own particular audience was a very small one, but it was of a quality to be trusted to dis- seminate his thought among thousands whom he could not himself reach. Mary Victoria Novello was one of the figures who may justly be called a flower of literature and art. She was not a great writer, she was not a great musician, she was not a great actor; but her character was so imbued with the spirit of art that her life was drawn from these fountains. This was her charm. There was no sentimental- ism in her attitude. She xvas ready for hard work, and early accustomed herself to labor joyfully: first, that she might help to support those who were dear to her, and, second, that whatever she did at all might be done well and bear the artist stamp. When we recall the natural joyousness of her nature, we must recall also how her gaiety was tempered by ardent love for her parents and her husband, and how for sixteen years she labored con- tinually upon what must often have become weary work enoughthat monument to in- dustry, The Complete Concordance to Shakspere. She was born in the month of June, 1809, and was the eldest of eleven children. Her home in London was the same to which her Italian grandfather came with his English wife years before. Vincent Novello, her father, was not long in making himself promi- 122 nent by his distinguished musical talent, and although they had not much money, they were comfortable and happy. Out of the limited means of a young professor, Mrs. Cowden Clarke wrote in later years, my mother contrived to make for her husband and children a neat and even elegant home, also a superior circle of friends, and many advantages only to be obtained through the influence of a wife and mother. . . . No expense was spared in the education of the children; both father and mother agreed in this. Victoria Novello enjoyed the exceptional privilege of going to Miss Mary Lamb to repeat her Latin grammar, and to listen to Miss Lambs reading of poetry. The echo of that gentle voice, she wrote, vibrates true and unbroken in the heart where the low-breathed sound first awoke response. The son of William Hazlitt also came to Mary Lamb on a like errand. He was a lively, rapid boy, and was once allowed to recite his grammar while Victoria waited. His brilliant method fired her ambition, and when her turn came, she began to scour through her verbs in the same fashion. What are you about, little Vicky? Miss Lamb asked, laughing. I see we are trying to be as quick as William; but let us each keep to our own natural ways, and then we shall be sure to do our best. The way in which books were made high treats in the Novello family, continued Mrs. Clarke, furnishes a pleasant and salutary example for other young fathers and mothers rearing a family on slender pecuniary re- sources. Often, when late overnight profes- sional avocations made early rising an impos- sibility to Vincent Novello, he would have his young ones on the bed while he ate the breakfast his wife brought him, and showed them some delightful volume he had pur- chased as a present for them. Nor was the theater omitted as a grand source of educa- tion as well as pleasure. Mrs. Cowden Clarke remembered well the glorious occasions when

TWO LOVERS OF LITERATURE AND ART. CHARLES AND MARY COWDEN CLARKE. BY MRS. JAMES T. FIELDS. HARLES and Mary Cowden Clarke belong among the ap- preciators and disseminators of the best things in litera- ture. They may not be placed among the great originators, but they were born with reverent souls and keen artistic understanding. Perhaps a true appreciation of contemporary genius, and a reverence which makes the lesser things of the world subservient to the higher, are almost as valuable as creative power itself. Surely it is faith in the existence of such natures which serves to quicken the artist to his work. Emerson used to say that his own particular audience was a very small one, but it was of a quality to be trusted to dis- seminate his thought among thousands whom he could not himself reach. Mary Victoria Novello was one of the figures who may justly be called a flower of literature and art. She was not a great writer, she was not a great musician, she was not a great actor; but her character was so imbued with the spirit of art that her life was drawn from these fountains. This was her charm. There was no sentimental- ism in her attitude. She xvas ready for hard work, and early accustomed herself to labor joyfully: first, that she might help to support those who were dear to her, and, second, that whatever she did at all might be done well and bear the artist stamp. When we recall the natural joyousness of her nature, we must recall also how her gaiety was tempered by ardent love for her parents and her husband, and how for sixteen years she labored con- tinually upon what must often have become weary work enoughthat monument to in- dustry, The Complete Concordance to Shakspere. She was born in the month of June, 1809, and was the eldest of eleven children. Her home in London was the same to which her Italian grandfather came with his English wife years before. Vincent Novello, her father, was not long in making himself promi- 122 nent by his distinguished musical talent, and although they had not much money, they were comfortable and happy. Out of the limited means of a young professor, Mrs. Cowden Clarke wrote in later years, my mother contrived to make for her husband and children a neat and even elegant home, also a superior circle of friends, and many advantages only to be obtained through the influence of a wife and mother. . . . No expense was spared in the education of the children; both father and mother agreed in this. Victoria Novello enjoyed the exceptional privilege of going to Miss Mary Lamb to repeat her Latin grammar, and to listen to Miss Lambs reading of poetry. The echo of that gentle voice, she wrote, vibrates true and unbroken in the heart where the low-breathed sound first awoke response. The son of William Hazlitt also came to Mary Lamb on a like errand. He was a lively, rapid boy, and was once allowed to recite his grammar while Victoria waited. His brilliant method fired her ambition, and when her turn came, she began to scour through her verbs in the same fashion. What are you about, little Vicky? Miss Lamb asked, laughing. I see we are trying to be as quick as William; but let us each keep to our own natural ways, and then we shall be sure to do our best. The way in which books were made high treats in the Novello family, continued Mrs. Clarke, furnishes a pleasant and salutary example for other young fathers and mothers rearing a family on slender pecuniary re- sources. Often, when late overnight profes- sional avocations made early rising an impos- sibility to Vincent Novello, he would have his young ones on the bed while he ate the breakfast his wife brought him, and showed them some delightful volume he had pur- chased as a present for them. Nor was the theater omitted as a grand source of educa- tion as well as pleasure. Mrs. Cowden Clarke remembered well the glorious occasions when

