Capt. Robley Evans and his ship combined in a patriotic postcard, c. 1898.
The battleship Iowa was the first ship to see the Spanish fleet coming out of the harbor on the morning of July 3. Somebody on the bridge shouted, "What's that black thing coming out of the harbor?" A moment later the Iowa was at general quarters and the signal was hoisted that the enemy ships were coming out. A gun was fired to attract the attention of the fleet at 9:33 a.m. "Fighting Bob" Evans, the commander of the Iowa, was sitting in his cabin talking to his son, a cadet on the Massachusetts, who luckily had been left behind in a picket launch when the Massachusetts went to Guantánamo to coal at dawn.
Capt. Evans' Story
Capt. Evans' account of the battle, as told in the cabin of the Iowa to a correspondent of the Associated Press, is intensely interesting. He said:
"At the time general quarters was sounded the engine bell rang full speed ahead and I put the helm to starboard and the Iowa crossed the bows of the Infanta Maria Teresa, the first ship out. As the Spanish admiral swung to the westward the 12-inch shells from the forward turret of the Iowa seemed to strike him fair in the bow, and the sight was a spectacle. As the squadron came out in column the ships beautifully spaced as to distance and gradually increasing their speed to thirteen knots, it was superb. The Iowa from this moment kept up a steady fire from her heavy guns, heading all the time to keep the Infanta Maria Teresa on her starboard bow and hoping to ram, one of the time the engines were driving at full speed ahead A perfect torrent of shells from the enemy passed over the smokestacks and superstructure of the ship but none struck her. The Cristóbal Colón, being much faster than the rest of the Spanish ships, passed rapidly to the front in an effort to escape. In passing the Iowa, the Colón placed two 6-inch shells fairly in our starboard bow. One passed through the cofferdam and dispensary wrecking the latter and bursting on the berth deck doing considerable damage. The other passed through the side at the waterline within the cofferdam, where it still remains.
"The Texas, Oregon, and Iowa pounded the leading ships. In the meantime the Oregon, Indiana, Brooklyn, and Texas were doing excellent work with their heavy guns. In a very short space of time the enemy's ships were all clear of the harbor mouth and it became evidently impossible for the Iowa to ram either the first or the second ship on account of their speed."
Fighting at 2000 yards
"The range at this time was 2000 yards from the leading ship. The Iowa's helm was immediately put hard to the starboard and the entire starboard broadside was poured into the Infanta Maria Teresa. The helm was then quickly shifted to port and the ship went across the stern of the Teresa in an effort to head off the Oquendo. All the time the engines were driving at full speed ahead. A perfect torrent of shells from the enemy passed over the smokestacks and superstructure of the ship, but none struck her. The Cristóbal Colón being much faster than the rest of the Spanish ships passed rapidly to the front in an effort to escape. In passing the Iowa the Colón placed two 6-inch shells fairly on our starboard bow. One passed through the cofferdam and dispensary, wrecking the latter and bursting on the berth deck, doing considerable damage. The other passed through the side at the waterline within the cofferdam, where it still remains."
The Duel with the Oquendo
"As it was now obviously impossible to ram any of the Spanish ships on account of their superior speed the Iowa's helm was put to the starboard and she ran on a course parallel with the enemy. Being then abreast of the Almirante Oquendo at a distance of 1100 yards, the Iowa's entire battery including the rapid-fire guns was opened on Oquendo. The punishment was terrific. Many 12- and 8-inch shells were seen to explode inside of her and smoke came out through her hatches. Twelve-inch shells from the Iowa pierced the Almirante Oquendo at the same moment, one forward and the other aft. The Oquendo seemed to stop her engines for a moment and lose headway, but she immediately resumed her speed and gradually drew ahead of the Iowa and came under the terrific fire of the Oregon and Texas."
