Chapter V: The War with Spain (1)

For three centuries and a half, Spain held possession of
the island of Cuba, although she had lost, long before, her
possessions in North and South America. The Cubans desired
freedom, for the Spanish yoke was a galling one, and as early
as 1822 sympathy with this desire was openly expressed in the
United States.

APOSTROPHE TO THE ISLAND OF CUBA

[November, 1822]

There is blood on thy desolate shore,
Thou island of plunder and slaves!
Thy billows are purpled with gore,
And murder has crimsoned thy waves;
The vengeance of nations will come,
And wrath shall be rained on thy head,
And in terror thy voice shall be dumb,
When they ask for their brothers who bled.
Thy hand was not stirred, when their life-blood was spilt;
And therefore that hand must partake in the guilt.

Thou art guilty or weak,--and the rod
Should be wrenched from thy palsied hand;
By the pirate thy green fields are trod,
And his steps have polluted thy land;
Unmoved is thy heart and thine eye,
When our dear ones are tortured and slain;
But their blood with a terrible cry,
Calls on vengeance, and calls not in vain;
If Europe regard not--our land shall awake,
And thy walls and thy turrets shall tremble and shake.

The voice of a world shall be heard,
And thy faith shall be tried by the call;
And that terrible voice shall be feared,
And obeyed--or the proud one shall fall.
Enough of our life has been shed,
In watching and fighting for thee;
If thy foot linger still--on thy head
The guilt and the vengeance shall be:
We have sworn that the spirit of ALLEN shall lead,
And our wrath shall not rest, till we finish the deed.

JAMES GATES PERCIVAL.

The people of Cuba revolted against their Spanish rulers in
1848, and kept up a guerilla warfare for some years. In August,
1851, a filibustering expedition, led by Narciso Lopez, sailed
from New Orleans. The expedition was captured, and most of its
members were executed, among them Lopez himself, and Colonel
William L. Crittenden, of Kentucky, who, with fifty others, was
shot at Havana, August 16.

THE GALLANT FIFTY-ONE

WHO FORMED PART OF THE LOPEZ EXPEDITION AND WERE EXECUTED BY
THE SPANISH AUTHORITIES IN HAVANA

[August 16, 1851]

Freedom called them--up they rose,
Grasped their swords and showered blows
On the heads of Freedom's foes--
And Freedom's foes alone.
Fate decreed that they should die;
Pitying angels breathed a sigh;
Freedom wildly wept on high,
For the gallant Fifty-one!

There they stood in proud array;
None for mercy there would pray;
None would coward looks betray--
All stood forth with fearless eye,
Showing by their dauntless air,
What their noble souls could dare;
Showing to the tyrants there,
How Freedom's sons could die.
None there strove their fate to shun--
Gallant band of Fifty-one!

Then a voice the stillness broke:
'Twas their gallant leader spoke,
Scorning to receive Death's stroke,
Kneeling humbly on the sod!
Gazing calmly on the dead,
Whose life-blood had just been shed,
Proudly then the words he said,
"Americans kneel but to God!"
Perished thus Kentucky's son--
Leader of the Fifty-one.

Rejoice! sons of Thermopylæ!
Kindred spirits join with thee,
Who fell in fight for Liberty,
For Freedom's sacred name.
Future days their deeds shall tell,
How they nobly fought and fell,
Youthful bosoms proudly swell
At mention of their fame--
Rays of light from Freedom's sun,
Gallant band of Fifty-one!

Honor's rays will ever shed
Glory 'round their hallowed bed.
Though their hearts are cold and dead,
Though their sands of life have run,
Still their names revered will be,
Among the noble and the free--
Glorious sons of Liberty;
Gallant band of Fifty-one!

HENRY LYNDEN FLASH.

Spain at last found it necessary to put the whole island under
martial law, and American sympathy grew more outspoken.

CUBA

[1870]

Is it naught? Is it naught
That the South-wind brings her wail to our shore,
That the spoilers compass our desolate sister?
Is it naught? Must we say to her, "Strive no more,"
With the lips wherewith we loved her and kissed her?
With the mocking lips wherewith we said,
"Thou art the dearest and fairest to us
Of all the daughters the sea hath bred,
Of all green-girdled isles that woo us!"
Is it naught?

Must ye wait? Must ye wait,
Till they ravage her gardens of orange and palm,
Till her heart is dust, till her strength is water?
Must ye see them trample her, and be calm
As priests when a virgin is led to slaughter?
Shall they smite the marvel of all lands,--
The nation's longing, the Earth's completeness,--
On her red mouth dropping myrrh, her hands
Filled with fruitage and spice and sweetness?
Must ye wait?

In the day, in the night,
In the burning day, in the dolorous night,
Her sun-browned cheeks are stained with weeping.
Her watch-fires beacon the misty height:--
Why are her friends and lovers sleeping?
"Ye, at whose ear the flatterer bends,
Who were my kindred before all others,--
Hath he set your hearts afar, my friends?
Hath he made ye alien, my brothers,
Day and night?"

Hear ye not? Hear ye not
From the hollow sea the sound of her voice;
The passionate far-off tone which sayeth:
"Alas, my brothers! alas, what choice,--
The lust that shameth, the sword that slayeth?
They bind me! they rend my delicate locks;
They shred the beautiful robes I won me!
My round limbs bleed on the mountain rocks:
Save me, ere they have quite undone me!"
Hear ye not?

Speak at last! Speak at last!
In the might of your strength, in the strength of your right,
Speak out at last to the treacherous spoiler!
Say: "Will ye harry her in our sight?
Ye shall not trample her down, nor soil her!
Loose her bonds! let her rise in her loveliness,--
Our virginal sister; or, if ye shame her,
Dark Amnon shall rue for her sore distress,
And her sure revenge shall be that of Tamar!"
Speak at last!

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.

Then in 1873 came what was certain to come, sooner or later, an
outrage by Spain against the United States. The Virginius, a
vessel of American register, was captured on the high seas by a
Spanish gunboat, taken to a Cuban port, and some fifty of her
officers and crew, Americans for the most part, summarily shot.
America was wild with rage, but Spain was permitted to settle
by paying an indemnity.

