It was now noontime, and a hasty mess was served all around, and the men continued to air themselves, something easy to do with the ponderous ship speeding the waters at an eighteen-knot rate. Suddenly from the Oregon came the boom of a thirteen-inch gun, and the shell fell just astern of the Colon, sending the water up like a fountain. The battle was again on.
"Now for it!" cried Caleb, as the Spanish warship turned southward down the coast, and the Polly spoke up as fiercely as at any time during the contest.
"The Spaniards are losing heart!" came the cry, a few minutes later. "They ain't doing half the firing they were!"
It was true; the Colon was running short of ammunition, and her officers saw what a hopeless fight a contest with the Brooklyn and Oregon would prove to be. With shot and shell falling all around him, Captain Moreu hauled down his flag and sent his ship ashore at Rio Tarquino.
The battle was won, and Dewey's magnificent victory at Manila, which the world in general had declared was a miracle that could not be matched, had been duplicated. Henceforth American war-
