With the Battle Fleet
by Franklin Matthews · English · Gutenberg #41244 · 551,140 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: With the Battle Fleet
Author: Franklin Matthews
Illustrator: Henry Reuterdahl
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Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THE BATTLE FLEET ***
WITH THE BATTLE FLEET
[Illustration: _Courtesy of Collier's Weekly_
In the Straits of Magellan]
WITH
THE BATTLE FLEET
CRUISE OF THE SIXTEEN BATTLESHIPS OF THE
UNITED STATES ATLANTIC FLEET FROM HAMPTON
ROADS TO THE GOLDEN GATE
DECEMBER, 1907-MAY, 1908
BY
FRANKLIN MATTHEWS
ILLUSTRATED BY
HENRY REUTERDAHL
(Courtesy of Collier's Weekly)
1909
B. W. HUEBSCH
NEW YORK
Copyright 1909
by B. W. HUEBSCH
1st Printing, October, 1908
2d Printing, December, 1908
3d Printing, February, 1909
TO
REAR ADMIRAL RICHARD WAINWRIGHT, U.S.N.,
(Captain of the U.S.S. Louisiana on the Atlantic Fleet's
Cruise to the Pacific)
AN ABLE OFFICER AND
A GENTLEMAN
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. FROM HAMPTON ROADS TO TRINIDAD 1
II. CHRISTMAS WITH THE FLEET 25
III. TRINIDAD TO RIO DE JANEIRO 47
IV. NEPTUNE AHOY! 64
V. BRAZIL'S ENTHUSIASTIC WELCOME 86
VI. NATIONAL SALUTES AT SEA 114
VII. PUNTA ARENAS, THE WORLD'S JUMPING-OFF PLACE 135
VIII. THROUGH MAGELLAN STRAIT 164
IX. IN AND OUT OF VALPARAISO HARBOR 182
X. PERU'S WARM-HEARTED GREETING 198
XI. TARGET SHOOTING AT MAGDALENA BAY 228
XII. ROUTINE OF A BATTLESHIP 254
XIII. SOCIAL LIFE ON AN AMERICAN MAN-O'-WAR 282
XIV. END AND LESSONS OF THE CRUISE TO THE PACIFIC 309
INTRODUCTORY
On December 16, 1907, there sailed from Hampton Roads, bound for San
Francisco, a fleet of sixteen American battleships, the most powerful
collection of warships ever assembled under the American flag and about
to undertake the longest cruise that any fleet of any nation had ever
made. It was ordered to make this journey of about 14,000 miles by
President Roosevelt, Commander-in-Chief of the Navy by virtue of his
office, for reasons which he did not deem wise to make public fully and
which up to this writing have not been revealed. In his annual message
submitted to Congress a few days before the fleet sailed the President
designated the fleet, still known officially as the U. S. Atlantic
Fleet, as the Battle Fleet.
Rear Admiral Robley D. Evans was in command of the fleet, of the first
squadron and of the first division of the first squadron. The ships of
his division were the Connecticut, (Captain H. Osterhaus), Kansas
(Captain C. E. Vreeland), Vermont (Captain W. P. Potter) and Louisiana
(Captain Richard Wainwright). The ships of the second division of the
first squadron were commanded by Rear Admiral William H. Emory and were
the Georgia (Captain H. McCrea), New Jersey (Captain W. H. H.
Southerland), Rhode Island (Captain J. B. Murdock) and Virginia (Captain
S. Schroeder). The second squadron of the fleet and its third division
were commanded by Rear Admiral Charles M. Thomas, and the ships of his
division were the Minnesota (Captain J. Hubbard), Ohio (Captain C. W.
Bartlett), Missouri (Captain G. A. Merriam) and the Maine (Captain G. B.
Harber). The ships of the fourth division were commanded by Rear Admiral
Charles S. Sperry, and his ships were the Alabama (Captain T. E. DeW.
Veeder), Illinois (Captain J. M. Bowyer), Kearsarge (Captain H.
Hutchins) and Kentucky (Captain W. C. Cowles). There were about 14,000
men on the ships and the value of the vessels and stores was about
$100,000,000.
The following compilation shows where the fleet stopped, how long each
stay was and the distance travelled.
Sailed from Hampton Roads, Va., December 16, 1907.
Arrived Port of Spain, December 23, 1907; sailed December 29,
1907; 1,594.7 knots; time 7 days 9 hours.
Arrived Rio de Janeiro, January 12, 1908; sailed January 22,
1908; 3,225 knots; time, 13 days 20 hours.
Arrived Possession Bar, Chile, January 31, 1908; sailed
February 1, 1908; 2,076 knots; time, 9 days.
Arrived Punta Arenas, Chile, February 1, 1908; sailed February
7, 1908; 75 knots; time, 9 hours.
Arrived Callao, Peru, February 20, 1908; sailed February 29,
1908; 2,693 knots; time, 12 days 10 hours.
Arrived Magdalena Bay, Mexico, March 12, 1908; sailed April 11,
1908; 3,025 knots; time, 12 days 23 hours.
Arrived San Diego, Cal., April 14, 1908; sailed April 18, 1908;
590 knots; time, 2 days 21 hours.
Arrived San Pedro, Cal., April 18, 1908; sailed April 25, 1908;
75 knots; time, 9 hours.
Arrived Santa Barbara, Cal., April 25, 1908; sailed April 30,
1908; 85 knots; time, 10 hours.
Arrived Monterey, Cal., May 1, 1908; sailed May 2, 1908; 210
knots; time, 25 hours.
Arrived Santa Cruz, Cal., May 2, 1908; sailed May 5, 1908; 15
knots; time, 2 hours.
Arrived San Francisco Lightship, May 5, 1908; sailed May 6,
1908; 60 knots; time, 6 hours.
Arrived San Francisco, Cal., May 6, 1908; 15 knots; time, 2
hours. Total knots, 13,738.
Actual time of cruising, 61 days 19 hours.
The departure of the fleet excited intense interest throughout the
civilized world. Its progress was watched with eagerness at home and
abroad. The letters printed herewith record what took place on this
momentous journey, and they constitute practically a chronological story
of the cruise. Every word of them was passed upon by duly appointed
naval officers with the fleet. Their accuracy therefore must be
unquestioned. They were written for The Sun of New York and they were
printed originally by that newspaper and its clients simultaneously
throughout the country. They are reproduced by the special permission of
the Sun Printing and Publishing Association and in response to a large
number of written and oral requests that a permanent record be made of
the cruise and its incidents.
The author takes pleasure in making acknowledgment of the kindly
co-operation of Lieut. F. Taylor Evans of the Louisiana in the
preparation of the letters and in the elimination of technical naval
errors through his watchful supervision. The author is also under
obligations to very many officers of the fleet, especially to Lieutenant
Commander C. T. Jewell, navigator of the Louisiana, for suggestions and
for assistance in gathering information, as well as for the cordiality
with which he and the other correspondents, all of whom were sent with
the fleet by special direction of the President, were received on the
ships.
F. M.
New York, July 1, 1908.
WITH THE BATTLE FLEET
CHAPTER I
FROM HAMPTON ROADS TO TRINIDAD
Run of the Battleships Down to the West Indies--The "Sweet
Sixteen" Quick to Get Down to Business After the Sentiment of
the Good-by--Formation of the Fleet--Difficulties of Maintaining
the Proper Distances--Naval Routine--Gospel of Neatness--
Neptune's Preparations for Celebrating the Crossing of the
Line--Arrival at Trinidad.
_On Board U.S.S. Louisiana, U. S. Battle Fleet,_
TRINIDAD, Dec. 24.
"I call 'em 'Sweet Sixteen', sir," said the bos'n's mate to the Sun
correspondent as Admiral Evans in the flagship Connecticut led the
battle fleet past the capes of the Chesapeake out to sea just before
noon on December 16 and the gentle swells lifted and lowered the bows of
one ship after another to nod their own farewells to the Mayflower at
anchor near the Tail of the Horseshoe.
The officers and men had stood at attention to receive the good-by and
godspeed of the President, and they had thundered their farewells to him
from the throats of the 3-pounder barkers that spat fire and snorted out
great puffs of smoke, but when each ship began to find herself she too
made her good-by as only a dignified ship could make it, taking no
orders from Admiral or Captain as to when and how often she should bow
to the ship that carried the President.
A stiff northwest wind seized hold of the great streamers of smoke that
poured over the tops of smoke-pipes, and as these streamers frayed
themselves out against the blue sky and the bright sun the breeze seemed
to lift them toward the southeastern heavens, where some power wove them
together to pull the ships along and give them a fine sendoff. All of
Monday and Tuesday whoever it was in the kingdom of Old Boreas that was
doing the tugging on the ships made a good job of it, for practically
every vessel in the fleet had to check speed constantly.
Admiral Evans had his own notions as to the way a great fleet should set
sail on a prolonged voyage, and his commanding officers got down to
business in a jiffy. All acted as if sending a fleet of sixteen
battleships on a 14,000 mile cruise were a mere matter of ordinary
routine. The officers of the deck on all the ships were concerned
chiefly about keeping their proper distances, the navigators were taking
bearings and already getting ready for figuring out latitudes and
longitudes, the executive officers were going about to see that
everything was in proper order for routine at sea and the captains were
mostly on the bridges casting their eyes about and keeping their ears
open, alert to correct any move that might mar the performance of their
ships in the fleet formation.
Below decks in engine and fire rooms, and in all the other of the scores
of places where men watch and work in a warship, routine was established
quickly.
It was all very businesslike. Every ship was doing the same thing at the
same time. True, the fleet had started for San Francisco, but that was
a mere detail, so little has the matter of destination to do with
perfecting drill on a warship.
[Illustration: _Copyright by Pictorial News Co._
The Fleet Leaving Hampton Roads]
Getting away from Hampton Roads may have sent a lump into many a man's
throat, but not one showed it. On every ship the band was playing the
usual good-by medley composed of "Home, Sweet Home," "The Girl I Left
Behind Me" and "Auld Lang Syne." The middle part of the medley brought
thumping of many feet on the deck, but there was silence and stern looks
ahead when the beginning and end were reached, over and over again.
A staff officer on the Louisiana showed the attitude of the naval man.
He had told his wife and family exactly where to go in a remote but
conspicuous place on the ramparts of old Fort Monroe so that he could
distinguish them easily with his glass. He had told them he would be on
the after bridge. When the ship came near the station of his family he
stole far out on the bridge, fixed his glass on the family group and
waved and waved his handkerchief. The answer came quickly and the
flashes seemed to be wigwags, such as a naval officer's wife might be
expected to know.
The officer stood it for about two minutes. Then he pulled himself
together sharply, turned and walked away. He walked over to a group of
his mates.
"Did you make out your people, Jones?" asked one of them who had noted
what was going on.
"I believe they were over there somewhere in the crowd," was the reply
with an apparently unconcerned smile.
He had finished with that side of his existence. From now on he knew no
family; his duty was to his flag and ship. What was that signal at the
forward truck? Had anybody made it out? His heartstrings were out of
sight and he was thankful they were.
The business side of the start was another story. Orders had been issued
to steam in exact column, that is, one ship directly behind its leader
at a distance of 400 yards from masthead to masthead. Steam was up;
engines, steering gear, annunciators, and all the rest of the modern
contrivances had been tested; boats hoisted in and gangways unrigged,
and then came the flagship signal to get under way.
How the men did step around and the anchor engines tug! The division
officer watched until the anchor was clear of the mud, when he reported
it to the executive officer, who takes a ship in and out of port.
Finally the anchor was sighted, the "All ready" signal made, the engines
began to throb and the ships turned on their heels and got under way.
It was a pretty manoeuvre in the crowded Roads with the swift tide
sweeping the ships seaward. In the chains the leadsman was swinging his
plummet and calling out such things as "By the mark seven," "By the deep
six," "By the quarter less six," while the ships slowly paraded down the
bay. The channel was so shallow that the ships stirred up the mud and
some of it got into the machinery, and there were hot bearings that were
cooled down with the hose. It would not do to falter or make a blunder
of any kind, for the President was looking on and no excuses would be
tolerated.
It was a far different story from the old days. The old sloop of war
Jamestown lay in the Roads, and if the fleet could have stopped to
listen she would have spun a yarn on how they used to leave port. She
would have remarked upon the change. When she set sail capstan bars
would be shipped and all that part of the ship's company manning the
bars would bring the anchor chain "up and down, sir," as the officer in
charge of the fo'c's'le would report. The captain and First Luff (the
executive officer who "had to have the ship working like a chronometer,
no thanks if he did and his hide scorched by his superiors if he
didn't") would stand on the quarter block on the weather side and the
navigator and officer of the deck on the lee side.
Then would come the sharp commands, "Aloft light yardmen!" "Aloft
topmen!" "Aloft lower yardmen!" "Lay out!" "Let fall!" and a cloud of
snowy canvas would drop loose and limp. Then would come the commands,
"Topsail sheets and halyards!" "To'gallant sheets and halyards!" "Set
taut!" "Haul away!" with the shrill sound of the bos'n's whistle to the
tramp of hundreds of feet.
When a band was on board there would be a martial air. If not the
officer would shout "Stamp and go!" and this noise with the feet meant
so much extra pulling, and the good ship was soon on her course.
Sometimes a chanty would be sung instead of the "Stamp and go," and when
the ship was bound for Rio, just as this fleet is, one could hear the
light hearted, and the heavy hearted ones too, singing a refrain that
the men of this fleet might well have sung if the days of the chanty had
not gone to limbo:
Heave away for Rio!
Heave away for Rio!
My bonny young girl,
My head's in a whirl,
For I'm bound for the Rio Grande.
The old days have gone, but many a bluejacket's head (bluejacket, mind
you; not Jackie, for many of Uncle Sam's tars and sea dogs don't like
that term) was in a whirl over some bonny young girl, as witness the
hundreds of letters that were sent ashore on the mail orderly's last
trip.
And so the ships passed out to sea. The matter of fact officers
occasionally cast their eyes about and when they had time to give
expression to their feelings about all that one would hear from them
would be:
"Mighty fine, sight, this. Wonder what they're doing back there?
Distance seems wrong. Better get up his position pennant or the Admiral
may get after him. What's that? We're fifty yards too close? Give her
three revolutions slower. Only twenty-five now? Give her only one
slower. Get her distance now? Standard speed."
And the signals to the engine room would quit jangling for a time while
the Captain or officer of the deck looked around again and repeated:
"Mighty fine sight, this!"
It all depends on the way you look at it. You couldn't see much going
down the Chesapeake Bay channel. There was a turn or two, but the smoke
of the saluting obscured things and it was not until the ships headed
out to sea and the Connecticut was past the whistling buoy, which also
seemed to want to have a share in the sendoff, that it was possible to
get a satisfactory look at the entire fleet that stretched away for more
than three miles.
Then came a signal for open order. The Admiral's ship went right on. The
next following bore out to port and the next to starboard. Then the
ships paired off to port and starboard, making two lines, each a quarter
of a point off the flagship, which had a lane to itself in the centre,
giving the Admiral and his staff on the after bridge a view of all.
Perhaps the formation may be understood better by the average reader by
saying that it was a wing and wing formation.
Signals were passing along the line constantly and semaphores were
throwing their arms about as if they were manikins performing for the
amusement of the 14,000 men afloat. It was pretty to see a mass of flags
fall to the deck simultaneously from time to time. It was impressive to
see the flag of the country fluttering from the gaffs of mainmasts. It
was fine to see the ships keeping in line.
The commanding officers might refer to the spectacle as a mighty fine
sight, but the few civilians with the fleet shared the sentiment of a
tar who sidled up to the Sun man and said:
"This makes you proud of your country. You know already that the country
is big and great and all that, but when you see it reduced to this kind
of business on the ocean you are sure your country is great. None but a
great country could produce such a sight as this. I'm glad I've had the
chance to see it."
In single file for two hours the ships kept on their course. They were
like so many Indians on a jaunt. Each ship stood for sovereignty. Each
stood for brute strength. Each stood for the development of science and
skill. Each stood for an impressive expression of patriotism. In that
fleet of sixteen ships there seemed to be concentrated, according to
some of those who looked at them, the entire power of the United States
for good or evil.
When it came to estimating the brute strength of the fleet it grew
bewildering. The mathematicians got busy. They figured out that there
were nearly 1,000 guns of various kinds on the entire fleet and they
talked about the weight of projectiles and charges and then got down to
muzzle velocity in foot seconds and muzzle energy in foot tons and a lot
of other terms that would make a landlubber's head dizzy. They told how
the average muzzle velocity of those guns was 2,700 feet a second and
that a 13-inch gun's energy was equal to raising 31,372 tons a foot,
while that of a 12-inch gun, with which these ships are all armed, could
lift, by the power of one discharge, 44,025 tons a foot. Then they got
to figuring out how much all the guns could lift and how swift the
things they shoot could go. This ran the figures up into the millions of
foot tons just for one discharge.
When some one tried to figure out how many millions upon millions of
foot tons could be raised if all the projectiles in the fleet were
fired--the exact number of the thousands upon thousands of these
projectiles it would not be prudent even to indicate--why, an amateur at
figures, the simple addition, subtraction, multiplication and division
man, got a headache.
Then the figure sharps got after the engine power, and they tried to
show if one ship had something like 15,000 horse-power, more or less,
what the combined ships must have and what could be done with it on
land--that is, how many railroad trains, each a mile long, could be
pulled so many thousands of miles; how many bridges like those across
the East River they could pull down with just one tug at them; how many
cities such power could light; how many great factories and mills could
be run with that power, and even how much goods could be made out of
it--well, after that the amateur began to wonder if he could add up two
and two.
After that it was figured out that the displacement in tons for the
entire fleet was more than a quarter of a million, and the weight of a
lot of other heavy things in the world was estimated. By this time the
amateur was clear flabbergasted, and all he could say, landlubber that
he is and will be until Neptune has him ducked, was that if the fleet
did displace 250,000 tons of water the ocean didn't show any signs of it
and Uncle Sam would have to try many, many thousands of times if he
expected to get the better of old Neptune by displacing water.
After the mathematical sharps had finished, what are known as the word
painters and grainers became busy. Some of the word painters
compared the long file of ships to a line of gray geese in a long
follow-your-leader flight to the south for a warmer clime. The ships did
look gray at times, according to the atmospheric conditions, but the
gray geese analogy was voted not a success because geese haven't things
sticking up in the middle of their backs resembling the smoke-pipes of
battleships. Besides, geese do not give out black or any other kind of
smoke.
The painters got out their vocabulary of magnificent, awe inspiring,
formidable demons of war, bulldogs of the sea, peace compellers and all
that string and began to weave them all together, and it was voted all
right and probably appropriate, but it was said that these did not hit
quite the right note.
That was that this fleet was going out for business of a different kind
from that which any other American fleet had undertaken. The business in
hand was the moulding of sixteen battleship units into one battle fleet
unit, not sixteen times stronger than one unit, but with the strength
increased in something like geometrical ratio. The problem, therefore,
was to make this fleet a unit, not like a chain, strong only as its
weakest link, but like a rope, far stronger than the multiplied strength
of its various strands.
Charles H. Cramp, the veteran shipbuilder, nearly ten years ago pointed
out in a paper read at the annual meeting of naval men and marine
engineers in New York City that the greatest training need of the United
States navy was what he called battleship seamanship. That meant not
navigation merely, but the synchronizing of one battleship to others,
the tuning up, so to speak, the team work, to use a football analogy, in
sailing, manoeuvring, shooting--all pulling together.
Two hours after clearing the Capes Admiral Evans gave the signal for one
of his favorite cruising formations, that is, in columns of fours. The
four divisions of the fleet drew up in parallel lines with an Admiral at
the head of each line.
The five starred white flag, called the five of clubs, was run up at the
fore truck of the Connecticut to indicate that that ship was the guard
ship. The lines were run at intervals of 1,600 yards, and the ships of
each division, still in wing and wing fashion, were at distances of 400
yards. To be strictly naval you must call the space between two lines of
ships interval and the space between two individual ships in line
distance.
Well, after the ships were spread out they covered an area of more than
two square miles, and then one began to realize what all these ships
meant. The circle of twelve or fourteen miles that hemmed them in and
that expanded in front and contracted in the rear seemed practically
filled with them. Distances were kept fairly well and the ships plodded
along in the smooth sea nodding their approval of what was going on.