THE GOSPEL OF PEACE

[1873]

Ay, let it rest! And give us peace.
'Tis but another blot
On Freedom's fustian flag, and gold
Will gild the unclean spot.

Yes, fold the hands, and bear the wrong
As Christians over-meek,
And wipe away the bloody stain,
And turn the other cheek.

What boots the loss of freemen's blood
Beside imperilled gold?
Is honor more than merchandise?
And cannot pride be sold?

Let Cuba groan, let patriots fall;
Americans may die;
Our flag may droop in foul disgrace,
But "Peace!" be still our cry.

Ay, give us peace! And give us truth
To nature, to resign
The counterfeit which Freedom wears
Upon her banner fine.

Remove the Stars,--they light our shame;
But keep the Stripes of gore
And craven White, to tell the wrong
A prudent nation bore.

JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE.

The insurrection in Cuba dragged on, its horrors steadily
increasing, and at last, in 1875, the American government
intimated that if Spain did not stop the war, foreign
intervention might become necessary. Spain took the hint and
ended the struggle by granting Cuba certain reforms.

CUBA

Isle of a summer sea,
Fragrant with Eden's flowers,
God meant thee to be free,
And wills thee to be _ours_!

The blood of generous hearts
Has freely drenched thy soil;
That blood but strength imparts,
Which tyrants cannot foil!

Within thy fair retreat,
'Mid victory and flame,
Thy sons shall yet repeat
Huzzas in Freedom's name!

Yet, where his ashes rest,
Whose eye revealed a world,
From towers and mountain crest,
Our flag shall be unfurled!

In truth, it is but just,
That Freedom's hand should hold,
Confided to her trust,
The key to lands of gold!

HARVEY RICE.

But with a cynical disregard of good faith, Spain kept only
such of her promises as she pleased; increased abuses followed,
and in 1895 revolution flamed out again. Under such leaders
as Gomez, Maceo, and Garcia, the revolutionists soon gained
control of most of the provinces.

CUBA TO COLUMBIA

[April, 1896]

A voice went over the waters--
A stormy edge of the sea--
Fairest of Freedom's daughters,
Have you no help for me?
Do you not hear the rusty chain
Clanking about my feet?
Have you not seen my children slain,
Whether in cell or street?
Oh, if you were sad as I,
And I as you were strong,
You would not have to call or cry--
You would not suffer long!

"Patience?"--have I not learned it,
Under the crushing years?
Freedom--have I not earned it,
Toiling with blood and tears?
"Not of you?"--my banners wave
Not on Egyptian shore,
Or by Armenia's mammoth grave--
But at your very door!
Oh, if you were needy as I,
And I as you were strong,
You should not suffer, bleed, and die,
Under the hoofs of wrong!

Is it that you have never
Felt the oppressor's hand,
Fighting, with fond endeavor,
To cling to your own sweet land?
Were you not half dismayed,
There in the century's night,
Till to your view a sister's aid
Came, like a flash of light?
Oh, what gift could ever be grand
Enough to pay the debt,
If out of the starry Western land,
Should come my Lafayette!

WILL CARLETON.

American sympathy was soon awakened, and grew rapidly in
strength. This was increased when Spain placed Valeriano Weyler
in command in Cuba. Weyler had an evil reputation for cruelty
and extortion, and at once proceeded to make it more evil by
exterminating the "pacificos," or quiet people who were taking
no active part in the war.

CUBA LIBRE

Comes a cry from Cuban water--
From the warm, dusk Antilles--
From the lost Atlanta's daughter,
Drowned in blood as drowned in seas;
Comes a cry of purpled anguish--
See her struggles, hear her cries!
Shall she live, or shall she languish?
Shall she sink, or shall she rise?

She shall rise, by all that's holy!
She shall live and she shall last;
Rise as we, when crushed and lowly,
From the blackness of the past.
Bid her strike! Lo, it is written
Blood for blood and life for life.
Bid her smite, as she is smitten;
Stars and stripes were born of strife.

Once we flashed her lights of freedom,
Lights that dazzled her dark eyes
Till she could but yearning heed them,
Reach her hands and try to rise.
Then they stabbed her, choked her, drowned her
Till we scarce could hear a note.
Ah! these rusting chains that bound her!
Oh! these robbers at her throat!

And the kind who forged these fetters?
Ask five hundred years for news.
Stake and thumbscrew for their betters!
Inquisitions! Banished Jews!
Chains and slavery! What reminder
Of one red man in that land?
Why, these very chains that bind her
Bound Columbus, foot and hand!

Shall she rise as rose Columbus,
From his chains, from shame and wrong--
Rise as Morning, matchless, wondrous--
Rise as some rich morning song--
Rise a ringing song and story,
Valor, Love personified?
Stars and stripes espouse her glory,
Love and Liberty allied.

JOAQUIN MILLER.

The situation of Americans in Havana began to cause uneasiness,
and it was decided to send a ship of war to that port. The
battleship Maine was selected for this duty, and reached Havana
on the morning of January 24, 1898.

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS[14]

Untrammelled Giant of the West,
With all of Nature's gifts endowed,
With all of Heaven's mercies blessed,
Nor of thy power unduly proud--
Peerless in courage, force, and skill,
And godlike in thy strength of will,--

Before thy feet the ways divide:
One path leads up to heights sublime;
The other downward slopes, where bide
The refuse and the wrecks of Time.
Choose then, nor falter at the start,
O choose the nobler path and part!

Be thou the guardian of the weak,
Of the unfriended, thou the friend;
No guerdon for thy valor seek,
No end beyond the avowèd end.
Wouldst thou thy godlike power preserve,
Be godlike in the will to serve!

JOSEPH B. GILDER.

On the morning of February 16, 1898, the news flashed over the
country that on the previous evening the Maine had been blown
up at her anchorage, and that two hundred and sixty-four men
and two officers had been killed.

