The tide of battle had swept along into the afternoon when suddenly a loud hurrahing was heard, coming from where the Concord and Petrel lay. A minute later, as the smoke lifted, a flag of truce could be seen flying from the Arsenal. Then the Petrel signalled:—
"The enemy has surrendered!"
What a storm of cheers went up. It was as if pandemonium had suddenly broken loose upon all sides. Officers joined the men in shouting, and the deck and rigging swarmed with jackies waving their caps and handkerchiefs. Larry shouted as loudly as the rest, and it must be acknowledged that the plucky boy thought it the proudest moment of his life.
It was a victory without a parallel in history. Six American fighting ships had attacked eight large Spanish vessels, besides a number of small craft, a shore battery, and a fairly-well equipped fort. The Spanish had had all their ships either sunk, blown up, or burnt, the battery had been shattered to pieces and the fort silenced. The Spanish had lost in killed and wounded over five hundred men, and those that were able, were fleeing to Manila by the inland roads, and with them Admiral Montojo, who was slightly wounded.