It was this problem of distance that kept the officers of the decks
busy. When you think that each of these ships represented a weight of
from 15,000 to 18,000 tons more or less, and that you had to move that
ship at the rate of 10 knots an hour and keep it within 400 yards of a
ship in front of you; when you consider how some ships move a trifle of
an inch faster than another ship at the same number of propeller
revolutions; when you think that one of the propellers of your own ship
will do more work than the other at the same number of revolutions, and
that this will throw you out of your course and make you steer badly if
you don't correct it; when you think that your leader may vary in his
speed; when you think of all this, you can begin to understand the
problem of those officers on the bridge to keep the ships in line and at
proper distances.
It took some time for each ship to determine how many revolutions were
necessary to produce ten knots speed, according to the standard of the
flagship. For example, the Louisiana's experts figured on sixty-seven
revolutions. It was too much, for after an hour or two it was found that
sixty-five would do the work. Some of the ships were between two
numbers. All the time each ship was gaining or losing a trifle and this
had to be corrected every minute or two. On each ship a young midshipman
stood on the bridge beside the officer on watch looking through a little
instrument of bars and glasses and wheels graduated to a scale of
figures and called a stadimeter. He reduced the truckline and the
waterline of the flagship to some mathematical basis involving
triangulation--what's the use of trying to explain it? No one but a
mathematician could understand it--and then he would say, "370 yards,
sir," or perhaps the figures would be 325 or 460, or what not, and the
officer of the deck would have to signal to the engine room to slow down
or go faster.
It was to be watchful every minute of the hour. The midshipman often had
to report distances every fifteen or twenty seconds and the corrections
of speed were going on every two or three minutes.
When you got more than forty yards out of the way you had to fly a
triangular pennant of white with red border and this was set down
against your ship on the flagship, and that you didn't like, if you were
the responsible officer.
And so the first day at sea wore on and the sun went down with a glow of
gold in the west that seemed like a benediction. Just as it sank below
the horizon the pink rays that were gathering reflected themselves on
the starboard sides of the white ships and gave them a touch of color.
Lights on the main truck on the foremast and at the stern and at the
sides appeared instantly, and it was night-time on the fleet.
The black smoke rose straight in the air, other lights began to twinkle
and soon, in the glow of the twilight and the gleam of the lights on the
vessels themselves and the illumination of the moon close to the full,
the ships took on an aspect such as lower New York assumes early in the
evening of mid-winter days when office buildings are lighted. When the
smoke smudged the sky or clouded the moon, however, it was like a city
of factories and it was decided that there was just one expression that
would give some idea of its beauty. It was this:
"Spotless town afloat."
Zest was added to the day's sendoff and work when the officers were
gathered in the wardroom at dinner and a wireless telegram of good
wishes from the Mayflower, received a short time before, was read. There
were cheers for the President, especially on the Louisiana, which is
called the President's ship because he sailed on her to Panama, and
hundreds of the officers and crew feel that they know him personally.
"Good for the President!" shouted one of the officers in the waist of
the table.
"So say we all," responded a man on the other side, "but I wish he had
told us where we are going."
That man didn't have to wait long, for soon there was sent into the
wardroom of every ship a message signalled from the flagship which said
that after a brief stay on the Pacific Coast the fleet would come home
by way of Suez. This is what Admiral Evans signalled:
UNOFFICIAL SIGNAL.
U. S. S. CONNECTICUT,
December 16th, 1907.
The President authorizes the Commander-in-Chief to inform the
officers and men that after a short stay on the Pacific Coast
it is the President's intention to have the fleet return to the
Atlantic Coast by way of the Mediterranean.
Every man jumped at that news; every one wished his wife or sweetheart
could know it at once. One of the puzzles about the fleet was settled.
There is no room in this first letter of the long cruise to go into
detail about the thousand and one things--incidents, ceremonies and
drills--that make up the routine and life on the warship. These will
come afterward in other forms. One might tell how the men on guard at
the side lights at night sing out after a bell is tapped: "Port light
burning bright," "Starboard light burning bright," how "the 9 o'clock
light is out, sir" report is made and received; how they "put the shirts
on" the gun muzzles and mainmast; how the call to dinner to the officers
is done on the Louisiana with a fife and drum, "rolling roast beef,"
they used to call it, and probably, do yet in the British navy, only the
tune is different in ours, for it is "Yankee Doodle"; how "sweethearts
and wives "are toasted once a week; how "make it eight bells" is said;
how scores of these things, many of them well known, are done and why.
Let it go for the present.
If there is one thing that impresses the civilian even more than the
ceremonies or the peculiar routine of a warship it is the cleanliness of
things. This applies as much to the men as it does to the remotest nook
and cranny in the darkest and deepest part of the ship.
The officer would take you into some corner where you had to bend your
back and almost go on your hands and knees and show you that it was as
clean as the most exposed parts of his bailiwick. The fleet had not been
out two days before the executive officer issued an order about
cleanliness.
The men were cautioned to keep themselves and their clothes clean on
penalty of going on the scrubbing list. It did not mean that there were
men on board who were slack in this respect, but there were a lot of
youngsters who had never been to sea before and they needed to be broken
in. What the scrubbing list is was well explained by an old time sailor
on board. He said:
"Man-o'-war cleanliness is different from any other that I know. I
distinguish it from all other kinds because it is the most searching and
far reaching thing of the kind in the world.
"It really begins on the inside of a man, at his soul, although I am
sorry to say you can't always see the effect of it there, and it works
its way out to his skin, clothing and surroundings. All must be
immaculately clean, and this habit is so thoroughly ingrained in the men
that to maintain it they will even commit crime.
"I mean just what I say. Let me give you an instance:
"In one of the old ships in which I sailed fresh water--it was the case
of all of 'em, sir--fresh water was a scarce article even to drink. No
fresh water could be had to wash our clothes. Salt water does not clean
clothing properly, no matter how you work over your duds.
"So our men in the old days actually used to steal the water out of the
breakers, the small casks kept in the boats at all times in case of
emergency, such as shipwreck. That is what I mean by committing crime.
We actually used to steal from the most important supply on the ship
just for the sake of keeping ourselves clean.
"For uncleanliness a man would be stripped naked and his skin scrubbed
with sand and canvas--no man ever forgot it who experienced that--and
sometimes with ki-yar brushes, by two husky bos'n's mates. All hands
soon got the habit of being clean."
There was much interest on the ships as to how the wireless telephone
would work out. The system has been in operation only a few months and
is largely in the experimental and almost the infantile stage.
All of the battleships are equipped with the apparatus and there was no
doubt about it, you could talk to any ship in the fleet from any other
and at times the sounds of the voice were as clear as through an
ordinary telephone. At times they weren't, and there was a division of
opinion among the officers as to the real value of the invention.
As is the case with the wireless telegraph only one ship of a fleet can
use the telephone at one time. While one ship is talking to another all
the other ships must keep out of it and even the ship to which the
message is being sent must keep still and not break in. The receiver
must wait until the sender has got all through with what he has to say
and then he can talk back.
The sending and receiving machines use part of the apparatus of the
wireless telegraph outfit. If an attempt is made to use the telegraph
while the telephone is in use the telephone goes out of commission at
once because it is absolutely drowned out. The telegraph apparatus uses
so much greater power that it is like a loud voice overwhelming a soft
one.
The operator at the telephone would sound a signal with some sort of a
buzzer that had the wail of a lost cat in its voice and then he would
put a little megaphone into the mouthpiece of the telephone and would
say, sharp and clear:
"Minnesota! Minnesota! Minnesota! This is the Louisiana! This is the
Louisiana! This is the Louisiana! We have a press message for you to
send to the beach. We have a press message for you to send to the beach.
Do you hear us? Do you hear us? Minnesota! Minnesota! This is the
Louisiana! Go ahead! Go ahead!"
Sometimes the message would fail. Sometimes the wireless, one kind or
the other, would be working on other ships. Sometimes the answer would
come at once and the operator would write down the reply and hand it
over to you.
When connection would be established fully the operator instead of
reading off your press message would click it off by a telegraph key to
the Minnesota's operator. That was to make sure that he would get it
correctly. Peculiarly spelled words employed in cabling could not be
made out by the ordinary operator and it was taking chances to spell
them out with the voice, and hence they were sent with the key, the
operation really being a combination of the wireless telephone and
telegraph, yet not at all complicated in practical operation.
Everyone of the electrical experts with the fleet is convinced that the
wireless telephone is going to be of value. Most of them have talked
with it clearly for distances of at least twenty miles. One difficulty
is in keeping it tuned up because the wireless telegraph apparatus is
also on board.
Some of the experts seemed to think that one service dropped in
efficiency if the other was kept keyed up to its best. All were
confident that as soon as certain difficulties were overcome,
difficulties no more serious, they said, than the ordinary telephone
encountered in the beginning, the apparatus would be workable as readily
as a telephone on land. Give it time, was the way the situation was
summed up.
Speaking about wireless telegraph, have you heard the latest wrinkle in
it, the most up to date use of it? Of course you haven't. It remained
for the voyage of this fleet to disclose it.
Three days out, every ship got wireless messages from Father Neptune
warning it to be ready to receive him on crossing the line. The message
was genuine because it was posted up and a copy sent to the executive
officer as soon as it was received. An orderly brought it to him with an
unusually stiff salute while the wardroom was at mess.
It served notice on all "landlubbers, pollywogs and sea lawyers" that
they must be initiated and it appointed one Fore Topmast as "official
representative of his Most Gracious Majesty Neptune Rex, Ruler of the
Royal Domain." It called for a meeting of the "faithful subjects" to
arrange for the ceremonies of his visit.
The meeting on the Louisiana was held in No. 12 casemate, on the port
side of the gun deck aft. The proceedings were secret, but it was soon
known that royal policemen, royal barbers, royal judges, royal counsel
and a lot of other royal functionaries were appointed. The word went
through the ship that the ceremonies were to be pretty strenuous; that
no one who had not crossed the Equator would escape.
To show how serious this was here is a copy of one of Neptune's messages
and the order that followed its reception:
NOTICE.
The following wireless was received at 11 p.m., December 19,
1907:
_Fore Topmast, Official Representative on Board the Good Ship
Louisiana of His Majesty Neptune Rex, Ruler of the Royal
Domain._
At the time the Thomas W. Lawson turned turtle many of my
trusted police were on board, and as a result they were more or
less injured and all of the regulation uniforms carried by them
were lost. Therefore it will be necessary for me to designate
many of my royal subjects on board the good ship represented by
you to act in their stead, and you are authorized to make the
selection from among the most faithful of those who belong to
the royal realm.
In making the appointments you will consider their
qualifications as to severity, alertness, seadogness, their
knowledge as to the interior plans of the ship and their
ability to follow the trail of any landlubber, pollywog or sea
lawyer who endeavors to escape the initiation as prescribed by
me.
You will report to me by wireless the names of the subjects
selected, the position assigned and the proficiency of each in
order that I may forward their commission at once.
You will have the regulation uniforms made up at once and will
carry out all orders in this connection.
Your Majesty,
NEPTUNE REX,
Ruler of the Royal Domain.
GENERAL ORDER NO. 3.
In view of the above I have this day, the 20th of December,
1907, selected from among the royal subjects on board the good
ship Louisiana the trusted police as directed by his Majesty,
and those selected have been notified of their appointment, all
of whom have accepted. The attention of all the royal subjects
is invited to paragraph X, article VIIX, regulations of the
royal realm, relative to police duty and to the punishments
prescribed for those who fail to perform their duty properly
and to the landlubber, pollywog or sea lawyer who tries to
avoid the initiation as prescribed by his Majesty.
As noted in the wireless message from his Majesty many of the
uniforms were lost, the trusted police selected will at once
visit his Majesty's tailor, the sailmaker's mate, and be
measured for the uniform to protect him from the crabs, eels
and sharks.
FORE TOP, O. R. H. M. N. R.
Two days later this wireless was received and an order issued complying
with directions:
NOTICE.
The following wireless was received at 1 a. m., December 21:
_Fore Topmast, Official Representative of His Majesty Neptune
Rex, Ruler of the Royal Domain, on Board the Good Ship
Louisiana._
It has been reported to me by a member of my secret police on
board of the good ship on which you are my representative that
there are several landlubbers, pollywogs and sea lawyers who
intend to escape the initiation as prescribed by me by stowing
themselves away; of course this is folly on their part, as
there is not a hole or corner on board the good ship Louisiana
that my faithful police and subjects are not familiar with, and
it is therefore impossible for any one to avoid escaping the
royal initiation. Those who do try to escape the initiation in
this manner will of course be apprehended, and when brought
before me on the day of the ceremonies they will not soon
forget the trick they endeavored to play on the royal realm,
and the dose they get will be more severe than any I have as
yet prescribed. Referring to the secret code of the royal
realm, the following landlubbers, pollywogs and sea lawyers
have been reported to me as mentioned above: Gabnokto,
Thnruowk, Mawjtrqmorptzs, Wqquopbchr and Ybxquotrdhgle. You
will therefore at once issue orders to the chief of police to
attend to these crabs and to put his best men on their trail,
and if the above is true they will so report to me upon my
arrival on board.
Your Majesty,
NEPTUNE REX,
Ruler of the Royal Domain.
GENERAL ORDER NO. 4.
This is to inform the members of the royal realm on board the
good ship Louisiana that I have this day issued orders to the
chief of police to place five of his best men on the trail of
the men as mentioned in his Majesty's wireless and whom you
will all know by referring to the royal secret code which you
have in your possession. You will also keep track of these
animals and report to me any out of the way move which they
should make. You will also be on the lookout for any other of
these who happen to be on board, and should they make a false
move I will make a special report to his Majesty with
recommendations which will cover all defects.
FORE TOP,
Official Representative of His Majesty.
After one day's steaming in four columns the fleet was deployed into two
columns. For one day the speed was increased to 11 knots. The little
tender Yankton, which is to be used as the Admiral's yacht in port and
for short journeys and which has been running with the fleet off the
starboard side of the flagship, was sent on ahead to get a good start.
One day's steaming at 11 knots brought her back to us and then the fleet
resumed the slower speed.
The weather was fine throughout. When the trade wind belt was
encountered about 300 miles north of St. Thomas the ships pitched a good
deal, but there was little rolling. Sea legs had been acquired by that
time and few on board were incapacitated. There was a squall now and
then in the Caribbean with a dash of rain for five or ten minutes, but
that was nothing.
On Friday, December 20, the Missouri was detached from the fleet to take
a sailor sick with peritonitis to San Juan, and later that night the
Illinois was sent to Culebra with a sailor who had pneumonia. Of course
both could have been treated on board ship, but Admiral Evans thought
that it would be more humane to give these men the best treatment that
could be had on shore and so did not hesitate. Two great warships were
sent away from the fleet formation, all for the comfort of two men. The
ships joined the fleet again late on Saturday.
There were only one or two slight mishaps to ship machinery reported on
the journey down, really nothing worthy of note, a pump or something of
that kind being out of order. The fleet went along in splendid style.
Three days out the intervals and distances were almost perfect at all
hours of the day and night. The voyage soon became a double procession
of warships, with just the ordinary routine going on.
On Sunday, December 22, the first death on the fleet was reported. It
was that of Robert E. Pipes, an ordinary seaman on the Alabama, enlisted
at Dallas, Tex., in August last. He died of spinal meningitis. Nothing
was known of the death on the fleet until eight bells were sounded at 4
P.M. Admiral Evans had gone ahead of the fleet at noon to make a four or
six hour test of the new fuel called briquettes, and his ship was out of
sight. Admiral Thomas on the Minnesota was in command. His ship was
leading the second squadron, 1,600 yards to port.
The men on watch saw the national colors being raised on the mainmast.
There was a scurry on every ship to get up the colors. Every one
wondered whether land or a ship had been sighted. Slowly the colors went
up and then down to half mast. All colors on the other ships went to
half mast. The order for half speed was given and then came a signal to
stop. The rails of the ships were crowded at once. Up and down the
columns the men looked and then it was seen that the quarterdeck of the
Alabama was crowded. The order had been given there: "All hands aft to
bury the dead!"
The captain read the burial service. An opening in the lines of the men
on the lee side was made and Pipes's body, sewed in a hammock and
weighted with shot, was slipped gently over the side. It made very
little splash. Three volleys were fired by the marines, taps were
sounded, the colors were run up to the gaff on the mainmast on all the
ships and standard speed was ordered again as the flags came down. The
ceremony occupied exactly nine minutes and Admiral Thomas sent a
wireless telegram to Admiral Evans notifying him of what had been done.
The burial cast a gloom for a few minutes on all the ships.
Much to the regret of many officers and men, Admiral Evans took the
Virgin instead of the Anegada passage into the Caribbean and then headed
straight for Trinidad. Many had hoped that he would sail along the chain
of islands and that they might catch a glimpse at least of Martinique
and some of the other historic places. But business is business on a
fleet as well as on shore. Coal must be saved, and the way to go to a
place is to go on the shortest possible line consistent with safety.
So it was that on Monday, December 23, Trinidad, just off the Venezuelan
coast, came in sight, the ships entered the Dragon's mouth into the Gulf
of Paria and swung around the point and anchored in the roadstead off
Port of Spain just before sunset.
The first leg of the journey was over. It was merely the warming up
stage. To-morrow will be Christmas. A bunch of mistletoe is already
hanging in the Louisiana's wardroom. Some of the ships brought
their Christmas trees and greens along. There'll be sports of all
kinds--boxing, rowing by officers and men, athletic contests on
ship--good cheer generally.
Just fancy a Christmas with the thermometer at 90 degrees!
CHAPTER II.
CHRISTMAS WITH THE FLEET
Gay Day on the Battleships off Port of Spain--"Peace on Earth"
the Motto on the Big Guns--Officers' Reception on the Minnesota--
Boat Races and Athletic Sports for the Crew--How the Fleet Charged
Into Port--Men on Their Good Behavior--Official Visits--Coaling
Coaling Day.
_On Board U. S. S. Louisiana, U. S. Battle Fleet_,
PORT OF SPAIN, TRINIDAD, Dec. 28.
The officers of the battleship Minnesota gave a reception Christmas Day
on board their ship to all the officers of the other ships. The visitors
were received at the gangway by the officer of the deck, who had the
usual side boys stationed there for the guests to pass by. The visitors
were first presented to Capt. Hubbard, after which they paid their
respects to Admiral Thomas. Then, turning around on the beautifully
decorated deck, they saw depending from the great 12-inch guns of the
after turret a board festooned with greens, and on it painted in large
letters:
"Peace on earth; good will to men!"
The first effect on the visitor was to startle him. What place was there
on a warship, whose primary purpose is destruction, for such a motto and
in such a place? Some of the more thoughtless visitors thought it was
satire, or perhaps a naval man's idea of a grim joke.
Those who thought it a mockery, a satire or a joke were never more
mistaken. The sentiment was made the most prominent decoration on the
ship in all sincerity. Scores of naval officers pointed to it with pride
and said it exemplified truly the spirit of the American Navy. All
declared that if there was one thing more than any other which American
naval officers and all true Americans wished for it was world-wide peace
and brotherly love. It was declared that no better place outside a
Christian church could be found for its display than on an American
warship. Many an officer said he hoped it would always be prominent on
our warships at the Christmas season.
Certainly good will to man was exemplified at the Christmas celebration
on this fleet. It was the most impressive Christmas festival that the
nine civilians with the fleet ever saw. Here was a city of 14,000,
exclusively of men, some rough, some refined, some educated, some
illiterate, some Christian, some with no religion, celebrating the
season of good cheer on sixteen battleships in a foreign port five miles
from shore. Port of Spain might as well have been 5,000 miles away, so
far as its influence was concerned. More than one-half of the American
Navy was holding its Christmas festival in its own way, with none else
to look on. From first to last its spirit was kindly; from colors in the
morning until the last serenading party, gliding over the smooth water
in a floating city that had a Venetian aspect, singing songs to the
accompaniment of guitars and mandolins, disappeared at midnight, the
celebration was in absolute keeping with the sentiment of the day. All
was merry and all were merry.
Perhaps a song sung by the Vermont's officers who were towed about the
fleet at night in a sailing launch as they called on every warship best
reveals the tone of the occasion. They came to the Louisiana on their
last call just before midnight. They allowed none of the Louisiana's
officers who had gone to bed to dress, and pajamas were almost as common
as dress clothes in the company that assembled in the wardroom. When the
visitors were going away the last song which came across the water, a
song which they sang as they came up the gangway strumming their
instruments and lifting up their voices, was this:
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
We're happy and well;
Here comes the Vermont,
Say, don't we look swell?
We're a highrolling,
A lob-e-dob crew,
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas to you!