THE MEN OF THE MAINE

[February 15, 1898]

Not in the dire, ensanguined front of war,
Conquered or conqueror,
'Mid the dread battle-peal, did they go down
To the still under-seas, with fair Renown
To weave for them the hero-martyr's crown.
They struck no blow
'Gainst an embattled foe;
With valiant-hearted Saxon hardihood
They stood not as the Essex sailors stood,
So sore bestead in that far Chilian bay;
Yet no less faithful they,
These men who, in a passing of the breath,
Were hurtled upon death.

No warning the salt-scented sea-wind bore,
No presage whispered from the Cuban shore
Of the appalling fate
That in the tropic night-time lay in wait
To bear them whence they shall return no more.
Some lapsed from dreams of home and love's clear star
Into a realm where dreams eternal are;
And some into a world of wave and flame
Wherethrough they came
To living agony that no words can name.
Tears for them all,
And the low-tunèd dirge funereal!

Their place is now
With those who wear, green-set about the brow,
The deathless immortelles,--
The heroes torn and scarred
Whose blood made red the barren ocean dells,
Fighting with him the gallant Ranger bore,
Daring to do what none had dared before,
To wave the New World banner, freedom-starred,
At England's very door!
Yea, with such noble ones their names shall stand
As those who heard the dying Lawrence speak
His burning words upon the Chesapeake,
And grappled in the hopeless hand-to-hand;
With those who fell on Erie and Champlain
Beneath the pouring, pitiless battle-rain:
With such as these, our lost men of the Maine!

What though they faced no storm of iron hail
That freedom and the right might still prevail?
The path of duty it was theirs to tread
To death's dark vale through ways of travail led,
And they are ours--our dead!
If it be true that each loss holds a gain,
It must be ours through saddened eyes to see
From out this tragic holocaust of pain
The whole land bound in closer amity!

CLINTON SCOLLARD.

[14] Copyright, 1900, by Harper & Brothers.

THE WORD OF THE LORD FROM HAVANA

[February 16, 1898]

Thus spake the Lord:
Because ye have not heard,
Because ye have given no heed
To my people in their need,

Because the oppressed cried
From the dust where he died,
And ye turned your face away
From his cry in that day,

Because ye have bought and sold
That which is above gold,
Because your brother is slain
While ye get you drunk with gain,

(Behold, these are my people, I have brought them to birth,
On whom the mighty have trod,
The kings of the earth,
Saith the Lord God!)

Because ye have fawned and bowed down
Lest the spoiler frown,
And the wrongs that the spoiled have borne
Ye have held in scorn,

Therefore with rending and flame
I have marred and smitten you,
Therefore I have given you to shame,
That the nations shall spit on you.

Therefore my Angel of Death
Hath stretched out his hand on you,
Therefore I speak in my wrath,
Laying command on you;

(Once have I bared my sword,
And the kings of the earth gave a cry;
Twice have I bared my sword,
That the kings of the earth should die;
Thrice shall I bare my sword,
And ye shall know my name, that it is I!)

Ye who held peace less than right
When a king laid a pitiful tax on you,
Hold not your hand from the fight
When freedom cries under the axe on you!

(I who called France to you, call you to Cuba in turn!
Repay--lest I cast you adrift and you perish astern!)

Ye who made war that your ships
Should lay to at the beck of no nation,
Make war now on Murder, that slips
The leash of her hounds of damnation!

Ye who remembered the Alamo,
Remember the Maine!

RICHARD HOVEY.

HALF-MAST

[February 16, 1898]

On every schoolhouse, ship, and staff
From 'Frisco clear to Marblehead,
Let droop the starry banner now,
In sorrow for our sailors dead.

Half-mast! Half-mast! o'er all the land;
The verdict wait; your wrath restrain;
Half-mast for all that gallant band--
The sailors of the Maine!

Not till a treachery is proved
His sword the patriot soldier draws;
War is the last alternative--
Be patient till ye know the cause.

Meanwhile--Half-mast o'er all the land!
The verdict wait; your wrath restrain;
Half-mast! for all that gallant band--
The martyrs of the Maine!

LLOYD MIFFLIN.

THE FIGHTING RACE

[February 16, 1898]

"Read out the names!" and Burke sat back,
And Kelly drooped his head,
While Shea--they call him Scholar Jack--
Went down the list of the dead.
Officers, seamen, gunners, marines,
The crews of the gig and yawl,
The bearded man and the lad in his teens,
Carpenters, coal passers--all.
Then, knocking the ashes from out his pipe,
Said Burke in an offhand way:
"We're all in that dead man's list by Cripe!
Kelly and Burke and Shea."
"Well, here's to the Maine, and I'm sorry for Spain,"
Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.

"Wherever there's Kellys there's trouble," said Burke.
"Wherever fighting's the game,
Or a spice of danger in grown man's work."
Said Kelly, "you'll find my name."
"And do we fall short," said Burke, getting mad,
"When it's touch and go for life?"
Said Shea, "It's thirty-odd years, bedad,
Since I charged to drum and fife
Up Marye's Heights, and my old canteen
Stopped a rebel ball on its way;
There were blossoms of blood on our sprigs of green--
Kelly and Burke and Shea--
And the dead didn't brag." "Well, here's to the flag!"
Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.

"I wish 'twas in Ireland, for there's the place,"
Said Burke, "that we'd die by right,
In the cradle of our soldier race,
After one good stand-up fight.
My grandfather fell on Vinegar Hill,
And fighting was not his trade;
But his rusty pike's in the cabin still,
With Hessian blood on the blade."
"Aye, aye," said Kelly, "the pikes were great
When the word was 'clear the way!'
We were thick on the roll in ninety-eight--
Kelly and Burke and Shea."
"Well, here's to the pike and the sword and the like!"
Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.

And Shea, the scholar, with rising joy,
Said, "We were at Ramillies;
We left our bones at Fontenoy
And up in the Pyrenees;
Before Dunkirk, on Landen's plain,
Cremona, Lille, and Ghent;
We're all over Austria, France, and Spain,
Wherever they pitched a tent.
We've died for England from Waterloo
To Egypt and Dargai;
And still there's enough for a corps or crew,
Kelly and Burke and Shea."
"Well, here's to good honest fighting blood!"
Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.