TWO LOVERS OF LITERATURE AND ART. CHARLES AND MARY COWDEN CLARKE. BY MRS. JAMES T. FIELDS. HARLES and Mary Cowden Clarke belong among the ap- preciators and disseminators of the best things in litera- ture. They may not be placed among the great originators, but they were born with reverent souls and keen artistic understanding. Perhaps a true appreciation of contemporary genius, and a reverence which makes the lesser things of the world subservient to the higher, are almost as valuable as creative power itself. Surely it is faith in the existence of such natures which serves to quicken the artist to his work. Emerson used to say that his own particular audience was a very small one, but it was of a quality to be trusted to dis- seminate his thought among thousands whom he could not himself reach. Mary Victoria Novello was one of the figures who may justly be called a flower of literature and art. She was not a great writer, she was not a great musician, she was not a great actor; but her character was so imbued with the spirit of art that her life was drawn from these fountains. This was her charm. There was no sentimental- ism in her attitude. She xvas ready for hard work, and early accustomed herself to labor joyfully: first, that she might help to support those who were dear to her, and, second, that whatever she did at all might be done well and bear the artist stamp. When we recall the natural joyousness of her nature, we must recall also how her gaiety was tempered by ardent love for her parents and her husband, and how for sixteen years she labored con- tinually upon what must often have become weary work enoughthat monument to in- dustry, The Complete Concordance to Shakspere. She was born in the month of June, 1809, and was the eldest of eleven children. Her home in London was the same to which her Italian grandfather came with his English wife years before. Vincent Novello, her father, was not long in making himself promi- 122 nent by his distinguished musical talent, and although they had not much money, they were comfortable and happy. Out of the limited means of a young professor, Mrs. Cowden Clarke wrote in later years, my mother contrived to make for her husband and children a neat and even elegant home, also a superior circle of friends, and many advantages only to be obtained through the influence of a wife and mother. . . . No expense was spared in the education of the children; both father and mother agreed in this. Victoria Novello enjoyed the exceptional privilege of going to Miss Mary Lamb to repeat her Latin grammar, and to listen to Miss Lambs reading of poetry. The echo of that gentle voice, she wrote, vibrates true and unbroken in the heart where the low-breathed sound first awoke response. The son of William Hazlitt also came to Mary Lamb on a like errand. He was a lively, rapid boy, and was once allowed to recite his grammar while Victoria waited. His brilliant method fired her ambition, and when her turn came, she began to scour through her verbs in the same fashion. What are you about, little Vicky? Miss Lamb asked, laughing. I see we are trying to be as quick as William; but let us each keep to our own natural ways, and then we shall be sure to do our best. The way in which books were made high treats in the Novello family, continued Mrs. Clarke, furnishes a pleasant and salutary example for other young fathers and mothers rearing a family on slender pecuniary re- sources. Often, when late overnight profes- sional avocations made early rising an impos- sibility to Vincent Novello, he would have his young ones on the bed while he ate the breakfast his wife brought him, and showed them some delightful volume he had pur- chased as a present for them. Nor was the theater omitted as a grand source of educa- tion as well as pleasure. Mrs. Cowden Clarke remembered well the glorious occasions when TWO LOVERS OF LITERATURE AND ART. 123 Mr. Novello took his little girl to the play: once when she came riding home, doubtless half asleep, on her fathers shoulder, and once, a night of joyful surprise, when, com- ing home after a long days school-teaching, he bade his little daughter get Shakspere s play of Much Ado about Nothing, and read him the opening scenes while he ate his din- ner (which she had prepared, laying the cloth for papa, as mama was up-stairs with the new baby); and then, as a reward for his daughters good housewifery, telling her to put on her bonnet, and he would take her to Covent Garden Theater to see Charles Kemble play Benedick. Surely a child educated by continual op- portunities to enjoy music, books, and the best acting may well have been different from others; yet when we reflect that such pleasures are within the reach of many who do not feed upon them and many who are not nourished from these fountains, it is quite worth while to pause and see how rich this child became, though poor in this worlds goods, and how wholesomely her nature developed itself. From the first the eldest child was accus- tomed to bear her share of the family bur- dens. She was hardly done with her own studies when she took a place as governess, which she held until her parents decided that the care of five children was too great for her to bear at her still tender age. In considering her character one is reminded of what our American wit, Tom Appleton, once said after some months of travel in the company of an interesting Frenchwoman that she was the only person he had ever heard of who could live upon sunsets. There was something like this in the whole Novello family; a plain house, plain food, and labo- rious days were no pain to them if they could take care of one another and enjoy true plea- sures in one anothers society. Charles Cowden Clarke was a teacher by nature, one of the most enviable endowments a human creature