Torpedo Boats Sighted
"At this moment the alarm of torpedo boats was sounded and two torpedo boat destroyers were discovered in the starboard quarter at a distance of 4,000 yards. Fire was at once opened on them with the after battery and a 12-inch shell cut the stern of one destroyer squarely off. As the shell struck a small torpedo boat fired back at the battleship, sending a shell within a few feet of my head. I said to Executive Officer Rogers, "That little chap has got a lot of cheek." Rogers shouted back, "She shoots very well all the same."
Daring of the Gloucester
"Well up among the advancing cruisers spitting shots at one and then another was the little Gloucester shooting first at a cruiser and then at a torpedo boat and hitting a head wherever she saw it. The marvel was that she was not destroyed by the rain of shells In the meantime the Vizcaya was slowly drawing abeam of the Iowa and for the space of fifteen minutes it was give and take between the two ships. The Vizcaya fired rapidly but wildly, not one shot taking effect on the Iowa, while the shells from the Iowa were tearing great rents in the sides of the Vizcaya. As the latter passed ahead of the Iowa she came under the murderous fire of the Oregon. At this time the Infanta Maria Teresa and the Almirante Oquendo, leading the enemy's column, were seen to be heading for the beach and in flames. The Texas, Oregon, and Iowa pounded them unmercifully. They ceased to reply to our fire, and in a few moments the Spanish cruisers were a mass of flames and [ran] on the rocks with their colors down, the Teresa flying a white flag at the fore."
Enemy's Crews Jump Overboard
"The crews of the enemy's ships stripped themselves and began jumping overboard and one of the smaller magazines began to explode. Meantime the Brooklyn and the Cristóbal Colón were exchanging compliments in lively fashion at apparently long range and the Oregon with her locomotive speed was hanging well on the Colón, also paying attention to the Vizcaya. The Teresa and the Oquendo were in flames on the beach just twenty minutes after the first shot was fired.
"Fifty minutes after the first shot was fired the Vizcaya put her helm to port with a great burst of flame from the after part of the ship and headed slowly for the rocks at Aceradores (sic) where she found her last resting place. As it was apparent that the Iowa could not possibly catch the Cristóbal Colón and that the Oregon and Brooklyn undoubtedly would, and as the fast New York was also on her trail, I decided that the calls of humanity should be answered and attention given to the twelve or fifteen hundred Spanish officers and men who had struck their colors to the American squadron commanded by Admiral Sampson."
Saving the Beaten Spaniards
"I therefore headed for the wreck of the Vizcaya now burning furiously fore and aft. When I was In as far as the depth of water would admit I lowered all my boats and sent them at once to the assistance of the unfortunate men who were being drowned by [the] dozens or roasted on the decks. I soon discovered that the insurgent Cubans from the shore were shooting on men who were struggling in the water after having surrendered to us. I immediately put a stop to this, but I could not put a stop to the mutilation of many a body by the sharks inside the reef. These creatures had become excited by the blood from the wounded mixing in the water. My boat's crew worked manfully and succeeded in saving many of the wounded from the burning ship. One man who will be recommended for promotion clambered up the side of the Vizcaya and saved three men from burning to death. The smaller magazines of the Vizcaya were exploding with magnificent cloud effects. The boats were coming alongside in a steady string and willing hands wore helping the lacerated Spanish officers and sailors onto the Iowa's quarterdeck. All the Spaniards were absolutely without clothes. Some had their legs torn off by fragments of shells. Others were mutilated in every conceivable way."
Blood Deep In the Boats
"The bottoms of the boats held two or three inches of blood In many cases dead men were lying in the blood. Five poor chaps died on the way to the ship. They were afterward buried with military honors from the Iowa. Some examples of heroism or, more properly, devotion to discipline and duty, could never be surpassed. One man on the lost Vizcaya had his left arm almost shot off just below the shoulder. The fragments were hanging by a small piece of skin. But he climbed unassisted over the side and saluted as if on a visit of ceremony. Immediately after him came a strong-hearted sailor whose left leg had been shot off above the knee. He was hoisted on board the Iowa with a tackle but never a whimper came from him. Gradually the mangled bodies and naked well men accumulated until it would have been almost difficult to recognize the Iowa as a United States battleship. Blood was all over her usually white quarterdeck and 272 naked men were being supplied with water and food by those who a few minutes before had been using a rapid-fire battery on them."
