W

HILE sitting one morning in my club in San Francisco in the late Summer of 1902, a telephone message summoned me to the office of a friend, "on a matter of great importance." Upon my arrival at the office, my friend told me that the Colombian Government had asked his aid in securing an executive and navigating officer for a vessel which was to be fitted out in San Francisco as a cruiser, to wrest the command of the sea from the insurgents who were making things decidedly unpleasant for the government forces, particularly on the Pacific. Coast of the provinces of Panama and Antioquia. As I was a graduate of the United States Naval Academy, and a former lieutenant in the United States Navy, with a trifle of war service to my credit, my friend immediately offered the place to me.

The offer was an attractive one. Things had been rather dull with me since the Spanish-American war, and the expedition to Central America presented a picturesque opportunity for varying the monotony of existence. After a few inquiries relative to the nature of the service, the matters of rank and pay, and other details, I accepted the place. It brought adventure in plenty.

The conditions then existing in Colombia gave promise of much active service. For three years the Liberal party in that republic had been in vigorous revolt against the Conservative government. The severest fighting was in the province of Panama, the Liberals striving might and main to capture that province, with its rich cities of Colon and Panama. They had the latter city practically in a state of siege at the time of which I write, and would surely have captured it had not the United States Government, under

its treaty rights, forbidden a bombardment from the sea.

During the early part of 1902, the Liberals, with a small squadron composed of the cruiser Padilla, the gunboat Boyaca and two or three smaller craft, had swept the Pacific Coast of Conservative war vessels, securing the vitally important command of the sea. This enabled them to transport troops and supplies whither they wished, at the same time preventing the Conservatives from doing the same. One by one the Conservative garrisons outside of Panama city were defeated or captured until things indeed looked gloomy for the established government.

In its extremity, the government called upon outside aid. It appealed to American soldiers of fortune to save it, and save it these adventurous Americans did.

The steamship Jessie Banning was purchased by the Colombian Government to be used as a man-of-war, to contest the supremacy of the sea with the Padilla and her consorts. The Jessie Banning had had an eventful history. She was originally named the Kutch, having been built in England as a yacht for the Rajah of Kutch, who lost her at the gaming tables, the winner being a rich merchant who subsequently sold her for use in the merchant service. She was sunk in northern waters from running upon a rock, remained several months under water, and was then raised, repaired and placed under the American flag, under the name Jessie Banning.

Early in September, 1902, the Jessie Banning arrived at San Francisco to receive her crew, battery and stores. She was a trim, staunch craft, well suited to the purpose for which the Colombians had purchased her. She was reputed to be a 17-knot steamer, but our later experience with her showed that under forced draught and the most favorable conditions, 14 knots was about her limit. She rarely made over 12.

The officers were chosen by the Colombian Minister in Washington. The command was given to H. H. Marmaduke, who had resigned from the United States Naval Academy in 1861, in order to cast his lot with the South. He was of the celebrated Marmaduke family of Missouri, one of whom, a general in the Confederate Army, was slain in a duel; another was Governor of Missouri. Captain Marmaduke was a midshipman on the Merrimac during her fight with the Monitor, which created the idea in the Colombian mind that he was just the person for the place they gave him, although he had not been to sea for 37 years. Still Captain Marmaduke, in addition to being a charming gentleman of the old school, possessed all the reckless bravery of his family, in spite of his lack of experience with modern ships and guns.

To me fell the next office, that of executive and navigating officer. Next in rank was Lieutenant J. J. Meany, a young American officer of the merchant service, who had received his nautical education at the hands of American naval officers on the schoolship St. Mary's, at New York. Meany was the only officer on the ship besides myself who was a practical navigator, with any experience in handling a ship. It was only when he was on watch on deck that I could sleep with any feeling of security.

The other officers were former apprentices and petty officers in the United States Navy. They were without exception loyal, willing, courageous young fellows, eager to do the best they could. They were admirable gunners; they could take a machine gun to pieces and put it together again in a jiffy. What they did not know about modern ammunition and ordnance was not worth knowing. Their only shortcomings were their ignorance of navigation and their lack of experience in the handling of men. Not one of them had ever before stood a deck watch.

Upon me fell the task of assembling a crew. Anyone who wants a crew of good, reckless, hard-fighting soldiers of fortune need only come to San Francisco to get them. The task I expected to be a difficult one was easy. The best of material for a crew for such an expedition as ours was on hand in abundance. The supply exceeded the demand. I re

solved to accept none but Americans, giving the preference to honorably discharged men from the United States Navy. The result was that I got an all-American crew, the majority of them being seasoned man-of-war's-men. It was as fine a crew as one could wish. Always willing, always obedient, proud of their ship, laughing at danger and simply spoiling for a fight, it was an assemblage of daredevils fit for the days of d'Artagnan.