Probably that lob-e-dob crew sang that song two hundred times that
night. It was adapted from a new Naval Academy song. It has a merry tune
and the jingle and the swing of it was infectious. The crew was
highrolling only in a naval sense, the rolling wave sense, and in five
minutes after they first sang the song to their hosts the hosts were
joining in with them. It meant merry Christmas to everybody. Certainly
this fleet had one.
For two days boating parties had gone to the heavily wooded shores of
this beautiful island and had brought in greens for Christmas. They were
mostly palms and bamboo, with trailing vines in profusion. When darkness
came on Christmas eve the work of decoration began. Late into the night
some of the men toiled. When daylight came every ship was dressed in
greens. From truck to water line, on signal yards, rigging, turrets,
gangways, there were branches of trees and festoons of vines. Inside the
ships the wardrooms and cabins were elaborately decorated. Every
wardroom had its Christmas tree and around it were grouped gifts for
all. No one was overlooked. Christmas boxes, brought from home with
orders not to be unsealed until Christmas Day, were broken open in every
part of the ship.
Then came a day of visiting, of sports--rowing in the morning, athletics
aboard ship in the afternoon and boxing in the evening--of the big
reception on the Minnesota and of the merriest kind of dinner parties
with the distribution of Santa Claus gifts in the evening. The gifts
were mostly trinkets, but they had hits and grinds in them, and the
presentation elicited shouts of laughter. Although the matter of rank
was not ignored, apparently the high and low officers, from Admiral and
Captain down to midshipman, were seated on the good fellowship basis and
as equals. The Fourth Ward at the foot of the table went out of business
for one night. The middies and ensigns could burst into song when they
chose, and if any one forgot to say sir no one thought it strange. Here
on the Louisiana ten minutes after we sat down to dinner came an
instance of the feeling that makes the whole world kin on Christmas. The
youngsters had been singing the Louisiana song, the chorus of which runs
thus:
Lou, Lou, I love you;
I love you, that's true;
Don't sigh, don't cry,
I'll see you in the morning;
Dream, dream, dream of me
And I'll dream of you,
My Louisiana, Louisiana Lou.
Capt. Wainwright had been toying with a tin whistle which he had pulled
from a bonbon. Stealthily he put it to his lips and blew it loud, and
then that eye of his, which has the piercing power of a 12-inch shell,
grew bright with the light of geniality and kindness that lie deep set
and yet overflowing behind it, and he was a youngster, too. The Fourth
Ward men might sing "Louisiana Lou," but he was willing to show that he
could blow a tin whistle when the occasion demanded it.
One might fill columns with the songs that were sung. There is room for
the chorus of just one more. The game is for about one-half of the
company to sing the chorus and just before the finish the others shout
an interrogatory of astonishment at the top of their voices. The chorus
runs:
Dreamin', dreamin', dreamin' of dat happy lan,'
Where rivers ob beer aboun',
Where big gin rickeys fill de air
And highballs roll on de groun'.
_Great shout_:
What! Highballs roll on de groun'.
_Melody_:
Yas, highballs roll on de groun'.
The merriment on the Louisiana was not exceptional. It was a mere copy
of what was going on in sixteen wardrooms. Every ship was sure it had
the merriest dinner and the merriest time all around in the fleet, and
that was true strictly.
The bluejackets had their own fun, and they yielded to none in their
belief that they had the best time of all. Of course they were right.
Look at this menu that Uncle Sam provided for their dinner:
Cream of Celery Soup
Roast Turkey
Roast Ham
Sage Dressing Giblet Gravy
Cranberry Sauce
Mashed Potatoes Lima Beans
Peach Pie
Mixed Nuts Raisins
Coffee.
And here is the music that Bandmaster Cariana provided:
1 March "The Man Behind the Gun" _Sousa_
2 Overture "The Bridal Rose" _Lavaller_
3 Waltz "I See Thee Again" _Estrada_
4 Selection "Woodland" _Luders_
5 Habanera "Escamilla" _Redla_
Star Spangled Banner.
And didn't the first class men have liberty to go ashore? Didn't they
come back loaded down with souvenir postal cards, baskets of fruit,
parrots and monkeys? And wasn't every man of them able to toe a seam as
he answered to his name on the liberty list? If there was a suspicion of
a rolling gait in two or three couldn't they lay it to the heat? Certain
it was that not one of them had drunk any of that stuff down here that
they call biograph whiskey, the kind that makes you see moving pictures,
for the only moving pictures that any of them saw that night were the
dozen sparring matches and two wrestling contests on the quarter deck,
where the bluejackets were piled high on high under the awning clear up
over the turret to the after bridge--as packed a house for the space as
Caruso ever sang to.
And didn't John Eglit, the Louisiana's American champion naval boxer,
who knocked out the English champion, Leans of the Good Hope, last May,
take on a man from another ship and promise only to tap him and not
knock him out, so that the boys could admire him and cheer him? Eglit is
a master at arms, a ship policeman at other times, and it isn't safe to
say things to him, even flattering things, but here the boys could cheer
him and he couldn't answer back. And didn't the officers sit close to
the ropes just where President Roosevelt sat on his trip to Panama? And
didn't Midshipman McKittrick, the recent champion boxer of the Naval
Academy, referee the bouts? And didn't Midshipman Brainerd, the well
known oarsman of the Naval Academy not long ago, act as time keeper? And
it made no sort of difference to him that he sat next to a negro coal
passer!
And then didn't the men who didn't have liberty have comic athletic
sports in the afternoon? You bet they did! "Spud" races, obstacle races,
sack races, three-legged and wheelbarrow races; lemon races, where the
contestants held a lemon in a spoon between their teeth and the first
man that crossed the line in the running won; shoe races, where a man's
shoes were tied in a bag and shaken up and he had to open the bag after
a run and then put them on and lace them up, the winner to be the first
man reporting to the referee. It was all fun and the bullies shouted
themselves hoarse over it. What matter if a dozen men reported at the
sick call the next morning with feet so sore that they could hardly walk
from the running in bare feet on the hard decks? Oh, yes, the
bluejackets had the best time of all!
And then there was rowing in the morning. You who have seen the
Poughkeepsie and New London contests may think you have seen great
rowing spectacles, and so you have, but you want to see rowing contests
in a fleet of 14,000 Jack Tars to know what enthusiasm is. The men lined
the rails, turrets, bridges, masts and tops and danced and yelled like
Comanches as the crews passed down the line of ships. They yelled just
as loud when fourteen officers' crews contested. A pretty incident
occurred after this race. There had been great rivalry between the
officers of the Vermont and the Louisiana. Each thought it would win.
Neither did, the Louisiana coming in fourth and the Vermont fifth. The
Vermont crew immediately rowed to the Louisiana and the two crews in
their rowing clothes sat in the wardroom and passed the bowl around.
When the Vermont's men went home the entire crew of the Louisiana
gathered at the rail and cheered. The Vermont men tossed their oars and
then the crew sang their Merry Christmas song, the first of the 200 or
more times that it was heard by the fleet.
The reception on the Minnesota was also memorable. Henry Reuterdahl, the
artist, who was with the fleet to make pictures of it, had carte blanche
in the matter of decorations. The "Peace on Earth" emblem was his idea.
He canopied the wardroom with flags. He put up shells and revolvers and
cutlasses and other implements of war in effective places and he mingled
the bunting in color and arrangement so deftly that the naval men were
astonished over it. Old friends in the fleet gave greetings. It was
brought out in one of the conversations that Rear Admiral Evans, the
Commander-in-Chief of the fleet, was the only man in the fleet who
fought in the civil war. And it was also revealed that he was in the
greatest pageant of warships that ever left Hampton Roads before this
one. That was in December, 1864, almost forty-two years to the day that
the present fleet left. That fleet went out to capture Fort Fisher,
where Admiral Evans was wounded and where, with a revolver, he prevented
a surgeon from cutting off his right leg. There were 14,000 men in that
fleet, about the same number as in this. There were sixty naval vessels
and the rest were ninety transports under command of Gen. B. F. Butler.
Admiral Porter was the naval officer in charge. It took the fleet from
10 o'clock in the morning until after 4 in the afternoon to pass Cape
Henry. This fleet did it in two hours. When Admiral Evans was asked
about it he said that the little tender Yankton, which goes with this
fleet for use on ceremonious or other useful occasions, could have
whipped that entire fleet of itself. Its modern small guns--3-inch
ones--could shoot so far that it could lie completely out of the range
of any of the guns on that fleet and simply bombard the vessels to
pieces.
But to return to Trinidad. The Venezuelan coast had been in sight for an
hour on Monday, December 23, before Trinidad was made out a little after
noon. A haze obscured things on shore. Gradually a dark lump on the
horizon took shape, then it assumed color, a deep green, and then on the
highest point, something like 400 feet above the sea, a white needle
pierced the haze in the sky. It was the lighthouse that points the way
to the four entrances into the Gulf of Paria from the Caribbean, called
the Dragon's Mouths. The lighthouse was a visible sign of the care of
British for shipping. It is said to be one of the best in any of
England's colonial possessions.
Admiral Evans headed his ships toward the narrow entrance to the east of
the main one. It is called Boca de Navios, one of the many reminders of
the old Spanish days before England swept down through these waters. The
Admiral had ordered his ships in single file of the open order or wing
and wing formation. Approaching more closely he ordered exact column,
one directly behind another, at a distance of 400 yards. When within
three miles of the entrance he veered off to take the large passage to
the west, Boca Grande. Then he made a sharp turn after he had cleared
the entrance to the gulf. For some time he stood in toward the shore.
Then came another turn to the south, and then followed what Admiral
Evans said afterward was one of the finest naval sights he had ever
witnessed. Orders had been signalled for the four ships of the first
division of the fleet to turn to the east and come up the bay of Port of
Spain in parallel formation. The other divisions were ordered to follow
the same plan when they arrived in position. Here was a long line of
warships that had been turning and twisting around headlands and in
muddy waters, going in single file, as if headed for the Serpent's
Mouth, the other entrance to the Gulf of Paria. A flag fluttered from
the Connecticut's signal yards. At once the first four ships turned at
right angles. You could have run a tape line across the bows of the
Connecticut to the Louisiana and found the Kansas and Vermont exactly on
the mark. The change in the course came so suddenly that it made even
naval men jump. Like four chariot horses the ships stood in as if on a
battle charge.
Port of Spain could just be made out on the beach eight miles away. The
ships were pointed directly for it, and if they had intended to bombard
it they could scarcely have been more aggressive looking in the way they
swung into that bay. The second division kept on in the lead of the
single file of ships until they reached places directly behind the ships
of the first division. Then they made a dramatic swing also. The third
and fourth division in turn did the same thing.
The fleet was then in four columns headed directly for the beautiful
little port with its shallow harbor. As long as standard speed of 11
knots was maintained the four leading vessels kept on a line that was as
well dressed as a squad of fours in a military company. For two miles
this formation kept up. Then half speed was signalled. The Vermont and
Kansas being new in fleet evolutions and not yet being standardized
completely as to speed revolutions, did not keep the line so well, but
Admiral Evans was not displeased and said they did very well. The
Vermont fell back nearly half a length by the time slow speed was
ordered and the engines were stopped finally. The signal to come to
anchor was hoisted and when it went up sixteen mud hooks splashed into
the bay simultaneously. Before it had been slowed down the Louisiana had
received its second special commendation for smart manoeuvring from the
Admiral.
"Well done, Louisiana," the flags on the Admiral's bridge said for all
the rest of the fleet to see, and Capt. Wainwright and his officers took
it modestly. The Louisiana had been the only ship in the fleet to
receive this signal and this was the second time it had come.
Long before the fleet had come to anchor it was noticed that the torpedo
flotilla, which had started from Hampton Roads about two weeks before
the fleet, was in the harbor. Mishaps to the Lawrence had brought the
flotilla back that morning after it had gone eighty miles on the leg to
Paria. The mishaps were not very serious, but it was better to make
repairs in a port than at sea and so Lieut. Cone, in charge, had come
back. The supply ships and colliers were also in port.
In a few minutes the full significance of all these ships became known.
Here was a sight that no other foreign port in the world had ever seen.
Twenty-nine ships were flying the American flag at once. There were
really thirty-one connected with the navy, directly and indirectly, in
port, but two of the colliers flew foreign flags. Far in toward the
city, however, were three more vessels flying our flag, one a
brigantine, another a small steamship, and another a little vessel that
plies up the Orinoco. So thirty-two specimens of Old Glory fluttered in
the breeze just before the sun went down.
The anchorage Admiral Evans selected was fully five miles from "the
beach," as the naval man puts it. No ships can go directly to the
landing places in Port of Spain and only small ones can approach within
half a mile. As soon as the anchors were down the Admiral signalled that
no one was to go ashore until he had gone the next morning to pay
his official respects to Sir Henry M. Jackson, K. C. M. G., the
Governor-General. It was nearly 8 o'clock that night when the health
officer gave pratique, much to the relief of some ships, because there
had been a few cases of measles and some other diseases that are classed
as contagious, but great care had been taken in the matters of isolation
and disinfecting. Indeed, every patient in the fleet was convalescent.
It was a relief to Admiral Evans also to learn that there had not been a
case of yellow fever in Trinidad for six weeks. Accordingly he gave
orders to allow liberty to all the first class men in the fleet.
The next morning Admirals Evans, Thomas, Sperry and Emory went ashore to
pay their respects to the Governor-General. He had sent carriages with a
guard of honor to escort them to the Government House. Port of Spain is
not a saluting port, because no English garrison is kept here, and
therefore no guns boomed on arrival.
Admiral Evans exhibited great tact and showed the nicest regard for the
situation when he asked Governor-General Jackson to return his call that
afternoon at the Queen's Park Hotel. The Governor and the Admiral are
old friends. The Governor is not strong, having returned recently from
London, where he underwent a surgical operation. A journey of five miles
out to the ships in the blazing sun, Admiral Evans thought, would be too
much for him and the Governor appreciated thoroughly the Admiral's
solicitude for his health.
Soon the officers and liberty men began to come ashore. Trinidad is no
new place to many officers. It lies at the foot of a splendid range of
the St. Anne Mountains and it is heavy with the odors of tropical
verdure. It has been called the most attractive of all British West
Indian colonies. Its streets are kept beautifully, its negro
constabulary are efficient and polite. Its schools are fine. Those who
had never visited the place were delighted with its appearance, its
balconied houses, its abundance of flowers and vines creeping over walls
and up the sides of houses, its great department stores, which send the
heads of departments to Paris and London every year to get the latest in
fashions; its motley population of English, Spanish, French and the
thousands of Hindu coolies that are brought over here under contract to
work on the plantations. Hindu beggars were on the streets and Hindu
women, well gowned and clean as an American warship, were in evidence.
Some wore rings in their noses and the more prosperous had their arms
bejewelled up to the elbows with silver bracelets and other trinkets.
But let the truth be known! Trinidad didn't warm up to the fleet at all.
It regarded it with apparent indifference. Officially nothing could have
been more cordial than its reception. Popularly Port of Spain didn't
seem to give a hang, except the fruit vendors, especially the alligator
pear men, and the merchants who had things to sell. About three American
flags flew over shops. American fleets have been welcomed here before
with lawn parties and dances and great receptions. There was one
reception at the Constabulary Barracks, and very cordial it was too, but
the town didn't even take the trouble to come down to the waterfront to
gaze over the water and see what sixteen battleships looked like in the
distance. The ships may have been too far out. Or perhaps it was because
the races were to come on during the last three days stay of the fleet.
It was hardly the climate, because that never interfered with enthusiasm
over an American fleet before, notably when Admiral Sampson dropped in
here in 1899.
Let it all go with the statement that on shore every one seemed glad to
greet the Americans, even if the town seemed cold. Some of the officers
renewed old acquaintances socially and several parties of friends
visited the ships. One young officer came back with a story that pleased
the fleet. He met a charming young English woman who said that she had
travelled a good deal and had been in New York only three months ago.
The young officer perked up at once.
"I suppose you saw the Great White Way in New York?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, indeed," was the innocent reply. "Mother and I went to see it
one Sunday morning."
"It _is_ beautiful," said the officer.
"Very," was the response.
Some of the visitors historically inclined recalled that Columbus
visited this place and named it in honor of the Trinity; others that Sir
Walter Raleigh had made this his headquarters for a long time; still
others that Cortez took leave of Velasquez here when he started out on
his conquest of Mexico. The commercially inclined went to visit the
famous and malodorous Pitch Lake, from which Raleigh smeared his ships
and which supplies a large part of the asphalt for American use. Others
were glad to learn that they have struck oil here and that it is
expected that this island will soon become the chief centre for a great
British oil industry.
But there were those in the fleet who didn't care for Columbus or
Raleigh or Cortez or asphalt or oil. One was an old bos'n's mate. He was
down here in the late '80s on the old sloop Saratoga. He had a yarn to
spin and it was brought out by the fact that on the day of the fleet's
arrival two men from one of the torpedo flotilla had drifted away from
their vessel without oars and had been carried out of sight before their
absence was noticed. It was feared that they had been lost in the Gulf,
but the rough water calmed at night and they drifted ashore and came
back at daylight the next morning.
The bos'n's mate told how a party of apprentices and three marines
started out from the Saratoga in a sailing cutter one fine morning to go
to Pitch Lake. They had not gone more than four miles before a heavy sea
came up and a great gust capsized the cutter.
There were many sharks in the water and three of the party were either
drowned or eaten by sharks. The others clambered on the overturned boat
and were helpless, as the craft was drifting out to sea. Then it was
that one of those men in the navy who can no more help showing bravery
when it is demanded than they can help breathing, arose to the
situation. He was Shorty Allen, an apprentice, and he declared that he
would try to swim ashore to get help. The others told him he must not do
it, but Shorty just laughed at them. They said the sharks would get him
and that it was madness to try it. Again Shorty said he would go. They
would all be lost, he said, if they got no help and it was better that
one man should lose his life than a dozen.
Nothing could change Shorty's determination. He threw off his clothes
and leaped into the sea. His companions watched him buffeting the waves
for an hour or so and then he was lost to view. The sharks hung about
the overturned boat and probably that fact saved Shorty. He reached
land in four or five hours thoroughly exhausted. After a rest on the
beach he hunted up some fishermen, whom he induced to go after his
shipmates. They were all rescued and regained the Saratoga the next
morning.
"I tell ye, boys," said the bos'n's mate, "I have a likin' for this
place. I was one of that party and Shorty saved my life here. I don't
know where Shorty is now. He was commended for his bravery. He said it
didn't amount to nothing, modest like. I don't know whether he's alive.
If he's dead, God rest his soul!"
The chief incident of the stay of the fleet in this port, aside from the
exchange of official courtesies, was the coaling of the ships. That is
the dirtiest work that can be done about any ship, and to an American
warship in its white dress it seems almost like profanation. It's a task
that the navy has learned how to do with despatch and one might almost
say with neatness. At daybreak the next morning after the arrival of the
fleet the colliers steamed up slowly to the sides of the ships of the
first division. All had been made ready for them. Tackle and coal bags
and shovels and running trucks had been prepared while the ships were
making port. All hands turned to. One section from each division of each
ship was sent into the hold of the collier. Four such sections were
employed in the collier at once. The coaling bags, each capable of
holding 800 pounds, were thrown over and then the dust began to fly. All
the ventilating machinery of the ship had been stopped and canvas had
covered all the openings so that as little of the dust as possible could
find its way into any other place than the bunkers. The chutes to the
bunkers were all open. The marines and the men of the powder division
were on the turrets and other places to expedite things. Down in the
coal bunkers the engineer division were put at stowing the coal away
smoothly and evenly. The bunkers on such occasions in the tropics are
veritable black holes and the men have to be relieved frequently.
Jack makes the best of a bad job, and coaling ship illustrates this. The
men got out their old coal stowing clothes that once were white and
theoretically still are white. Some of them got old discarded marine
helmets for headgear. Some tied handkerchiefs around their heads, the
brighter the color the better. Some had no head covering. Some rolled up
the leg of one trouser just for the fun of the thing. Some wore socks
over their shoes--anything to make things lively and get that coal in at
the rate of 100 tons an hour.
The bags were filled, attached to the whip--as the derrick hoist is
called--and swung up to the deck. There the bags were seized and those
intended for stowage on the side next to the collier were dumped
quickly. Those intended for the other side of the ship were placed on
little trucks and pulled across the deck and then dumped. It was lively
work, step and go, and laughter and good cheer enlivened the task. The
ship's band was placed on the after bridge, where it played quicksteps
and jigs and made the men run and heave and shovel and toss as if
coaling ship was the greatest fun in the world.
