Young Peoples History of the War with Spain | Page 4

see what looks like a large bunch of grass, slowly moving over the pavements, but as it gets nearer you will see the head of a donkey sticking out of one side, while his tail alone is visible on the other side. This is the way that food for horses and mules is brought into the city; no hay is used, only green feed. The milkman does not call at the house, as with us, but instead drives his cow up to the door and supplies you direct from her with as much milk as you wish to buy. Charcoal is almost the only fuel used in cooking, and the ranges look like benches placed against the walls with holes in the tops of them. But we must return to the battleship Maine.
[Illustration: Columbus Chapel, Havana.]
There was no special work for the Maine to do; she was simply to stay in the harbor till further orders. The Spanish officers called on Captain Sigsbee, and he returned their visits, according to the rules that naval officers of all countries are bound to observe. Yet it was easy for the men of the Maine to see that they were not welcome guests. The Maine had twenty-six officers, and a crew of three hundred and twenty-eight men. With her guns, ammunition, and other valuable stores, she was worth $5,000,000. She had been three years in service, having left the Brooklyn navy-yard in November, 1895.
The evening of February 10th, 1898, was dark and sultry. At eight o'clock Captain Sigsbee received the reports from the different officers of the ship that every thing was secure for the night. At ten minutes after nine the bugler sounded "taps," the signal for "turning in," and soon the ship was quiet. At forty minutes after nine a sharp explosion was heard, then a loud, long, roaring sound, mingled with the noise of falling timbers; the electric lights went out, the ship was lifted up, and then she began to sink. The Captain and some of the other officers groped their way to the deck, hardly knowing what had happened. They could do nothing; the ship was sinking fast, and was on fire in several places.
The force of the explosion was so great that it threw Captain Sigsbee out of his cabin, where he sat writing a letter, and against William Anthony, a marine who was on duty as a sentry. As coolly as though nothing had happened, Anthony saluted the Captain and then said:
"Sir, I have the honor to inform you that the ship has been blown up and is sinking."
[Illustration: Captain Charles D. Sigsbee.]
Small boats came out from the other ships, and rescued many men from the Maine. The Spaniards helped the sufferers in every possible way, taking them to the hospitals in Havana, where they received the best care that the hospitals could give.
In that awful destruction of the Maine, two officers and two hundred and fifty-four of the crew were lost. Several of those who were rescued, died afterward.
The next day divers went down into the water to see what they could find in the wreck, and nineteen dead bodies were brought up. The Spanish officers of Havana asked Captain Sigsbee to permit the city to give the a public funeral; and a plot of ground in Col��n Cemetery, outside the city, was given to the United States free of expense forever. The day of the funeral all the flags were put at "half mast," as a sign of mourning, and the stores were closed. Crowds of people joined the long funeral procession.
In the latter part of the year 1899, however, the Maine dead were brought from Havana by the battleship Texas, then commanded by Captain Sigsbee, formerly of the Maine. They were laid away in Arlington Cemetery, near Washington, on December 28th, with simple religious services and the honors of war, in the presence of the President of the United States and his Cabinet, officers of the army and navy, and many other spectators.
Besides Captain Sigsbee and Father Chidwick, who was chaplain of the Maine at the time she was blown up, three others who lived through that awful night were present. They were Lieutenant Commander Wainwright, who was the executive officer of the Maine and who afterwards sank the Furor and Pluton at Santiago; Lieutenant F.C. Bowers, formerly assistant engineer of the Maine; and Jeremiah Shea, a fireman of the Maine, who was blown out of the stoke-hole of the ship through the wreckage.
[Illustration: Wreck of the "Maine."]
After three volleys had been fired over the dead, and the bugles had rung out the soldiers' and sailors' last good night, Captain Sigsbee introduced Shea to President McKinley. Being asked for an explanation of his escape, he responded, as he had done to Father Chidwick