"Oh, the fighting races don't die out,
If they seldom die in bed,
For love is first in their hearts, no doubt,"
Said Burke; then Kelly said:
"When Michael, the Irish Archangel, stands,
The angel with the sword,
And the battle-dead from a hundred lands
Are ranged in one big horde,
Our line, that for Gabriel's trumpet waits,
Will stretch three deep that day,
From Jehoshaphat to the Golden Gates--
Kelly and Burke and Shea."
"Well, here's thank God for the race and the sod!"
Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.

JOSEPH I. C. CLARKE.

A wave of fierce wrath swept over the American people; but
Captain Sigsbee, of the destroyed ship, asked that judgment be
suspended until the cause of the accident had been investigated.

ON THE EVE OF WAR

O God of Battles, who art still
The God of Love, the God of Rest,
Subdue thy people's fiery will,
And quell the passions in their breast!
Before we bathe our hands in blood
We lift them to thy Holy Rood.

The waiting nations hold their breath
To catch the dreadful battle-cry;
And in the silence as of death
The fateful hours go softly by.
Oh, hear thy people where they pray,
And shrive our souls before the fray!

Before the sun of peace shall set,
We kneel apart a solemn while;
Pity the eyes with sorrow wet,
But pity most the lips that smile.
The night comes fast; we hear afar
The baying of the wolves of war.

Not lightly, oh, not lightly, Lord,
Let this our awful task begin;
Speak from thy throne a warning word
Above the angry factions' din.
If _this_ be thy Most Holy will,
Be with us still,--be with us still!

DANSKE DANDRIDGE.

Good Friday, 1898.

Spain, without waiting for investigation, announced that the
Maine had been blown up by an explosion of her magazines, due
to the carelessness of her officers. The American people waited
in ominous silence for the investigation to be concluded.

TO SPAIN--A LAST WORD

Iberian! palter no more! By thine hands, thine alone, they were slain!
Oh, 'twas a deed in the dark--
Yet mark!
We will show you a way--only one--by which ye may blot out the stain!

Build them a monument whom to death-sleep, in their sleep, ye betrayed!
Proud and stern let it be--
Cuba free!
So, only, the stain shall be razed--so, only, the great debt be paid!

EDITH M. THOMAS.

Meanwhile, the sailor dead were buried in the cemetery at
Havana, with impressive ceremony. They were afterwards
disinterred and placed in the military cemetery at Arlington on
the Potomac.

THE MARTYRS OF THE MAINE

And they have thrust our shattered dead away in foreign graves,
Exiled forever from the port the homesick sailor craves!
They trusted once in Spain,
They're trusting her again!
And with the holy care of our own sacred slain!
No, no, the Stripes and Stars
Must wave above our tars.
Bring them home!

On a thousand hills the darling dead of all our battles lie,
In nooks of peace, with flowers and flags, but now they seem to cry
From out their bivouac:
"Here every good man Jack
Belongs. Nowhere but here--with us.
So bring them back."
And on the Cuban gales,
A ghostly rumor wails,
"Bring us home!"

Poltroon, the people that neglects to guard the bones, the dust,
The reverenced relics its warriors have bequeathed in trust!
But heroes, too, were these
Who sentinell'd the seas
And gave their lives, to shelter us in careless ease.
Shall we desert them, slain,
And proffer them to Spain
As alien mendicants,--these martyrs of our Maine?
No! Bring them home!

RUPERT HUGHES.

At last, the investigation was ended, and showed that the
Maine had been blown up from the outside, probably by a
submarine mine, exploded by men who wore the uniform of Spain.
The report reached Congress March 28, 1898, and on April 11
President McKinley asked Congress for authority to establish an
independent government in Cuba.

EL EMPLAZADO

El Emplazado, the Summoned, the Doomed One,
Spain whom the nations denounce and abhor,
Robe thy dismay in the black sanbenito,
Come to the frowning tribunal of war.

Curst were thy minions, their roster and scutcheon,
Alvas, Alfonsos, Archarchons of hate;
Pillared on bigotry, pride, and extortion,
Topples to ruin thy mansion of state.

Violence, Cruelty, Intrigue, and Treason.
These the false courtiers who flattered thy throne;
Empires, thy sisters, forbode thee disaster,
Even thy children their mother disown.

Suppliant Cuba, thy daughter forsaken,
Famished and bleeding and buffeted sore,
Ghastly from gashes and stabs of thy rancor,
Binds up her wounds at an alien door.

Courts and corregidors erst at thy bidding
Banished or butchered Moresco and Jew;
Ghosts from all Christendom, shades of the Martyrs
Flock from the sepulchre thee to pursue.

Wrath of retributive Justice o'ertakes thee!
Brand of time's malison blisters thy brow:
Armed cabelleros and crowned kings of Bourbon,
All are unable to succor thee now.

El Emplazado, the Summoned, the Doomed One!
God's Inquisition condemns thee to-day!
Earth-shaking cannon-bolts thunder thy sentence,--
Heaven reëchoes the auto-da-fé.

WILLIAM HENRY VENABLE.

On April 19, 1898, Congress adopted a resolution declaring that
Spanish rule in Cuba must cease, recognizing the independence
of the Cubans, and empowering the President to use the entire
land and naval forces of the United States to drive Spain from
the island. It was, in effect, a declaration of war.

BATTLE SONG

When the vengeance wakes, when the battle breaks,
And the ships sweep out to sea;
When the foe is neared, when the decks are cleared,
And the colors floating free;
When the squadrons meet, when it's fleet to fleet
And front to front with Spain,
From ship to ship, from lip to lip,
Pass on the quick refrain,
"Remember, remember the Maine!"

When the flag shall sign, "Advance in line;
Train ships on an even keel;"
When the guns shall flash and the shot shall crash
And bound on the ringing steel;
When the rattling blasts from the armored masts
Are hurling their deadliest rain,
Let their voices loud, through the blinding cloud,
Cry ever the fierce refrain,
"Remember, remember the Maine!"

God's sky and sea in that storm shall be
Fate's chaos of smoke and flame,
But across that hell every shot shall tell,
Not a gun can miss its aim;
Not a blow shall fail on the crumbling mail,
And the waves that engulf the slain
Shall sweep the decks of the blackened wrecks,
With the thundering, dread refrain,
"Remember, remember the Maine!"

