May day, 1936, presents another anniversary of the Battle of Manila Bay, and is accompanied by a focusing of world attention upon the future political and economic status of that tropical archipelago which passed under the American flag as a result of Admiral Dewey’s renowned victory over the Spanish Asiatic Squadron 38 years ago. This anniversary being thus especially noteworthy as marking the first moves toward Philippine independence, thoughts accordingly drift backward to our Navy of those “mellow old days of Ninety-Eight.”
The hauling down of the Spanish colors at Cavite Navy Yard, on May 1, 1898, and the initial hoisting of the Stars and Stripes over the Philippines—at that old Spanish arsenal on May 3—may be said to constitute events of considerable historical importance to all Americans.
Apropos of those two events, a few commemorative remarks are here presented relative to a certain celebrated piece of navy-yard gear which figured prominently in that May Day naval battle and is familiarly known to all old- timers serving on the Asiatic Station: the old Spanish shear legs which stood on Machina Wharf in Cavite arsenal.
Silhouetted against the tropically azure sky for many years before and after the American occupation of Cavite, the towering spars of that rugged old Spanish crane, capped by its flagstaff, offered a familiar landmark to all who gazed out over beautiful Manila Bay.
Furthermore, it was from that flagstaff perched high atop those veteran shears that the Spanish colors were hauled down and the white flag of surrender was mast-headed during that naval engagement off near-by Sangley Point, and it was as a result of this white flag that the stormy little gunboat Petrel's now famous signal announcing Admiral Montojo’s surrender was conveyed to Admiral Dewey on the bridge of his flagship Olympia.
Harking back to that memorable day let us review documentary accounts of that phase of the engagement involving those old shear legs. In his official report of the action penned the following day, Lieutenant Edward M. Hughes, U. S. Navy, the efficient executive officer of the Petrel, reported to his commanding officer that:
. . . the first shot was fired at 5:22 a.m., and the last one before hauling off for breakfast was fired at 7:30 a.m. The times of beginning and finishing the firing during the second part of the action were respectively 11:30 a.m. and 12:30 p.m., at which latter time the Spanish flag on the Arsenal shears in Kavite was hauled down.
In his official report to the commander in chief detailing the busy little Petrel's part in the action, her commanding officer, Commander E. P. Wood, U. S. Navy, stated that:
. . . while steaming across the fire, the signal was hoisted for the Petrel to pass inside.
This vessel left her station, passed outside the Baltimore, and rounded Sangley Point about 500 yards outside of where the Castilla was burning. The fire was then directed at the Don Antonio Ulloa, and when it was found that she was sinking and deserted, the ship passed further inside and opened fire upon the ships behind inner break-water and whose masts were seen above government buildings. . . . After the first two or three shots fired through the public buildings at ships behind the mole, the Spanish flag was, at 12:30 p.m., hauled down and a white flag run up. The surrender was immediately signalled to fleet and firing ceased.
... I was anchored in Kavite harbor from 12:50 to 5:20 p.m., when I got underway and returned to the fleet.
There were no casualties or accidents of any kind, the ship having been struck only once, just beneath the hawse pipe by a piece of shell which burst just as it sank and threw a column of water on the forecastle.
After the white flag was displayed, there was apparently the greatest confusion in the Arsenal. . . .
Moreover, a bronze tablet (see page 798) firmly set into the palm-enshrouded, turreted stone wall of Cavite Navy Yard’s historic Fort San Felipe informs passers- by that the flagstaff on top of the shear legs played another prominent part in the drama of Manila Bay.
Owing to deterioration incident to old age and long faithful service at that far eastern outpost of our naval activities, the old shear legs were razed and dismantled in the summer of 1909. The platform and flagstaff which had long graced the top of the crane were then removed to another part of the yard and prominently installed on the wall of ancient Fort San Felipe, opposite the commandant’s quarters, historic old Commandancia. The bronze tablet is installed on the wall immediately adjacent to the flagstaff.