The decks were sanded so that the dust would mingle with the sand and
not grime the woodwork. After the coaling was over the gear was stowed
away first. Then the men washed away the dirt from their hands and
around their mouths, noses and eyes and all turned to, baboonlike in
appearance, to clean ship. Sides were washed down and decks scrubbed. In
two or three hours no one would have known that the ship had been in a
black dirt storm. Then the men scrubbed their clothes and finally they
scrubbed themselves, got into clean clothes and the task was over.
Four days were occupied with this work for the fleet. The last ship to
be coaled was the Maine, for that ship is the greatest coal eater in the
fleet. She was reserved to the last, so that she would have the largest
supply possible on board for the 3,000 mile run to Rio. The Maine was
coaled on Saturday and it depended upon the alertness with which it was
done whether the fleet was to sail for Rio at sunset on Saturday or
Sunday.
The supply ships had little to do in this port because the ships were
not in need of much provisioning. Most of the ships took meat from the
"beef ships," as the sailors call the supply vessels, but it was only in
limited quantities.
The torpedo flotilla got under way on Christmas morning. The bluejackets
were sorry to see it go on that day, for they knew they were going to
have fun and wished their mates on the flotilla could also join in the
merriment. The Yankton and Panther, the latter a repair ship, sailed two
days later. The supply ships Culgoa and Glacier were kept to go along
with the fleet because they can steam easily at the rate of 11 knots.
Up to the last day of the stay in port liberty parties were going ashore
from the ships every day. To the credit of Jack let it be said that he
conducted himself with the dignity that becomes the true American
man-o'-war's man. Of course he patronized the saloons. Now and then one
would stagger a little on coming to his ship. There were no rows, and
the authorities had no complaints to make of unruly behavior. Before
each party went ashore the executive officer on each ship read to them
the order of Admiral Evans allowing them liberty to the fullest extent
in keeping with discipline and warning them to be on their good
behavior. The Admiral said that if any unhappy incident occurred ashore
he would be obliged to stop all liberty. The men heeded the warning.
They visited the shops, bought postal cards by the thousands, patronized
jewelry stores, got all the pets they wanted, swaggered through the
middle of the streets and gave Port of Spain such a coloring in local
aspect as it had never seen before. Three or four baseball games were
played on the great park's green. The one great stunt the bluejackets
enjoyed most was to hire a hack by the hour and ride around the streets.
They wrangled with the cabbies about fares, paid out their good
money--it was payday on the ships the day before they arrived--and
growled as true sailormen should growl when they got English money in
change for their own gold and American notes. Trinidad is a place where
prices are quoted mostly in dollars and cents, and yet the medium of
exchange is pounds, shillings and pence. Most of the shops take American
money at its face value.
The shopkeepers were alive to the situation and they made money from the
call at their port. They were accommodating and profited by it. Hundreds
of Panama hats were purchased. They were bought by men who would not
think of purchasing such hats at home because of the high prices. The
American hatters, therefore, have lost little by the transactions
except the sale of ordinary straw hats in the summer time for two or
three years.
The races in the great oval in front of the Queen's Park Hotel were the
chief social event of the stay. Thousands attended them and the Yankee
propensity to bet made its effect felt. Some of the boys were a little
slow in grasping the details of the mutual pool system. A few of them
won money, but most of them didn't. There were all sorts of gambling
devices, wheels and cards and the like, in operation near the betting
ring, and it was like throwing your money away to go against them. But
Jack didn't mind that. One of the bluejackets from the Ohio said he was
going to bet all he had in the hope of beating the "blooming British,"
because some of the English bluejackets once had difficulty in
pronouncing the word Ohio. They said the name of the Ohio was "Ho and a
Haich and a blooming 10," and they didn't know what to call a ship named
O H and 10. The American bluejacket will not try to get revenge again,
for he lost.
After the races the Queen's Park Hotel was jammed for the rest of the
day and evening. Patrons of the bar were lined up six deep. It was as
difficult to get a table on the veranda, or even inside, as it is to get
one on New Year's eve in New York. All the rest of Trinidad goes to
sleep with the chickens except the Queen's Park Hotel, and that also has
an early bedtime on ordinary occasions, but the presence of American
officers and the races combined made it break the Ben Franklin rule of
early to bed.
And so the visit to Trinidad wore away. The fleet was really glad to
leave. Most of the visitors growled and said they'd be glad never to
return, but all the same every one who has once been here in the winter
and experienced the delightful climate and picturesque surroundings will
be glad to see it once again. The motto of the fleet now is: "Heave away
for Rio."
Neptune will board us on the way.
CHAPTER III
TRINIDAD TO RIO JANEIRO
How the Battleship Fleet Greeted the New Year at Sea--Good Will
Fore and Aft--Beautiful Spectacle of a Searchlight Drill With
Ninety-six Lights--Crews on the Whole Glad to Get Away from
Port of Spain Despite Official Cordiality--The Culgoa and the
Catamaran--Missouri's Man Overboard--The Sleepy Brigantine.
_On Board U.S.S. Louisiana, U.S. Battle Fleet_,
RIO JANEIRO, January, 14.
It is not exceeding the limits of strict accuracy to assert that there
was not a man on Admiral Evans's fleet who was not glad to leave
Trinidad. The statement must not be taken as reflecting in the least
upon the officials of the place. No greetings to a fleet of foreign
warships could have been more cordial and sincere than those given by
Governor-General Jackson and his assistants. There was no reserve about
it. It was genuine and from the heart.
But the Trinidad people did not wake up. Half a dozen merchants flew
American flags above their shops, perhaps fifty persons all told came
out to visit the ships, the clubs were thrown open to officers and now
and then some of the residents might drive or stroll down to the
waterfront to take a look at the fleet.
There were two reasons for this apparent indifference. One was that the
ships were anchored fully five miles from town. It was like anchoring a
fleet of vessels at Tompkinsville and expecting the citizens of
Manhattan to flock to the Battery to gaze at them or hire small boats to
go down to see them. A more powerful reason was that the Christmas horse
races were on. That meant three days of closing the shops at noon, three
days of betting, three days of sharpening wits to contest with three
card monte men, roulette men, wheel of fortune men; three days when the
most prosperous of the large Hindu population, in all their picturesque
garb, women with rings in noses, bracelets on arms and legs, brilliant
hued gowns, and men in their turbans and one garment of a sheet made
into coat and trousers--came into town; three days when the society of
the place imitated the Epsom and Derby customs and drove into the inner
enclosure with their drags and other turnouts, and had luncheons and
visits; three evenings of promenading and dining at the Queen's Park
Hotel.
How could any one expect the people to get enthusiastic over an American
fleet under such conditions? The people had talked for weeks, they said,
over the arrival of the fleet, but straightway when it was announced
that the races would be held at the same time--well, how can any person
attend to two important things at one and the same time? Didn't one of
the daily morning newspapers give a quarter of a column of space to the
fleet on the second day after its arrival? Talk about enterprise in
journalism! Trinidad is the place to go to see a specimen of it.
Admiral Evans expected to sail at 8 o'clock on Sunday morning, December
29, but there was some delay in coaling and he did not get away until 4
P. M. The night before sailing the flagship signalled this message to
the entire fleet, to be published on each ship the next day:
The Commander-in-Chief takes pleasure in communicating to the
officers and men of the fleet the following extract from a
letter just received from the Governor of Trinidad:
"I would ask to be allowed to offer my congratulations on the
good behavior of your men on leave. A residence of seven years
in Gibraltar, which is a rendezvous of the fleets of the world,
has given me some experience of Jack ashore, and I can assert
that your men have established a reputation which would be hard
to equal and impossible to beat."
The Commander-in-Chief wishes to express his gratification that
the conduct of the men has been such as to merit the words
quoted above.
That farewell banquet was fine. Every officer and man on the fleet
appreciated its kindly and sincere tone and every man was ready to vote
Gov. Jackson a brick. There was just one comment made throughout the
fleet, and it might as well be set out here, with no intention of raking
over the ashes of the past offensively. That comment was:
"There is nothing of Swettenham about Jackson. He's all right!"
The letter from Gov. Jackson sustains what has been said at the
beginning of this letter; the official welcome was cordial, sincere and
without reserve.
The trip to Rio was marked by two celebrations, New Year's Day and the
visit of Neptune on crossing the line. One should not think, because
these letters record considerable hilarity on three occasions--Christmas
and the other two--all within two weeks, that such is the normal
condition on an American warship. These celebrations happened all about
the same time--that is all. The prevailing condition on a warship is
anything but hilarity, as will be revealed later in these letters.
New Year's, like Christmas, was a general holiday for the fleet. There
were quarters in the morning as usual, but after that there was no work
and the smoking lamp was lighted all day. Extra things at dinners were
provided. As was general on shore, the new year was welcomed with due
ceremony and celebrations on the ships. As soon as it was night on
December 31 it was evident that something would be doing by midnight.
There was no concerted programme. About 10 P. M. the officers began to
drift one by one, into the wardroom. It was a very decorous assemblage.
Its members began to tell stories. Now and then a song would start up,
and all would join in. A fruit cake made by a fond mother at home was
brought out. In some way the eggnog cups seemed to steal out on a side
table. Then came a mixture that touched the spot and unloosened the
vocal powers.
It wasn't long before the "Coast of the High Barbaree," "Avast! Belay!
We're Off for Baffin's Bay," and other songs were being rolled out to
the swaying, dipping of the ship in the swells that the strong eastern
trades were booming up against the port side. Naval Academy songs were
shouted. One officer thoughtlessly sat in the barber's chair in the rear
of the wardroom. A great rush was made for him and he was tousled and
rumpled and pulled and hauled. He squirmed out of the grasp of his
tormentors and then the "Coast of the High Barbaree," with "Blow High,
Blow Low," was rolled out again.
Soon it became evident that a New Year's song must be sung. The
Christmas song of the Vermont, with the highrolling, lob-e-dob swing in
it, was taken as a model and there were a few minutes for adaptation to
the Louisiana. When it had been rehearsed properly, it was decided to
send a special New Year's greeting to the Vermont's wardroom, because
the officers of that ship had made a Christmas serenading call on all
the ships on Christmas night in Trinidad. One of the Vermont's officers
is Dr. F. M. Furlong. His mates on Christmas Day had nominated him for
president and so informed the Louisiana's wardroom when they reached
this ship. He was made to make a speech of acceptance and in apparent
seriousness he grew eloquent over his chances and his platform. The New
Years greeting from the Louisiana to the Vermont was something like
this:
"The Louisiana's wardroom sends happy New Year greetings to the
Vermont's wardroom and pledges the solid W. C. T. U. vote to Dr.
Furlong. Back districts, from the grassy slopes of the Green Mountains
to the saccharine depths of the Pelican canebrakes, all heard from.
We're happy and well. Happy New Year! Happy New Year! Happy New Year to
you!"
The greeting was sent to the bridge to be flung into the air on the
illuminated semaphore signals at five minutes to midnight. Then came the
final rehearsals of the New Year song, and just as the signals were
sending the greeting to the Vermont a dozen lusty officers stole up to
the quarterdeck and sang their song softly to see if it was all right.
Then they climbed on the upper deck, stepped quietly along the gangway
to the forward bridge. They were as silent as Indians. One of them had a
great Christmas palm branch fully twelve feet long. One by one they
sneaked up the port ladders and stowed themselves far out on the port
side of the bridge. All was quiet until eight bells was struck and then
eight bells more for the New Year. A great burst of song startled the
officer of the deck just as the last letter of the message to the
Vermont had been flashed. The song was:
Happy New Year! Happy New Year!
We're happy and well.
Here's to the Lo'siana
And don't she look swell!
We're a highrolling,
Rollicking crew;
Happy New Year! Happy New Year!
Happy New Year to you!
The great palm branch was swung around to the danger of utter
disarrangement of engine room signals, and the officer of the deck
growled out something about a lot of wild Indians. A high flinging dance
followed on the bridge, with the Happy New Year song shouted twenty
times or more.
"Get out of here!" ordered the bridge officer.
"All right; we'll serenade the Captain!" shouted the merry crew. Down to
the lower bridge, where the Captain has his emergency quarters while at
sea, they went. The Captain got a good dose of noise, but being a
discreet man he said never a word. There was a rumor that he wasn't
inside at all and that, knowing what to do on certain occasions, he had
decided to remain in his private rooms below, where not even unofficial
knowledge of any high jinks could reach his ears.
Then the procession started for the quarterdeck, and leaning far over
the rails on the starboard side with the stiff trade wind blowing the
sound from the megaphoned throats of the singers, happy New Year's
greetings were sung to the Georgia, 400 yards back and to starboard.
That ship heard it easily.
Then came a procession through the Louisiana. The members of the crew
were slung in their hammocks, but numerous noises of catcalls and horns
and shouts told that no one was asleep. At every section of every
division on every deck the sailors were greeted with song. They sat up
and cheered. It was fine to have a party of officers come around and
wish you a happy New Year. Every mess of the ship received a call. When
the warrant officers' mess was reached there was a brilliant display of
pajamas and--well, in print one musn't go into particulars too fully.
Regulations must be obeyed strictly even when you're having a good time.
All the regulations were obeyed--several times, and then some--in that
big roundup.
Didn't the bos'n sing:
Bad luck to the day
I wandered away.
and then go into the forty-seven verses about life on the "Old
Colorado"? Didn't the electrical gunner join with the chief engineer in
giving down the twenty-seven bells song? Didn't the carpenter dance a
highland fling? Didn't the scholarly warrant machinist from the Boston
Tech. twang a banjo and set the pace for the "Old New York" and the
"Dear Old Broadway" songs? And then didn't someone remark that "dear old
Kim" hadn't been seen in all the parading that night? A rush was made
for Kim's room but it was barricaded.
"Come out, Kim!" was the order.
"Not on your life," was the response.
And then, for revenge, didn't the crowd sing a song about Kim? Every man
who knows anything about the United States Navy knows Kim, the genial
paymaster's clerk, who sits in the junior officer's mess to keep the
youngsters in proper submission, and who has trained a generation of
officers in things naval; Kim, who has sailed the high seas in the
United States Navy for a quarter of a century and knows so much about
the ships and officers that he wouldn't dare to tell it all and ought to
be made an Admiral for his knowledge and his discretion; Kim, who has to
salute many a man with a star on his sleeve and some of them with two
stars, the minute he sees them, and then can call them Bill and Jim and
Tom in private; Kim, the best beloved, all around good fellow on the
ship; yes, everybody knows Kim. It isn't necessary to print the full
name of this obliging, hard working autocrat of the paymaster's office.
This is the song that greeted him:
Everybody works but dear old Kim,
He sits 'round all day,
Feet upon the table,
Smoking his Henry Clay;
Young Pay pays out money,
Old Pay takes it in;
Everybody works on this ship
But dear old Kim.
Howls of glee from warrant officers, from petty officers, from hundreds
of hammocks greeted the song. Kim chuckled but wouldn't come out.
Finally the siege could be resisted no longer and out came Kim in full
regulation pajamas and the din was terrific. It was a dance all around
and some more strictly regulation things to drink. Happy New Year was
sung for the 273d time and then came a further inspection of the ship.
Wasn't it time for the dinner for New Year's Day to be tested in the
cook's galley? Wasn't there as fine a specimen of the genus turkey as
graced any board in the United States all ready to be tested? And wasn't
it tested until nothing but the rack was left?
The fire rooms had to be visited and down slippery ladders with the
machinery chugging and rolling and plunging the piratical crew stole.
Where men were sweating in front of furnace doors in watertight
compartments the greeting was sung and the words "Happy New Year" were
chalked on furnace doors. Perhaps the engines lost a revolution or two,
or the steam slowed off just a bit and the officer of the deck wondered
why he was unable to keep his position of 1,200 yards from the flagship
exactly, but what did it matter?
And when the rounds were all completed and the pirates assembled in the
wardroom for their final song and final--well, never mind that--didn't a
messenger from the bridge come down with a signalled message from the
Vermont with a toast that was being offered in the Vermont's wardroom:
Here's to you, Louisiana,
Here's to you, our jovial friends?
Every ship was having a celebration something like that. It's impossible
to give the details because when a big fleet is going along at the rate
of ten knots an hour and fighting a mean Amazon current as well, and the
semaphores and other signals are being kept busy with official messages
it isn't exactly good form for newspaper landlubbers to ask to be
allowed to inquire what was done on the other ships, matters which, even
if told unofficially, would not look exactly attractive all written out
in a signal book, because you can't put much fun in a signal book entry.
There must have been a good deal of the happy-go-lucky spirit on some of
the ships, for on two or three of them the rollickers got at the siren
whistles and blew them. That is something that might prove serious to a
fleet sailing as this is, because the blowing of siren whistles, except
at a certain hour of the day, when all the whistles are tested--they
call the noise the loosening of the dogs of war--means grave danger and
it is time to act at once. But New Year's came in happily all around and
when the fun was over the one thought of the rollickers was that within
a week Neptune would come aboard and after that there would be a long
dry spell.
When quarters were sounded a little after 9 o'clock on New Year's
morning all hands appeared. The usual formality marked the occasion. The
Captain came up and looked precisely as if his ship had been as quiet as
a grave all night; the executive officer answered salutes with an
incisive manner, as each officer approached and reported his division
"all present or accounted for"; the members of the crew gave no hint
that they had seen any officer roaming about the ship only a few hours
before in a free and easy manner violating all ordinary traditions of a
naval officer's dignity. And as for the warrant officers, when they
saluted and gave you an icy stare, as if they might have met you
somewhere once upon a time but really had quite forgotten your name, you
felt relieved and glad that those two or three red streaks on your left
eye ball had escaped general notice, and then it was that you felt like
writing an apostrophe to discipline in the American Navy.
Of the trip itself to Rio--the mere sailing of it--there is not much to
record. It was done in squadron formation--two lines of warships, with
the supply ships Glacier and Culgoa bringing up the rear midway between
the lines. For six days off the upper part of South America there was
quite a heavy swell and a strong Amazon current that retarded the
progress of the ships to some extent.
One day the swells were so heavy as to make the sea moderately rough.
Every ship in the fleet buried its nose under the water constantly and
sometimes the seas would slip up the sloping fronts of the turrets and
splash their spray against the bridges. The sun was bright, and as these
seas would come over the bow and spread their aprons of water over the
forward parts of the ships the colors would change from blue to green,
with white fringes, and then the sun would arch rainbows over the
boiling torrents that would run from the sides as the ships rose to the
tops of the waves. The sea was tossing and tumbling far out to the
horizon circle, and as the ships dipped and rose they seemed like
veritable warhorses of the sea rearing and plunging in royal sport. It
was a beautiful spectacle, and it lasted all of one day.
Soon after rounding the far eastern corner of South America there came a
little comedy. The Illinois had dropped out of column formation to
adjust some trifling disarrangement of machinery and some one on her
thought he saw a raft to the eastward with two men clinging to it.
Those in charge were evidently new to this coast and did not recall that
fishermen of the Amazon region often sail 150 to 200 miles out to sea in
the small catamarans that look more like logs or rafts than fishing
vessels. A signal was sent to the Culgoa.
The fleet had no information at this time as to why the Culgoa suddenly
dropped out of column and headed to the east and then to the north until
she was nearly hull-down. Soon it became known that she was bent on a
rescue and the correspondents got out their note books and began to
prepare to make much of the incident. After two hours the Culgoa was
back in her place with what seemed to be a sheepish look to those
familiar with the situation. She had found two men on a raft--that is to
say, on a catamaran--and they were fishing and seemed content with their
station in life and especially honored because a naval vessel of the
United States had gone out of her way to greet them. The intention was
all right and good form did not permit the bantering of any humorous
personalities on the situation.
Three nights out from Rio Admiral Evans ordered the first searchlight
practice for the fleet. Let it be understood that there are certain
things which a correspondent may not send from this fleet or even reveal
afterward. They relate especially to tactical things, the things that
may give information or some hint of information of importance to other
nations. All navies have searchlights, however, and what will be said
here of the drill will be of that nature familiar to every naval man and
no more. It was merely a warming up, so to speak, of searchlight work,
just a test to see if all the apparatus was in good condition.
The drill was to begin at exactly 8 o'clock. Long before that time every
searchlight had been uncovered and connected up and all eyes were
waiting for the Connecticut to begin the flashing. Just as eight bells
were struck, when not more than half a dozen lights were visible on each
ship of the fleet, a great beam of white shot out across the starboard
of the Connecticut. Instantly ninety-six beams like it darted into the
air and the ocean for something like a square mile became illuminated as
though the full glory of the heavens had descended upon it.
