The Spanish fleet had been destroyed; CavitÉ had been taken; and Admiral Dewey lay in the harbor awaiting the reinforcements that were on the way.

These reinforcements had been sent out in three expeditions: the first expedition, Brigadier-General Anderson commanding, consisted of 115 officers and 2,386 enlisted men; the second, under Brigadier-General Greene, of 158 officers and 3,428 enlisted soldiers; the third, under command of General McArthur, consisted of 197 officers, and 4,650 men. With these expeditions went the Astor Battery and Major-General Wesley Merritt, who had been chosen Commander-in-chief of the United States forces in the Philippines. In all, over 11,000 men were on their way to Manila, and a fourth expedition, consisting of 1,763 men, under Brigadier-General H. G. Otis, was soon to follow.

It was the cruiser Charleston, which conveyed the transports of one of these expeditions, that stopped to have a little fun, by way of profitable diversion, at the island of Guam, one of the Ladrones.

Thirteen shells from the Charleston went thundering against the fortress of Santa Cruz. But even thirteen proved insufficient to provoke a Spanish reply. However, a half-hour after the bombardment began, the captain of the port, Lieutenant Commander JosÉ Garcia y Gutierrez, of the Spanish navy, accompanied by one or two other Spanish officers, were rowed to the Charleston, and, having been taken on board, apologized for their seeming discourtesy; they said that lack of ammunition at the fortress made it impossible for them to return the American salute. They were, in fact, unaware that war had been declared between the United States and Spain, and were, therefore, much surprised when Captain Henry Glass informed them that they were prisoners of war. They were sent ashore and ordered to convey to the Governor Don Juan Marina the command that he come upon the Charleston. He replied that, under Spanish law, he was not allowed to go aboard a foreign man-of-war.

Captain Glass then sent Lieutenant Brannersreuther to the Governor, demanding an immediate and unconditional surrender. A half-hour was allowed for the consideration of the demand. The Governor expressed great surprise at these peremptory proceedings; but twenty-five minutes after this demand he, nevertheless, made the unconditional surrender of everything Spanish in and around the Ladrones. The guns, ammunition, and flags of the Spaniards, as well as the garrison and all the Spanish officers, were then taken aboard one of the transports, and the expedition continued its journey Manila-ward.

It is said that, great was the rejoicing on board the cruiser and the transports as the Stars and Stripes were unfurled from the Fort of Santa Cruz; and, while the Charleston fired a salute of 21 guns, Captain Glass formally declared the Ladrones to be possessions of the United States.

Upon his arrival at Manila, by the transport Newport,—July 26th,—General Merritt immediately reported to Admiral Dewey, and, establishing his headquarters in the CavitÉ Arsenal, he assumed command of all the American land-forces. He was officially recognized by a salute of 13 guns. The three expeditions, respectively, arrived a few days after one another, and all were now awaiting the word of the Commander-in-chief. He at once proceeded to inform himself of the situation.

Meantime, General Aguinaldo had removed his headquarters to Malolos. He had also consolidated the divers insurrectionary parties in the northeast provinces, by which he had gained an additional force of 5,000 men, and obtained control of the entire northern part of Luzon. The insurgents, too, kept up a desultory fight, and were gradually driving the Spaniards back. The latter possessed still a few outposts, but these were for the most part but feebly defended, and it was indeed a question of but a few days when the enemy would be driven within the walls of the city. The insurgents were already building trenches on the northern part of the city; they also held the water-works; and this, inasmuch as the dry season was approaching, was most important.

On the night of Sunday, July 31st, occurred the first loss of life of the Americans in the Philippine Islands. They had thrown up earth-works not far from the Spanish trenches, which, soon after dark, kept up a desultory fire.

The Americans began to reply in the American fashion, the men standing up and exposing themselves to the Spanish fire. The most dangerous place, of course, was the open ground just behind the trenches; and here the greatest loss was incurred; for the reinforcements, when crossing this open space, were wholly unprotected.

It has been said that there was no need to reply to the Spanish fire, as the intrenchment was sufficient protection. However, the First Colorado and the First Nebraska regiments, who threw up the trenches, suffered no loss whatever. No attention was paid to the Spanish fire at that time; and it is a pity that this contemptuous indifference on the part of the Americans was not maintained.

Subsequently, about the middle of July, the First Battalion of the Californians pitched their tents at Tambo. This soon came to be known as Camp Dewey. The Californians were soon joined by the other American regiments, and outposts were stationed far in front, near the insurgent line. The insurgents at this time were between the Spaniards and the Americans; but, at General Merritt’s solicitation, Aguinaldo moved his position over to Pasai, while the Americans advanced to the insurgent trenches.