The photograph on page 796 shows a one-time familiar scene of the Stars and Stripes flying from the flagstaff aloft on the old shear legs at Machina Wharf, Cavite Navy Yard, overlooking Bacoor Bay, about 1902.
Another photograph (page 797) of the early days of the American occupation of Cavite shows the shear legs in operation, looking northward along Machina Wharf, with the Commandancia and its signal cupola to the right at the head of the dock. A close-up view of the stanchioned platform top, with flagstaff unstepped, is shown and a close-up view of the bronze memorial tablet installed on the wall of Fort San Felipe, close to the flagstaff (see pages 798 and 799).
This historic flagstaff, now familiarly known around Cavite as the “Dewey Flagstaff,” is utilized on special ceremonial occasions requiring flag display, such as when naval, military, and diplomatic representatives call officially upon the commandant, at which time the appropriate flag is unfurled from the veteran flagstaff, while the prescribed honors are being rendered, accompanied by the usual guns from the navy yard saluting battery.
Another colorful ceremony customarily performed for many years at Cavite, in which this old relic of Spanish days plays a prominent part, is that of hoisting or hauling down the personal flag of the commandant of that naval district upon his assuming or relinquishing command of the station. This ceremony usually takes place at the foot of the old flagpole, with the guards of honor, officers, their families and friends assembled along Dewey Road and the adjacent palm-studded plaza overlooking Bacoor Bay. Several of the commandants upon being promoted to rear admiral during a tour of duty at Cavite have taken their oaths for commission to flag rank, and have “donned their stars,” in the shadow of this old relic of the Battle of Manila Bay.
But one of the most impressive and picturesque ceremonies held beneath the venerable flagstaff is that of the annual Memorial Day exercises, in which the various patriotic and military organizations in and around the immediate area of Cavite gather at the Navy Yard for the purpose of rendering honor to the nation’s dead. From this point the procession, bearing fragrant Philippine blossoms, wends its way to Cañacao Naval Cemetery and other burial grounds to decorate the graves of departed comrades, as well as to cast wreaths upon the waters of Manila Bay.
A particular feature of this Memorial Day ceremony is the presence in the Navy Yard of the surviving “Dewey Men” residing in the Philippines, those veterans who were with Dewey at Manila Bay. It is customary for these men to assemble at the Navy Yard to man the halyards used in hoisting Old Glory upon the Dewey Flagstaff at eight o’clock on Memorial Day. But with the passing years, one by one this little group of naval veterans answering “here” at that assembly gradually diminishes.
Views of the Memorial Day exercises at Cavite, in 1932, are included in the accompanying series of photographs (pp. 798 and 799). Four “Dewey Men,” all of whom are now long since retired from the Navy, were present on that occasion, and are shown (page 798) in civilian attire with a group of officers of the Navy Yard. Old Glory hoisted on the famous flagstaff forms an appropriate background.
“Aloft, observed on that May day,
Our flag unfurled o’er Manila Bay.”
In the reign of Queen Anne, when Captain Hardy was stationed at Lagos Bay, he received certain intelligence of some Spanish Galleons having arrived in the harbour of Vigo, under the protection of seventeen men-of-war; upon which, without any warrant for so doing, he set sail and gave intelligence to Sir George Rooke, who was then Commander-in-Chief in the Mediterranean. In consequence of this information the Admiral made the best of his way to Vigo, where he took or destroyed the whole fleet. Sir George was sensible of the advice communicated; but after the fight was over, and the victory obtained, he ordered Captain Hardy on board, and with a stern countenance, said, “You have done, Sir, a very important piece of service. You have added to the honours and riches of your country by your diligence; but don’t you know you are liable to be shot for quitting your station?” “He is unworthy,” replied Hardy, “to bear a commission under Her Majesty who holds his life as anything when the glory and interest of his country require him to hazard it.”—Naval Chronicle.