You who have seen Coney Island lighted up on a summer's night may form
some idea of the scene if you can concentrate in your imagination the
lights down there turned into a hundred great shafts, sweeping, dancing,
swinging, soaring into space, each light with the sheen of a full moon
brought right down within the grasp of a man who turned a cylinder about
as he pleased and said to the rays go here and go there. It was like a
new world sprung into existence before your very eyes. Something of the
meaning of the power of a fleet of warships was revealed to you. It was
merely a small part of this power, just a trifle of the strength of
warships put on display because it could be tested in no other way.
Each ship had six of these lights. The rules do not permit the rays of
one ship to be displayed upon another because it imperils navigation for
one thing, and there are also other naval reasons. It required some
skill to avoid lighting up your neighbor ship. As soon as the lights
were turned on the men managing them began to swing and twist them, now
fast, now slowly, about each ship. When the rays struck the water, say,
about 300 yards away from a ship and each light was turned slowly
around the vessel, it was as if so many sprites of the sea were dancing
about like children around a May pole. Then a beam would go scampering
away as if it had the concentrated velocity of a hundred 12-inch shots.
Then there would come a period of helter-skelter playing of the lights
until a slow movement of searching on the waters was in progress. Each
ship looked as if it were a thousand legged spider, each leg made up of
a ray of light. Sometimes the lights of a ship would be interlaced;
again they would be centered on some spot far out in the water.
The rolling crests of the swells would be whitened with the gleam of
thousands of diamonds. The reflection of the light beams made bands of
purple and deep green upon the water. The stars lost their brightness.
It was as if the Yankee ships had reached out and stolen a good share of
the strength of the sun--which actually was the case from the standpoint
of science--had stored it in their holds and then had sprung it at
night, just to show what could be done in the way of robbing the powers
of darkness of their evil aspect. For half an hour the thrilling
exhibition continued and just as you were preparing to throw up your hat
and give three cheers for Uncle Sam and his navy an officer brought you
back to you feet with the quiet remark:
"Why, that isn't a patch compared with the real thing! This was just a
sort of tuning up process, no more to be compared with the real thing
than the tuning of a piano is to be compared with a Paderewski
performance."
You thought him a little strong in his analogy until of a sudden all the
lights went out and there were sixteen battleships quietly sailing
along a sea as smooth as Long Island Sound in the summer time, with only
regulation lights showing, distances kept perfectly and nothing to
indicate that there had been anything out of the ordinary in a sedate
and peaceful passage from one port to another.
An unexpected use of the searchlights followed about thirty hours after
this first display. It was 2:30 o'clock of the second morning after when
the unforeseen happened. A gun on the Missouri boomed out. It was the
signal for a man overboard. At once the life buoys were cast off from
the ship, their lights burning brightly, and the Missouri and the entire
eight ships of the second squadron, running parallel with the squadron
that Admiral Evans was leading, burst into a blaze of light. In two
minutes the entire fleet was stopped. Boats were lowered from the
Missouri, the Illinois and Kearsarge following. The searchlights were
thrown upon the water and upon the boats, showing the men at work rowing
about and searching for the lost man. It made a brilliant scene in the
dead of night. Carefully and systematically the boats were rowed about
for half an hour. Then, when it was evident that if a man had fallen
overboard he had been lost, perhaps by striking a propeller or being hit
by some other part of the ship, recalls were given and the boats
returned to the ships and the squadron proceeded. At that time the
Missouri signalled that she was not sure she had lost a man, but a
sentry had thought he had seen one fall overboard.
Later the facts came out. The alarm was given by a man who had a
sailor's nightmare. No one was found missing at roll call the next
morning and every one felt so sheepish that no formal report was made.
A few hours previous, at 10:35 in the evening, one of the perils of
navigation--especially for the other fellow was brought home vividly to
the fleet. A barkentine with a dim light was sighted about 800 yards to
the west of Admiral Evans's squadron. The vessel was going north.
Probably the man on watch had gone to sleep. He suddenly awoke and
before the officer of the deck on the Louisiana could recover from his
amazement he headed straight for that vessel, the fourth ship in the
squadron. It was soon plain that the barkentine would clear the stern of
the Louisiana and would become a menace to the Georgia, the following
ship. The officer of the deck of the Georgia had to sheer off and this
made the officer of the deck of the Rhode Island sheer also. The
barkentine went right between the Louisiana and the Georgia.
By that time the officer of the sailing vessel had got a lot of lights
out and apparently was in a state of complete obfustication. He had
never seen so many lights at sea in such a limited space in his life.
Clearing the first squadron he came into full view of another over to
the east. There he was, all mixed up in a fleet of warships going at the
rate of ten knots an hour. He became rattled again and turned to go
outside the line of the first squadron, which he had just pierced. He
came near hitting the Virginia, but finally got away safely. It was a
hair raising episode.
"That's what I call dancing a Virginia reel at sea by boats," said one
officer after the incident was closed.
"It seems to me," said another, "to show that not only does a kind
Providence usually watch over a drunken man on shore, but seems to guard
men at sea who go to sleep on watch."
It was a miraculous escape for the barkentine, threading her way in and
out of a fleet of warships proceeding at fair speed and only 400 yards
apart. No skipper would have dared take such chances in the daytime and
in full control of his craft. The officers of the fleet breathed a sigh
of relief to think that they didn't have to record against this cruise
the running down of a vessel at sea with the consequent probable loss of
life.
And so the voyage went on placidly with the usual drills and daily
ceremonies until Cape Frio, some sixty miles east of Rio, was sighted
and then there came the journey along the coast, the entrance into the
magnificent harbor, the splash of the mud hooks and the feeling that
one-third of the voyage to San Francisco was over, and the fleet was
shaking itself down into a smooth working condition better and better
with every day at sea.
CHAPTER IV
NEPTUNE AHOY!
Weird Nautical Doings on Crossing the Line--Officers, Sailors
and Newspaper Man Pass Traditional Initiation--Ocean Monarch and
His Gay Spouse Amphitrite Pick the Ship President Roosevelt Once
Sailed on for Their Visit--Rest of the Fleet Only Thought He Was
on Board--Court Physicians and Ducking Bears--Paternal Messages
From the Flagship--Sons of Admiral Evans and Capt. Osterhaus
Made Real Sailormen--A Great Sight.
_On Board U. S. S. Louisiana, U. S. Battle Fleet_,
RIO JANEIRO, Jan. 14.
Neptunus Rex! Long live the King!
Neptune, the only king who never dies, had the biggest job of his career
on Monday, January 6, in the year of our Lord 1908 and the year of 4,000
or 5,000 and something since Noah set up a sea calendar and headed for
Mount Ararat. More than 14,000 officers and men of the United States
Navy, practically one-half of its membership, crossed the equator at
longitude 37° 11' W., and of those fully 12,500 had to be initiated into
the "solemn mysteries of the Ancient Order of the Deep." Like the man
who tried the rheumatism cures, every one of the landlubbers, pollywogs
and sea lawyers was "done good."
It was the proudest day that Neptunus Rex ever experienced. He said so
himself, and he put on great airs and strutted about with the dignity
and pomp that befit his majestic rule as he declared that he was the
only king, by all the mermaids, sea serpents, whales, sharks, dolphins,
skates, eels, suckers, lobsters, crabs, pollywogs and jellyfish, who
could ever take possession of the United States Navy. And by the
selfsame creatures of the deep he swore solemnly that none but he and
Uncle Sam should ever have the right to boss that navy. Whereat the duly
initiated members of his royal domain cheered him lustily and declared
everlasting allegiance.
To get right down to business, let it be said at once that it was a
spectacle worth travelling tens of thousands of miles to see. It was the
most elaborate, painstaking, well planned, rip snorting initiation of
the kind ever produced. For be it known that Neptune does not recognize
as a thirty-third degree member of his domain any one who has not
crossed the line on a warship.
Neptune, not having the attribute of omnipresence, was able to visit
only one of the ships of this fleet. That ship was the Louisiana. Of
course, every other ship will make the claim that he visited that
vessel, but the fact is that he honored the Louisiana alone with his
personal presence and had to send representatives to the other ships. He
said he came to the Louisiana because he had heard she was the most
famous ship of the fleet, President Roosevelt having made a trip close
to his royal domain in her. He therefore selected her for his visit and
he ordered that a special honorary certificate of membership in his
realm be sent to the President and Mrs. Roosevelt.
The preparations for Neptune's visit began formally on December 19,
three days out from Hampton Roads, when "Fore Top, the Official
Representative of his Majesty Neptunus Rex," received a wireless message
to organize the members of the royal domain on the ship and prepare for
the initiation ceremonies. Thereafter every day while the ship was at
sea mysterious proclamations were posted at the scuttlebutt (the
drinking tank) telling the landlubbers, pollywogs and sea lawyers of the
terrible things that would happen to them when they crossed the line.
Dire penalties were provided for any who might try to hide, and long
extracts from the Revised Statutes were posted prescribing the
punishments to be inflicted upon the willing and the unwilling. There
was decided uneasiness among the youngsters on board--and it should be
remembered that most of the crew of the ship are just above or below 21,
having come almost green to the vessel from the training station at
Newport--when a proclamation was posted containing this notification to
Fore Top:
"There has been ordered supplied to you upon arrival at Port of Spain,
Trinidad, 750 gallons of coal tar, 90 gallons of varnish, 400 pounds of
sulphur, 4 sets of razors complete, 18 brushes, 4 sets of fine rib saws,
4 surgical knives, 2 large meat axes and 15 pairs of handcuffs."
Orders were also given for sharpening the claws and appetites of the
royal bears and warnings issued lest any one of the uninitiated should
speak disrespectfully of Neptune's subjects. A day or so later came
orders prescribing the height of the ducking chairs. These chairs were
to be so high that four flipflaps would be turned by the victims before
hitting the water in the royal tanks. Six powerful electrical batteries
were also ordered for use. The bears were not to have any food for
fifty-seven hours preceding the crossing of the line.
Other proclamations provided for towing recalcitrants in the sea from
the hawse pipes for from five minutes to four hours, according to the
degree of the offence of the victim.
Marvellous yarns were spun at all mess tables of the severity of the
initiation, all of which got on the nerves of the youngsters, and the
crew was in a state of semi-trepidation as the day of the crossing
approached. Then came a glimmer of fun, for one day there came a
"scuttlebuttic, telephonic, atmospheric" communication in which after
more warnings that there would be no escape this was said:
"I understand that there is a newspaper man on board, and if such is the
case you will report to me at once, as there is a special provision in
the Regulations of the Ceremonies of Initiation of the Royal Realm for
such animals."
Many were the grins among the crew that greeted the Sun man that day,
and some of them ventured respectfully to salute him and ask him if he
had seen the message and had noticed that orders were also issued "to
the royal doctors to have their pills and goggle water mixed in
accordance with the regulations and the barbers to use the proper per
cent. of coal tar, oil, molasses and india ink for their lather." The
next day Neptune ordered his subjects to "do stunts" with the newspaper
man. Printers' ink was to be used in his lather so as "to give him a
dose of his own medicine." A special oven was to be constructed to roast
him, and then he would know how it felt himself.
General Order No. 7 of Fore Top told the barbers to mix mucilage with
the printer's ink and to prepare the oven, and the officers and crew
were now in broad grins as they greeted the Sun man and informed him
that he was going to get his all right. Then came "brainstorms" from his
Majesty telling how the policemen were to act, ordering that their
"clubs be stuffed with grate bars" and such, and providing how the hair
should be clipped. Forthwith it was remarkable how dozens of men rushed
to to the ship's real barbers and had their hair clipped close.
"I ain't goin' to have none of that coal tar and grease in mine," said a
frightened signal boy. A windsail was made to supply air to the
officers' quarters, and the messenger boy of the executive officer came
to him and asked him if it was true that the members of the crew were to
be shot down that canvas tube.
So the proclamations grew in number and with them increased the power of
the yarns. The royal electrician was ordered to test the batteries and
the royal boatswain was told to prepare his towlines and co-operate with
the royal diver to see that the towing was done properly, and finally
came the last message from Neptune on the day before the line was
reached. It approved all that had been done. Old Nep. howled with joy
because the bears were hungry, the knives and razors were sharpened, the
lather had been mixed just right, the electric batteries were sizzling,
the drop into the tanks had been put up to thirty-eight feet, and he
wound up with this sentiment:
"God help the poor rookies!"
[Illustration: _Courtesy of Collier's Weekly_
Neptune Ahoy!]
Whereupon Fore Top issued this final order:
GENERAL ORDER NO. 23.
All loyal subjects will at once make their final reports to me
in detail. Report to me the names of the pollywogs, landlubbers
and sea lawyers whose names have been entered on the books for
severe punishment.
Good-by and good luck to the poor rookies who will come under
your notice to-morrow! Deal in a befitting manner with them
all. See to it especially that the newspaper man gets his.
FORE TOP, O R. O. H. M. G. M. N. R. R. R. D.
The names of about a dozen well known sea lawyers of the ship were
posted immediately upon the scuttlebutt and the newspaper man "got his"
later.
That afternoon Capt. Wainwright and his executive officer, Mr. Eberle,
being sticklers for the preservation of as many of the old time naval
and sea traditions in modern warships as possible, took official notice
of what was going on and this order was published to the ship:
U. S. S. LOUISIANA,
AT SEA, LAT. 1'-30' N., LONG. 39-10 W.,
January 5, 1908.
ORDER.
1. Official notification has been received that his Majesty,
Neptunus Rex, will visit this ship in state at 9 a.m. on the
6th day of January, 1908.
2. His Majesty will be received with due ceremony at the time
appointed. At 8:45 a. m. the divisions will be called to
quarters, after which "all hands will be called to muster" to
receive his Majesty in a manner befitting his high rank. The
boatswain and eight boys will attend the side. When his Majesty
reaches the quarterdeck the officers and crew will salute, the
band will play a march and the Royal Standard of Neptune will
be hoisted at the main.
3. After the official reception the royal ceremonies of
initiation will begin.
4. All ceremonies will be conducted in an orderly manner, in
keeping with the time honored traditions of the Naval Service.
E. W. EBERLE,
Lieutenant-Commander, U. S. Navy,
Executive Officer.
Approved:
R. WAINWRIGHT,
Captain U. S. Navy,
Commanding.
At a general muster of the crew that Sunday morning each man who
had not crossed the line--and a complete list had been prepared of
them--received this subpoena as he was dismissed from the deck:
YOU LANDLUBBER, POLLYWOG AND SEA LAWYER: You are hereby notified
that the good ship Louisiana, on which you are serving, will
to-morrow enter the domain of which I am the ruler. As no
landlubber, pollywog or sea lawyer can enter my domain or become
one of my royal subjects unless he undergoes the initiation as
prescribed by me, you will when the ceremonies commence present
yourself for the initiation, and if you show that you are worthy
you will become a member of my royal realm and be subject to my
orders in all seas on which you may be.
If you do not present yourself for this initiation and I am
required to despatch members of my staff to bring you before me
by force I will deal severely with you.
His Majesty,
NEPTUNE REX,
Ruler of the Royal Domain.
Of the 960 odd persons on the Louisiana only about 100 had ever crossed
the line. The proportion was about the same on all the other ships of
the fleet, so it is a fair estimate that 12,500 men were waiting the
arrival of Neptune. A wireless message was sent to the Louisiana that
his Majesty's secretary and orderly would come on board on the evening
of January 5 to make the final preparations for the ruler's visit the
next morning. The call for hammocks was sounded about 7:30 o'clock that
evening and while the men were aft the officer of the deck, Ensign N. W.
Post heard a pistol shot across the bows of the ship followed by:
"Ship ahoy!"
"Aye, aye, sir," said the officer of the deck, giving the accepted
greeting for an officer.
"What ship is that? Where are you from and whither are you bound?" came
the voice.
"The U. S. S. Louisiana, from Hampton Roads, bound through the domains
of his Majesty Neptune Rex for the Pacific Ocean," shouted Post through
a megaphone.
"Heave to; I want to come aboard!"
"Aye, aye, sir. Come aboard."
Thereupon the ship was hove to theoretically and two men in fantastic
dress popped over the starboard bow and made their way aft. Mr. Eberle,
the executive officer, had been notified that Neptune's secretary, Main
Top Bowline, was on board, and went forward to receive him.
Capt. Wainwright was notified and appeared on the quarter deck. Soon,
with the bugles sounding attention, Main Top Bowline and his orderly
emerged through the superstructure with Mr. Eberle. The secretary and
assistant were in full dress, their swallowtails of bright red chintz
accentuated by enormous negro minstrel collars and by ties of pink that
flowed out to their shoulders. They carried full dress cocked hats of
navy regulation pattern. Their faces were Indian red with various
splashes of paint that suggested mermaids and sea serpents. Main Top
Bowline had a pair of binoculars made from black beer bottles which
were capped by the rubber pieces that fit the eyes on the sighting
apparatus of the guns.
Mr. Eberle presented the secretary to the captain, while the officers
and dozens of the crew gathered around. The secretary said that Neptune
would come aboard at 9 A. M. the next day and would be prepared to take
possession of the ship and exercise due authority. He complimented the
captain on the appearance of his "fine ship," said that Neptune would
visit the Louisiana only because it had once carried his "distinguished
colleague, the President," and he expressed the hope that the captain
and the crew would extend the proper honors. Capt. Wainwright
straightened himself to his full height and said:
"Mr. Secretary, Main Top Bowline: It gives me great pleasure to welcome
you to this ship and to receive the notification of the contemplated
visit to-morrow of his Majesty Neptunus Rex. I beg of you to convey to
him the expression of my highest esteem and to say to him that we shall
pay him the distinguished honors that belong to his rank, and shall obey
gladly all his august commands. If you will now proceed with me to my
cabin we will discuss there the details of the ceremony."
Then the captain and the visitors disappeared down the captain's gangway
and a bottle of champagne was opened and the health of Neptune toasted.
The captain told Main Top Bowline that he had been a member of Neptune's
domain for thirty-eight years but had not met Main Top Bowline before.
Main Top said he had been in his Majesty's service only fifteen years.
Full particulars of Mr. Roosevelt's trip on the Louisiana were requested
to be reported to Neptune and then the secretary left and called on the
wardroom. He served subpoenas himself on the officers and asked
especially for the newspaper man. He said that Neptune had been
misrepresented so often in print and that it was so seldom that he ever
found a reporter on a real ship of the line that he was bound to tell
the newspaper man to be prepared for the worst. Then the visitors were
escorted forward and they disappeared, after ordering this message sent
to Admiral Evans:
_The Commander-in-Chief, U. S. Atlantic Fleet._
By virtue of the authority invested in me by his Majesty,
Neptunus Rex, ruler of the Royal Domain, I have to inform you
that I have this night boarded the good ship Louisiana for the
purpose of informing the commanding officer that he has entered
the domain ruled by his Majesty and that he has a cargo of
landlubbers, pollywogs and sea lawyers on board whom it will be
necessary to initiate into the royal realm before he can pass
through, and as such his Most Gracious Majesty will to-morrow
morning board the good ship Louisiana and carry out the
ceremonies as prescribed by the regulations of the royal realm.
His Majesty wishes me to convey his compliments to you and to
state that he is pleased to have you with him once more in his
royal domain, although it has been some time since he has been
able to greet you personally.
MAIN TOP BOWLINE,
Secretary of His Most Gracious Majesty,
NEPTUNE REX,
Ruler of the Royal Domain.
Admiral Evans signalled back his thanks for the greeting, sent his
compliments to Neptune and expressed the hope that Neptune and his party
would have a "royal good time on the Louisiana."
The next morning everybody was up bright and early. Word was sent
throughout the ship to wear no arms at quarters. Every man put on
his cleanest uniform. Quarters was sounded and the men assembled
at their usual stations. The officers emerged one by, one from the
superstructure and reported to the executive officer that their
divisions were all present or accounted for. Then came the bugle for
general muster on the quarter deck. All hands were marched aft and the
officers took their proper stations with a large space vacant about the
captain and a passageway from the superstructure. Miss Sally Ann, the
Trinidad monkey, was allowed to come along to see the fun. She perched
on one of the 12-inch guns and flirted her tail about like an angry cat.
A wait of several minutes followed after Mr. Eberle had gone forward to
receive Neptune. This was due, it was reported afterward unofficially,
to getting Amphitrite, Neptune's wife, up the gangways with all her
toggery in good condition. Not being used to skirts, it was quite a job.
