The 3 July 1898 Battle of Santiago de Cuba resulted in the destruction of a Spanish squadron and virtually ended the Spanish-American War. It also was the impetus for a naval squabble that, at least in historical circles, rages to this day. The two-year-old cruiser Brooklyn (Armored Cruiser No. 3) was at the center of the controversy.
At the time of the battle, the Brooklyn, the greyhound of the U.S. fleet, was the second-most modern ship in the Navy—the six-month-old Iowa (Battleship No. 4) was the first—and was in a number of ways innovative and intriguing. She owed much to French design in displaying extreme tumblehome. This narrowing of her hull above the waterline provided her amidships turrets a theoretical 180-degree arc fore to aft that allowed six of her eight main guns to fire on any bearing. She was the first ship of the “new Navy” to use exclusively U.S. components for her structure. Her secondary battery was upgraded from the 4-inch guns of the earlier New York (Armored Cruiser No. 2) to 5-inch guns, and she featured a raised forecastle and prominent ram bow for better seakeeping.
Further, she was a trial platform for electric-powered turret training gear. Issues with the New York’s steam-powered turrets prompted research into other methods, including pneumatic systems. Despite objections from the Bureaus of Construction and Repair, and Steam Engineering, Secretary of the Navy Hilary A. Herbert authorized General Electric to install its gear—at the company’s risk—in the Brooklyn’s forward and starboard turrets. The Navy subsequently adopted electric power as its standard.
In part because of her standing as the fleet’s darling, the Brooklyn became the stage for a political controversy that dragged on for four years after the war.
Tensions between the United States and Spain had risen in the spring of 1898, amid the aftermath of the 15 February 1898 explosion and sinking of the Maine (Armored Cruiser No.1, later Second-class Battleship No. 2) in Havana Harbor. The Navy chose to focus its attention on Cuba and Puerto Rico from its base at Key West, Florida. Public opinion and Congress, however, were more concerned with the prospect of a Spanish attack against the East Coast. The Navy bowed to political pressure and divided its fleet. The North Atlantic Squadron, commanded by Rear Admiral William T. Sampson from his flagship the New York, was based out of Key West to support operations in the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico. The Flying Squadron, under Commodore Winfield Scott Schley, with the Brooklyn as his flagship, was based in Hampton Roads, Virginia, to defend the coast.
After the declaration of war on 25 April 1898, the Spanish Navy’s First Squadron—four armored cruisers and two torpedo boats—under the command of Vice Admiral Pascual Cervera y Topete, slipped from U.S. sight after departing Cape Verde. Two weeks of frantic searching ensued before the Spaniards were finally located at Santiago de Cuba on the island’s southern coast. During the subsequent nearly five weeks of blockade, the two U.S. squadrons operated under what can only be described as an awkward hierarchy with a junior-ranked officer in overall command. In permanent rank, Captain Sampson was junior to Commodore Schley; however, in temporary rank as rear admiral, Sampson was in overall command off Santiago. The Flying Squadron was abolished on 18 June, and Schley was assigned as commander of the as-yet unformed Second North Atlantic Squadron, which should have clarified the situation somewhat.
Meanwhile, Cervera’s only option was to fight his way out of Santiago Bay, but his squadron was hopelessly outgunned. Speed was his one advantage, especially over the slow, more heavily gunned U.S. battleships. The array of U.S. forces outside the bay appeared to be heavily weighted to prevent an eastward course to Hispaniola or Puerto Rico. Only the Brooklyn stood to the west. The Spanish admiral ordered the armored cruiser Infanta Maria Teresa, his flagship, to take the van and ram Schley’s flagship as the rest of the squadron ran to safety.
At 0930 on 3 July, the Spaniards sortied with the Infanta Maria Teresa heading directly for the Brooklyn. The U.S. cruiser’s captain, Francis A. Cook, later somewhat blandly described the ship’s maneuver: “The Brooklyn was turning rapidly with port helm [to starboard], and continued to turn, firing all the time with the port battery, and following around until the starboard battery was brought into action. Our ‘tumbling-in’ sides enabled us to maintain a continual fire while turning.”
Captain John W. Philip of the second-class battleship Texas saw the Brooklyn’s opening move in a quite different light: “The Spanish ships came out as gaily as brides to the altar. Handsome vessels they certainly were, and with flags enough flying for a celebration parade. . . . Then occurred the incident which caused me for a moment more alarm than anything Cervera did that day.” After starting on a course due north, heading for the Spanish, the Brooklyn circled around to the east directly across the path of the onrushing westward-bound U.S. fleet.
The cruiser continued her turn 270 degrees until headed west to pursue the fleeing enemy, forcing the Texas to back down and the other U.S. ships to scatter—and ending up away from the action. To many post-action observers, Schley had turned away from the Spanish, lost time, and endangered the fleet.
The New York and Sampson had little to do with the battle. Before the Spaniards left the bay, Sampson had his flagship sail eastward for Siboney and a conference with U.S. Army General William R. Shafter to discuss combined operations against the bay’s entrance. The New York turned for the battle at the first shots but was too far east to contribute to the fight.
Controversy, at least in the public arena, was sparked by Sampson’s victory message to the Navy Department about the battle. He neglected a few details—including that he was not present for most of the fight and that his subordinate, Schley, had been the senior officer present during it. The question of who deserved credit for the momentous victory soon dominated U.S. newspaper accounts and split the Navy’s ranks. The public and the press almost universally acclaimed Schley the victor, but Sampson’s seniority held general sway in the military.
After the war, Schley requested a court of inquiry be convened to investigate his conduct during the conflict. The court praised his skill but condemned his pre-blockade decisions and the Brooklyn’s dangerous turn. Its president, Admiral George Dewey, filed a minority report that gave Schley full credit for the victory. Schley appealed the court’s decision to President Theodore Roosevelt. With Navy leadership, the President chose to defuse the situation and found an unsatisfying middle ground, concluding “How perfectly foolish a squabble over a point like this is!”