ROBERT BURNS WILSON.

England was the only country in Europe whose sympathies were
openly with the United States. In France, Italy, and elsewhere,
the hostility to America was bitter and outspoken.

GREETING FROM ENGLAND

America! dear brother land!
While yet the shotted guns are mute,
Accept a brotherly salute,
A hearty grip of England's hand.

To-morrow, when the sulphurous glow
Of war shall dim the stars above,
Be sure the star of England's love
Is over you, come weal or woe.

Go forth in hope! Go forth in might!
To all your nobler self be true,
That coming times may see in you
The vanguard of the hosts of light.

Though wrathful justice load and train
Your guns, be every breach they make
A gateway pierced for mercy's sake
That peace may enter in and reign.

Then, should the hosts of darkness band
Against you, lowering thunderously,
Flash the word "Brother" o'er the sea,
And England at your side shall stand,

Exulting! For, though dark the night
And sinister with scud and rack,
The hour that brings us back to back
But harbingers the larger light.

London _Chronicle_, April 22, 1898.

Diplomatic relations between Spain and the United States were
at once severed, and on April 25, 1898, Congress formally
declared that war with the Kingdom of Spain had existed since
April 21. The first blow was to be struck with surprising
suddenness.

BATTLE CRY

[May 1, 1898]

The loud drums are rolling, the mad trumpets blow!
To battle! the war is begun and we go
To humble the pride of an arrogant foe!

_The ensign and standard which wave for the Crown
Of Castile and Aragon--trample them down!
Granada and Leon and haughty Navarre
Shall lower their banner to Cuba's lone star!_

Now under Old Glory, the Blue and the Gray
United march shoulder to shoulder away,
To meet the Hidalgos in furious fray.

With musket and haversack ready are we
To tramp the globe over, to sweep every sea,
From isles of dead Philip to Florida's Key.

We think of the Maine and our hot bosoms swell
With rage of love's sorrow, which vengeance must quell,
And then we are ready to storm gates of Hell.

Our flag streams aloft by the tempest unfurled!
We strike for a Continent;--nay, for the World!
Mene, Tekel, Upharsin! the thunder is hurled!

_The ensign and standard which wave for the Crown
Of Castile and Aragon--trample them down!
Granada and Leon and haughty Navarre
Shall lower their banner to Cuba's lone star!_

WILLIAM HENRY VENABLE.

Thousands of miles away, across the Pacific, lay another island
dependency of Spain, the Philippines. The Navy Department,
with singular foresight, had been gradually increasing the
Asiatic squadron, commanded by Commodore George Dewey, and that
officer was carefully preparing for the work he saw before him.
The fleet was assembled at Hong Kong, and on April 26, 1898,
came a cablegram to Dewey stating that war had commenced and
ordering him to proceed at once to the Philippines and capture
or destroy the Spanish fleet there. At two o'clock the next
afternoon, the American fleet started on its six-hundred-mile
journey. It reached Manila on the night of April 30, and
steamed straight into the harbor.

JUST ONE SIGNAL

[May 1, 1898]

The war-path is true and straight,
It knoweth no left or right;
Why ponder and wonder and vacillate?
The way to fight is to fight.

The officer of the deck
Had climbed to a perch aloft,
And he leaned far out and he craned his neck,
And his tones were gentle and soft:
"I see," he whispered, "off there to port,
Through the night shade's lesser black,
The darker blur of the outer fort,
Preparing for the attack."
They signalled it so, and sharp and short
The answer was signalled back:
"Keep on."

Again from the upper air
Came the quiet voice of the guide:
"The admiral's flagship's over there,
Two miles on the starboard side.
It's a long, long way for the best of eyes,
But I know her by moon or sun,
I know by her lines and I know her size--
And there goes her warning gun."
"That boat will make a most excellent prize,"
Said the admiral, "when we've won.
Keep on."

The whispering came again:
"I think by the hints and signs
Appearing ahead of us now and then
That we're getting among their mines.
Ten fathom in front, as the search-lights show,
I fancy that I can detect
The line of their outermost works--Ah, no!
It is nearer than I'd suspect."
The message was sent to the admiral so,
And he answered to this effect:
"Keep on."

The haze of the dawning day
Slid into the shades of night,
And he called: "Off there in the upper bay,
They're lining their ships for a fight.
I think they are training on us--" No more
He said, for the dawn was lit
By the blaze of a gun from the neighboring shore,
And he fell to the deck, hard hit.
They signalled: "The first man struck." As before
The admiral answered it:
"Keep on."

The sun came over the hills
As wishing a world-wide weal.
And the guns were fired with the aim that kills,
And steel pierced the heart of steel.
And the line of shore was the fringe of hell,
And the centre of hell was the sea,
And the woe was the woe no tongue may tell,
And no eye view tearlessly,
And over that crater of bomb and shell
The signal continued to be:
"Keep on."

O Lawrence, whose passing cry
Grows ever the more sublime,
And thou, O Nile King, whose words shall die
When we learn of the death of time,
We send you the third of a glorious three;
We send you a battle shout
That echoes up from the blood-thick sea
And up from the wreck and rout
And down from the staff on the high cross-tree
Where the flag is signalling out:
"Keep on."

The war-path is true and straight,
It knoweth no left or right;
Mars loves not the man who would deviate,--
For the way to fight is to fight.

A shot from Corregidor and another from El Fraile told that the
fleet was discovered, but the ships glided quietly on, and at
dawn the Spanish fleet was seen anchored under the batteries of
Cavité. Dewey steamed straight for them; the Spanish ships were
sunk, one after another, by the deadly fire of the American
gunners, and by noon the Spanish fleet had been destroyed, the
shore batteries silenced, and a white flag floated over the
citadel of Cavité. Dewey had not lost a man, and had won the
greatest naval battle since Trafalgar.

DEWEY AT MANILA

[May 1, 1898]

'Twas the very verge of May
When the bold Olympia led
Into Bocagrande Bay
Dewey's squadron, dark and dread,--
Creeping past Corregidor,
Guardian of Manila's shore.