At the entrance to the deck eight side boys and the boatswain's mates
were stationed.
Suddenly a great blast from the bugles announced the approach. Then the
shrill boatswains' whistles smote the ears and Sally Ann set up an awful
screeching. The word "Salute!" rang out and every man stood at attention
while Neptune and his wife preceded by two pages stepped on the quarter
deck. At that moment a monster red flag, eighteen feet by twelve, with a
white sea serpent on it that would have made any Chinese dragon run to
cover, was raised to the main, the band struck up Neptune's march and
his Majesty and consort and their court of fifty-two persons in stately
step trod the deck to greet Capt. Wainwright. Neptune swung his trident
proudly, and as he came to a full stop he said:
"Sir:--I have come to-day to your ship to exercise the full command
that pertains to the rule of my domain. I have come to initiate the
landlubbers and pollywogs on this vessel. You will relinquish command to
me and I expect that full honors will be paid to my rank. I am honoring
this ship of the fleet especially because my distinguished friend and
colleague, the President of the country from which you come, once used
this ship on a near approach to my dominions. I am informed that he
would be here to-day in person if the cares of State did not prevent. I
am told he is here in spirit. I shall order, therefore, a special
honorary certificate of membership for him. [Aside, "Can't some of you
keep that damned monkey from screeching so much?"] I shall now proceed
to your cabin, after which the ceremonies of the royal initiations will
proceed."
Capt. Wainwright bowed profoundly and the irreverent in the crew set up
a howl of laughter as they saw the makeup of Neptune and his party.
Neptune and Amphitrite and the two pages went below with the Captain.
The others remained on deck. There were the two secretaries that had
come aboard the night before and next to them were two royal doctors, in
long swallowtails and with tall hats that looked like the headgear of
Corean high priests, only there were skulls and crossbones on them for
ornament. The doctors carried dress suit cases. One was labelled "Dr.
Flip" and the other "Dr. Flap." The cases contained the surgical
instruments and medicines. Then came the royal counsellors with enormous
law books. The lawyers wore the wigs of English practitioners and long
black robes. Two "high cops," in chintz, followed and then there was a
large squad of policemen each with a badge numbered 23, with stuffed
clubs, followed by the barbers, a dozen black bears and a lot of
retainers.
Neptune himself wore a scarlet robe with sea serpents embroidered on it
and with a golden hemp fringe all around the edges. His face and legs
and arms were stained a beautiful mahogany color. A great beard of
yellow rope hung down over his fat belly. Amphitrite was in white. She
wore a sea green flat hat and carried a black cat done up in baby's
clothes. That cat stayed with her for two hours without moving.
"My!" said one of the ordinary seamen who had cruised many a time along
the Bowery, "don't she look just as if she came straight from the Bowery
and Hester street? How are ye, Amph?"
A clout on the head by a mate made him "shorten his chin sail."
Before Neptune reappeared Dr. Flip went up to Dr. Wentworth, the ship's
surgeon, to pay his professional respects. Dr. Flip said he was of the
old school and a graduate of the "Royal College of the Doldrums, class
of Umpdy-umpdy-ump-ump." He was strong, he said, on the use of leeches
and bleeding. Dr. Wentworth tactfully admitted that the old school had
its merits.
Then came Neptune on deck again and the party, followed by 800 officers
and men, went to the fo'c'sle deck for the initiation. Neptune mounted
his throne on a platform. Two tanks had been erected between that and
the forward turret. The bears slipped over the sides as the retainers
filled the tanks with water. Drs. Flip and Flap unloaded their saws,
knives, teeth extractors and many bottles of vile looking medicine. The
lawyers opened their books to certain paragraphs of the "Revised
Statutes," chiefly paragraph 4-11-44; the barbers sharpened their
enormous razors, "made in Yarmany"; the policemen drew up in line, the
orderlies rolled up the barrel of lather, made of oatmeal and water, and
another barrel of "tonic," to be used in enormous squirt guns. It was
Neptune's "dope" for the unruly. Then Neptune, with a flourish of his
trident and settling his gilt crown well back on his head, as Amphitrite
nestled to his side, asked if all preparations had been completed.
"Yes, your Majesty," replied Main Top Bowline.
"Then let the initiations proceed. Bring forward as the first victim
that newspaper man. He shall have special attention," was the command.
The Sun man mounted the steps to the howls of 800 persons. Dr. Flip
sounded his lungs, examined his teeth, felt his arms and legs, made him
wiggle his fingers and then said:
"Your Majesty, a very bad case. 'E's got a ingrowin' brain!"
"What do you prescribe?"
"Well, your Majesty, we have here medicines for the cure of spavin, sore
throat, consumption, chilblains, diphtheria, eczema, measles, neuralgia,
heartburn--"
"Never mind the rest," said the King. "What is the treatment?"
"The same for all, sire," was the response. "A good shave, an injection
in the arm of my 'dope' [composed of molasses and water] some powder on
his head and a ducking in the briny seas."
"Very good!" replied his Majesty.
Then the trouble began. A pill as big as a horse chestnut and made of
bread crusts was forced down the victim's throat. The squirt gun hit him
full in the face, a lotion was rubbed in his hair and then he was forced
into the chair and shaved. A question was asked of him, and as he opened
his mouth to reply a great paint brush of lather was thrust into it.
Then came the order to pull out the plug from the chair and drop him
over backwards into the tank. Well, that flight and that ducking! Here
descriptive powers fail the Sun's correspondent. It can be described
best in the words of Herman Melville, in his story of "White Jacket,"
relating to a cruise he made in 1843 around the horn in the United
States frigate, United States, when he went into the water in another
way.
"Time seemed to stand still and all the worlds poised on their poles as
I fell. I was conscious at length of a swift flinging motion of my
limbs. A thunder-boom sounded in my ears. My soul seemed flying from my
mouth. Some current seemed hurrying me away. In a trance I yielded and
sank down deeper with a glide. Purple and pathless was the deep calm now
around me, flecked by summer lightnings in an azure afar.
"Then an agonizing revulsion came over me as I felt myself sinking. Next
moment the force of my fall was expended and there I hung vibrating in
the deep. What wild sounds then rang in my ear? One was a soft moaning,
as of low waves on the beach, the other wild and heartlessly jubilant,
as of the sea in the height of a tempest. The life and death poise soon
passed, and then I felt myself slowly ascending and caught a dim
glimmering of light. Quicker and quicker I mounted, till at last I
bounded up like a buoy and my whole head was bathed in the blessed air."
That was just as it was and when the Sun man escaped from the tank he
was greeted with more applause and cheering than he had ever received in
his life.
The first initiation on the Louisiana was over. Then came a roll call of
the officers. They had to produce certificates or pay tribute. The crew
was assembled in long lines. One by one they went up the ladders. Drs.
Flip and Flap received them. Elaborate examinations were made of their
condition.
"My, my, sire!" Dr. Flip would shout. "'E's got valvular contraction of
the eyelids!"
"What is the remedy?" Neptune would ask.
"My usual treatment, sire," would be the response.
Then would come a dose of dope, a rub of hair oil, a shave and a toss
over into the tank to the hungry bears. Souse, souse, souse again would
follow, and when the victim came to the surface each time he would send
up a stream of water from his mouth that resembled the spouting of a
whale. Those who were waiting for their duckings would shout with the
members of Neptune's party. Officers crowded to the front of the bridge
and the midshipman who was using the stadimeter to get the proper
distance in formation had the hardest day of his life trying to keep his
eye on the flagship.
"Pass 'em up quick!" shouted Neptune.
Dr. Flip would diagnose a case as "Fatty degeneration of the shinbone,
sire," and the usual remedy would be prescribed. Over the victim went
into the tank. Dr. Flip would then announce a case:
"Palpitation of the hair, sire. You can see for yourself how it is
shaking."
"Let him have the prescribed treatment," was the order.
Dr. Flip then announced a case of "folderols in the right ear, sire."
"Soak it to him good!" was the command.
Dr. Flip then had a case of "tickdullerous." Similar treatment. All
diseases looked alike to Neptune.
"Bunions!" was the next report of Dr. Flip.
"Poultice his hair good. It draws 'em up. Then saw off his leg at the
knee," was the remedy prescribed for the bunion ailment. Dr. Flip
brought out the saws with vile looking teeth. The two doctors sawed
away.
"By cracky! sire, I can't cut it off," reported Dr. Flip.
"Give him an extra dousing!" ordered his Majesty.
Dr. Flip next reported a case of toothache.
"What do the Revised Statutes say?" asked Neptune.
"Beg pardon," said Dr. Flip, "that is in the pharmacopoeia."
"Well, what does the farm--whatever it is--say?" roared Neptune.
"Gargle, sire," said Dr. Flip; "the fumes kill the pain." The victim got
the gargle treatment.
"Mullygrubs in his back, sire," was the next from Dr. Flip. A lambasting
with stuffed clubs was the extra treatment for that, in addition to the
ducking.
Then came a strange case, that of a youngster who spends his spare time
on board studying mathematics in the hope of getting higher in the
service. Dr. Flip went over him with great care. He got out bottles and
pills and saws and bandages and plasters. The crowd could see that it
was a most serious case.
Dr. Flap was called in consultation. The books were produced and the
symptoms were pondered over with many grave shakes of the head. At last
Dr. Flip made the right diagnosis.
"'E's got the hypotenuse rampant," he shouted. "My, my! I am astonished
that a surgeon of the established reputation of Dr. Wentworth of the
United States Navy, sire, should let all these ailments that we have
here to-day escape 'im, sire," shouted Dr. Flip.
"Send for Dr. Wentworth!" roared Neptune. Dr. Wentworth came. He told
Neptune that he had been a royal subject of his for more than twenty
years. Nep softened a bit at that, and then said he was glad to see him
again, but how about these strange ailments? Why had he not cured them?
Dr. Wentworth is a man of tact, great tact, and he explained that the
ailments occurred nowhere else than in Neptune's domain and, therefore,
he thought it was best to have them treated by Neptune's own specialists
who were familiar with the newest developments and the best treatment.
While the initiations were going on Neptune ordered this message
semaphored to Admiral Evans, the Commander in Chief:
_Admiral R. D. Evans, U. S. Atlantic Fleet._
I am happy to inform you that your son and the son of the
captain of your noble flagship have this day declared their
allegiance as my loyal subjects.
NEPTUNE REX.
Lieuts. F. T. Evans and H. W. Osterhaus are attached to the Louisiana
and occasionally they have to take a good deal of chaffing and no favors
when an "unofficial message" from "father" comes over the signals. This
was the reply that Neptune received from the flagship:
_Neptune Rex:_
We are delighted that our sons are at last real sailors. They
have served a long time. Soak 'em, boys!
EVANS and OSTERHAUS.
Young Evans and young Osterhaus were soaked all right.
The initiation ceremonies were kept boiling all the time. Occasionally a
sea lawyer, one with an established reputation as such among the crew,
would come up. He was asked if he wanted to argue his case. Not one of
them did.
"Give it to him good," Neptune would shout. And they did. The rest of
the crew understood the significance of the extra ducking and howls of
glee resulted. The sea lawyers usually had to be helped out of the tank.
Now and then a man would lose his temper when he got into the tank.
Small mercy for him! He would drag a bear under the water with him.
Forthwith half a dozen bears would go to the rescue of their companion,
and in the rescue that man who had dragged the bear under would think he
was going to kingdom come before he got a breath of air. Oh, it didn't
pay to be fresh in that salt water!
The ceremonies were half over when there came the unforeseen. A victim
came up with a peculiar glitter in his eye. Dr. Flip saw it and
diagnosed the case as "extremis mortuis of the right optic." The
diagnosis was correct, for, catching Dr. Flip in a favorable position,
the victim toppled Dr. Flip over into the tank himself.
"Flip is taking a flap!" shouted the crowd. The bears fell on Dr. Flip,
thinking he was a new arrival, and he got such a sousing as few who
preceded him had received. He lost his glasses, but when he clambered
back upon the platform he called out: "Next case!" as if nothing unusual
had happened.
Long before the initiation was over the policemen had roused the
excitement of Sally Ann, who was perched in the rigging over the bridge,
watching the strange performance, as they ran about the ship chasing
culprits who tried to escape. Each succeeding arrest stirred her up more
and more, and she shrieked out her grief in unearthly yells. One of the
bluejackets had to gather her in his arms and stroke her head and talk
soothingly to her before she would be comforted.
Another thing that pleased Neptune and the bluejackets was the
appearance of an enormous gull, a "goney bird," they called it, that
hovered over the initiation ceremonies for more than an hour, turning
and twisting its head and giving out strange calls. Where the bird came
from no one saw. The ship was 300 miles out to sea. No other bird of the
kind was in sight. It was the sailor's omen of good luck. When the bird
alighted in the rigging a cheer went up. That sealed the matter of good
luck and then the bird flew off to the other ships and watched the
ceremonies there.
So hour after hour the initiation went on until the last man had been
rounded up and Neptune pronounced the day's work well done. He sent
this signal to Admiral Evans:
_The Commander-in-Chief, U. S. Atlantic Fleet._
I have to inform the Commander-in-Chief that I have completed
the ceremonies on board the good ship Louisiana, will haul down
my standard and take my departure. The Commander-in-Chief will
accept my best wishes for himself, officers and men of the
United States Atlantic fleet for a most pleasant voyage, and
may all the royal subjects meet again.
NEPTUNUS REX,
Ruler of the Royal Domain.
Neptune then retreated into the fo'c'sle for refreshment and remained
there until darkness came. Then a barrel filled with oakum and oil and
tar was set on fire and put afloat. It sailed away in the night. It was
"Neptune's boat," and he was going back to his royal domains.
After he had gone certificates duly signed and embellished with mermaids
and sea urchins and starfish and ropes, with an octopus for a background
and a picture of Neptune rising from the sea at the top and with the
ship's seal affixed to bits of red, white and blue ribbon, were
presented to all hands. Never again will a man who can show one of them
have to take a dousing and barbering with suitable medical treatment on
crossing the line.
The certificates read:
DOMAIN OF NEPTUNUS REX,
RULER OF THE RAGING MAIN.
_To all Sailors, wherever ye may be, and to all Mermaids, Sea
Serpents, Whales, Sharks, Porpoises, Dolphins, Skates, Eels,
Suckers, Lobsters, Crabs, Pollywogs and other living things of
the sea._
GREETING: Know ye that on this 6th day of January, 1908, in
latitude 00,000 and longitude 37°, 11', W., there appeared
within the limits of Our Royal Domain the U. S. S. Louisiana,
bound southward for the Straits of Magellan and Pacific ports.
BE IT REMEMBERED
That the Vessel and Officers and Crew thereof have been
inspected and passed on by Ourself and Our Royal Staff.
AND BE IT KNOWN: By all ye Sailors, Marines, Landlubbers and
others who may be honored by his Presence that
JOHN DOE
having been found worthy to be numbered as one of OUR TRUSTY
SHELLBACKS, has been gathered to our fold and duly initiated
into the
SOLEMN MYSTERIES OF THE ANCIENT ORDER OF THE DEEP.
BE IT FURTHER UNDERSTOOD: That by virtue of the power invested
in me I do hereby command all my subjects to show due honor and
respect to him whenever he may enter Our Realm.
DISOBEY THIS ORDER UNDER PENALTY OF OUR ROYAL DISPLEASURE.
Given under our hand and seal this sixth day of January, 1908.
NEPTUNUS REX.
DAVY JONES,
His Majesty's Scribe.
[Seal of the Louisiana.]
[Illustration: Neptune's Initiation on the Louisiana's Fo'c'sle]
CHAPTER V
BRAZIL'S ENTHUSIASTIC WELCOME
Never Before Did American Ships Have Such a Welcome--The Visit a
Continual Exchange of Prisoners Made by Friendship--Americans
Found it Easy to Sail Into This Bay of all Delights, but Very
Hard to Sail Out--Jack Had a Fine Time Ashore and Behaved
Properly--More Than 4,000 of Him on Liberty at One Time--
Official Welcome Sincere, and That of the People From the
Heart--Vice Admiral's Salutes Greeted Evans.
_On Board U. S. S. Louisiana, U. S. Battle Fleet_,
RIO JANEIRO, Jan. 22.
In describing the arrival, reception and stay of the American fleet in
this port, the impulse is almost irresistible to use superlatives. There
can be no error of judgment or of taste in employing the comparative
degree, for strict accuracy compels the assertion that never was an
American fleet greeted more cordially and never entertained more
elaborately in a foreign port than in this port, the "Bay of All
Beauties," and in this city, fast becoming the Paris of the Western
Hemisphere.
The greetings were unmistakably of the heart. They were far more than
official expressions of esteem. It was our old familiar friend of the
North, the Vox Populi, that spoke, and no levity is intended when that
expression is used. The people acclaimed the fleet and that aspect was
so overwhelming, so constant, so omnipresent that it dwarfed everything
else. No foreign port and no American port ever saw so many American
bluejackets ashore in ten days; no foreign port ever opened its arms
more freely to American sailors of high and low degree.
The reception of the fleet was a decided surprise. The officers were
confident that the welcome would be cordial, that the expressions of
politeness customary on such occasions would ring true, that the
entertainments would be in keeping with the situation. No one doubted
that Brazil would do the handsome thing. It was expected that the
officials would exert themselves to say pleasing things and provide
receptions and dinners, and would exchange calls and observe
punctiliously all the niceties that international courtesy demands. But
no one expected what might be called strictly an uprising of the people,
and the bestowal of that fiction of official receptions in a foreign
port, known as the freedom of the city, in such a manner as to turn
fiction into fact.
It seemed to be true and undoubtedly was true that the Americans
captured Rio, took it by storm, if you please; it did not seem to be
true but was true that Rio captured the Americans from Admirals down to
coal passers. From the hour of arrival to the hour of departure it was a
constant, an incessant exchange of friendship's prisoners. Without this
the American fleet could never have sailed away, and the fears expressed
in the United States when the fleet left on its cruise that it might
never come back as a unit or in parts would have been realized.
It was easy as a matter of seamanship to sail into Rio harbor. It was as
hard a job as any American Admiral ever tackled, as a matter of parting
with friends, to sail out. Any American President who may order a fleet
of battleships into this harbor in the future should take that matter
into serious consideration. The Americans do not want to lose their
battleships. Prudence requires caution hereafter in running risks with
Brazilian hospitality.
It was about 9 o'clock on Sunday morning, January 12, when the fleet
passed Cape Frio, seventy-five miles to the east of Rio. Far back on the
hills is a signal station. It used the international code and the flags
that snapped in the breeze said:
"Welcome, American fleet!"
"Sounds pretty good," said a signal officer. Then came the Yankton,
which had been sent on ahead to meet Admiral Evans and inform him of the
plans for anchoring and receptions and the like. Just before noon three
Brazilian warships were observed about a dozen miles out from Rio. On
they came and bugles were sounded and rails manned and salutes
exchanged. One, two, three, and so on, went the guns of the Brazilian
cruiser that led the two torpedo boats. One by one the reports were
counted carefully, as is always the case on a warship. Thirteen were
boomed out and then came another and another and then a stop. It was a
Vice-Admiral's salute.
Instantly the query ran through the fleet: Has Admiral Evans been
promoted? The wiseacres were not deceived. They said that the Brazilians
reasoned that the Commander-in-Chief of any fleet the size of this
should be a Vice-Admiral, and that the Brazilians were taking no chances
in not being sufficiently polite to cover any contingency.
Soon the mountains immediately surrounding the beautiful harbor came
into view. A dozen steam launches had ventured outside. Then came the
careful evolutions of getting into exact column for entering the harbor.
The day was beautiful, old Sugar Loaf and Corcovado and all the other
peaks seemed to be standing up with the dignity of stiff salutes, and
then came a peep into the narrow entrance of the harbor. The place was
alive with small boats. The signal stations were all aflutter with
welcome flags.
Slowly the Connecticut led the way and, when just beyond old Fort Santa
Cruz on the eastern side, boomed a salute to the port. From a little
rock all smoothed off and fairly polished, given up entirely to a fort,
Villegagnon, came the answering salute. Instantly the whistles of
hundreds of craft were set loose and tied down. No American has ever
heard such a shrieking of vessels except at the international yacht
races off Sandy Hook. The noise at Sandy Hook was greater because the
number of boats about was greater; that's the only reason. How-de-do and
welcome came from big and little craft all loaded down with people in
their Sunday best, if they have such things down here. Parenthetically
it may be remarked that judging from the way the women dress for street
wear every day is Sunday with them in the matter of clothes. There were
half a dozen boat crews out in eight-oared barges. Launches, rowboats,
steamers, ferryboats, sailing craft of all kinds were just inside the
harbor entrance.