can receive. He was his fathers chief assistant in the school at En- field from a very early age, and there he remained until he came up to London to follow his desire for a literary life. Keatss love for Cowden Clarke from the time they found each other out in the school- house at Enfield will keep the name and memory of the poets friend green so long as poetry endures. Charles was already a confirmed reader of good books. It was to him Keats wrote: You first taught me all the sweets of song; and again: I have long time been my fancy feeding With hopes that you one day would think the reading Of my rough verses not an hour misspent. Cowden Clarke was gifted with a calm nature and one fitted to bear with gentle- ness the buffeting fortunes of a long life. He modestly says of himself and of his wife: To the fact of our having had pre~minently good and enlightened parents is perhaps chiefly attributable the privileges we have enjoyed. . . . Both John Clarke, the school- master, and Vincent Novello, the musician, with their admirable wives, liberal-minded and intelligent beyond most of their time and calling, delighted in the society of clever people, and cultivated those relations for their children. His earliest school-days were guided and stimulated in the right direction, not only with regard to reading and study, but in the choice of congenial companions. John Keats, he writes, was one of the little fellows who had not wholly emerged from the childs costume upon being placed under my fathers care. . . . He once told me, smiling, that one of his guar- dians, being informed what books I lent him to read, declared if he had fifty children he would not send them to that school. These books, it appeared, were Burnets History of His Own Time and Leigh Hunts Examiner. It is easy to see that the two boys took to each other in spite of some disparity of age, and Cowden Clarkes quick discernment of the inspired child showed that his own nature was already unfolding a power of dis- crimination unusual in the ordinary school- boy. His friendship with Keats was not interrupted when, a few years later, both went to London to pursue their several callings. He was not long, writes Cowden Clarke, in discovering my abode. Mr. Alsager, it seems, lent them a copy of Homer, and they were soon at work. Clarke first met Leigh Hunt at an evening party, and was greatly attracted to him. Shortly after came the news that he had been thrown into Horsemonger Lane Jail for a libel on the prince regent. Charless father gave him permission to visit the prison and carry Leigh Hunt, weekly, fresh flowers, fruit, and vegetables from the Enfield garden. During these visits he made the acquain- tance of Thomas Moore and other interest- ing men, and subsequently, probably through Leigh Hunt, of Vincent Novello. This was the opening of the proudest and happiest period of my existence, he once wrote. 124 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. Imagine what it must have been to a young man of keen social instincts and tastes like his own to have those wonderful evenings of sacred music thrown open to him, when Vin- cent Novello played the organ at the Portu- guese Chapel and introduced into England for the first time the masses of Haydn and Mozart; life must have seemed suddenly glorified, and the world a new place to his receptive mind. Then followed the exquisite evenings at Vincent Novellos own house, where Leigh Hunt, Shelley, Keats, and the Lambs were invited guests. It was on one of these occasions that Victoria, full of girlish enthusiasm, crept behind the sofa and laid her little soft cheek upon Leigh Hunts resting hand, which, she says, was slender and whitea true poets hand. Then followed suppers at the alternate dwellings of the Novellos, the Hunts, and the Lambs, who had mutually agreed that bread and cheese, with celery and Elias immor- talized Lutheran beer, were to be the sole cates provided. There were also meetings at the theater when Munden, Dowton, Liston, Bannister, Elliston, and Fanny Kelly were on the stage, and picnic repasts to- gether by appointment in the fields that then lay spread in green breadth and luxuriance between the west end of Oxford street and the western slope of Hampstead Hill. To crown the pleasure of one of these days in the fields, Leigh Hunt read to the assembled group, growing and grown up, the Dog- berry scenes from Much Ado about No- thing, till the place rang with laughter. At last a city friend found for Cowden Clarke a small clerkship in the office of works, Guildhall, until he should get some- thing better; but nothing better ever came to him in the way of official employment, his wife afterward wrote, and he never became a rich man, though he also never became other than a most cheerful, con- tented, nay, happy man. Cowden Clarke went to live for a while at Ramsgate about this time, and hearing that Charles Lamb and his sister were at Mar- gate, went over to see them. It seems, he writes, as if it were but yesterday that I noted Lambs eager way of telling me about an extraordinarily large whale that had been captured there, of its having created a lively interest in the place, of its having been con- veyed away in a strong cart, on which it lay, a huge mass of colossal height; when he added,with one of his sudden, droll, penetrat- ing glances, The eye has just gone past our window. Leigh Hunt had already been some time in Italy when there came the sudden and terrible news of Shelleys death. Shortly after, Mary Shelley and Jane Williams, beau- tiful in their young widowhood, returned to London, bringing a letter from Leigh Hunt recommending them to Mrs. Novellos spe- cial care. The Novellos had taken a large, old-fashioned house and garden on Shackle- well Green, and it was here they made the travelers welcome, wooing them by gentle degrees into peacefuller and hopefuller mood of mind after their storm of bereavement. One of the first objects of that period was to cheer and enliven the two ladies during the evening hours. There were voices enough in that musical circle to perform the various madrigals or Mozartean operas that were most frequently performed by them. There were also animated discus- sions of poetry, of rare old books, and of last new books, besides graver arguments. Of all those musical evenings, the one referred to in a note appended by Vincent Novello to his composition called Thanks- giving after Enjoyment was perhaps the most memorable. It was soon after Mali- brans marriage with De Beriot, and they ~both came to this party at the Novellos house. De Beriot played in a string-quar- tet of Haydn, while his wife sang many times with wonderful feeling and spirit. Mendelssohn, who was present, was deeply moved and excited, and yielded readily to Malibrans entreaty when, with her pretty foreign accent, she said: Now, Mr. Mendels- sohn, I never do nothing for nothing; you must play for me now I have sung for you. He went at once to the piano, and in his improvisation introduced the several pieces Malibran had sung, one after another, and finally in combination, the four subjects blended together in elaborate counterpoint. Vincent Novello said afterward to a friend: He has done some things that seem to me impossible, even after I have heard them done.