Do they sleep who wait the fray?
Is the moon so dazzling bright
That our cruisers' battle-gray
Melts into the misty light?...
Ah! the red flash and the roar!
Wakes at last Corregidor!

All too late their screaming shell
Tears the silence with its track;
This is but the _gate_ of hell,
We've no leisure to turn back.
Answer, Concord!--then once more
Slumber on, Corregidor!

And as, like a slowing tide,
Onward still the vessels creep,
Dewey, watching, falcon-eyed,
Orders,--"Let the gunners sleep;
For we meet a foe at four
Fiercer than Corregidor."

Well they slept, for well they knew
What the morrow taught us all,--
He was wise (as well as true)
Thus upon the foe to fall.
Long shall Spain the day deplore
Dewey ran Corregidor.

May is dancing into light
As the Spanish Admiral
From a dream of phantom fight
Wakens at his sentry's call.
Shall he leave Cavité's lee,
Hunt the Yankee fleet at sea?

O Montojo, to thy deck,
That to-day shall float its last!
Quick! To quarters! Yonder speck
Grows a hull of portent vast.
Hither, toward Cavité's lee
Comes the Yankee hunting thee!

Not for fear of hidden mine
Halts our doughty Commodore.
He, of old heroic line,
Follows Farragut once more,
Hazards all on victory,
Here within Cavité's lee.

If he loses, all is gone;
He will win because he must.
And the shafts of yonder dawn
Are not quicker than his thrust.
Soon, Montojo, he shall be
With thee in Cavité's lee.

Now, Manila, to the fray!
Show the hated Yankee host
This is not a holiday,--
Spanish blood is more than boast.
Fleet and mine and battery,
Crush him in Cavité's lee!

Lo, hell's geysers at our fore
Pierce the plotted path--in vain,
Nerving every man the more
With the memory of the Maine!
Now at last our guns are free
Here within Cavité's lee.

"Gridley," says the Commodore,
"You may fire when ready." Then
Long and loud, like lions' roar
When a rival dares the den,
Breaks the awful cannonry
Full across Cavité's lee.

Who shall tell the daring tale
Of our Thunderbolt's attack,
Finding, when the chart should fail,
By the lead his dubious track,
Five ships following faithfully
Five times o'er Cavité's lee;

Of our gunners' deadly aim;
Of the gallant foe and brave
Who, unconquered, faced with flame,
Seek the mercy of the wave,--
Choosing honor in the sea
Underneath Cavité's lee?

Let the meed the victors gain
Be the measure of their task.
Less of flinching, stouter strain,
Fiercer combat--who could ask?
And "surrender,"--'twas a word
That Cavité ne'er had heard.

Noon,--the woful work is done!
Not a Spanish ship remains;
But, of their eleven, none
Ever was so truly Spain's!
Which is prouder, they or we,
Thinking of Cavité's lee?

ENVOY

But remember, when we've ceased
Giving praise and reckoning odds,
Man shares courage with the beast,
Wisdom cometh from the gods.
Who would win, on land or wave,
Must be wise as well as brave.

ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON.

DEWEY AND HIS MEN

[May 1, 1898]

Glistering high in the midnight sky the starry rockets soar
To crown the height so soon to be uncrowned, Corregidor;
And moaning into the middle night resounds the answering shock
From Fraile's island battery within the living rock;
Like Farragut before him, so Dewey down the bay,
Past fort and mine, in single line, holds on toward Cavité.

When the earth was new a raven flew o'er the sea on a perilous quest,
By his broad black pinions buoyed up as he sought him a spot to rest;
So to-day from British China sweeps our Commodore 'mid the cheers
Of England's dauntless ships of steel, and into the night he steers,
With never a home but the furrowy foam and never a place for ease
Save the place he'll win by the dint and din of his long, lean batteries.

A misty dawn on the May-day shone, yet the enemy sees afar
On our ships-of-war great flags flung out as bright as the morning star;
Then the cannon of Spain crash over the main and their splendor flecks
the ports
As the crackling thunder rolls along the frowning fleet and forts;
But the Olympia in her majesty leads up the broadening bay
And behind her come gaunt ships and dumb toward crested Cavité.

All pearl and rose the dawnlight glows, and ruddy and gray the gloom
Of battle over their squadron sinks as we sweep like a vast simoom;
When our broadsides flash and ring at last--in a hoarsening, staggering
crush
On the arsenal and fleet in wrath our lurid lightnings rush.
Malate knows us, Cavité, Cañacoa crazed with hate;
But Corregidor shall speak no more, El Fraile fears his fate.

Montojo fights as fought the knights by the Cid Campeador;
He leaves his flagship all afire, the Cuba takes him o'er
The Don Antonio roars and fumes, the Austria lights and lifts;
From Sangley to Manila Mole the battle vapor drifts;
But the Queen Christine in one great blast dies as becomes her name,
Her funeral shroud a pillar of cloud all filagreed with flame.

From peak to peak our quick flags speak, the rattling chorus ends;
And cheer on cheer rolls over the sea at the word the signal sends.
From Commodore to powder-boy, from bridge to stoker's den,
No battle rips have found our ships, nor wounds nor death our men.
We cheer and rest, we rest and cheer; and ever above the tides
The flag that knows no conquering foes in newer glory rides.

When the reek of war is rolled afar by the breezes down the bay
We turn our deadly guns again on the walls of Cavité.
The Spaniard dreamed of victory--his final hope is flown
As winged destruction up and down our batteries have strown--
In horrid havoc, red and black, the storm throbs on amain
Till in the glare of carnage there fade all the flags of Spain.

In old Madrid sad eyes are hid for an empire sore bestead:
Manila's mad with misery, Havana sick with dread,
As the great bells toll each gallant soul Castile shall see no more,
Toll Fraile's rock a thing for sport, toll lost Corregidor--
Spain's fortresses are fluttering with banners blanched and pale;
Her admiralty in agony lies shattered, steam and sail.

And the home we sought was cheaply bought, for no mother, wife, nor maid
From Maine to Loma Point bewails the lad for whom she prayed;
Now everywhere, from Florida to the blue Vancouver Straits,
The flag we've flown abroad is thrown, and a word of cheer awaits.
The ships and men that never failed the nation from her birth
Have done again all ships and men may do upon this earth.

