“Our fire was redoubled.  It was too fierce; no vessel could stand it.  Still continuing on the circle, with a starboard helm, the Furor turned away from us toward Morro.  But we kept up our heart-breaking fire.  Like a stag, the boat turned again and made for her companion, which was now lying on her side amid the breakers, endeavoring, to escape us, but in vain; and, still turning, she made weakly toward us again.  Then the truth dawned upon us; she was unmanageable, and was, simply moving in a circle, with a jammed helm.  The battle was at an end.

“But our work was by no means over.  We had spent two hours in slaughtering our friends who had crossed the sea to meet us, and we now spent twelve hours in rescuing the survivors.”

[Illustration:  Lieut.-Commander Wainwright.]

The Gloucester was commanded by Lieutenant-Commander Wainwright, a most gallant and plucky officer.  He was the executive officer of the battleship Maine when she was blown up in Havana harbor shortly before the war began.  His fight with the “destroyers” was one of the bravest deeds ever recorded in naval history.  After rescuing Admiral Cervera from the water, he placed his cabin at his disposal, did everything to make him comfortable, and treated him with the deference due his rank.

A midshipman on the Almirante Oquendo, who managed to get ashore after his ship was beached, told this story: 

“The flagship opened fire while we, being the last, were still some way from the harbor mouth, yet before we cleared the entrance we got struck by a few shells.  I was in the forward central torpedo room, and as, according to orders, the port holes were shut, I could see but little of what was taking place outside.  We did not at once use our torpedoes, for shortly after the action began, a heavy projectile crashed through the upper deck and destroyed the shield near which I was standing.  I was knocked down by the force of the explosion, receiving a slight leg wound from a fragment of the shell, while a splinter of the starboard gangway was driven into my chest near the heart.  On recovering my feet, I found that the starboard torpedo tube was smashed and that the deck was strewn with dead and wounded, a few of whom were seeking to go up the gangway, which was also destroyed.  Very shortly we all had to clear out of the room, as it became impossible to breathe there, owing to a lot of material taking fire.  I sank, half choked, on the upper deck, but was revived by someone turning a hose on my head.

“On rising again, I found myself close to the second commander, Don Victor Sola, who was encouraging the crew, and Senor Nunoz, who put his arm around me, exclaiming, ‘They are making a man of you to-day.’  At that moment a heavy shell burst behind me, small particles lodging in my neck.  This shell killed Don Victor Sola, whom I saw fall on his face without uttering a word.  Right across his body fell that of the first gunner.  When Captain Lazaga heard that the forward magazines were ablaze he followed the lead of the Teresa, heading for land and running the vessel ashore.  I went back to the torpedo room and stripped.  When I got back on deck, my companions were gone, so I got through the port cannon embrasure and slipped down a chain into the water.”