_Furor_ and _Pluton_ dashed like
mad colts for the _Brooklyn_, and Commodore Schley signaled--"Repel
torpedo-destroyers." Some of the heavy ships turned their guns upon the
little monsters. It was short work. Clouds of black smoke rising from
their thin sides showed how seriously they suffered as they floundered
in the sea.

[Illustration: REAR-ADMIRAL JOHN C. WATSON.

Commander of the Blockading Fleet at Havana.]

The _Brooklyn_ and _Oregon_ dashed on after the cruisers, followed by
the other big ships, leaving the _Furor_ and _Pluton_ to the
_Gloucester_, hoping the _New York_, which was coming in the distance,
would arrive in time to help her out if she needed it. The firing from
the main and second batteries of all the battleships--_Oregon_, _Iowa_,
_Texas_--and the cruiser _Brooklyn_ was turned upon the _Vizcaya_,
_Teresa_, and _Oquendo_ with such terrific broadsides and accuracy of
aim that the Spaniards were driven from their guns repeatedly; but the
officers gave the men liquor and drove them back, beating and sometimes
shooting down those who weakened, without mercy; but under the terrific
fire of the Americans the poor wretches were again driven away or fell
mangled by their guns or stunned from the concussions of the missiles on
the sides of their ships.

Presently flames and smoke burst out from the _Teresa_ and the
_Oquendo_. The fire leaped from the port-holes; and amid the din of
battle and above it all rose the wild cheers of the Americans as both
these splendid ships slowly reeled like drunken men and headed for the
shore. "They are on fire! We've finished them," shouted the gunners.
Down came the Spanish flags. The news went all over the ships--it being
commanded by Commodore Schley to keep everyone informed, even those far
below in the fire-rooms--and from engineers and firemen in the hot
bowels of the great leviathans to the men in the fighting-tops the
welkin rang until the shins reverberated with exuberant cheers.

This was 10.20 A.M. Previously, the two torpedo boats had gone down, and
only two dozen of their 140 men survived, these having been picked up by
the _Gloucester_, which plucky little unprotected "dare-devil," not
content with the destruction she had courted and escaped only as one of
the unexplainable mysteries of Spanish gunnery, was coming up to join
the chase after bigger game; and it was to Lieutenant Wainwright, her
commander, that Admiral Cervera surrendered. The _Maine was_