These were soon found untenable, and it was Lieutenant-Colonel McAvoy, who commanded the Colorado battalions, that was the first to assume a position in front of the enemy. He advanced the line to an old Capuchin chapel, that stood in the middle of the field, between the Spanish position and the insurgent trenches.

The Colorado and Nebraska men, who threw up the new breast-works at the point that Colonel McAvoy had chosen, were occasionally fired at by the Spaniards, who had a good view of what the Americans were doing. The breast-work was about seven feet high, with notches and peepholes for the lookouts. Inside the parapet was a parallel elevation of about two feet—for the men to stand on when they wished a shot at the enemy. The old chapel itself was in the line of defense, and was used for cover; though it was nearly wrecked by the many shells that had been thrown against it.

Saturday, July 30th, two batteries were placed in position: they were A and B of the Utah Battalion. The guns of the former were placed on the right, those of the latter on the left, of the chapel.

It was, accordingly, near Pasai, about ten o’clock the same day, that the first American blood was spilt. The First Colorado regiment had just been relieved by the men from Nebraska, and were returning to camp, when a Spanish bullet hit Private W. H. Sterling of Company K. in the upper part of the left arm. The wound, however, was very slight, and Sterling was soon back in the ranks.

Saturday night the Spaniards began a lively fusillade. But this did no damage—the men were safe inside the newly-finished parapet. The rain, in fact, made things far more uncomfortable than the Spanish bullets. It fell in torrents, but the inventive Yankees tore up the floor of the old chapel, and hastily built shelters, which effectually kept off the water.

The Spanish trench was about 800 yards from the American breast-works. It extended northeast, just in front of the old fort at Malate, and was strengthened with rocks and sandbags. The land between the two trenches was low and level. On Sunday night Spaniards advanced beyond their works, began a heavy fire against the Americans, and drove in the pickets of the Tenth Pennsylvania. The bullets began to fall among the Americans, and the guns of Malate roared continuously. The night is described as awful. From the skies fell tons of water, while the wind blew with the force of a cyclone, howling and shrieking through the swaying trees.

Major Cuthbertson was in command of the Pennsylvanians, and when the pickets came in and reported that the enemy was trying to flank the Americans, he ordered K and B companies into the trench, and also commanded Major Bierer, who commanded companies D and E, to the front.

The Spaniards, meanwhile, with their Mausers, kept up a terrific fire, but the Americans and their Springfields soon began a vociferous reply. The Utah artillerymen displayed remarkable coolness, and worked their four guns like veterans. Though there was a perfect hail of bullets, only one man was hit, and he but slightly wounded. The Spanish fire was now concerted, and their bullets whistled, sang, and fell all round the Americans. Most of them, however, were too high, though they sounded dangerously near.

Across the open field, to the rear of the American trenches, now came two companies, under the command of Major Bierer. It was here in this unprotected field, swept by Mauser bullets, that the first American lost his life. Corporal W. E. Brown, of Company D, Tenth Pennsylvania, was the hero. He was shot through the body. Many others around him were wounded, and, a few minutes later, Private William E. Stillwagon was also killed. The men, notwithstanding, kept right on, and continued to shoot; though, on account of the darkness, they could not see the enemy; their fire, therefore, was not effective.

At this juncture gallant Captain O’Hara, in command of the Third Artillery, still in camp, who knew that the boys in front must soon be in want of ammunition, ordered his command to the rescue. And they came in the nick of time. For the soldiers in the trenches had but a few rounds of cartridges left. Many of the men, too, were shooting wild; others, also, were somewhat demoralized; for the darkness, the danger, and the uncertainty of the enemy were most disconcerting to raw troops; but the example of Lieutenant Krayenbuhl and his regulars, who kept up a steady fire, had good effect upon the volunteers; they soon recovered themselves, and, with a rousing cheer, the whole command moved onward.

Meanwhile, General Greene sent other reinforcements to the front,—Colonel Smith, with part of his regiment, the First California. As Boxton’s battalion of Californians advanced through the open field, they received the terrible Spanish fire, and many were shot, and were left by the way. It was here that Captain Reinhold Richter, of Company I, was fatally shot; and here, too, First Sergeant Morris Jurth, of Company A, was killed. It was said that these Californians, not knowing of the presence of the Pennsylvanians and of the regulars in front, fired three volleys at them before the mistake was discovered. It is believed, however, that no damage was done by the firing; but it was a mistake that might have cost the Americans dearly. Meanwhile, two men were killed in the trenches: Sergeant McIlrath, of Battery H., Tenth Pennsylvania, who had recklessly exposed himself upon the parapet, and Private Brady of Company I, the same regiment.