Receiving Capt. Eulate
"Finally came the boats with Capt. Eulate, commander of the Vizcaya, for whom a chair was lowered over the side as he was evidently wounded The captain's guard of marines was drawn up on the quarterdeck to salute him and I stood waiting to welcome him. As the chair was placed on the deck, the marines presented arms. Capt. Eulate slowly raised himself in the chair, saluted me, with grave dignity unbuckled his sword-belt and, holding the hilt of the sword before him, kissed it reverently with tears in his eyes and then surrendered it to me. Of course I declined to receive his sword and as the crew of the Iowa saw this, they cheered like wild men. As I started to take Capt. Eulate into the cabin to let the doctors examine his wounds, the magazines on board the Vizcaya exploded with a tremendous burst of flame. Capt. Eulate extending his hands said "Adios, Vizcaya! There goes my beautiful ship, captain." And so we passed on to the cabin where the doctors dressed his three wounds In the meantime thirty officers of the Vizcaya had been picked up beside 272 of her crew. Our wardroom and steerage officers gave up their staterooms and furnished food, clothing, and tobacco to the naked officers from the Vizcaya. The paymaster issued uniforms to the naked sailors, and each was given all the corned beef, coffee, and hardtack he could eat."
The war had assumed another aspect around Cervera on the Gloucester. "As I knew the crews of the first two ships wrecked had not been visited by any of our vessels. I ran down to them. I found the Gloucester with Admiral Cervera and a number of his officers on board and also a large number of wounded, some in a frightfully mangled condition. Many prisoners had been killed on shore by the fire of the Cubans. The Harvard came off and I requested Capt. Cotton to go in and take off the crews of the Infanta Maria Teresa and the Almirante Oquendo, and by midnight the Harvard had 976 prisoners aboard, a great number of them wounded. For courage and dash there is no parallel in history to the action of the Spanish admiral. He came as he know to absolute destruction. There was one single hope that was that the Cristóbal Colón would steam faster than the Brooklyn. The spectacle of two torpedo boat destroyers -- paper shells at best -- deliberately steaming out in broad daylight in the face of the fire of a battleship can be described in one way: it was Spanish and it was ordered by Blanco. The same must be said of the entire movement. In contrast to this Spanish fashion was the cool, deliberate Yankee work. The American squadron was without sentiment apparently. The ships went at their Spanish opponents and literally tore them to pieces. But the moment the Spanish flag came down, it must have been evident that the sentiment was among the Americans, not among the Spaniards."
High Praise for Cervera
"I took Admiral Cervera aboard the Iowa from the Gloucester which had rescued him from the dead, and received him with a full admiral's guard. The crew of the Iowa crowded aft over the turrets, half-naked and black with powder as Cervera stepped over the side bareheaded. Over his undershirt he wore a thin suit of flannel borrowed from Lieutenant Commander Wainwright of the Gloucester. The crew cheered vociferously. Cervera is every inch an admiral even if he had not any hat. He submitted to the fortunes of war with a grace that proclaimed him a thoroughbred."
Capt. Evans is intensely proud of his ship and her men. The Iowa fired thirty-one 12-inch, forty-eight 8-inch, 27 4-inch, 1060 6-pound, and 120 1-pound shots.
Fearful Havoc on the Vizcaya
The officers of the Vizcaya said they simply could not hold their crews at the guns on account of the rapid fire poured upon them. The decks were flooded with water from the fire hose and blood from the wounded made this a dark red. Fragments of bodies floated In this along the gun deck Every instant the crack of exploding shells told of new havoc. One of the 12-inch shells from the Iowa exploded a torpedo in the Vizcaya's bow, blowing twenty-one men against the deck above and dropping them dead and mangled into the fire which at once started below.