Soon magnificent Botafoga Bay unfolded itself with that wonderfully
beautiful long reach of avenue, Bairo-Mar, running four miles in a
crescent from the heart of the city toward Sugar Loaf, all set out in
artistic landscape treatment. It was black with the people. Then the
fleet approached the city proper. With a glass one could make out that
the hills, the houses, the waterfront were black with the people. As
Vice-Admiral Maurity afterward said in a speech:
"The whole of the population of Rio, of all ages, chiefly belonging to
the fair sex, could not avoid going out of their houses to crowd the
neighborhoods of the harbor, the hills and islands around it, and all
other points of view from the city of Rio and the Nictheroy's side, in
order to greet the passage of the American fleet and to better
appreciate the interesting display of her manoeuvres."
Moreover, the population had been waiting there practically for two
days. The fleet was scheduled to come in on Saturday. All of Saturday
and far into the night tens of thousands had waited upon the hills and
waterfronts. They were back, we were told, early on Sunday morning and
they blackened and whitened the entire city. The American officers were
almost dumfounded. What does it all mean, was the general inquiry.
On steamed the Connecticut, and it was discovered that there was a
German cruiser, the Bremen, in the harbor. More salutes! By the way, it
may be remarked that Admiral Evans got the Rear Admiral's salute inside
the harbor, the proper one that his two-starred flag requires. He got
another Vice-Admiral's salute--and many persons thought it was a
delicate hint to the United States--when the Italian cruiser Puglia came
in a day or two later and gave him fifteen guns.
When the ships anchored in four lines opposite the central part of the
city, the Brazilian ships, about a dozen of them, were anchored inside.
Pratique was granted within half an hour of the time of the anchoring,
which required some slow manoeuvring in order to reach the exact
positions.
No official calls were made that night because it was well after 5
o'clock when the last anchor was down, and it was Sunday. The populace
thronged the waterfront, in some places ten deep, until after dark, and
then the Brazilian ships illuminated in honor of the fleet. Fireworks
were set off from the hilltops. Still the people stayed on the
waterfront. Up to midnight they could be seen in thousands. They were
there when daylight came; if not the same ones, then a fresh relay. From
that day on until the ships left there never was an hour when the
waterfront, especially of the city proper, was not thronged with the
people looking at the ships.
The far famed Bay of Rio! What shall be said about it? Travellers and
guide books have told of its beauties without ceasing. Every
well-informed person knows that it is regarded as the finest in the
world, that even Naples is dwarfed in these descriptions in comparison.
It is worth while to recount its glories again, especially as it
revealed itself to naval men.
The writer knows of no better naval twist to give to such a description
than was written by Herman Melville, who entered this bay on the United
States frigate United States way back in 1843, and who has described the
scene in his fascinating book "White Jacket." Nature is still the same.
Old Sugar Loaf, the liberty capped Corcovado, literally the hunchback,
the Organ Mountains and all the other peaks still rear their heads as
they did then and encircle Rio. Here is what Melville wrote from a
naval standpoint:
"Talk not of Bahia de Todos os Santos, the Bay of All Saints, for though
that be a glorious haven, yet Rio is the Bay of all Rivers, the Bay of
all Delights, the Bay of all Beauties. From circumjacent hillsides
untiring summer hangs perpetually in terraces of vivid verdure, and
embossed with old mosses convent and castle nestle in valley and glen.
"All around deep inlets run into the green mountain land, and overhung
with wild highlands more resemble Loch Katrine than Lake Leman, yet here
in Rio both the loch and the lake are but two wild flowers in a prospect
that is almost unlimited. For behold, far away and away stretches the
broad blue of the water to yonder soft swelling hills of light green,
backed by the purple pinnacles and pipes of the grand Organ Mountains
fitly so-called, for in thunder time they roll cannonades down the bay,
drowning the blended bass of all the cathedrals in Rio.
"Archipelago Rio, ere Noah on old Ararat anchored his ark, there lay
anchored in you all these green rocky isles I now see, but God did not
build on you, isles, those long lines of batteries, nor did our blessed
Saviour stand godfather at the christening of you, you frowning fortress
of Santa Cruz, though named in honor of Himself, the divine Prince of
Peace.
"Amphitheatrical Rio! in your broad expanse might be held the
Resurrection and Judgment Day of the whole world's men-o'-war,
represented by the flagships of fleets--the flagships of the Phoenician
armed galleys of Tyre and Sidon; of King Solomon's annual squadrons
that sailed to Ophir, whence in aftertimes, perhaps, sailed the
Acapulco fleets of the Spaniards, with golden ingots for ballasting; the
flagships of all the Greek and Persian craft that exchanged the warhug
at Salamis; of all the Roman and Egyptian galleys that, eaglelike, with
blood dripping prows, beaked each other at Actium; of all the Danish
keels of the Vikings; of all the mosquito craft of Abba Thule, King of
the Pelaws, when he went to vanquish Artinsall; of all the Venetian,
Genoese and Papal fleets that came to shock at Lepanto; of both horns of
the Spanish Armada; of the Portuguese squadron that under the gallant
Gama chastised the Moors and discovered the Moluccas; of all the Dutch
navies led by Van Tromp and sunk by Admiral Hawke; of the forty-seven
French and Spanish sail-of-the-line that for three months essayed to
batter down Gibraltar; of all Nelson's seventy-fours that thunderbolted
off St. Vincent's, at the Nile, Copenhagen and Trafalgar; of all the
frigate merchantmen of the East India Company; of Perry's war brigs,
sloops and schooners that scattered the British armament on Lake Erie;
of all the Barbary corsairs captured by Bainbridge; of the war canoes of
Polynesian Kings, Tamma-hammaha and Pomare--ay, one and all, with
Commodore Noah for their Lord High Admiral, in this abounding Bay of Rio
might all come to anchor and swing round in concert to the first of the
flood.
"Rio is a small Mediterranean, and what was fabled of the entrance to
that sea, in Rio is partly made true, for here at the mouth stands one
of Hercules's Pillars, the Sugar Loaf Mountain, 1,000 feet high,
inclining over a little like the leaning tower of Pisa. At its base
crouch like mastiffs the batteries of José and Theodosia, while
opposite you are menaced by a rock bounded fort. The channel
between--the sole inlet to the bay--seems but a biscuit's toss over,
you see naught of the landlocked sea within until fairly in the
strait. But then what a sight is beheld! Diversified as the harbor of
Constantinople, but a thousandfold grander. When the Neversink (the
frigate United States) swept in word was passed, 'Aloft, topmen! and
furl t'-gallant sails and royals!' At the sound I sprang into the
rigging and was soon at my perch. How I hung over that main royal yard
in a rapture! High in air, poised over that magnificent bay, a new
world to my ravished eyes. I felt like the foremost of a flight of
angels new lighted upon earth from some star in the Milky Way."
Few men on this fleet felt the rapture that Melville described so
poetically, but every one felt a thrill. Had Melville lived to more
recent times he might have included the fleet of Farragut and Porter, of
the Austrians and Italians, of the Russians and Japanese, of the
Spanish, in that mighty roll call of the ressurrection of fleets of the
world, for surely there is room for all.
For twenty miles up there is deep water in the bay, and hiding places
too among the 365 islands, one for every day in the year, that stud the
waters. Santa Cruz and all the other forts Melville mentions are still
there and a dozen more besides, most of them inside the harbor, built,
as one grim fighter on the American fleet said, more for use against
domestic than foreign foes. The very situation of those forts spells out
fear of revolution, but that's another matter.
The next morning after arrival came the unfolding of Rio to the
visitors. Even those who had visited the place before had shaken their
heads solemnly about it. The scenery all about is grand, they said,
wonderful, but the city itself--well, hands were raised in deprecation,
nostrils dilated, followed by a sad shake of heads. Didn't the guide
books tell you it was a foul, ill smelling place? Wasn't it a matter of
course that the city would be reeking with yellow fever in this its
midsummer time?
The officials told the fleet officers that there was no yellow fever in
the place. Polite expressions of surprise with surreptitious nudges
behind the back! They said that the city had been transformed in the
last four years, was well paved and beautified and they expressed the
hope that the Americans would like it. More expressions of polite
surprise and assurances that the city always was attractive, with more
nudges behind the back. And then when the officials went back to shore
didn't the officers make a dive for the ships' libraries and read facts,
real facts, mind you, about the place? Didn't W. E. Curtis write this
about Rio:
"Viewed from the deck of a ship in the harbor the city of Rio looks like
a fragment of fairyland--a cluster of alabaster castles decorated with
vines; but the illusion is instantly dispelled upon landing, for the
streets are narrow, damp, dirty, reeking with repulsive odors and filled
with vermin covered beggars and wolfish looking dogs. There is now and
then a lovely little spot where nature has displayed her beauties
unhindered and the environs of the city are filled with the luxury of
tropical vegetation; but there are only a few fine residences, a few
pleasant promenades, and a few clusters of regal palms which look down
upon the filth and squalor of the town with dainty indifference. The
palm is the peacock of trees. Nothing can degrade it, and the filth in
which it often grows only serves to heighten its beauty. The pavements
are of the roughest cobblestone; the streets are so narrow that scarcely
a breath of air can enter them, and the sunshine cannot reach the pools
of filth that steam and fester in the gutters, breeding plagues."
There are half a dozen descriptions such as that, some of them as recent
as 1900. Oh, yes, the Americans knew what kind of a city they were going
to see. Hadn't some of them been here before? Didn't some of the
surgeons on the fleet shake their heads gravely when it was signalled
from the flagship that there would be general liberty?
What did the Americans find? This is part of what the Americans saw; it
would take pages to tell it all:
They saw one of the cleanest and best paved cities in the world. New
York in the Waring days never had cleaner streets. There was not a foul
smell in evidence. There was even no West street or South street odor
along the waterfront. Where the streets were not of asphalt they were of
wood. There were no beggars on the highways; at any rate the Sun's
correspondent did not see one, and he spent hours ashore every day.
The old part of town still has its narrow streets, the chief of which,
Ouvridor, is about half as wide as Nassau street and which no vehicles
are permitted to enter. But the great surprise of all was the
magnificent Central avenue, built within the last four years right
through the heart of the city from north to south, just as Napoleon
built highways in Paris, connecting at the south with the great
sweeping shore boulevards, where the beautiful Monroe Palace stands.
This new avenue rivals anything that Paris can show. It is about 120
feet wide, with sidewalks fifteen feet broad. In the centre are lofty
lights on artistic poles, each group set in a little isle of safety
filled with flowers and grasses and plants. The architecture along the
avenue is harmonious throughout. The effect is imposing and makes a New
Yorker think.
But those sidewalks! It is mighty fortunate for New York that she has
none like them. If she had, the psychopathic ward in Bellevue would have
to be enlarged ten times over for the patrons of the Great White Way.
They are big mosaics, composed of small pieces of black and white
granite. The black pieces are used for ornamentation. Every block has a
different design. Some have zigzags, others curves and curlycues, others
dragons and starfish (at least they resemble such), others swing here
and there; others are straight, until you feel that all you need is a
brass band to make you march; others take you in swoops this way and
that; arrows and daggers point themselves at you; bouquets in stone
attract you until you almost feel that you want to stoop to get a whiff;
but the predominant feeling is that the designs were sunk for sailors to
roll back to the ship on, heaving to occasionally for bearings; or for
intoxicated men to take another tack in the hope of finding a shorter
way.
One of the bluejackets hit this particular "beach" one afternoon after
he had been drinking too much. He stopped short and called to his mate,
a few feet away:
"Bill, come here! Take me away! What do I see? Look at 'em! Snakes? Yes,
they are snakes! I got 'em! Hit that big feller on the head! It's the
brig fer me when I get back. Take me away, Bill! Think o' the disgrace
o' gettin' the jimjams in a foreign port. Bowery booze fer me after
this! Take me away, Bill! 'Tain't snakes? Honest? Jes' sidewalk? 'Ray
for Brazil!"
Then the bluejacket got on his knees and felt to make sure it was "jes'
sidewalk" while a crowd of Brazilians gathered around and some of them
thought Yankee sailors either had queer ways of investigation or of
making their devotions under the effect of libations and smiled, and in
Portuguese told Bill and Tom they were good fellows.
As one went to the south on this Central avenue he came upon the nearly
finished municipal theatre, one of the handsomest playhouses in the
world and probably the largest in the western hemisphere. Then came the
new public library and other Federal and municipal buildings that are
being erected back of old Castello Hill, where the first settlers
squatted, and the remains of their huddled manner of living still
present themselves to the eye. And then one came to the white
Renaissance pile, the strikingly beautiful Monroe Palace, named after
our own Monroe, whose famous doctrine is woven into the woof and warp of
the Brazilian institutions.
The building is segregated and is at the very gate of the great
boulevard system fronting on the bay. It is conspicuous from the harbor.
Brazil's flag--the green field, representing luxuriant vegetation; the
yellow diamond, representing the gold and other mineral wealth; the
broad, banded globe of blue in the centre, representing the dominion of
Brazil, with one star above the equator for its single State in the
northern hemisphere, and other stars in the south portraying the
southern States, and also the famous constellation of the Southern Cross
at a certain significant date in the year--the Brazilian flag flew from
the dome and on each corner were large American flags.
This palace is where the Pan-American Congress met, where Secretary Root
made a profound impression in his address. Next to Roosevelt the name of
Root is foremost on the lips of Brazilians. His visit made the deepest
impression here. It is still talked of, even on the highways. That
visit, the Monroe Palace and the visit of this fleet are bound to be
felt for years in the expressions of genuine international friendship of
various kinds which will be made between the two great republics of the
North and South.
Then one saw the boulevard system. Again one must repress himself. It is
safe to say that no city in the world has anything like it, that no
avenue or highway is more beautiful and imposing. One might combine the
beauties of the waterfront of Naples and Nice or of any spot in the
Riviera with those of the Shore Drive of New York's Narrows and
Riverside Drive and Lafayette Boulevard in New York, and still they
could not compare with this beautifully ornamented stretch of boulevard
that curves about the bright blue bay.
Illuminated with thousands of lights at night the effect from the harbor
is that of a long crescent of diamonds flashing upon the forehead of the
bay. No one who has ever seen this highway of miles with its palatial
dwellings fronting upon it and set back against the hills can ever
forget it. It wasn't here when Melville wrote, but truly it makes the
city Amphitheatrical Rio!
Then the Americans began to wander about the city. The narrow streets in
the business district are like those of Havana and many other cities of
people of Latin descent. Through this part of town run little mule
propelled tramways with the narrow rails so close to the sidewalks that
when the tram is crowded to the side steps there is danger of sweeping
the passengers off by passing pedestrians. The visitors saw the cafés,
real cafés, where the principal drink is coffee, "strong as the devil,
as black as ink, as hot as hell and as sweet as love."
Some of the Americans liked the coffee, but the wise ones confined their
drinking to limeades. Then the visitors saw the many crowded
cinematograph shows, the crowded shops, the powdered, and what Americans
would call overdressed women, the panorama of the highways, the
newsboys, the hundreds of lottery shops.
But above all else they noted the clean condition of things. They asked
if it was a sudden spurt of cleanliness and were told that it was not.
They asked how about these new streets and the extensive, harmonious and
comprehensive building that is going on. It was declared to be part of a
broad policy that has been in progress for four or five years, part of a
plan to make Rio one of the most beautiful cities in the world, a plan
to make it fit the magnificent surroundings which nature has provided
for it. American opinion was all summed up in this general expression:
"As handsome a city as I ever saw."
[Illustration: _Courtesy of Collier's Weekly_
At Anchor at Rio de Janeiro]
It was when the bluejackets went ashore that the Americans began to
realize what Brazil's welcome really meant. The boys landed with a whoop
and began to scatter. Sailorlike some of them headed for the saloons,
but the people expected that and were surprised that more of them didn't
fall by the wayside. Most of the men, however, went in for rational
enjoyment. They crowded the post card emporiums, they bought fruit and
trinkets, they piled on the tramways and went any old place so long as
it was somewhere.
They filled the streets, the cinematograph places. Yes, they hired
automobiles and rode about like nabobs to the astonishment of the
natives, who must have wondered at the princely wages the United States
paid its men. They went to the best restaurants and hotels. Everywhere
they were welcomed. "English spoken here" was a frequent sign. They were
even allowed to loll on the grass of the many beautiful parks, an act
that costs a native a fine of from five to fifteen milreis. They were
respectful to all, but they had a commanding way about them that took.
They owned the town; they knew it, but did not attempt to take the
slightest advantage of it.
As the days went by and one saw the behavior of these bluejackets his
American heart was filled with pride over them. They were clean,
intelligent, manly, open, as fine a brand of sailor as ever wore a
uniform, obeyed an order or sported their money lavishly in a foreign
port.
The first thing that greeted the eye of every man who landed at the
beautiful park that used to be an eyesore in the central part of the
waterfront was a big sign reading:
"Information Bureau for American Seamen."
It was an information bureau, a real one. It was the most useful kind
of a welcome ever provided in a foreign port for the sailors of any
people. The American and English residents, aided by those of other
countries, had been busy preparing for weeks for the visit of Jack
ashore. Every safeguard, every assistance that was possible to make his
liberty comfortable, profitable, enjoyable was looked after. It took
hard cash to do it, but the money was raised and it amounted to
thousands of dollars.
In the first place, the ferry company to Nictheroy set apart a large
room in its commodious new building. Counters were put up for
information booths, postal card booths, exchange of money, sale of
various kinds of tickets for things with guides by the score and
attendants anxious to answer all kinds of questions. Men and women
worked there from twelve to fourteen hours a day for ten days in the
stifling heat, all eager to be of assistance to Jack ashore. A pamphlet
was provided giving a map of the city and displaying all the chief
places of interest. Full information was printed about everything that a
man bent on rational enjoyment could desire. The pamphlets told all
about transportation, about the places to see, about postage and the
many general and special excursions that had been planned.
Jack soon found it out and he rushed there in throngs. He found long
tables in the room with free writing paper, ink, pens, mucilage, and
down he sat to write to sweetheart or wife. Then he went to change his
money. Here he struck a snag. A dollar is worth 3,200 reis. One of the
sailors got a $10 note changed. He received in exchange 32,000 reis. He
was astonished.
"Here, fellers!" he shouted, "I got 32,000 reis for $10. Gee, whiz! Me
for Wall Street! When kin I get a steamer home, mister? Holy Moses! I've
got rich and I didn't know it."
Jack found out quickly that he wasn't rich, for Rio is just now fairly
oppressed with enormously high prices, due, it is said, to paying heavy
taxes for all the improvements that have been going on. He found that he
had to pay 300 reis for an ordinary postage stamp, 400 reis for a glass
of limeade, about 800 reis for a handkerchief or a collar, and as for a
bottle of beer, that was good for a thousand reis or so, and the money
began to melt quickly. But what did Jack care? It was an automobile for
him, or something equally expensive. What's the use of being an American
man-o'-war's man if you can't act like a millionaire for an hour or so
in a foreign port?
When the money was changed Jack found out the full value of these
self-sacrificing men and women who had done so much for his comfort. He
got a fair exchange for his money and wasn't robbed. This committee had
provided him with guides to all sorts of places free of charge, had made
up excursion parties all over the city and the surrounding country, had
provided rubbernecks--and how Jack did grin when he saw the familiar
things--carriages, special trams and what not; had provided for the sale
of meal tickets, the best postal cards, had co-operated with the police
to look for stragglers.
Well, Jack smiled and smiled, and he knew he was in the hands of his
friends. The Prefect of the city, Gen. Souza Aguiar, was chairman of the
committee, and all the leading Americans and Englishmen joined in.
Especially active was the acting Consul-General of the United States,
J. J. Slechta, and Myron A. Clark, the Y. M. C. A. secretary. The Y. M.
C. A. here is affiliated with the Sands street branch in Brooklyn. The
placards told Jack all about it, and the first thing he asked was if
Miss Gould had helped to pay the expenses. He was told that she had not,
because she had probably not been informed about it. He answered
invariably:
"Betch'r sweet life she would if she'd known about it. 'Ray for Helen
Gould!"