There was Dunne, the boatswain, an old man-of-war's-man, who had fought in the Philippines, had been a soldier in the Dutch Army in Borneo, where he had been captured by the natives but escaped; there was Thobae, the master-at-arms, the best shot on the Asiatic squadron until he got his discharge; young Cress, a 17year-old former apprentice from Iowa, who turned out to be the best shot in the whole crew-and there were plenty of marksmen in that crew, too; poor Kane, the gunner's mate, a veteran of Sampsons fleet in Cuba, who was killed before my eyes in a brush in Parita Bay; O'Toole, boatswain's mate, whose Irish blood was ever at fever heat for a shot at the enemy; Shane, who fought in the Utah battery in the Philippines; Johnson, who gave up a master mariner's berth to come with us; J. C. Clarke, who was with the lamented Bagley on the Winslow at Cardenas in 1898; H. O. Clark, who refused to go on the sick list after being wounded; Worthington, a young college boy who loved adventure above all else and dozens of others with histories and wild, careless natures. The pay clerk and the chief yeoman were Civil war vet

erans.

Receiving an overhauling at San Francisco, taking on stores and a part-only a part of our battery, used up three weeks, and it was not until October 8th that we sailed for the South, in search of the enemy.

In fitting out we had illustrated the peculiar reasoning powers of the LatinAmerican mind. When we sailed from San Francisco the only guns we carried were four 6-pounder Hotchkiss rapidfirers, mounted aft, so that, if we encountered an enemy, we would have to fight him "stern-foremost," as the captain expressed it. The rest of the battery we were to receive in Panama, pre

sumably after we had encountered the Padilla and her consorts. To remedy the bad effect of leaving port thus inadequately armed, I caused a spare spar to be mounted on the forecastle, covered with canvas, and also two smaller pieces of timber, similarly posed in threatening manner, on each bow.

With these ominous "quakers" forward, our real guns aft, the "blood-and-gold" flag of Colombia at the stern, the Colombian cruiser Bogota, as she had been rechristened, sallied forth in her grey war color through the Golden Gate, with as choice a band of adventurers for a crew as ever sailed a ship on the Spanish Main. It was indeed a picturesque enterprise. Articles of war we had not. Yet the discipline of the United States Navy, its routine, its drills, its ceremonies, its precautions and its customs, were adopted from the start, and no one ever questioned them. The bulk of the crew were used to them. The men needed little training beyond target practice, and of this they had much on the way down to Panamaand an abundance, with living targets, after we got there.

Trouble with the machinery delayed the passage somewhat. It was eighteen days before we got there. Sometimes I was fearful lest there were a traitor on board, who was tampering with our engines, and might at any moment scuttle the ship or blow here up. But careful investigation by myself and a few trusted officers and men relieved me of the suspicion, and the fidelity with which all worked and fought in time of need showed that my fears were groundless.

After passing the Guatamalan coast, lights were never carried, double lookouts were stationed, the guns were kept cleared away, with ammunition boxes beside them, and the guns' crews slept at their guns, divisional officers, when not on watch or at meals, being ever near their stations for battle.

Our coal ran low when two days from Panama, and we were compelled to make fuel out of hatches, light spars, boxes, barrels and other woodwork that could be spared. In a driving rain we entered the Bay of Panama, on one of the blackest nights I ever saw, expecting to run into the enemy at every moment. But the enemy did not appear. We arrived safely

the next morning, October 26, bright and early.

A furor of welcome greeted us from the officials on shore. We were their salvation. The dread of the Padilla and the other Liberal vessels had unnerved the hapless Conservative officers. The long looked-for Bogota had arrived and nothing was too good for us. We were given all the stores we wanted, plenty of ice, tobacco, and other luxuries, including champagne for the officers. Alas, no sooner had we ended the war than we found out what others have found out before us--that the soldier of fortune gets no thanks after his work is ended. He is prized in time of need, ignored and cheated when the time of need has passed. As will be related later, nothing but our good guns and our good knowledge of how to use them secured for us our hard earned pay.

In a few days the Bogota was coaled, victualled and completely armed. When we got through, she was a venomous little cruiser indeed. She carried on her forecastle a 15-pounder Krupp rapid-fire gun and two 6-pounder Driggs-Schroeder semi-automatic guns. On the quarterdeck were the four 6-pounders we brought from San Francisco; two more 6-pounders were mounted forward on the lower deck, there were two excellent Vickers-Maxim machine guns on the superstructure amidships, and a 12-pounder Krupp mountain howitzer was carried on its field carriage, so as to facilitate moving it to any part of the deck desired.

While the grim preparations for bloodshed were going on, we did not lack amusement. Plenty of it was furnished by the comical Colombian officials. We had hardly arrived when whole boat-loads of officials, civil and military, of high and low degree, began to swarm on board. These gentry had about as much acquaintance with ship-life and etiquette and military ceremony generally, as a lamp-post. They wanted to know why we did not. salute the port when we came in. It was explained to them that a man-of-war never salutes the ports of her own country, but to appease the spectacle-loving Latin-Americans, the captain ordered 21 guns fired, much to the elation of the heterogeneous mob.

It may be said that there are more

"generals" in Colombia than there are "colonels" in Kentucky. I reached the opinion that any man who gathers four or five hundred ragged soldiers under his standard becomes, ipso facto, a "general" in that country. I never met so many "generals" at one time in my life.

The day of sailing came and we left the harbor of Panama confident that we could accomplish the mission for which. we were engaged. But the enemy proved to be faint-hearted. They had been told of American markmanship. The Padilla, the Boyaca and the other vessels that had been hovering around Panama for months and making the Conservatives pass sleepless nights had betaken themselves away. It took long and diligent searching to find them. After the Bogota's arrival, they never approached nearer than ninety

miles from Panama.

We cruised around the Perlas Islands, Taboga and Taboguilla, Otoque Islands, Chame Point and other favorite resorts of the foe without finding them. On November 9 we entered broad Parita Bay, at the head of which lay the Liberal stronghold of Agua Dulce, recently captured from the Conservatives. A schooner flying the French flag was brought to with a shot across her bows, but she could give us no information about the enemy. Within an hour we saw the first hostile signs, in the shape of batteries along the shores of Parita Bay. These were poorly armed, some having no artillery at all, so we contented ourselves with a little target practice upon them. Their response was so slight and their markmanship so miserable that the men laughed in derision.

That night we anchored off the mouth of the river leading to Agua Dulce, firing a couple of trial shots at the shore. No answer was made. Early on the morning of November 11th we continued our cruise around the bay, peering in everywhere with glasses, in hope of finding our quarry, and several times dispatching a little armed launch called the Chucuito, which accompanied us, into little bays. where the water was too shoal for the Bogota to enter.

Toward evening we sighted a sail, which gave us a lively chase for a while, running into a cove, where her crew abandoned her and took refuge in the thick woods, where they were joined by

some riflemen. A cutting out expedition, commanded by Lieutenant Charles Mitcheli, of the Bogota, was sent in after the vessel. After a warm exchange of volleys with the riflemen in the woods, who were put to flight, Mitchell and his men captured and floated the prize, which proved to be the Liberal sloop Helvetia, bearing dispatches, from which it was learned that the insurgents were in dire straits for want of salt. The non-combatants, it was stated, were dying for salt, what little that could be had by evaporating salt-water being saved for the troops. It was further announced by the dispatches that a large schooner, called the Santa Maria, was en route with a large supply of salt from Nicaragua.

The Helvetia was sent into Panama with her prize crew on board, and we added the Santa Maria to the list of vessels we very much wanted to find.

We found her early on the morning of November 11. Before the Bogota's guns got within range of her, the Santa Maria ran into a little stream called the Rio Berrio, and grounded at its mouth. As soon as near enough, the Bogota opened fire. To our surprise, not only the schooner, but riflemen from several trenches responded in lively fashion to the shelling. The water was so shoal that the Bogota could get no nearer than 1,200 yards from the schooner, so, after silencing the fire from the trenches, an armed boat's crew under Lieutenant H. L. Gooding was sent in to reconnoiter, under cover of the Bogota's guns. The boat returned, under a desultory fire which wounded one of her crew severely, with the report that the tide was much too low to tow the schooner out.

It was then decided to await the high tide and make the attempt. During the two hours or so of waiting, however, heavy reinforcements were seen hurrying to the entrenchments. These were fired upon with good effect, a single shrapnel from the Bogota's bow gun, fired by Boatswain Dunne, placing a bunch of 11 men hors-de-combat. Yet the reinforcements continued and a cutting out expedition was decided upon. A call for volunteers was met with a unanimous cry of "I, sir!" from fore and aft. Every man in the ship volunteered for the hazardous dutv of proceeding under a heavy fire, in broad