Battles of the Nineteenth Century, Page 128.

Fights Off The Cuban Coast

             Most of the American newspapers had predicted that the first great event of the Cuban war would be the bombardment of Havana.  After the shelling of the seaward forts of Matanzas, it was confidently expected that, having tested his guns and gunners in the minor operation, Sampson would promptly proceed to open fire on the Morro Castle and the other sea-forts of the Cuban capital.  But the Admiral had no such intentions.  Until he had dealt with the Spanish fleet it would be extremely rash to venture upon an operation in which, by accident or by the enemy’s fire, some of his best fighting ships might be rendered temporarily unserviceable.  So, to the general disappointment of those who had prophesied a short war-centring round the capture of Havana, Sampson quietly continued the blockade of the Cuban ports in the east of the island.

            The United States army was mustering at Chickamaugra and Tampa, but General Miles had declared himself against a summer campaign in Cuba.  Vague rumours came across the Atlantic of the movements of the Spanish cruiser squadron, under Admiral Cervera.  It had sailed from the Cape de Verde Island one day.  The next it was asserted as confidently that it was still in prt.  Then it was at sea, and there were wild reports that it had been seen in the North Atlantic, that its scouts had been sighted not far from the New England coast, that it was going to raid New York Harbour.  Then came the equally confident report that it had returned to Cadiz.  The coast garrison of the United States were on the alert.  The “mosquito fleet” of small steamers patrolled the neighbourhood of the seaboard, while some of the swift-armed liners of Commodore Schley’s fleet at Hampton Roads were sent far out into the Atlantic, scouting for the enemy.  But they brought no tidings of him.  Still, even this gave no certain security that he was not well on his way to the west coast of the United States; for, as British naval manoeuvres have shown, it is not difficult for a squadron in the open ocean to evade the most active search of the swiftest cruiser.  So, waiting from day to day for tidings of the Spanish fleet, Sampson laid off Cuba, capturing, from time to time, a steamer or some small coasting craft that tried to break the blockade.

             It was tedious work, with little either of profit or glory to compensate for its unceasing labour and growing tedium.  The officers and men of the squadron were anxious to do something that might rival the great exploit of Dewey with the far weaker force under his orders.  But they had no opportunity.  Only some of the lighter craft that lay in shore, while the big ships cruised well out to sea, got some opportunities of trying their mettle against the Spaniards.

             The early summer in the West Indian seas is rather a trying time in which to keep up a blockade.  The sea near the shore was nearly always heavy, and there were brief tropical storms that brought down a deluge of rain, and were succeeded by hours of steamy heat.  At nightfall the ships closed in to the shore, and during the darkness a sharp lookout had to be kept for the enemy’s torpedo boats.  For the Spaniards had several small craft in ports and behind the coral reefs that fringe the coast.  They sometimes came out in the daytime, exchanged a harmless fire at long range with the light ships of the American fleet, and then ran back to shelter.  It was fully expected that they would attempt torpedo attacks under the cover of darkness, and this would have been sound policy, but they never made any attempts of the kind.  It is good working rule in war to expect that one’s enemy will take a sensible course of action, so the Americans each night thought the attack, so long expected, and would surely come at last.  If, as they fully believed, the Spaniards had contrived to blow up an American warship in time of peace, was it not to be expected that they would do their best to repeat the exploit in time of war?  Under the tension of this ceaseless watch for the most terrible danger that can threaten a warship, the blockading vessels sometimes mistook their own torpedo boats for approaching enemies, and opened fire on them-happily without result- a preconcerted signal displayed by the boat soon stopping the fire by revealing her friendly character.

             The torpedo boats also fired at each other more than once, and on at least one occasion the Porter was very near sending one of her torpedoes into the stern of a United States cruiser.  Lieutenant Fremont, U.S.N., the commander of the torpedo boat, thus tells the story (Harper’s Magazine, November): -

            “About two o’clock one morning a steamer was reported running towards Havana.  It was an ideal night for a torpedo attack, dark, with a strong wind blowing and occasional light rainsqualls.  She was allowed to pass, but nothing definite could be made out, and as the Porter was well off to the eastward of Havana, the supposition was that it could not be one of the blockaders.  Dropping into her wake, our speed was increased, all hands were called to their stations, and every preparation made for attack.  The Porter was now closing rapidly in, and through the smoke we could make out that the vessel ahead was a man-of-war, and a large one.  At this time the whereabouts of the Spanish armed cruisers was unknown, and from what we could then see of the vessel ahead she answered their description perfectly.  More steam was put on, and the Porter rushed up close on the quarter of the chase, well within torpedo distance and still undiscovered.  Being now so close that, even if discovered, we could not be stopped before the torpedo was discharged, and wishing to make no mistake, the night signal was made for an instant and then turned off.  It brought no response.