Here is a summary of what work was done for our sailors by this bureau
in ten days:
Eight thousand sheets of paper and 5,000 envelopes provided free of
charge, 21,000 guides to the city printed and circulated, about 175,000
postage stamps sold, nearly 2,000 meal tickets sold, 3,500 special
excursions provided, these in addition to the many general excursions;
about $175,000 exchanged at the lowest possible rates, about 170,000
post cards sold, about 2,000 automobile trips arranged.
So Jack and all the others of the fleet went sightseeing. They went to
Petropolis, the summer capital, with its temperate climate, in the
tropics, and only twenty-two miles away, up back of the Organ Mountains.
You climb the heights on a cog railroad, just as you climb Pike's Peak,
and you see the magnificent views of valleys, the bay, the ravines and
gulches that would do credit to the Rocky Mountains. Jack and his mates
went to Corcovado in throngs, starting on trolleys that crossed the
famous old aqueduct back of the hills right in the city and climbed on
and up around the city for miles with scarce a hundred feet of straight
track. Then they took the steep cog railroad, and after a time found
themselves poised on the peak 2,300 feet above the city, with this place
of 800,000 inhabitants and its bay and the sea all spread out before
them in probably the most fascinating panorama that the world presents.
They visited the wonderful botanical garden, with its magnificent avenue
of royal palms and its flower beds, its trees, its ferns, a truly royal
place. One of the young officers told what he thought of this garden
when he said:
"When I get married I am going to come down here and march up that mile
of palms for the aisle in God's church. It will be the finest setting
for the finest bride in the world. The newspapers needn't take the
trouble to mention the bridegroom's name. That of the bride linked with
the majestic aisle will be sufficient."
And so one might go on and on into raptures and extravagant expressions.
The people's gracious mood matched their city and the visitors were
simply overwhelmed with hospitality on every side.
The sailors grew to the situation. Day by day there were fewer signs of
too much drinking. Occasionally a man or two would overstep the bounds,
but the authorities saw to it that the Americans handled their own men
in that condition.
Only one incident marred the visit, and it was a pity that any mention
of it was cabled to the United States. After that had been done it was
necessary to send the truth and correct misapprehension. It was on the
first night of liberty. It was merely a saloon brawl. A native negro had
a row with another and threw a bottle at him. The second dodged it and
the bottle struck one of our seamen at a table and hurt him. He got
after the negro, who escaped. Back the negro came with a razor and fell
upon the first bluejacket he saw.
Several of the best petty officers on one of the ships jumped in to
quell the disturbance. The rabble thought they jumped in to fight.
Stones were thrown and three of the peacemakers were hurt. The local
police didn't size up the situation and were slow to act. They arrested
the negro, but let him go. After that they said it was a deplorable
blunder.
Liberty was recalled at once and marines were sent ashore, but it was
soon over, and the next morning at the request of the authorities 2,000
men were sent ashore instead of 1,000 daily as had been planned. The men
were warned to conduct themselves properly, and to the everlasting
credit of our American seamen it must be said they heeded the caution
well.
An illustration of what might have been occurred on the night of Sunday,
January 19. Rival political clubs were parading about town carrying
banners and flags and also giving cheers of "Vivan los Americanos!" They
invited a lot of bluejackets to join them. Not knowing what the parades
meant, good natured Jack of course would go along. About twenty of them
joined each of two processions and had the distinction of carrying the
flags and hurrahing every other step. It was great fun. The naval
officers on shore heard of what was going on and dashed up in
automobiles. The Brazilians would not let their dear friends go and the
officers had a hard time to get the men free. They at once obeyed
instructions to scatter, and said they were simply having a good time
with their new friends.
Ten minutes later those two parades minus the bluejackets came into a
collision and there was quite severe rioting, with stone throwing and
the use of knives and bludgeons. Had the bluejackets remained innocently
with the parades they would have been in the thick of it and terrible
reports would probably have been cabled to the United States of our
sailors mixing in political affairs, probably instigating revolution and
being most awful rioters. It was a narrow escape to get them away in
time.
By the end of the week so completely had good feeling been established
that from 4,000 to 5,000 men were sent ashore on Sunday. It was the
largest liberty party of American sailors ever known. New York never saw
so many of our men ashore at one time. It made one proud of his country
and its men to see that party ashore. There were not twenty cases of
drunkenness when the boys came home.
Nothing could have been more cordial and warmhearted, more lavish, than
the entertainments given in the name of the Brazilian Government. The
one regret was that Admiral Evans, because of an attack of his recurrent
malady, rheumatism, was unable to take part in them personally. Admiral
Thomas took his place admirably.
The tone of all the official greetings was that of undisguised
friendship. President Penna made it manifest on the first day when he
met the officers at Petropolis. Then Vice-Admiral Cordovil Maurity
voiced it in English on the top of Corcovado the next day, and perhaps
it is well to give his speech in full. Here it is as translated for the
Americans:
Ladies, His Excellency Vice-Admiral the Minister of Marine,
Gallant Admirals, Captains and officers of the Navy of the U. S.
A., Gentlemen:
In my character of Admiral of the Brazilian Navy, Chief of the
General Staff and Commander-in-Chief of the Fleet, as well as
with the authority of an old sailor, who knows the rules of
military and diplomatic pragmatic, I feel very happy in this
moment, to speak to you, American sailors, in the name of my
Government, of the Brazilian people and of my comrades of the
National Navy, in order to salute and give the hearty welcome
to Admiral R. Evans, the Commander-in-Chief, Admirals Charles
Sperry, Charles Thomas and William Emory, the Captains,
Officers and Crews of the powerful North American fleet that
entered the day before yesterday in the harbour of Rio.
I beg then to avail myself of this fine opportunity, when we
are just gathered at the summit of Corcovado, at 800 metres
above the level of the sea, to present the warmest
demonstration of sympathy and friendship towards our brothers
of the great Navy of the United States of America, as a general
and sincere greeting spontaneously born from the core of the
Brazilian's hearts. The real proof of this true assertion of
mine you have just met during the solemn occasion of the
triumphal entrance of your brilliant fleet, the most efficient
naval strength, up to the present, that has ever been seen
crossing this side of the Atlantic Ocean and getting into
waters of the bay of Guanabara.
Indeed, it was such an important naval scene, such a splendid
maritime spectacle, that the whole of the population in Rio, of
all ages, chiefly belonging to the fair sex could not avoid
going out their houses to crowd the neighbourhoods of the
harbour, the hills and islands around it, and all other points
of view from the city of Rio and the Nictheroy side, in order
to greet the passage of the American fleet and to better
appreciate the interesting display of her manoeuvres. So, I may
assure you, gentlemen, with my experience of a sea man, that
the splendor of the scenery just alluded to, in combination
with the singular and natural beauties of the bay of Guanabara,
in which you were fraternally received with open arms, by the
mild people all classes of our society, was of the sort of
those fairy things impossible to be described, written or
spoken about.
Yes, gentlemen, the peaceful commission of your fleet waving
the star spangled banner of the great Republic of the United
States of America around this continent of ours and training
the crews of her men-of-war across the largest and deepest
oceans, is certainly an act of very right naval policy, chiefly
on the behalf of order and discipline of industry, labor and
trade, of diplomacy and fraternal comity, and, at last, it
means an exchange of civilisation amongst the peoples of the
several countries of the young, immense and futurous continent
of both Americas.
Therefore, I raise my cup for the health and prosperity of the
sister Navy of the United States of America, one of the
mightiest and more illustrious of the world, whose sacred
emblem in command and perfect sisterhood with ours, let God
grant may float side by side--ever for ever and ever--for the
benefit of universal peace and general comfort of mankind.
President Penna again made the welcome plain when he said at his
luncheon the day following to the Admirals and several Captains at
Petropolis:
The warm and fraternal welcome which the people of the capital
of the republic have given to the American fleet which is now
visiting us ought to prove how deep and sincere the sympathy and
friendship which the Brazilian nation feels for its great and
prosperous sister of North America.
These are no fleeting or transitory sentiments, since they date
from the hour of our birth as a nation and are ever growing in
strength. Every day the bonds of friendship and of trade
between the two nations are drawn closer.
When the South American peoples proclaimed their independence,
at that moment so fraught with misgivings and uncertainty as to
the future, the young American republic gave them strength by
solemnly declaring the intangible unity of the peoples of the
new world through the declaration of their great President
Monroe, whose name figures in history with brilliance as a
statesman of great perception and of rare political foresight.
The long and difficult voyage of the powerful fleet which
to-day is the guest of Brazil, necessitating as it does the
doubling of the American continent, is a fresh and splendid
evidence of the unequalled vigor and the extraordinary energy
of the great power which is a friend of Brazil.
With an expression of ardent and sincere wishes for the
fortunate continuation of the voyage of the friendly fleet I
drink to the glorious American navy, to the prosperity of the
republic of the United States of America and to the personal
happiness of its eminent chief, that great statesman, President
Roosevelt.
The Minister of Foreign Affairs added to all this in the great banquet
given to the officers later in the Monroe Palace when, after offering a
toast to President Roosevelt, he said:
The ancient sympathies between the American and Brazilian
navies, added to by these deeds of war, could not fail to be
augmented, until the point they have attained by the beneficial
force of the increasing approximation between the two friendly
peoples. In Norfolk and Washington last year the unequivocal
demonstrations made to our officers, which the American
Government so expressly associated itself with, caused the
Brazilian gratitude and indebtedness; and it is to-day with the
greatest satisfaction that in the entertainments promoted by the
Brazilian Government, by our navy, and by our society the people
of Rio de Janeiro welcome the American sailors with the same
spontaneous enthusiasm with which they saluted, in his memorable
passage by this country, the eminent propagandist of peace and
of continental concord, Mr. Root.
Brazil is grateful for the visit of her Northern friends,
arrived here in these powerful men of war, which, according to
the fine expression of President Roosevelt, are messengers of
friendship and good will, commissioned to celebrate with us the
long continued and never to be broken amity and mutual
helpfulness of the two great republics.
I invite my countrymen here present to unite with me in the
name of the Brazilian nation and its Government in a toast to
the gallant American navy, an example of skill and military
discipline, a model of devotion to their country, and a
formidable guardian of the immense prestige of the Great
Republic, the pride of the continent.
The same thing was iterated and reiterated in hundreds of private dinner
parties. It received its most vociferous expression on January 16 at a
smoker given to the officers of the fleet at the Park Fluminense, an
outdoor music hall with a mere roof covering and a stage, set in a
garden. It was like the outdoor suburban amusement places in which St.
Louis and other of our Western cities abound. Four bands of the ships
were massed at the entrance to the pavilion. An immense American shield
was lighted with electricity.
The flags of Brazil and England and the United States were entwined. The
place was reserved exclusively for American officers and their hosts.
They had an unusually good vaudeville show and in the intervals our
combined band played. Beer and cigars were served, and soon things began
to warm up. When a medley of patriotic American airs was played the
cheers began to rise. They could have been heard for blocks. Soon
Annapolis songs and yells and shouts were being given. In the
intermissions the place fairly rocked with the songs and yells of old
days. Men who had been tablemates for months shook hands with one
another as if they had just met after a prolonged separation. Speeches
were going on at a dozen places at once.
Then came the close. Our bands first played the Brazilian national hymn.
What a job that is will be told later. A great outburst of cheers
followed after every man had ceased to stand at attention. The
Brazilians were beside themselves with joy. Then came "God Save the
King!" Every one could sing that, and while standing at attention a
mighty chorus of song rolled out. More frantic cheering!
Then came "The Star Spangled Banner." Profound silence was observed to
the last note. When the salute was finished a cyclone roar followed. Men
jumped on chairs and yelled and yelled. Hats went into the air. The
Brazilians and English could not be contained. A score of men were on
tables, each trying to take command of the occasion, each calling for
three cheers for this person and that, for this country and that. None
heard the others, but it was a grand acclaim of good fellowship and
intense patriotism.
One little Brazilian called for three cheers for President Roosevelt.
The Sun man heard him because he was only two feet away. The cheers
rolled out and the Brazilian thought he had taken the place by storm,
and was as happy as a child, but the cheers were simply a part of all
that was going up and meant for everybody and everything in the way of
international friendship. It was a night that stirred one.
And so the visit wore on, and it was a pretty tired crowd of guests and
hosts before the finish came. Probably the weariest men on the ships
were the bandmasters who struggled through the bars of the Brazilian
national hymn. No disrespect is meant, but those Americans who are
clamoring for a new national hymn ought to hear what the Brazilians have
to put up with and then rest themselves content for all time with what
we have.
In the first place the Brazilian hymn is so long that when you are
playing it as a Brazilian warship passes the Brazilian gets out of
hearing and almost out of sight before you finish. After a few struggles
with the music the orders were given on some ships to shorten up if the
other ship was out of hearing and save the wind of the players. Then too
it is queer music. It goes hippety hop--it seems a combination of waltz
and march, of anthem and jig. It may be music, but the writer of this
is frank to say that the Japanese national hymn, with its weird swoops
and dives, curls and twists, seems like a gliding Strauss waltz compared
with the Brazilian hymn. One of the bandmasters on the fleet complained
that his men could not play it properly.
"Musish no-a good," he said. "No Italian musish players. All come from
Kalamazoo, bah!"
The Brazilians had hard struggles with the names of our warships.
Minnesota, Louisiana and such were all right, but Connecticut staggered
them. They made almost as bad as a mess of it as when they pronounced
the name of the High Life Club here or the Light and Power Company. The
Brazilian name for the High Life Club is Higgie Leaffie Cloob. That of
the Light and Power concern is Liggety Poor Companee. Let it go at that.
The reader must imagine how they pronounced Connecticut, for it can't be
put down on paper.
The departure of the fleet bids fair to be even more spectacular than
the one at Hampton Roads, only the powder and smoke, and the blare of
the bands and all the rest of the show will be in honor of another
President than our own. When the last gun has boomed it will mean not
only good-by to President Penna and Brazil, but it will be the
blackthroated response of 14,000 American sailors to Rio. The guns will
declare Rio to be not only the City of All Delights but the City of All
Hospitality.
CHAPTER VI
NATIONAL SALUTES AT SEA
Unique Meeting of United States and Argentine Ships 300 Miles
From Land--Grand Naval Spectacle--High Honors for Admiral
Evans and Cordial Greetings for All His Men--Fine Display of
Seamanship on South American Vessels--Picturesque Incidents of
the Voyage From Rio to the Most Southern City in the World--
Nature Put on Mourning as the Farewells Were Said and Signalled
at Brazil's Capital--The Man-o'-War Mail From Home.
_On Board U. S. S. Louisiana, U. S. Battle Fleet_,
PUNTA ARENAS, CHILE, Jan. 31.
The passage of the battle fleet from Rio to this the southernmost city
of the world was marked by a marine spectacle unprecedented, so far as
any one in this fleet can recall, in naval annals. A squadron of the
Argentine navy came out hundreds of miles to greet our ships, and
probably for the first time in the history of navies national salutes
were fired upon the high seas. Squadrons and fleets have passed one
another before time and time again, and honors have been exchanged, the
flags of flag officers have been saluted, but after these courtesies
have been finished they have gone their separate ways, all official
proprieties having been observed.
But this greeting was so unusual that Admiral Evans set a new naval
fashion, and after his flag had been saluted--seventeen guns, by the
way; the number increases on the way around, and if the warships keep it
up, each one giving the Rear Admiral more and more guns, he will soon be
an Admiral of the fleet in the thundered judgment of other nations, no
matter what action Congress may take--he ordered the salute of
twenty-one guns for the Argentines. The Argentine ships gave full
justification, for they had manned the rails on approaching our ships,
an honor paid ordinarily only to the head of a nation.
Admiral Evans met this unusual compliment by choosing to regard it as an
honor to our nation, not a personal matter, and he fired twenty-one
guns, to which the Argentine flagship responded at once. In addition to
those honors the crews of the various ships cheered one another as they
passed. It was all different from the accepted rule of fleets or
squadrons in passing and it left a fine feeling.
"I never saw sentiment carried so far in all my naval experience," said
one man who will soon have the right to hoist a two-starred Rear
Admiral's flag. "Perhaps it was unusual, but it was impressive; it was
impressive."
Our fleet had no sooner reached Rio than Admiral Evans was informed that
the Argentine ships would come out from Buenos Ayres to greet him on the
way to Punta Arenas. Three days before sailing inquiries were made as to
his probable course and the hour when he would be off the mouth of the
River Plata. The information was cabled duly and our fleet held itself
in readiness to do the proper and handsome thing for this unusual
occasion. Saturday, January 25, was almost a wonder day at sea. The air,
which had been accumulating a chill under cloudy skies and an eastern
wind, became balmy and the sea was as smooth as a pond. The sky
remained overcast and the fleet had been running for three days
practically by dead reckoning. Late on Saturday night the fleet overtook
the tender Yankton and the "beef boats," Glacier and Culgoa. They were
ordered to take their places with the fleet and when everybody except
those on watch went to sleep it was expected that the three smaller
craft would be in their places in the morning. But the wise weather
sharps who know this region sniffed the air and said:
"Weather breeder!"
Sure enough at daybreak a heavy sea began rolling across from the
southern coast of Africa and the wind began to blow. Before 7 o'clock
the ships were plunging and making heavy weather of it. On the log books
it was set down as a moderate gale. The waves sometimes were twenty-five
feet high. The ships with quarter decks cut down were smothered with
spray and solid water from time to time. The ships rolled very
little--never in the strongest gale have the ships of the Connecticut
class at least had their tables racks in place--but they yawed and
dipped, as all ships in heavy weather are expected to do. The Yankton
and Culgoa were not in sight. The weather had been too much for the
little Yankton and she was ordered to slow down and the Culgoa was told
to stand by her. The air was thick with rain squalls and mist and a more
miserable day could hardly be imagined.
The morning wore on and nothing was heard from the Argentine ships.
"Guess the sea was too much for them," was the general comment.
According to our reckoning we had passed the thirty-fifth parallel of
latitude, right off the Plata, just before noon. We were also in the
proper longitude, but all was thick, and the general supposition was
that the Argentine fleet had met our torpedo flotilla, which was more
than a day ahead of us, and had escorted that into the Plata.
It was just about 1 o'clock in the afternoon when a wireless message was
received from the Culgoa saying that the Argentine ships were asking him
by wireless for our longitude and latitude. The figures were sent back
promptly. Their figures were also given and some error was made in
transmission. It was figured that they were something like 110 miles to
the south and a little to the west of us. The weather began to moderate
and then the opinion was that if they steered straight for us we ought
to meet them about 6 o'clock that Sunday evening. But about 4 o'clock
there came another message from the Culgoa, saying they were about five
miles from that ship and going southwest, the same course as ours. It
was a surprise.
Admiral Evans also received by wireless through the Culgoa this message
of greeting from Admiral Oliva, in command of the Argentine ships:
Jan. 26, 1908, 2 p.m.
_To Rear Admiral Evans_:
The commander of the San Martin division of the Argentine navy
salutes Rear Admiral Evans, his officers and men, and transmits
to him the position of the Argentine division ordered to meet
him as by dead reckoning latitude 36° 46' S., longitude 53° 41'
W.
HIPOLITO OLIVA.
To this greeting Admiral Evans sent this response:
Jan. 26, 1908, 2:43 p.m.
_To Rear Admiral Oliva_:
Rear Admiral Evans thanks the chief of the Argentine division
for his courtesy and begs that he will transmit to the
Argentine Government his thanks for sending a naval division to
meet the United States fleet.
EVANS.
Then came another surprise. The Culgoa told us that the Argentine ships
were steaming at the rate of fourteen and a half knots and were only
fifteen knots away.
"Fourteen and a half knots, eh!" was the open eyed and arch browed
comment. "Wonder how long they can keep that up! Pretty smart that for a
South American squadron!"
The sun burst out from the clouds half an hour before sunset and the
navigators got satisfactory observations and it was possible to send
back our exact position. The Argentines had been groping around for us
up to that time and the best they could do was to find the Culgoa and
the Yankton. The long twilight of the high latitude in midsummer
followed, but just after 8 o'clock the Connecticut sent a signal to the
fleet and immediately shot its after searchlight high in the heavens. It
caught the clouds miles and miles back, a brilliant beam. Then came
another signal to the fleet and instantly the after searchlights of all
sixteen ships were combined in a monstrous shaft of light that cleft a
path gleaming with the brilliance of a comet's tail through the lowering
clouds. It vibrated and pulsated with the glow of an aurora borealis and
every quiver and dart seemed to say to the Argentines:
"Here we are! Here we are! Follow this and you'll find us. We're only
going ten knots an hour. You'll soon catch up. Hurry along; we'll be
glad to see
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