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Europe and America and the Indies: Spanish

It was about noon when we passed an old fort called Murillo, commanding the entrance to the harbor. Speed was then slackened, and the vessel crept cautiously along the narrow, but clearly marked, channel which leads to the smooth water where the Virginius was supposed to be lying. As soon as the Despatch was sighted from the shore, the Spanish flag, bearing the crown, notwithstanding the republic abolishing that monarchical emblem, was flung to the breeze. We discovered a black sidewheel steamship lying about a mile beyond the fort. It was the Virginius. No other craft, except two or three coasting steamers, or fishing smacks, was then visible, and it was not until we were about to come to anchor that we discerned a Spanish sloop-of-war lying close under the shore, about two a half miles away. Very soon a boat from the Spanish man-of-war came alongside of the Virginius, and immediately the Stars and Stripes were raised by Spanish hands, and again floated over the vessel which carried Ryan and his unfortunate comrades to their death. At the same moment we saw, by the aid of field glasses, another boast let down from the Spanish vessel. It proved to be the captain's gig, and brought to the Despatch a naval officer in full uniform who proved to be Senor de la Camera, of the Spanish sloop-of-war Favorita. He stepped briskly forward, and was met at the gangway by Captain Rodgers and Captain Whiting. After an exchange of courteous salutations, Commander de la Camera remarked that he had received a copy of the protocol providing for the surrender of the Virginius, and that the surrender might now be considered to have taken place. Captain Whiting replied that under his instructions the following day was named for the surrender, and that he could not receive it until that time. Meanwhile he would thank the Spanish officer to continue in possession. Nine o'clock on Tuesday morning was then agreed upon as the hour, and after informing the American officer that there was coal enough on board of the Virginius to last six days, salutes were exchanged and the Spanish officer retired.

The next morning, half an hour ahead of time, the gig of the Favorita came over to the Virginius. It contained oarsmen and a single officer. As the latter stepped on deck, a petty officer and half a dozen men, who had stood watch on the Virginius during the night, went over the side and remained in a dingy awaiting orders. At 9 precisely by the bells the American flag again flew to the flagstaff of the Virginius, and at the same moment a boat containing Captain Whiting and Lieutenant Marix put away from the Despatch. As they ascended the accommodation ladder of the Virginius the single man on deck who proved to be Senor de la Camera, advanced and made a courteous salute. The officers then read their respective instructions, and Captain de la Camera remarked that in obedience to the requirements of the government and in execution of the provision of the protocol, he had the honor to turn over the steamer Virginius to the American authorities. Captain Whiting accepted, and learning that a receipt was required, gave one in due form. A word or two more was spoken and the Spaniard stepped over the side, signaled to his oarsmen, and in ten minutes was again upon the deck of his own vessel. Beside the surrendering and receipting officers, I was the only witness of the ceremony. The Virginius was extremely dirty and in bad form, her engines disordered, and she was leaking. On the way to a northern port the ship foundered; Major Handy says:

It was the general opinion among the naval officers that the Sania had endeavored to belittle the whole proceeding by smuggling the Virginius out of Havana, by selecting an obscure harbor not a port of entry as the place of surrender and by turning the duty of surrender over to a surveying sloop, while the Tornado, which made the capture, lay in the harbor of Havana and the Isabella la Catholica, which had been selected as convoy, steamed back to Havana under cover of the night. The American officers and American residents in Cuba and Key West agreed that our government ought to have required that the Virginius should be surrendered with all the released prisoners on board either at Santiago de Cuba, where the Tornado brought in her ill-gotten prey and where the inhuman butcheries were committed, or in Havana where she was afterward taken in triumph, and greeted with the cheers of the excited Spaniards over the humiliation of the Americans.

The difficulty the administration of General Grant had to respond to the public excitement about the Virginius, was the clear truth that she was, when captured, engaged in an unlawful enterprise.

Major Handy tells in this connection the story of the mysterious disappearance of Ralph Keeler, a magazine writer of celebrity, turned war correspondent, whose taking off the major charges to the Spaniards, saying: Keeler was probably dead at the moment when his instructions were filed in the telegraph office. He disappeared as effectually as if the earth had opened and swallowed him. How, why or when he died his friends never knew. It is believed, however, that he was another victim of the hatred which in those days inflamed the Spanish breast against every citizen of the United States. Circumstantial evidence indicated that he was assassinated by Spanish volunteers, and I have always thought of my genial and gifted colleague as one of the murdered Americans now vaguely remembered as the victims of the Spanish bloodthirstiness in the matter of the unavenged Virginius incident. There are many chances for the mysterious departure to the unknown of correspondents serving in the midst of the precarious conditions of civil war, but the murders which the volunteers certainly committed were affairs of the streets, theatres or hotels, and lacked no circumstance of notoriety. There seems to be a blood madness in the air. In the late February in Havana a madman seized a rifle with sabre attached and assaulted a young man who had asked him an innocent question, knocked him down and stabbed him to death with the bayonet, sticking it through him a score of times, and then cried, "Cable my queen that I have killed a rebel!" The statement that this murderer was insane, was distinctly in some sense true.

It is not, we must say, a correct use of words to say the United States was degraded by the Virginius incident. In proportion as nations are great and dignified, they must at least obey their own laws and treaties. When Grant was President of the United States and Castelar was President of Spain, there was a reckless adventure and shocking massacre, but we were not degraded because we did not indulge a policy of vengeance.

LIFE OF CAPTAIN JOSEPH FRY, THE CUBAN MARTYR.

BY JEANIE MORT WALKER.