The torpedo boat Ericsson was sent by the flagship to the help of the Iowa in the rescue of the Vizcaya's crew. Her men saw a terrible sight. The flames leaping out from the huge shot holes In the Vizcaya's sides licked up the decks, sizzling the flesh of the wounded who were lying there shrieking for help. Between the frequent explosions there came awful cries and groans from the men pinned in below. This carnage was chiefly due to the rapidity of the Americans' fire. The Spaniards say that no torpedo boats ever came out to attack Admiral Sampson's fleet The Plutón and Terror they say kept guard every night inside the harbor.
At left, late life photo of Evans betrays the ravages of his last illness. He made his retirement speech from a wheelchair on August 19, 1908, freely alluding to his impending demise. Report may be found at nytimes.com
Evans was the author of A Sailor's Log: Recollections of Forty Years of Naval Life (1901 - of which this is an excerpt) and An Admiral's Log: Continued Recollections of Naval Life (1910).
The admiral was also the subject of the following admiring verses by Rudyard Kipling, the poet laureate of Empire.
Zogbaum draws with a pencil,
And I do things with a pen.
And you sit up in a conning tower
Bossing eight hundred men.
Zogbaum takes care of his business
And I take care of mine.
And you take care to ten thousand tons,
Sky-shooting through the brine.
Zogbaum can handle his shadows
And I can handle my style.
And you can handle a ten-inch gun
To carry seven mile.
"To him that hath shall be given."
And that's why these books are sent
To the man who had lived more stories
Than Zogbaum or I could invent.
Virtually all the commanders and many of the men at Santiago became celebrities, if not national heros. Here Capt. Evans appears in a cover story in the Saturday Evening Post, 1901.
Both looking cold and rather drawn, Evans and President Theodore Roosevelt during Evans' tenure as Commander-in-Chief, Atlantic Fleet -- the operational pinnacle of the U.S. Navy. Quite likely this was shot on the deck of Evans' flagship, the second Maine. And quite likely they are conversing about either preparations for, or post mortems on the White Fleet's voyage of circumnavigation. Evans shifted his flag to the Connecticut at the commencement of that voyage.
Patrick O'Brien's "Great White Fleet in the Straits of Magellan" is a beautiful modern depiction of the circumnavigation. The second Maine leads her division as they thread the narrowest point of the Straits. The painting won Mystic Seaport's Museum Purchase Award and may be seen in the Seaport's outstanding collection.
The Connecticut, at left, leads the Great White Fleet into San Francisco Bay, flying Evans' admiral's flag for the last time. Enlarge After commanding the Great White Fleet on its voyage from Hampton Roads around the Horn, Evans fell ill while the fleet stayed three weeks at Magdalena Bay, Baja California for target practice. In May 1908 when the fleet touched at San Francisco, he was relieved due to ill health. The admiral retired that same year at the mandatory retirement age of 62. He served on the Navy's General Board until his death in 1912.
Illustrator Henry Reuterdahl accompanied the fleet at Roosevelt's request. Here is his interpretation of the Connecticut entering the Golden Gate with Evans' broad pennant at the main, as published in Collier's. Enlarge
Elaborate embroidered souvenir of the White Fleet's voyage with Evans' portrait on it (left). Top reads "In memory of our famous cruise around the world." This Japanese-made trophy likely was collected by the young seaman in the life ring at bottom, but bears the likenesses of President Roosevelt, Adm. Evans, and R. Adm. Charles S. Sperry, who took command at San Francisco for the remainder of the voyage. The fleet is seen parading past Mt. Fuji. In his retirement speech Evans expressed regret at missing the opportunity to revisit Japan, and made mollifying remarks about the Japanese. There had been marked tensions between the two countries in the wake of the Russo-Japanese War.
The ritual of evening colors is immortalized in this 1897 Harpers Weekly illustration.Advertisement
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