Glistering high in the noontide sky the starry banners soar
To crown anew the height so soon uncrowned, Corregidor.
They bring the promise of the free to Philip's jewelled isles,
And hearts oppressed thrill hard with hope whene'er that promise smiles;
For the spirit of Old Ironsides broods o'er that tropic day
And the wildfire lights as Dewey fights on the broad Manila Bay.

WALLACE RICE.

"OFF MANILLY"

Aye, lads, aye, we fought 'em,
And we sent 'em to the bottom,
And you'll say that I'm a-talkin' like a silly;
I hear your cheers and jokes,
But, lads, them's human folks
What is soakin' in the water off Manilly.

Aye, lads, and when we shot
It's just as like as not
We hit some mother's heart in old Granady.
She didn't sink no Maine,
'Way over there in Spain,
But she won't never see her laddy's body.

I kin see a black-eyed gal,
Somethin' like my little Sal,
What is cryin' out her eyes in old Sevilly;
There's a widow in Madrid
With a pore little kid,
And his daddy has went down off Manilly.

Aye, lads, aye, we fought 'em,
And we sent 'em to the bottom,
And I hopes you won't be thinkin' I'm a booby,
But that little black-eyed gal,
What reminds me so of Sal,
She didn't never do no harm to Cuby.

And if instead of Sanchy,
It had been "the hated Yankee,"
Which you know, my lads, is me and Jack, and Billy,
You know who would be cryin'
For us fellers, what was dyin'
And a-soakin' in the water off Manilly.

EDMUND VANCE COOKE.

MANILA BAY

From keel to fighting top, I love
Our Asiatic fleet,
I love our officers and crews
Who'd rather fight than eat.
I love the breakfast ordered up
When enemies ran short,
But most I love our chaplain
With his head out of the port.

Now, a naval chaplain cannot charge
As chaplains can on land,
With his Bible in his pocket,
His revolver in his hand,
He must wait and help the wounded,
No danger must he court;
So our chaplain helped the wounded
With his head out of the port.

Beneath his red and yellow,
At bay the Spaniard stood
Till the yellow rose in fire
And the crimson sank in blood.
And till the last fouled rifle
Sped its impotent retort,
Our chaplain watched the Spaniard
With his head out of the port.

Then here's our admiral on the bridge
Above the bursting shell;
And here's our sailors who went in
For victory or hell,
And here's the ships and here's the guns,
That silenced fleet and fort;
But don't forget our chaplain
With his head out of the port.

ARTHUR HALE.

May 1, 1898.

A BALLAD OF MANILA BAY

Your threats how vain, Corregidor;
Your rampired batteries, feared no more;
Your frowning guard at Manila gate,--
When our Captain went before!

Lights out. Into the unknown gloom
From the windy, glimmering, wide sea-room
Challenging fate in that dark strait
We dared the hidden doom.

But the death in the deep awoke not then;
Mine and torpedo they spoke not then;
From the heights that loomed on our passing line
The thunders broke not then.

Safe through the perilous dark we sped,
Quiet each ship as the quiet dead,
Till the guns of El Fraile roared--too late,
And the steel prows forged ahead.

Mute each ship as the mute-mouth grave,
A ghost leviathan cleaving the wave;
But deep in its heart the great fires throb,
The travailing engines rave.

The ponderous pistons urge like fate,
The red-throat furnaces roar elate,
And the sweating stokers stagger and swoon
In a heat more fierce than hate.

So through the dark we stole our way
Past the grim warders and into the bay,
Past Kalibuyo, and past Salinas,--
And came at the break of day

Where strong Cavité stood to oppose,--
Where, from a sheen of silver and rose,
A thronging of masts, a soaring of towers,
The beautiful city arose.

How fine and fair! But the shining air
With a thousand shattered thunders there
Flapped and reeled. For the fighting foe--
We had caught him in his lair.

Surprised, unready, his proud ships lay
Idly at anchor in Bakor Bay:--
Unready, surprised, but proudly bold,
Which was ever the Spaniard's way.

Then soon on his pride the dread doom fell,
Red doom,--for the ruin of shot and shell
Lit every vomiting, bursting hulk
With a crimson reek of hell.

But to the brave though beaten, hail!
All hail to them that dare and fail!
To the dauntless boat that charged our fleet
And sank in the iron hail!

* * * * *

Manila Bay! Manila Bay!
How proud the song on our lips to-day!
A brave old song of the true and strong,
And the will that has its way;

Of the blood that told in the days of Drake
When the fight was good for the fighting's sake!
For the blood that fathered Farragut
Is the blood that fathered Blake;

And the pride of the blood will not be undone
While war's in the world and a fight to be won.
For the master now, as the master of old,
Is "the man behind the gun."

The dominant blood that daunts the foe,
That laughs at odds, and leaps to the blow,--
It is Dewey's glory to-day, as Nelson's
A hundred years ago!

CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS.

THE BATTLE OF MANILA

A FRAGMENT

[May 1, 1898]

By Cavité on the bay
'Twas the Spanish squadron lay;
And the red dawn was creeping
O'er the city that lay sleeping
To the east, like a bride, in the May.
There was peace at Manila,
In the May morn at Manila,--
When ho, the Spanish admiral
Awoke to find our line
Had passed by gray Corregidor,
Had laughed at shoal and mine,
And flung to the sky its banners
With "Remember" for the sign!

With the ships of Spain before
In the shelter of the shore,
And the forts on the right,
They drew forward to the fight,
And the first was the gallant Commodore
In the bay of Manila,
In the doomed bay of Manila--
With succor half the world away,
No port beneath that sky,
With nothing but their ships and guns
And Yankee pluck to try,
They had left retreat behind them,
They had come to win or die!

* * * * *

For we spoke at Manila,
We said it at Manila,
Oh be ye brave, or be ye strong,
Ye build your ships in vain;
The children of the sea queen's brood
Will not give up the main;
We hold the sea against the world
As we held it against Spain.