            “Excitement on the Porter was at fever heat, and the enforced silence and the nervous tension were hard to bear.  That we had found the enemy, and that we had him all to ourselves, and had him where there was no possibility of his getting away, was such an unhoped-for opportunity that nothing short of firing and cheering would express what we felt, and the effort to repress these was most difficult.  To make assurance doubly sure, the night signal was again made and the forward gun fired, immediately followed by a second.  That we were now discovered was evident, and in a moment signal lights were shown and a gun fired at us.  The signal lights shown were the wrong ones for that night, and only served to strengthen our conviction that the chase was an enemy.  Full speed was rung on the Porter, and the final rush to torpedo was made, when, just in the nick of time, the identity of the ship was recognised; and, amidst shouting of orders to cease firing and hails through the megaphone demanding explanations, the vessels were brought to a standstill within a hundred yards of each other and mutual explanation made.”

             This incident is a very apt illustration of the difficulties of such service.  The wonder is, not that such mistake were made-they are made every year in peace manoeuvres, where the danger of error is less-the marvel is that there were no disastrous consequences.  On the sea the Spaniards were curiously inactive.  But on the land Blanco’s troops were continually on the move, and kept up a sharp watch everywhere to prevent the squadron from landing supplies or reinforcements for the insurgents.  How close was this watch is shown by a striking incident?  Mr. E. F. Knight, the war correspondent of the Times, had obtained a Spanish passport, and had gone to Florida in the hope of finding some ship to land him in Cuba, it being his intention to enter Havana in order to describe the expected siege from the Spanish side.  After many efforts he arranged for one of the small craft that followed the blockading fleet in the interest of the newspapers to bring him close to the Cuban coast ad start him for the shore in a small boat which he took with him for the purpose.  He is one of the best amateur boatmen living, and he expected to thus easily reach the shore by his own exertions.

            He was launched on his venturous voyage and was making good progress through the rough water between the shore and the steamer, when, just as the latter, believing he was all right, stood out to sea, the boat was upset.  His signals for help were unnoticed, and having lost his oars, he found himself adrift, alone on the water, and swept by a current along the shore.  More than once, to avoid the attacks of sharks, he had to clamber on to the capsized boat.  The sun went down, and all night he drifted.  Only his great power of endurance and dogged pluck saved him from death.  The dawn brought new hope of life.  He was drifting to shore on a desolate part of the coast.  But even the drifting boat had been marked by a Spanish patrol.  The moment his boat touched land he was a prisoner.  He was taken to Havana, where he was soon set at liberty, and was able to send to his paper a series of letters showing that, despite the blockade, Marxhal Blanco was able to keep the city fairly well supplied, and that life and property were safe; perfect order reigned in the city, and the population did not seem disposed to put any difficulty in the way of its defence.  Indeed, during those first anxious days of the month of May, Havana was quieter than Madrid, where the news of the disaster at Manila had led to a serious rioting and necessitated the proclamation of martial law.

             Notwithstanding the activity of the Spanish coast patrols, Admiral Sampson succeeded in landing messengers with despatches for the Cuban insurgent leaders.  Lieutenant H. Whitney, of the 4^th United States Cavalry, succeeded in this way in reaching the camp of Gomez in the Santa Clara province at the end of April, and arranged for regular communication between the fleet and the Cuban headquarters.  Gomez was informed that though no large body of United States troops could be sent to his assistance till the end of the unhealthy rainy season, an effort would be made to reinforce him with a corps of Cuban refugees which was being equipped and drilled at Tampa.  The reports that Lieutenant Whitney and the other American envoys sent as to the position and resources of the insurgents were very disappointing.  Before the war the friends of the Cubans had said that if the United States fleet would only co-operate, Garcia, Gomez, and their comrades would rapidly reduce every town in the island.  But it was now evident that without the help of a considerable regular force that they could accomplish nothing of importance.

             Meanwhile the fleet was very active at various points along the Cuban coast, and its operations led to some sharp fighting on a small scale, though, at the time the public anxiety for news le to these little skirmishes being described as destructive bombardments and desperate engagements.  On the same morning on which Dewey was winning the battle of Manlla the United States gunboat, Castine, stood into the entrance of the bay of Cabanas, on the north coast, to the east of Havana, and sent her steam cutter into within a thousand yards of the Spanish fort to take soundings and verify the chart of the bay.  The fort did not even open fire.  On the same day some shells were thrown at long range into Cienfuegos, and fire was opened on an earthwork fort between Mariel and Cabanas.  The few shots fired in reply fell short.  On the Monday the gunboat Wilmington fired upon and dispersed a body of Spanish cavalry belonging to the coast patrol, who were seen marching along the shore near Cojimar, apparently under the idea that the Yankee warship could not reach them with her guns.  That evening the torpedo boat Ericsson reported to the Wilmington that the Spaniards were building a new earthwork fort a few miles from Cojimar, and on Tuesday the gunboat shelled the work at long range.  Little skirmishes of this kind were almost daily occurrence.  The Spaniards generally reported that they had repulsed a serious “Yankee” attack.  The more sensational journals in the United States described the action as a victory, inflicting serious loss of the enemy.  The simple fact was they were useful reconnaissance’s that, by drawing the fire of the enemy’s forts and lookout stations enabled Admiral Sampson to complete his formation as to the Spanish plans for the defence of the coast.  At the same time he hoped that these small affairs might serve as feints to make the enemy uncertain as to when and where he would make a real effort to land supplies for the insurgents.

            The ships of the blockading squadron had usually opened fire at such long range that, although their own excellent weapons and well-trained gunners could produce some effect, the Spanish return fire was absolutely harmless, generally fell short, and soon ceased.  Coupled with what had happened at Matanzas, this led to a growing belief that “the Spaniards could not hit anything but the sea, and only hit that because it was so big.”  But a fight at Vardenas in the second week of May revealed the fact that some Spanish gunners knew how to shoot.  Another in the same waters, in which, had preceded this fight as usual, the United States ship had come out of action absolutely unscathed.  The first fight took place on Sunday May 8^th.

            The harbour of Cardenas, sheltered behind a labyrinth of coral reefs, traversed only by narrow winding channels, was a difficult place to blockade.  At its wharves lay a crowd of fishing boats and coasting craft and a couple of larger ships, guarded by a battery and three little gun boats, the Ligera, the Antonio Lopez, and the Alerta.  No heavy warship could approach the town for want of water; so the blockade was kept up by the lighter craft of Sampson’s fleet gunboats and torpedo boats.

            The Spanish ships used to come out occasionally, fire a few shots, and run back into safety.  It was a kind of challenge, and on this second Sunday of May the torpedo boat Foote ran in after them and opened fire on the shipping with her light guns.  But she found with the heavy swell at the harbour mouth she was making very wild practice, while the Spanish guns on board their boats in the still water, and in the battery on shore, were beginning to get the range.  So she drew off and waited to try again with more even chances.

            Early on the following Wednesday May 11^th, a small squadron of light draft warships was concentrated for an attack on Cardenas, which it was hoped, would avenge this first repulse.  There were the gunboats Wilminton and Machias, the armed revenue-cutter Hudson, and the torpedo boat Winslow.  The Machias, which acted as flagship, led the way in through the outer reefs.  There she parted company with her consorts, steaming to the eastward to attack a fortified Spanish barrack on Diana Key, an island on the north side of the main opening into Cardenas Bay.  The three other ships worked their way into the bay by one of the minor channels, for it was known that the usual entrance to the harbour was mined.  A Cuban pilot showed the way in.

            It was a calm, hot summer day, without a ripple on the water, and with a slight steamy haze in the air that made it difficult at times to define distant objects.  Presently the guns of the Machias were heard in action, though it was only that evening that the other ships knew the precise result of her operations.  She shelled the barracks on Diana Key so effectually that the small Spanish garrison had to take to flight, evacuating at the same time a blockhouse on the end of the Key.  An armed boat’s crew, commanded by Ensign Willard, was sent ashore and hoisted the Stars and Stripes on the abandoned blockhouse.  It was the first hoisting of the American flag on Cuban soil.

             Meanwhile the Wilmington, the Hudson, and the Winslow had steamed into the bay.  At first they could see nothing of the Spanish gunboats-the Ligera and her two consorts-which were known to be somewhere in the bay.  The fact was, they were moored in shelter behind a pier at one end of the town, in a position where, whilst they were almost completely hidden, they could bring their guns to bear by firing across the top of it.  At first they gave no sign of life, and the Winslow ran in close to the wharves, alongside of which lay a crowd of coasting craft.  It was hoped that in this way the Spanish gunboats would be tempted out from their hiding place.  The Wilmington lay in the middle of the bay, off the town, and the Hudson was heading for a couple of large square-rigged ships, anchored apart from the rest, which looked as if they would be valuable prizes.  Suddenly the flash and roar of guns from behind the pier showed where the Spaniards were lurking.  They were concentrating their fire on the little Winslow, and as she reversed her engines and drew off, replying with her two small one-pounder quick-firers, the enemy’s shells were bursting and churning up the water close around her.  The Wilmington brought her heavier guns into action and tried to silence the Spanish fire, while the Hudson, giving up all thought of the prizes, hurried back to the support of the Winslow.  The Spaniards ceased firing for some minutes, and the Wilmington turned her guns upon the town.  But suddenly the enemy’s fire began again.  The Winslow was hit in several places, dead and wounded men strewed her deck, and then a shell crashed on to and shattered her steering gear, and she lay crippled in the midst of the shower of shells, and was drifting slowly towards the town, her guns still defiantly in action, though their small projectiles could do no harm.

            She was in such shallow water that the Wilmington would have run aground if she had tried to help her; so the light draft revenue cruiser, the Hudson, stood into rescue the Winslow.  The only way to do it was to get a line to the Winslow and tow her out of danger, and this had to be done under the close fire of the Spaniards, as little more than a mile’s range.  To quote the narrative of one of the Hudson’s officers: -“The Spanish shells wee hitting the water about us and flying overhead with nerve destroying frequency.  With the after guns crew ready to handle the lines, the Hudson was steered for the Winslow, close enough to throw a line to her.  As we forged ahead across her bow, the line was thrown.  It fell short.  Reversing the engines and putting the helm to reversing the engines and putting the helm to starboard, the captain of the Hudson tried to back his vessel down to the Winslow, but, working directly against the helm, the Hudson backed around until she was bows on to the Winslow and moving away from her.  The water was so shallow that the Hudson was almost unmanageable; and now fate, in the grab of the regular afternoon sea breeze, was setting the Hudson every movement nearer the shore and into a zone of more murderous fire.  Backward and forward, swerving this way and that, the Hudson struggled for more than twenty minutes at a task that each moment grew more hopeless.  At last a fortunate sheer, a uick shift of the helm, the line was thrown, caught, the hawser bent on, and the two little craft started to draw away from their perilous position.”

            But during these anxious minutes the Winslow had suffered serious loss.  Her commander, Lieutenant Bernadou, had already been wounded, but not so seriously as to actually disable him.  Her second in command, Ensign Worth Bagley, a young officer who was engaged in his first battle, was working the forward quick-firer, assisted by a crew of four men.  Suddenly a Spanish shell burst in the midst of the group and flung them bleeding on the deck.  Bagley was killed on the spot.  The four others were killed or wounded.  One of them rolled down the steel curve at the edge of the narrow deck, and as he slipped overboard caught a rail, and cried out in a piteous voice to his comrades to save him.  A couple of men dashed across to his assistance and pulled him on board, but he was dead as they laid him on the deck.

            The Winslow covered the retreat of the heavy Winslow and the Hudson by pouring a heavy fire on the pier and the front of the town.  As she turned to steam out of the bay, fires had broken out in the warehouses on the sea front, and the Spanish guns were nearly silent.  Then the gunboat led the way out through the reefs.  The same night the Hudson started for Key West, conveying the dead and wounded back to Florida.  The news of the action caused a deep impression throughout the United States.  It was a first failure, though on a small scale.  It showed the battle with Spain was not to be the mere military parade that so many had anticipated, and it was felt that these first deaths were only the smallest part of the heavy toll that would have to be paid for victory.

            When the Winslow was examined at Key West, where she was taken for repairs, it was found that she had had a very narrow escape from complete destruction.  Her forward torpedo was in its tube on deck, and a Spanish shell of small calibre had passed through the guncotton charge without bursting or exploding it.  Her starboard cylinder had been hit and badly damaged, her boilers were penetrated in more than one place, her conning-tower was pitted with sot holes, and her plates scored and marked all over her deck.  The marvel is that she kept afloat.  General Blanco, in his official report, stated the losses of the Cardenas garrison at five men wounded.  He aid that the gunboats were hit several times, and shells, amongst them the British Consulate, damaged some of the buildings in the town.  The fire brigade extinguished all the fires caused by the bombardment.  He stated that the largest ship of the attacking squadron kept at a range of seven miles, the lighter vessels coming in closer.  The confirmed a conjecture that the Spaniards had taken the Wilmington for a larger class of warship than she really represented, and thus overestimated the range.  She was in action at between four and five miles, and all the Spanish shells passed harmlessly over her.

           On the same day Cienfuegos was bombarded, and an attempt was made to cut the cable that runs from that port to Santiago, this being one of the lines by which Blanco communicated with Madrid.  The Spaniards thought the boats engaged in looking for the shore end of the cable were attempting to land troops, and they concentrated such a heavy fore on them that they had to withdraw accomplishing their purpose.

           Nor was this the only action of that busy day.  The cruisers Vicksburg and Morrill, which were lying off Havana, came in to a range of under five miles and engaged the Santa Clara batteries.  But the gunners at Santa Clara had been having some long range practice at the blockading squadron, and their shooting had become very good.  A few days before they had nearly blown the gunboat Tecumseh out of the water by exploding a couple of heavy shells within twenty yards of her, at a range of five miles.  In the short skirmish with the two cruisers they wrecked the Morril’s deckhouse with one shell and brought down a lot of the Vicksburg’s rigging with another.  After this, Sampson gave orders that the blockading fleet was not to waste ammunition and improve Spanish gunnery by anymore of these useless demonstrations.  The shore batteries were only to be engaged when something serious was intended.  Desultory firing was forbidden.