It was at this time that Private Finlay of Company C, First California, gave proof of remarkable bravery. Finlay belonged to Major Jones’ Transportation Department, and, on account of his knowledge of Spanish, he had been put in charge of the ammunition-train that was sent forward. In the train were eight carromatas, each in charge of a native driver. Right through the open fields, where the bullets fell thickest, he drove with his carromatas. The canvas-tops of the carts were soon ripped into shreds, and one or two of the natives were wounded; but the intrepid American kept right on toward the trenches, and delivered his cartridges. But before he reached his destination one of the ponies was killed. He merely took it out of the cart, and, with the native driver, he pulled the cart up to the place occupied by the others. On his return-journey he stopped to pick up the dead and wounded that he found lying along the way, taking them to the field-hospital in the rear, then received orders to take ten carromatas and to go after all the wounded. This he did as coolly as if he were loading his wagons with hay. Still, all were tenderly cared for. The eight dead were buried in the yard of the old convent of Maribacan, back of the camp. Every man was sewed up in his blanket; to it was attached a tag with his name for identification. The bodies were then all buried in one trench, and above the grave of each man a headboard with his name.

The chaplain of the Tenth Pennsylvania made careful observation of the place, and of each grave.

About 2 o’clock the Spaniards began to cease firing. The Americans, on the other hand, kept up a lively rattle for a quarter of an hour longer; but the engagement was about over; and General Greene, who had followed the men to the front, returned to the camp. A few desultory skirmishes took place for a day or two longer, in which two men were killed; but the Spanish advance had been checked by the first night’s work, and by Monday morning the battle of Malate was practically over. Altogether, the Americans lost ten killed and forty-six wounded.

Nothing of importance occurred for several days after the battle of Malate. Troops were landed on the Bacoor shore, and the foreign warships took up their respective positions: the British and the Japanese vessels near the American fleet, the French and the German vessels on the other side of the bay. An ominous quiet brooded over all.

On August 7th, the following letter was sent by General Merritt and Admiral Dewey to General Jandenes:

To this the Spanish general replied in a polite note; that on account of the fact that he was surrounded by the insurgents he was without “a place of refuge for the increased number of wounded, sick, women, and children” within the walls. He doubtless hoped that his mention of this fact would put off the attack altogether.

And it did delay it for several days. However, General Merritt then issued the following order, which was translated into Spanish:

It was decided to begin the attack on Saturday morning, August 13th.

Accordingly, a little before nine o’clock the fleet began to move in close to the city. The Olympia led the way, followed by the Raleigh and the Petrel, while the Callao and the launch Barcelo hugged the shore. The Monterey, with the Baltimore, Charleston, and Boston formed the reserve. The ships were all cleared for action, and moved majestically and silently forward. It was raining heavily.

Suddenly at twenty-five minutes of ten, the Olympia opened with her 8-inch guns. The first four shells were aimed at the Spanish fort at Malate—known as San Antonia de Abad. On account of the rain it was difficult to get the range, and so these first shells all fell short. The Raleigh, Petrel, and Callao also opened upon the fort, and as soon as the range was determined, the shots did great havoc, the fort soon being rendered untenable.

The Callao, under Lieutenant Tappan, and the launch Barcelo, which were nearer inshore, threw their shells among the Spanish riflemen, who replied but feebly.

General Merritt and his staff and the color guard of the First Oregon were on the despatch boat Zafiro.

General Anderson directed the operations on shore.

About twenty minutes after the bombardment began, General Greene, with the left wing, began the land-attack, the advance being made toward Malate, under cover of a heavy fire from the Utah Battery.

The troops, with colors flying, marched rapidly up the beach. The bands were playing and the men rushed forward with a cheer. Six companies of the Colorado regiment leaped over the enemy’s breast-work and took position behind some low hedges but a few hundred feet from the Spanish line. General McArthur led the right wing, and was ably supported by the Astor Battery, under Captain March. It shelled a Spanish block-house with its Hotch-kiss Mountain guns, and then gallantly charged the position with revolvers. It lost three men killed.

Meanwhile, the bombardment had ceased, and the Colorados, the Californians, and the Eighteenth Regulars drove back the Spaniards from Malate, and occupied the position, where the Californians at once raised the Stars and Stripes.

