One of the peace-time duties of our Navy has ever been to protect American interests in all parts of the globe. In performing this service the officers of our naval vessels have witnessed many historic events. It fell to the officers of the U.S.S. Lancaster in the summer of 1897 to participate in one of the most stirring dramas ever enacted before an expectant yet powerless gathering.
The scene of the drama was the capital of the Republic of Uruguay, as that country is officially known. Physically, the smallest independent nation in South America, that peninsular-like republic now seems destined for great economic and political progress. Today, Uruguay’s advanced social legislation seems the model not alone for Latin America but for like democracies in general.
These conditions have not always prevailed. Since her independence in 1828 Uruguayan history has been torn by politic- social changes. Her two political parties, named respectively, the Blancos and Colorados held no essentially different political views. Their differences were based on family tradition and like considerations. The Colorados held for many disturbed years the political power. The efforts of the Blancos to dislodge them always resulted in eras of revolts. The military element was a deciding factor in these upheavals. It either lent or refused its support with results easily foreseen.
In the late eighteen eighties, Herrara y Obes became president, succeeding General Tajes, a Colorado, whose political factotum he had been. Immediately the entire country became administered as though it were the private estate of the president. There was no pretense of an accounting to the public of the governmental revenues and expenditures. In 1894, Juan Idiarte Borda, a friend and disciple of Herrara y Obes succeeded him; the former president serving as the premier of Borda’s cabinet in the capacity of minister of foreign affairs.
The general dissatisfaction of the people grew by leaps and bounds. In 1896 the Blanco party gathered together its forces under the pretext that the elections of that year were fraudulent. Aparaceo Sariava led that revolt. Disturbances continued for a year or more. Military expenditures increased, taxes increased, and economic depression followed. A public feeling of bitter hostility was engendered. This feeling was not alone toward the government, but more particularly was it evidenced toward President Borda.
Shortly before the Sariava uprising the U.S.S. Lancaster arrived on the South Atlantic Station after a voyage, under sail, of one hundred and one days from Newport, Rhode Island. Captain Yates Sterling (later, Rear Admiral Sterling) was transferred from the Newark to the Lancaster when the former vessel was ordered home. With her on this station were two other American men-of-war, the Yantic and the Castine.
The duty at its best was a tedious one; anchored in the La Plata River, with a vast estuary on one side and the more desirable, but not always attainable, city of Montevideo on the other. The prosaic days were sometimes enlivened by the advent of a strong wind, known as the pampero, sweeping over the pampas of Argentine. This gale turned the river into a coffee-colored torrent and generally cut off the squadron from communication ashore for three or four days. When conditions indicated that a pampero was due the younger officers requested shore leave for the afternoon only, knowing they could rely on the pampero for three or four days ashore, none of which would be charged against leave credits.
The Aparaceo Sariava revolution however changed the even tenor of the squadron’s way. The culmination of the revolt which they were observing, tragic and unreal, convinced the wardroom of the Lancaster that truth is stranger than fiction. The manner in which they learned this adage is herein related. Very early in 1897 an attempt was made on the life of President Borda. It failed. Thereafter, as the revolution progressed, Borda rarely appeared in public. Two important events in the revolutionary movement occurred at this time. A battle was fought—a successful attempt was made by armed bodies of Blanco rebels to capture two government steamers plying between Buenos Aires and Montevideo.
Upon the approach of August 25, the anniversary of the independence of Uruguay, a demonstration was made before the presidential palace to express their dissatisfaction over the conduct of public affairs under President Borda. At the same time negotiations with the Blanco rebels tending toward peace were broken off by the Borda government, which was held responsible for the continuation of disorders. These two significant occurrences were followed by the announcement that Independence Day would be celebrated with the customary ceremonies and festivities.
These ceremonies consisted of religious services at the Cathedral Matriz, attended by the president and his cabinet, and to which all foreign officials were invited. The president and his distinguished guests then marched through the streets of the city to the palace where a public reception was held. President Borda had sent out invitations for dinner that night to be followed by attendance at the opera.
The schedule of festivities created immediate adverse sentiment throughout Montevideo. On August 25 a number of handbills appeared in the streets, asking patriotic citizens to show their disapproval of the celebration by remaining indoors.