~~ It was about this period that Cowden Clarke was engaged on the Atlas news- paper to write the articles on fine arts, and Leigh Hunt, having returned to Eng- land, also engaged him to contribute to his Tatler and ~London Journal. He soon wrote his Tales from Chaucer and con- tinued to produce other and less known books. He now felt that the moment when he could ask for the woman of his choice had arrived, although she was still very young. TWO LOVERS OF LITERATURE AND ART. 125 Keats had already died, leaving a gap never to be filled in the loving heart of his friend. In Cowden Clarkes Recollections of John Keats, a most delightful record of the poet, containing hints and pictures to be found nowhere else, he says: I had been absent for some weeks from London, and had not heard of the dangerous state of Keatss health, only that he and Severn were going to Italy; it was therefore an unprepared-for shock which brought me news of his death in Rome.~~ Mary xvas married when she was only nine- teen years old, and came home with her hus- band to live in her fathers house. For a family of different quality of character this marriage might have seemed a hardship; but not so with the Novellos. We hear occa- sionally of rare persons to whom poverty is no insuperable burden, to whom the sweet- ness of life is rendered only more sweet by sacrifice and honest exertion; but more fre- quently, alas! with finely endowed natures, we find either the scars of battle, or penuri- ous thought, or increasing loss of power of self-dependence. These pecuniary straits, however, did not continue many years with Charles and Mary Clarke. They were young, strong, and exceptionally happy in each others society. They were accustomed to work, and determined never to allow their energy to flag. Hence the story of these early years is as valuable as it is beautiful. What could be better than the account of their wedding and the honeymoon? Her father and mother were the only persons who went early one bright summer morning, July 5, 1828, with their daughter to St. Georges Church, Bloomsbury, where she married the man of her heart, whom they also entirely loved and esteemed. A couple of milkmaids were sole observers of the small wedding-party that went up the flight of steps, whispering, Thats the bride, as the young girl, in a simple white-satin cottage bonnet and a white-muslin frock, both made by her own hands, passed near. Quietly they walked home again after the marriage ceremony, when, having enjoyed a breakfast prepared by her brothers and sis- ters, with gifts from the bride on each plate, and the wedding-dress having been ex- changed for a less noticeable straw bonnet and plainer white frock, they walked away to take the stage-coach for Edmonton. At Edmonton they left the coach and took their way across the fields between there and Enfield, Charles making his native village the scene of his honeymoon. At a modest hostelry, called the Greyhound, boasting two pretty rooms, the couple housed happily for some weeks, lingering among the nooks most associated with John Keats and other points of interest to the lovers. So little changed was Charles in boyish looks that he was often saluted by the villagers with the exclamation, Ah, Master Charley, glad to see you again! Charles Lamb wrote to Clarke a little later: The autumn leaves drop gold, and Enfield is beautifuller, to a common eye, than when you lurked at the Greyhound. Benedicks are close, but how I so totally missed you at that time, going for my morn- ing cup of ale duly, is a mystery. T was stealing a march before ones face in ear- nest. But certainly we had not a dream of your appropinquity. I instantly prepared an epithalamium, in the form of a sonata, which I was sending to Novello to compose; but Mary forbid it me, as too light for the occa- sion. . . . I promise you the wedding was very pleasant news to me indeed. Cowden Clarkes new occupations in Lon- don did not prove very lucrative, and his wife relates a touching anecdote of her mother, during these early years of married life, which gives an idea of the cheerful household and of the happy relations between its members. Mrs. Novello was very ill, and it was thought she might not recover. One day she called Charles and Mary to her bed- side, bade them bring her the little red account-book in which memoranda were kept of the modest sums paid to the parent fund for board and lodging, telling them that their father and she had agreed to cancel whatever arrears of debt might there be entered, and they would henceforth start afresh. This~ was only one more proof of their parents confidence in Cowden Clarkes character, which was indeed of the finest quality. He proved from the first altogether worthy of thb trust reposed in him. There is a homely incident which possesses all the charm of spontaneousness and goes to corroborate what has been suggested of his influence over children. A little girl, a near relative of his wife, had been sitting by his side one day, cuddling close and gazing at him without a word. Her steadfast look at last attracted him. Well, what do you want, you blessed little creature? he said. Oh, nothing, she answered; I am only doating up at you, Clarkey. Every guinea Charles gained he brought to his wife. He confided to her from first to last the entire management of whatever 126 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. money they earned. No hour in the twenty- four was spent away from her whom he liked to have always with him. The mornings were spent at their writing-table, where, on either side of his chair, as quiet as mice, his wifes two youngest