From the very beginning of her dominion in Cuba, Spain ruled the people there with extreme cruelty and oppression. Again and again did the Cubans, driven to desperation by unjust treatment, rise in rebellion, without success. But in 1895 they organized an uprising that Spain strove in vain to put down. In the last extremity of her power, she sent over as governor-general a man who tried to starve the Cubans into submission. A large part of the population lived in the country, and furnished the Cuban troops with food and recruits. The Spanish commander's brutal method was to drive these country people into the towns and cities, burning their homes, and destroying everything that might be of use to feed and support the fighting Cubans. But the Cubans were determined to win their independence or die in the attempt.

As the war continued, and this inhuman policy of starvation grew more brutal, the horror and indignation of the United States were aroused. Our Government tried to induce Spain to stop her barbarous methods, but while the attempt was still in progress an event took place which greatly embittered the feeling of Americans against Spain. On the night of February 15, 1898, one of our battle-ships, the Maine, was blown up in the harbor of Havana, and 266 of our sailors were killed. Many believed that this awful deed was the work of Spanish officials; and this conviction deepened when a careful investigation was made by a court of naval inquiry. In all parts of this country the excitement of the people increased until they were ready to go to war with Spain if she would not change her policy toward Cuba.

But Spain was so stubborn that President McKinley, after trying in every possible way to prevent hostilities, was obliged to say in a message that "the war in Cuba must stop"; and on April 25, 1898, Congress took the momentous step of declaring war.

Our Secretary of the Navy, Mr. Long, lost no time in sending a despatch to Commodore Dewey,—who was in command of an American fleet of six war-vessels at Hong-Kong,—directing him to proceed at once to the Philippine Islands and capture or destroy the Spanish fleet stationed there.

Two days later Commodore Dewey's fleet was steaming southward toward Manila Bay, in search of the Spanish squadron of ten war-vessels and two torpedo-boats. It was extremely important that these ships of war should be captured or destroyed before they could make their way to our Pacific coast and attack American cities.

On the night preceding May 1st our fleet entered Manila Bay. The supreme moment in the life of Commodore Dewey, now in his sixty-second year, had come. He was 7,000 miles from home and in hostile waters. Without even a pilot to guide his fleet as it moved slowly but boldly into the bay, he knew well that he might be going into a death-trap. Two torpedoes exploded just in front of the flag-ship Olympia, which was in the lead, but the fearless commander did not swerve from his course.

Drawn up at the entrance of Bakor Bay, not far from Manila, was the Spanish fleet, protected on either side by strong shore batteries. When about three miles distant Commodore Dewey quietly said to the captain of the Olympia, "If you are ready, Gridley, you may fire." Spanish shells had already filled the air all about the American fleet, but as the Spanish gunnery was exceedingly poor it did little serious damage. During the battle the American fleet steamed forward in single file, the Olympia in the lead. After going for some distance toward Manila the ships swung round and returned, firing terrible broadsides into the Spanish fleet as they passed. Five times they followed the course in this way, each time drawing nearer to the enemy's position, and each time pouring in a more furious and deadly fire.

At seven o'clock the Spanish flagship dashed boldly out, as if with the purpose of running down the Olympia. But the American war-vessels concentrated their fire upon her so that she had to turn back. As she was swinging around, the Olympia hurled a shell which raked her deck, killing or wounding her captain and sixty of her sailors. About this time two Spanish torpedo-boats darted out toward the American fleet, and one of them, with the evident purpose of blowing her up, headed for the Olympia. But a well-aimed shell exploded upon the deck of the torpedo-boat, and sank it to the bottom of the sea.

At the end of two hours, it being plain that the Spanish fleet was nearly done for, Commodore Dewey decided to give his tired men a rest. He therefore withdrew his fleet from the scene of battle, and gave his brave sailors some breakfast. Three hours later he renewed the fight, which ended with the destruction of the entire Spanish fleet. Although 1,200 Spaniards were killed or wounded, not one American was killed and only eight were wounded. None of Dewey's war-vessels received serious injury. The battle was a brilliant exhibition of superb training and seamanship on the part of the American sailors, whose rapid and accurate handling of the guns was marvellous.

The people were electrified with joy when the news of the glorious achievement in Manila Bay was cabled to America. On May 9th, Congress voted that ten thousand dollars ($10,000) should be spent in securing a sword for Commodore Dewey and medals for all his men, and President McKinley promptly appointed him a rear-admiral. Before the middle of August an army of 15,000 troops, under General Merritt, was sent to Manila to unite with the fleet under Admiral Dewey in capturing the city. Manila surrendered on August 13th.

With the destruction of the Spanish fleet at Manila, within a week after Congress declared war, all danger of attack from Spanish war-vessels upon our Pacific coast was at an end. But there was grave fear that the Spanish fleet under Admiral Cervera might attack the large and wealthy cities upon our Atlantic coast. Shortly after the war began, this fleet was reported to have left the Cape Verde Islands and to have directed its course toward Cuban waters.

At once Americans began to put serious questions which nobody could answer. "Where is Cervera going?" they asked. "Will he try to break the blockade which an American fleet under Admiral Sampson is keeping up on the northern coast of Cuba? Will he try to intercept and destroy the battle-ship Oregon?[12] Or, will he bring havoc and destruction upon us by sailing straight for some great Atlantic seaport?" Americans looked anxious and worried as they considered these questions.