An invitation to attend the ceremonies commemorating Uruguay’s independence was sent to Captain Yates Stirling and the officers of the squadron by Coronel Muro, captain of the port, in the name of his government. The invitation created little interest in the wardroom of the Lancaster; until one of the officers at the mess table in chiding the others present for their indifferencee, told them of his surmises regarding the coming days’ events.
“Don’t you realize,” he said, "that they are going to shoot the President?—Borda has never stuck his nose out of the palace since last April when that youngster took a pot shot at him. He now intends to walk six blocks through the streets of Montevideo, and everybody believes there are at least fifty people along the curb waiting to take a crack at him.” Whereupon he produced one of the handbills which had been distributed to the populace which was eagerly translated. It read:
The moment has come to show publicly to the tyrannical despot who unhappily rules the destinies of our country; that just as an entire populace a few days ago shut up its doors and went out into the streets to demonstrate the joy with which it would receive an honorable peace, the same manner it knows also on August 25, when the vile tyrant wishes to celebrate it by sending out to shine on soldiers enlisted by force the uniform of Porteria, Arteaga, and Borda, to shut its doors as evidence that it never will wish festivities while our brothers pour out their precious blood on battlefields. We invite then that all Orientals and foreign residents remain permanently in their houses during the hours of the parade and that all families and places of business close their doors and blinds. Those who may be on the balconies or meet to give importance to the festivities by their presence will show that they have been paid by the despot who continuing to rob docs not desire peace.
Various Orientals
All present in the wardroom promptly sent in their names to be included in the list of guests. Captain Stirling and the officers of the Lancaster and Castine with the members of the diplomatic corps and the American minister, the Honorable Granville Stuart, arrived at the Cathedral Matriz a little ahead of the appointed hour of one- thirty and were shown to the seats reserved in their honor. The president, his military aides, and cabinet officers, soon appeared and in taking their seats completed a semicircle of participants before the altar. Behind them were ranged such people as might have drifted in from the streets. There were no representative citizens present. It was apparent they had obeyed the injunction to remain away.
President Borda sat at the apex of the semicircle behind a table, clad in a dress suit, a sash with the arms of Uruguay diagonally across his shirt front. His silk hat, goldheaded cane, and overcoat lay on one end of the table. He sat through the long services with a pale set face, his aspect being the only evidence of his knowledge of the inevitable fate that awaited him; perhaps from some hand in the throng behind.
After the chanting of the Te Deum, the Archbishop of Uruguay who had been conducting the services approached the president and spoke briefly to him. The president then arose and together the two passed out of the cathedral, the archbishop on the right of the president. They proceeded on foot up Calle Carandi toward the government house, followed immediately by the aides, the cabinet officers, and other guests. To the left of the line of march a number of batteries of artillery and troops of lancers were in line, fronting the direction of the march, thereby making it neccessary for the procession to walk close to the curb on the right. They had progressed about eighty yards when suddenly a man stepped forward and fired a revolver point blank at the president’s breast. The president received the shot, took two steps in his walk, and sank to the street mortally wounded. He was carried into the House of Representatives.
The assassin, a youth named Avelino Arrendonda, was quickly assailed by the mounted lancers. He was rescued with difficulty by the American vice consul, and taken to the Cabildo for questioning.
Within ten minutes the sentry posted before the government building removed his rifle from his shoulder, carrying it, thereafter, at reverse arms. So passed Juan Idiarte Borda with a brave gesture; knowing full well as he set forth to celebrate Independence Day that his death in some tragic manner was imminent. Courageously he met his fate.
Two years before these events in the history of Uruguay, Richard Harding Davis wrote his Soldiers of Fortune. This book was a novel involving a revolution in a mythical South American republic. The climax of the story is reached when the president of the republic is required to review his troops with the knowledge that there was probably one chance in a thousand that he would return from the review alive.
The fictional character, President Alvarez of the mythical republic of Olancho, marched to his death in the same manner as did President Borda, absolute ruler of Uruguay, and for the same reason—his party required him to display a semblance of power before a populace who wished to overthrow it.
Soldiers of Fortune had been read by several members of the wardroom of the Lancaster, and considered a very interesting bit of fiction. After witnessing the assassination of President Borda all agreed that the duty of protecting American interests on foreign soil might prove stranger than any tale of fiction.