Be warned by Manila,
Take warning by Manila,
Ye may trade by land, ye may fight by land,
Ye may hold the land in fee;
But not go down to the sea in ships
To battle with the free;
For England and America
Will keep and hold the sea!

RICHARD HOVEY.

This remarkable victory amazed the world, and set America wild
with excitement and enthusiasm. Dewey became a popular hero,
and Congress made haste to revive the grade of admiral and to
confer it upon him.

DEWEY IN MANILA BAY

He took a thousand islands and he didn't lose a man
(Raise your heads and cheer him as he goes!)--
He licked the sneaky Spaniard till the fellow cut and ran,
For fighting's part of what a Yankee knows.

He fought 'em and he licked 'em, without any fuss or flam
(It was only his profession for to win),
He sank their boats beneath 'em, and he spared 'em as they swam,
And then he sent his ambulances in.

He had no word to cheer him and had no bands to play,
He had no crowds to make his duty brave;
But he risked the deep torpedoes at the breaking of the day,
For he knew he had our self-respect to save.

He flew the angry signal crying justice for the Maine,
He flew it from his flagship as he fought.
He drove the tardy vengeance in the very teeth of Spain,
And he did it just because he thought he ought.

He busted up their batteries and sank eleven ships
(He knew what he was doing, every bit);
He set the Maxims going like a hundred cracking whips,
And every shot that crackled was a hit.

He broke 'em and he drove 'em, and he didn't care at all,
He only liked to do as he was bid;
He crumpled up their squadron and their batteries and all,--
He knew he had to lick 'em and he did.

And when the thing was finished and they flew the frightened flag,
He slung his guns and sent his foot ashore,
And he gathered in their wounded, and he quite forgot to brag,
For he thought he did his duty, nothing more.

Oh, he took a thousand islands and he didn't lose a man
(Raise your heads and cheer him as he goes!)--
He licked the sneaky Spaniard till the fellow cut and ran,
For fighting's part of what a Yankee knows!

R. V. RISLEY.

Another fleet, and a much more powerful one than Dewey's, had
been collected at Key West, under command of Admiral Sampson,
ready to proceed to Cuba, and on April 21 orders came for it
to sail. On the morning of April 22, it put to sea and steamed
slowly off toward Havana.

"MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN"

[April 22, 1898]

Behold, we have gathered together our battleships, near and afar;
Their decks they are cleared for action, their guns they are primed for
war.
From the East to the West there is hurry; in the North and the South a
peal
Of hammers in fort and ship-yard, and the clamor and clang of steel;
And the rush and roar of engines, and clanking of derrick and crane,--
Thou art weighed in the scales and found wanting, the balance of God,
O Spain!

Behold, I have stood on the mountains, and this was writ in the sky:
"She is weighed in the scales and found wanting, the balance God holds on
high!"
The balance He once weighed Babylon, the Mother of Harlots, in:
One scale holds thy pride and power and empire, begotten of sin,
Heavy with woe and torture, the crimes of a thousand years,
Mortared and welded together with fire and blood and tears;
In the other, for justice and mercy, a blade with never a stain,
Is laid the Sword of Liberty, and the balance dips, O Spain!

Summon thy vessels together! great is thy need for these!
Cristobal Colon, Vizcaya, Oquendo, Marie Therese.
Let them be strong and many, for a vision I had by night,
That the ancient wrongs thou hast done the world came howling to the
fight;
From the New World shores they gathered, Inca and Aztec, slain,
To the Cuban shot but yesterday, and our own dead seamen, Spain!

Summon thy ships together, gather a mighty fleet!
For a strong young nation is arming that never hath known defeat.
Summon thy ships together, there on thy blood-stained sands!
For a shadowy army gathers with manacled feet and hands,
A shadowy host of sorrows and of shames, too black to tell,
That reach with their horrible wounds for thee to drag thee down to hell;
Myriad phantoms and spectres, thou warrest against in vain!
Thou art weighed in the scales and found wanting, the balance of God,
O Spain!

MADISON CAWEIN.

A blockade was proclaimed of Havana and a number of other
ports. But no attempt was made to enter the harbor, which was
crammed with mines and defended by strong fortifications.

THE SPIRIT OF THE MAINE

In battle-line of sombre gray
Our ships-of-war advance,
As Red Cross Knights in holy fray
Charged with avenging lance.
And terrible shall be thy plight,
O fleet of cruel Spain!
Forever in our van doth fight
The spirit of the Maine!

As when beside Regillus Lake
The Great Twin Brethren came
A righteous fight for Rome to make
Against the Deed of Shame--
So now a ghostly ship shall doom
The fleet of treacherous Spain:
Before her guilty soul doth loom
The Spirit of the Maine!

A wraith arrayed in peaceful white,
As when asleep she lay
Above the traitorous mine that night
Within Havana Bay,
She glides before the avenging fleet,
A sign of woe to Spain,
Brave though her sons, how shall they meet
The Spirit of the Maine!

TUDOR JENKS.

Spain also had a fleet, and a strong one, on the ocean. It
had been gathered together at the Cape Verde Islands, and on
April 29, 1898, it put to sea, and steamed westward into the
Atlantic, for a destination which could only be conjectured.

THE DRAGON OF THE SEAS[15]

They say the Spanish ships are out
To seize the Spanish main;
Reach down the volume, boy, and read
The story o'er again.

How when the Spaniard had the might,
He drenched the earth, like rain,
With human blood, and made it death
To sail the Spanish main.

With torch and steel, and stake and rack,
He trampled out all truce,
Until Queen Bess her leashes slipt,
And turned her sea-dogs loose.

God! how they sprang! And how they tore!
The Grenvilles, Hawkins, Drake!
Remember, boy, they were your sires!
They made the Spaniard quake.

They sprang, like lions, for their prey,
Straight for the throat, amain!
By twos, by scores, where'er they caught
They fought the ships of Spain.

When Spain, in dark Ulloa's bay,
Broke doubly-plighted faith,
Bold Hawkins fought his way through fire
For great Elizabeth.

A bitter malt Spain brewed that day--
She drained it to the lees;
Her faithless guns that morn awoke
The Dragon of the Seas.