In the suburbs of Malate and Ermita, where the Spaniards had erected street barricades, there was now considerable street-fighting, and the Californians, under Colonel Smith, advanced as far as the Luneta, within 300 yards of the citadel. At this moment General Greene, with several members of his staff, came galloping up the Luneta, a scattering fire playing upon him and his companions from the adjoining houses, until a white flag was raised above the southwest corner of the fort.

At this,—and while the Americans were standing at rest,—the Spaniards in the citadel opened fire upon them, fatally wounding two Californians: privates Dunsoupe and Lamerson. This has never been satisfactorily explained, but it was probably due to the confusion of the moment; for 2000 Spaniards, retreating from Santa Ana before a large body of insurgents, that were shooting at them, just then came up, and it was to aid these that the Spaniards behind the walls fired a volley after the flag of surrender had been raised.

General Greene then ordered the retreating Spaniards inside the walls, as a letter from the Captain-General was received inviting the American commander within for a consultation. General Greene himself, with Adjutant-General Bates, entered the city.

When General Merritt, on the Zafiro, saw the white flag, he sent General Whittier, with Flag-Lieutenant Thomas M. Bramley, ashore to meet the Captain-General to discuss the terms of surrender.

General Whittier found the Spanish officials much disturbed. Because of the Spaniards seeking refuge in the city from the insurgents, it was believed the Americans were continuing the attack.

When General Merritt himself entered the city, about three o’clock, the situation was explained, and a conference with General Jandenes resulted in the following terms of capitulation.

Officers allowed to retain their swords and personal effects, but not their horses during their stay at Manila.

Prisoners of war surrendering their arms are to have necessary supplies provided from the treasury; when that is exhausted the Americans to make provision.

All public property is surrendered. Future disposition of Spanish troops surrendered is to be determined by negotiations between the respective governments.

Arms may be returned at General Merritt’s discretion.

Banks will continue to operate under existing regulations, subject to change by the United States Government.

General Jandenes, it is said, was found in the sacristy of a church, which was filled with women and children. The capitulation, however, was made and signed in the adjacent municipal buildings.

The terms of capitulation were formally signed by the American commissioners: General Greene, Colonel Whittier, Colonel Crowder, and Captain Lamberton; and the Spanish commissioners Colonel San JosÉ Maria Laguen, Felix Don Carlos Reye, and General Don Nicolas de la Pena y Cuellas.

The insurgents were barred from the city. At dusk General Augustin, the Captain-General of the Islands, and his family, escaped on a German cruiser to Hong-Kong.

Lieutenant Bramley lowered the Spanish flag on Fort Santiago, and raised the Stars and Stripes. It is said that while this momentous ceremony was performing, many of the Spaniards looking on wept; while the American band played the Star-Spangled Banner, and the surrounding American troops presented arms.

The Americans suffered a loss of eight killed and forty wounded. The exact Spanish loss has never been ascertained, but it was probably not far from 500 killed and wounded. The Americans took 20,000 Mauser rifles, 3,000 Remingtons, a large number of cannon and 11,000 prisoners; 7,000 of them Spanish regulars.

American sentries were at once placed on the battlements and along the Pasig, and perfect order was maintained.

It was found, further, that the stories of starvation were grossly exaggerated; both the inhabitants and the soldiers were looking very well. Most of them, in fact, seemed to be pleased that the surrender had been made so soon, without great loss of life, and before a continued bombardment had reduced the city to ruins.

General Merritt and chief of staff, General Babcock, deserved great credit for their plan of attack, which was carried out successfully under great disadvantages. The conduct of the Americans, officers and men alike, army and navy, was most creditable.

Because the protocol establishing peace between the United States and Spain had been signed a few hours before the capture of Manila, it was believed that the United States was bound by the third article of the protocol, which reads:

Thus Spain was to remain the nominal possessor of the Archipelago, until the decision of the Peace Commission.

Pending the conclusion of the peace negotiations, and the disposition of the islands, it was settled that the authority of the United States was to be supreme. Both Spaniards, and insurgents were thus to have no share in the Government. The Americans were conquerors; the Spaniards, as the conquered, had lost all right to a voice in public affairs. There was, however, some doubt on the part of the American commands as to the status of the insurgents; who, though they had but little part in the capture of Manila, had done effective work in other parts of Luzon, having driven the common enemy step by step to the gates of the capital. The revolution, too, was spreading, and new complications arose every day.

In reply to their joint-message for instructions, General H. C. Corbin cabled General Merritt as follows: