along the beach and drove her ahead, hoping to escape the death-storm coming from the lowering battle-ships off his seaward quarter. The Indiana, because of her location, was left out of the fight when the last of the Spanish cruisers had been lost to sight in the cloud of battle, but the Oregon, the Iowa, and the Texas, with their growing pressure of steam, had been able to keep the range and even to close in. The Iowa's dash made men on our other ships think her Captain, "Fighting Bob" Evans, would succeed in ramming one of the flying cruisers, and the cruisers escaped that fate only because the Iowa had been so far out at sea when they appeared; but they could not escape her guns. And then there was the Texas. She had been called the "hoodoo" of the navy, because of many accidents she had endured, but now Captain John Philip, drove her toward the remaining Spaniards on a course that brought her to an easy range of the Vizcaya, while his guns' crews made her side flame unceasingly.

Last of all to be named, but never last in the service, came the Oregon. She had been lying farther to the east than any of our ships, save the Indiana, but with a burst of speed that astounded the whole squadron, she swept down to the westward as if to cross the track

of the flying enemy. Beginning with the

Maria Teresa, as it led the way, and turning to the other two-the Vizcaya and the Oquendo

as they reached out to bear the brunt of the battle, she quickly joined with our other ships to annihilate the whole blood-and-gold squadron. By the time the Teresa and the Oquendo had been driven to the rocks, the Oregon had arrived at a close range with the Vizcaya. Indeed, after the Vizcaya had chased the Brooklyn out to sea, she had need to make haste in getting on her old course lest she suffer, at the bow of the Oregon, the fate she had hoped to inflict upon the Brooklyn. And the Texas was, as said, not so far away that her guns would not reach, while the Brooklyn's gunners, now that that ship had turned to parallel the course of the Vizcaya, were driving their shells into the Spaniard with unequalled accuracy, in spite of the range, and the end of Eulate's pride was soon at hand.

He had suffered from the fire of the Indiana and the Iowa in passing, but now the mortal blows were coming chiefly from the Oregon and Brooklyn. Not many were needed, it seems, for only three eight-inch, and four five-inch shell holes were found in her afterward, though two other holes may have been either five-inch or four-inch. The five-inch shells were all from the Brooklyn, for no other ship there had fiveinch guns. Of the eight-inch shots no one can

tell which ship fired them, except that the one which struck just under the bridge and ranged forward must have come from a ship behind her, and was probably from the Oregon. But the large shells, as in the case of the other two, were really less distressful than the hail of smaller shot, and to the terror and loss that they inspired and inflicted was added the hell of flame that the shells started in the riven woodwork.

Eulate had won the honors of the day on his side, by driving the Brooklyn from his path, but he could not endure, nor could he escape, the storm that was upon him. Like the Teresa and the Oquendo, the Vizcaya was stricken like a deer on the runway, and staggering from the cramping wounds, turned aside to find a death-bed.

It was at 11.05 o'clock that she turned and at 11.15 her engines gave their last beat in landing her on the beach. She had sustained the flight for fifteen miles and rested at last, where her remains still rest, at Aserraderos.

But one of the Spaniards now remained afloat -the sleek, foxy Colon. She had skimmed along the beach inside of her bolder associates, and protected by their hulls, as the torpedodestroyers should have been, had escaped with scarce a wound. And now that the Vizcaya was gone, she headed away for the west-to