sisters, then mere children, with slates, maps, and books piled up around them, were preparing lessons for him, as he undertook to teach the little girls. The afternoons were generally dedicated to a walk in the open air, and the evenings often brought visits to the theater, where William Hazlitt soon became one of their companions. Before the first decade of their married life was ended Charles embraced a sugges- tion from his wife that he should become a lecturer upon literature. He was admirably fitted for the task, with an untiring power of reading aloud, and a fine, full, flexible voice, not to speak of his knowledge and love of his chosen subjects and his inherited power of teaching. Altogether the scheme was a great success. He became immedi- ately popular. His lectures were carefully written essays, the result of long and patient study, full of acute and subtle criticism, and always throwing new lights on the subject in hand. . . . He lectured on Shakspere, his fools, his clowns, his kings,on special characters or plays, and every library soon found an increased demand for Shaksperes works. There were thirty different lectures, written out and delivered many times. Those on Moli~re were alsovery popular; and in addi- tion to his lectures his pen was daily occupied in other directions. For more than twenty years he continued this incessant labor, ap- parently without any sense of overwork, and with increasing pleasure at the independence he thereby achieved. Meanwhile, one year after their marriage, Mary set herself to the great task of making a Shakspere concordance, which was a con- stant labor during sixteen years. But the work was not without its reward in the doing, and it has held its place unchallenged in the gratitude of all readers for nearly fifty years. The year 1845 was made memorable in the lives of husband and wife by the completion and publication of the book. Mrs. Clarke has written regarding the inception of this 1 Curiously enough, when Charles Dickens was last in this country Mr. Fields found in a shop window in New York a water-color drawing of Mary Cowden Clarke as Mistress Quickly, done in the year 1848, when the play was produced. Here is the black-velvet cap, lined with scarlet silk, to which I added a pinner and lappet of old point-lace, . . . so as to give an idea of the ship-tire mentioned by Falstaff. Dickens thought the drawing work: It is now more than half a century ago, when, on the 15th of July, 1829, sitting at the breakfast-table of some friends in pleas- ant Somersetshire,regret was expressed that there existed no concordance to Shakspere, whose works formed the Bible of the intel- lectual world. Eager in everything, I re- solved there and then that Iwould write this desired concordance; and that very after- noon, while joining my friends in their walk through the fields, I took a volume of the poet and a pencil with me, and jotted down the first lines of my book under B: Boatswain, have care. (Tempest, I, i.) Many tributes were showered upon her when the book was at last published; but nothing expressed more truly the wide recog- nition of her benefaction to the world than the handsome chair sent from America, pre- sented by several ladies and gentlemen of the United States. Among other honored names engraved upon it, wrote Mrs. Clarke in one of her letters, are those of Austin Allibone, William Cullen Bryant, Charlotte Cushman, Washington Irving, H. W. Long- fellow, George Ticknor, R. Grant White, and Daniel Webster. Some kind friend preserved the very gold coin which was the form in which Daniel Websters contribu- tion was given, and sent it to the author. She always kept it among her treasures. Webster once said of Mrs. Clarkes concor- dance, She has treasured up every word of Shakspere as if he were her lover and she were his. One of the most engrossing labors and pleasures of Mary Cowden Clarkes life was her associatioU with Dickenss Amateur Company of Players. He was eagerly look- ing for some one to enact Mistress Quickly, in Shaksperes Merry Wives, when, to his great satisfaction, Mrs. Clarke offered her assistance. The prime object in view was to endow a perpetual curatorship for the house in which Shakspere was born. Her own story (with Dickenss letters of that period) gives a wonderfully graphic picture, not only of the scenes they passed through, but of the persons concerned.1 After more than twenty years of such must have been done by Leslie, but in the following letter from Mrs. Clarke she expresses some doubt on the subject as to which of the many artists connected with their corps drew this particular sketch. She says: You speak of a colored sketch of me in Dame Quickly, and ask if it could have been by Leslie. The only pic- ture I know of the kind is one in water-colors by Wil- liam Havell, which he took of me after my return to TWO LOVERS OF LITERATURE AND ART. 127 incessant occupation, death having taken their beloved parents and others nearest to them, it was agreed by the remaining mem- bers of the Novello family to return to Italy, the land of their progenitors, to live. There was a year of farewells, which were not easy to affectionate natures like theirs; but after the change was once made there were no regrets. Of their Italian home Cowden Clarke wrote once to Mr. Fields: My brother, Alfred Novello, has converted one of the old Geno- ese palaces into a comfortable modern man- sion, wherein my wife and I have a snug nook, comprising a library and rooms that overlook on one side the blue Mediterranean and the harbor of Genoa, on the other the fair green hills, I might say mountains, that lead away toward Tuscany. In the aforesaid library we two work along at our favorite labor. The musical career of Mary Clarkes sister, Clara Novello, one of Englands most famous singers, and her subsequent marriage in Italy to Count Gigliucci, continued Mrs. Clarkes affiliation with the great world, which otherwise might have been more slenderly maintained after the retirement of the family to Genoa. Especially might this have been the case during the later years of her long life, when, on the contrary, the companion- ship and musical tastes of her nieces were a continual and sufficient happiness. The old Genoese palace, with its frescos and the garden with roses and laurel looking out over the Mediterranean, would some- times have been but a silent abode except for the joyful enlivenment of these young visitors. It is delightful to look at the photo- graphs of the family in theatrical costume after the play of Bluebeards Widow, written by my sister Sabilla, as Mrs. Clarke wrote, which had been performed at the villa, and to remember the days and nights of music in the room with long win- dows overlooking the bay. Yet, though the presence of the young is always renewing, there was an unfailing youth and good cheer Craven Hill Cottage from the Amateur Expedition in 1848, and which has always been (and is still) in our own possession. He may have made a duplicate, but I never heard of his having done so. The artists belong- ing to our company were John Leech, Frank Stone, Topham, George Cruikshank, and Augustus Egg, and possibly they or some one witnessing those perform- ances may have taken sketches of some of the per- formers. (Dickens was usually very accurate, and spoke confidently of the sketch as being by Leslie, but I do not remember what foundation he had for the state- ment. It is, however, an interesting memento of that period.) It is far from improbable that Augustus Egg in the inhabitants of the Villa Novello. They never grew old to each other. As the years passed, Mrs. Cowden Clarke would describe in her letters the particulars of their life in Genoa and the continuance and progress of their literary work. She says in 1875: We have been idly busy re- ceiving a newly married nephew and his bride, who, after a moon of honey in the valley of the Engadine, came down to stay with us in Genoa, and who sing to us duets by Gounod and Lassen and songs by Gounod and Schumann, while we have the joy of bringing them acquainted with Christabel, The Ancient Mariner, Tintern Abbey, Laodamia, Story of Rimini, Abou ben Adhem, Abraham and the Fire-worshiper, etc., for the first time in their lives. Fancy the enchantment I am in at reading aloud these beloved old poetical favorites to young, fresh hearers, who fully appreciate the beauty they hear as novelty. The audience employ their fingers, while listening, by making lint for the hospital here, which occupation serves our men-folk to savor the pleasure we women-folk taste from needle- work during reading aloud. Sometimes our nephew takes the place of reader by giving us~ a comedy or two of Scribe and a few clever Italian pieces, one of which (Ii Par- latore eterno) I always used to wish to translate for Charles Dickens to acthe would have done it to perfection! Surely few domestic pictures could be prettier: the youthful lovers listening to Coleridge, Keats, and Leigh Hunt for the first time from the mouth of the silver-haired old lady in her diaphanous cap, while she unfolded their beauties in her own persua- sive manner, and the lint-pickers sat around. Her appreciatioli of American writers was also delightfully hearty. Her letters are full of messages to Bryant, Longfellow, Whit- tier, Holmes, Celia Thaxter, the young poet Aldrich, and other favorites. She entered upon new correspondence with her young friends Sarah Jewett and Imogen Guiney with the zest of a girl.1 took the sketch you mention of Dame Quickly, because I recollect that he praised the costume worn in the character, for the artistic reason that it looked toned down, and not too new, as those of the rest of the per- formers did. My having made my own dress for that and all the characters I played, using material which had already served me in other forms, occasioned this desirable effect, so that the costume in question looked as though its wearer had often pottered about in it through Windsor streets. 1 In any mention of Mrs. Clarkes friends the names of Mr. and Mrs. Horace Howard Furness must not he omitted. Her deep appreciation and understanding of 128 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. In 1876 Mrs. Clarke says of her husbands health: I have excellent reason for agree- ing with Touchstone in averring that so-sop is not good; it is but so-so. However, I m grateful that it s no worse, but only so-so. In March, 1877, Charles Cowden Clarke died, the spring sunshine falling on his bed as he lay with eyes closed, and a tranquil ex- pression on his whole countenance. lie had reached the great age of ninety years, being nearly txventy years older than his wife. Nevertheless, the book of Memorial Son- nets dedicated to him, which she published a few years later, might have been dedicated to a young lover. They are most touching in their simple record of affection. When Cow- den Clarke was nearly seventy years old, he wrote to a sister, speaking of his wife: My soul seems daily more and more knit with hers; . . . and I do not conceive how there can be a happier being in existence than your loving brother Charles. Two years after his death Mrs. Clarke was persuaded to see Rome for the first time. She says: You may be sure that as I en- tered it I found myself thinking of Corio- lanuss noble wish: The honord gods Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice Supplyd with worthy men! plant love among us! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, And not our streets with war! She describes her deep interest in the scenes around her, and says laughingly, as she could only remain a fortnight, she was reminded of Dick Swivellers telling the marchioness that beer aint to be tasted in a sip. She found time, however, to see Mr. Severn, Keatss friend, who was lying on his death-bed. Opposite the foot of his bed, she writes, hung a portrait of dear John Keats, which he had painted from memory rather more than a year ago. It was animated, bright, and a good likeness, especially of the eyes and mouth. When she came away she says: He gave me his thin, trembling hand, which I put against my cheek, as I bade him farewell on taking leave.