But the uncertainty did not long continue, for soon it was learned by cable that Cervera had stopped at Martinique, and later at a small island off the coast of Venezuela, whence he had speedily steamed northward toward Cuba. We now know that he went to Santiago harbor, which he thought would prove a good hiding-place while his fleet took on board coal and other supplies. Shortly after Cervera's arrival at Santiago an American fleet under Commodore Schley discovered him, and blockaded the harbor in order to prevent his escape. It was extremely important to keep him "bottled up" there until an American army might come down and capture Santiago and the Spanish army which held the place. This capture accomplished, Cervera would have to fight either in the harbor or out on the open sea. But there was still some anxiety lest he might on some dark, stormy night manage to steal out and make his escape.

One reason why Cervera went into the Santiago harbor was that the entrance was very narrow and well protected by headlands surmounted by batteries. At its narrowest place, the channel was not much more than a hundred yards wide. If, therefore, the American war-vessels should attempt to enter the harbor they would have to enter in single file, and the foremost one would possibly be blown up by the Spanish torpedoes, many of which were planted in the channel. The sinking of a single vessel in the channel would block the way for all the rest.

With these facts in mind Admiral Sampson planned to obstruct the entrance to Santiago harbor to prevent the Spanish fleet from getting out. Lieutenant Hobson, a young man of twenty-eight, worked out the plan of sinking the collier Merrimac across the channel; and to him the important task of carrying it out was assigned. Torpedoes were so arranged on the sides of the Merrimac that their explosion would shatter her bottom and sink her in the channel.

There was serious difficulty in selecting the small number of brave, cool-headed men who were to accompany Lieutenant Hobson in this perilous enterprise, for several hundred American sailors were eager to go, even though they knew that in so doing they were running serious risk of capture or death. But such was the heroic temper of the American sailors that many of them begged for an opportunity of rendering this loyal service.

On the night appointed for the daring feat, the Merrimac did not get well started before the morning light began to appear in the eastern sky, so that Admiral Sampson recalled the expedition.

After a long, nervous day of waiting, the next morning, June 3d, the Merrimac started off a second time. The vessel moved stealthily forward with its eager, silent crew, but before the place of sinking could be reached the Spaniards discovered her. Suddenly from the forts and the war-vessels in the harbor a storm of shot and shell beat in pitiless fury about the Merrimac. But she pressed forward. When the moment came for her to be swung across the channel Hobson found that the rudder of the ship had been shot away, so that she could not be swung about according to the plan. He therefore had to be content with sinking her along instead of across the channel.

When the torpedoes exploded and she went down, her crew of eight men, struggling for life in the seething waters, managed to reach a float which they had brought with them on the deck of the collier. To this float they clung, hanging on with their hands, for they dared not expose their bodies as targets to Spanish soldiers on land or to Spanish sailors in the launches that were trying to find out what had happened. For some hours Hobson and his men remained in this uncomfortable position, shivering with the cold. At length Hobson hailed an approaching launch to which he swam. He was pulled in by an elderly man, with the exclamation, "You are brave fellows." This was Admiral Cervera, who treated the prisoners, Lieutenant Hobson and his crew, with great kindness. With the rest of the world he admired the courageous spirit of the "brave fellows" who had given so much in the service of their country.

During the remainder of June, the American fleet kept watch at the harbor entrance. Before the end of the month an American army of 15,000 men was ready to advance through a tropical forest upon the Spanish defences outside of Santiago. On July 1st the Americans made a vigorous attack upon these outworks, and won a glorious victory.

It looked to Cervera as if he might be compelled to surrender his fleet without striking a blow. Although he was likely to suffer defeat in a battle, there was nothing to gain by remaining in the harbor. So he decided to dash boldly out, in a desperate effort to escape. When at about half-past nine of that quiet Sunday morning (July 3d) the foremost Spanish war-vessel was seen heading at full speed out of the harbor, the American sailors sent up a shout, "The Spanish fleet is coming out!" and leaped forward to their places at the guns. As at Manila, the battle was one-sided. The superior seamanship and gunnery of the Americans enabled them quickly to win a victory as brilliant as that won by Dewey and his men. Every Spanish vessel was destroyed, 600 Spaniards were killed, and 1,300 captured. Not one American ship was seriously injured, while but one American was killed and one badly wounded. About the middle of July Santiago and a Spanish army of 22,000 men surrendered to the Americans.

Although this ended the serious fighting of the war, the treaty of peace was not ratified by the United States Senate until February 6, 1899. In accordance with this treaty Spain gave up Cuba and ceded Porto Rico to the United States; and she also ceded to us the Philippine Islands, in return for which we agreed to pay her $20,000,000.

But some of the most striking results of the war with Spain received no mention in the terms of the treaty. From the beginning of the struggle, Spain doubtless hoped that one or more of the Great Powers of Europe might intervene in her behalf. Some of them, with ill-concealed dislike for the United States, were quite ready to interfere in Spain's interests. But England refused to take any part in the movement. Her friendly attitude toward us in this struggle has done much to bring the two countries into closer sympathy with each other. A reflection of this good-will toward England was especially evident at the time of Queen Victoria's death in January, 1901.

But, after all, one of the most striking results of the war with Spain has been the bringing of the various sections of our own country into closer sympathy and union. It is safe to say that never before have the North, the South, the East, and the West felt so closely bound together in thought and feeling. Let us hope that with noble ideals of the high destiny that awaits us, we shall go forward to greater achievements than we have yet known in our history.

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