~~ Mrs. Clarkes letters did not cease to come with their accustomed punctuality and sym- pathy so long as she could hold a pen. She seldom dwelt upon her own grief, or hinted their work brought them into close sympathy and affec- tion. Mrs. Furness, as it were, crowned Mrs. Clarkes work by her Concordance to Shaksperes Poems, while Mr. Furnesss great and scholarly work in editing the Variorum Edition of the plays, of which ten volumes have already appeared, could find no more true under- standing than she gave to his labor. at it save in such passages as the following, where she is speaking of Longfellows sonnet on Holidays: Please tell him, she says, that it pro- cured me (a night or two after its perusal) a dreamfar more lovely than I can tell, and far more intense in beautiful revealment of the immortality of love than I can recount, even to you two and to him. It seemed a direct vouchsafement from Heaven in con- firmation of the venerable poets words, and sent for my special consolation. She was enabled to live up to a jocose passage in one of her own letters, where she says: How well are your words, What non- sense it is to feel old! and I am sometimes afflicted to hear young fellows of seventy or eighty call themselves old, verified by the energy and activity of those fine boys Moltke and the King of Prussia, and some others one could name! Really it seems to me that nowadays it is the elderlies of under twenty and thirty who are the blas6 effetes, while it is the stripling octogenarians who are full of life and vigor and faith in good. We have already referred to Mrs. Clarkes vitality and power of enjoyment. When she was seventy-nine years old she speaks in one bf her letters to Miss Guiney of a summer she and her sister passed in Germany: At Dresden we enjoyed sixteen operas and twenty dramas (among which were Shak- speres Midsummer-Nights Dream with Mendelssohns music, Goethes Egmont with Beethoven~ s music, and Byrons Man- fred with Schumanns music, and superbly poetic scenery), going on foot every evening to the excellent Hoftheater in the glow of the setting sun, and returning in time to go to rest before ten oclock; so that I, who love early hours, can revel in theater-going when in Germany. Mrs. Clarke was eighty-two years old when I saw her for the last time at the hospitable gates of the Villa Novello. Snow had fallen that morning in Genoa; nevertheless, the dark-red roses twining themselves around a splendid laurel-tree by the long dining-room window were not in the least discouraged, nor the Mar6chal Niel roses in the garden. A fortnight earlier we had left the bleak shores of New England, and the change was wonderful. The brilliant afternoon sun poured into the drawing-room, making the little show of winter evanescent indeed. All the modest treasures of the Novellos London home were transported to this de- lightful spot chosen by Alfred Novello for their future residence. The villa had been TWO LOVERS OF LITERATURE AND ART. 129 degraded into a leather-dressers establish- ment when he first saw it; but, standing as it did within a short drive or comfortable walk from Genoa, with fertile vineyard and grounds sloping down and washed by the Mediterranean, with a view of the mountains also, he at once saw the opportunity, by dint of careful restoration and planting, of mak- ing it one of the loveliest spots in Italy. Here we saw a sketch in water-colors by Sir Thomas Lawrence of Mrs. Siddons, which seemed to bring her nearer in her habit as she lived than the more effective portraits painted for the public by which she is gener- ally known. Here also one of the most curi- VOL. LVJII.17. ous stores of relics perhaps in the world is that of the locks of hair preserved by Mrs. Clarke. These treasures have all been mounted by her own hand between pieces of glass, with autographs and suitable in- scriptions added by way of explanation. I asked how Mary Shelley looked, for I was surprised to see that her curls were almost as fair in color as those of Shelley. I wrote about her for a magazine a year or two ago,~~ she said, and described her as she was; but the critics said I was always seeing every- thing through rose-colored spectacles. I was only trying to tell people how the lady looked who had attracted the poets love. For all DRAWN BY FRANCIS DAY, FROM A PSATOARAPA LENT DY MRS JAMES T. FIELDS. MARY COWDEN CLARKE, AUGUST, 1881. 130 THE CENTURY MAGAZINE. that, she was beautiful, with her well-shaped, golden-haired head, almost always a little bent and drooping; her marble-white shoul- ders and arms statuesquely visible in the perfectly plain black-velvet dress, which the custom of that time allowed to be cut low; . . her thoughtful, earnest eyes; her short upper lip and intellectually curved mouth, with a certain close-compressed and decisive expression while she listened, and a relaxa- tion into fuller redness and mobility when speaking; her exquisitely formed hands, too 1 can see them all again in my memory. There were also in this extraordi- nary collection a curl from the head of Mozart, given to Vincent Novello by his widow, and the haji of Beethoven,besides a strand from Shelleys curling locks, Mary Wollstone- crafts, Leigh Hunts, Maz- zinis, Garibaldis, Mary Somervilles, Florence Nightingales, Malibrans, and others. Did you ever see Shel- ley? I asked. Only once, she replied, when I was a child of eleven, just before he went to Italy. He had called to see my father, and was about leaving the house when my mother said: Run to the window, Victoria, and see the poet Shelley, who has just been making a visit to your father. I ran eagerly and put my head out, when, for some unexplained reason, just as he was put- ting on his hat, he turned and looked up at the window where I was, and smiled at me. I cannot forget it; indeed, I seldom forget anything, the old lady added. Here, too, stands the famous chair to which we have already referred, presented to Mrs. Clarke by her American friends after the completion of the concordance. It is handsomely carved, and partly made of wood cut from Shaksperes famous mulberry-tree in New Place. The rich brocade with which it was originally covered was worn out many years ago, but it has been recovered with needlework most precious in Mary Clarkes eyes, done by her famous sister, the great singer Clara Novello. Mrs. Cowden Clarkes reminiscences were extraordinary because they were accurate and as if engraved on her memory. In look- ing at the portrait of Mrs. Siddons she was led to recall the first appearance of Fanny Kemble as Juliet, which she watched from a stage-box with the profound interest of a loving friend. Mr. and Mrs. Kemble played with their daughter, the latter taking the part of Lady Capulet. I saw ber as she stood at the wings, biting her lips, her eyes fixed upon her child, while the tears streamed down her cheeks. The green baize of the floor came up and struck me in the face,~~ said Fanny Kemble afterward, describing the agitation which almost overpowered her. Fanny Kemble, said Mrs. Clarke, showed HOUSE WHERE CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE WAS HORN. DRAWN BY A. ABENOSCREIN, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH HR SCIOTTO & 00., GENOA. CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE, MAY, 1873. TWO LOVERS OF LITERATURE AND ART. 131 true originality in the rendering of her part. Where she is seen watching for the nurse, the young Juliet stood at one side of the stage, half kneeling in a chair and gazing eagerly, with her back to the audience. In those days such a thing had never been seen. She was very beautiful in the part, and beautifully dressed, but it was easy to see that she was laboring under great ex- citement. The loveliness of the old villa yearly in- creased, in spite of some dreaded encroach- ments. We find a little description of the garden written by a friend in those later years. He speaks of the sunny terrace commanding the blue bay, where the African hoopoe yearly alights early in September, of its fountains and runnels of fresh water, enticing the nightingale to make her abode among the eucalyptus- and palm-trees, and the sound at evening of the Garibaldian hymn played by soldiers who guard the forts beneath the garden walls. When the news of Mrs. Cowden Clarkes death was recorded in the London Athen~e- um the writer added that one of the last links was severed between those who knew Keats and Shelley and the present genera- tion. Her cheerful optimism and her kind heart made her conversation most charming to listen to, and the vivacity she retained at her advanced age was surprising. Her ac- tivity, mental and bodily, was great. Mary Cowden Clarke died January 12, 1897, at eighty-eight years of age. It was a long sunsetting, but there is also a long afterglow for such lives as hers and her husbands; not because they possessed in themselves what is called genius, but for the tender reverence which was in them for all best things, and for the light which these things shed upon their own lives. FOAM A WATER-COLOR DRAWINA LENT 80 MRS. JAMES T. FIELDS. MARY COWDEN CLARKE AS MISTRESS QUICKLY IN THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, AS PERFORMED BY DICKENS S AMATEUR COMPANY IN 1848. SURELY, I THINK YOU HAVE CHARMS, LA. WE RE LOST! HE SHRIEKED, AND FELL ALL STUMHLING TO THE DECK.

WE RE LOST! HE SHRIEKED, AND FELL ALL STUMHLING TO THE DECK. BY LOUISE MORGAN SILL. AS gray as the booming surf, As bleak as the ocean vast, With the moving dead at her horned head The Flying Dutchman passed. No wake her passage made, No sound of weal or woe; Without a sigh, twixt wave and sky, All silent did she go. None saw the shape but one, And moaning, Woe is me! He traced her course, with accents hoarse, For the mate and men to see: The dry-rot stung her sides, I saw its glitter brave; And where she sped the air seemed dead As in an opened grave. Upon her gloomy spars St. Elmo struck his light; The death-dew on her canvas shone, And shed a dripping blight. I saw her crew bend wan And stiffly to their task; Each seamans faceGod give me grace! Went staring like a mask. Each seamans bones were sharp, And, by the sea-wind jarred, His garments hung and swayed and swung Like loose sails on a yard. We re lost! he shrieked, and fell All stumbling to the deck. Ere next days sun his course had run They were a drifting wreck. They drifted toward the north, They turned and drifted south; Man after man to rave began, Dry-tongued, with gaping mouth. Man after man did die, Till only one was there, Who huddled alone like a staring crone, With madness in his stare. One morn there came a ship; He heard the sailors shout, As merrily and cheerily They brought the boat about. He rose with shaking limb; He clasped his bony hand; But all his fears dissolved in tears, As they bore him to the land. No more to sea sail I, But pray and go to mass; For I am heGod lean to me! Who saw the Dutchman pass. VOL. LVHI.~l7.* 133 THE FLYING DUTCHMAN. A NOTE OF SCARLET. BY RUTH McENERY STUART, Author of Sonny etc. IN TWO PARTS. PART I. ISS MELISSA ANN MOORE was a spinster who knitted green moss mats. She had learned how to make these mats when she was very young, and constant practice had kept her art perfect through many years. There are two classes of needlework women: there are those who learn a pattern to honor it all their daysto whom it is as a creed, and who would scorn a departure as they would scorn a heresy in religion; and others there are whom a design serves only as a hint, valuable chiefly as a point of de- parture into ways of their own without end. Even womanly women of this latter type have been known to confess a momentary grudge against a pair of tiny pink feet that (lemanded two of a kind from their all too adventurous needles. Miss Melissa was an orthodox creature, and not more steadfast was she to the faith of her fathers than to the one moss pat- tern of her mothers. She fully believed that every perfectly constructed mat that emanated from her faithful fingers was fore- ordained to be, from the beginning of time, else it would never have been counted worthy to materialize. There were examples of Miss Melissas art in nearly every home in Simpkinsvilleex- amples more or less faded and worn, according to circumstances, but all faithful witnesses of her entire worthiness to perpetuate the species. And, be it said to her credit, those that she made to sell were handled and their proportions verified with the same scrupulous care as were such as came into being for bridal or Christmas presents, or to adorn the marble base of her own evening lamp. You could measure the distance between the little moss clumps in the border of any of them, and find each one precisely as long as the index-finger of Miss Melissas left hand, measured from the mole downward. She would no sooner have guessed at one of these intervals than she would have prevari- cated in a statement of fact. Miss Melissa lived with her married 134 brother Nathan; and at the birth of each of his nine children there had been a pair of auntys lovely moss mats ready as a welcoming gift to the little stranger, to be laid out for inspection among the pink and blue socks and sacks that were sent in by friends and relatives, after which they were withdrawn and packed away in camphor, to be kept until their owners should marry, when they would do double duty as wedding presents. Not that Miss Melissa was par- simonious. Far from it. But she was getting old, and, as she expressed it: Ill be mos likely passed away long befo that time; an so I put a envelop o good wishes an advise in with each set, which it seems to me 11 be migh