Information at Sea: Shipboard Command and Control in the U.S. Navy, from Mobile Bay to Okinawa

1 Flags, Flares, and Lights: A World before Wireless

chapter one Flags, Flares, and Lights A World before Wireless When it became evident that the difficulties between the United States and Spain . . . were in a fair way of settlement without recourse to the guns and torpedoes of our navy, it was decided to take advantage of the accumulation of war-ships at the Florida rendezvous, and have a general drill . . . The present month, accordingly, will be one of great importance in our naval history. Unnamed Correspondent, 1874 An International Crisis Captain Joseph Fry must have longed for a better vessel. His ship, Virginius, had been built to serve as a Confederate blockade-runner. Now, eight years after the Confederacy had fallen, Fry was hoping Virginius had one more run left. His cargo consisted of contraband bound for Cuban rebels, but on this late October afternoon a Spanish corvette had discovered Virginius off the Cuban coast. Fry altered course while his crew jettisoned illicit stores overboard. For a time the situation looked salvageable, as hours passed and the corvette failed to close. Fry knew the coming darkness would offer him an opportunity for escape. In the heat of the chase, Virginius’s commanding officer probably did not consider the irony of his situation. Born into a Florida family of moderate affluence, Joseph Fry accepted a midshipman’s warrant in 1841 at the age of fifteen, fought in the Mexican-American War, and participated in Matthew Calbraith Perry’s expedition to Japan. Yet Fry suffered from chronic seasickness , and eventually the Navy Department assigned him to permanent lighthouse duty in New Orleans. Had the Civil War not intervened, there he might have remained for the duration of his naval career. When war came, however, Fry resigned his commission and joined the Confederate navy. During four years of service, he commanded six vessels, five of which Union forces burned Flags, Flares, and Lights 7 or sank. Known for his courage under fire, Fry offered a stark counterpoint to the old adage that fortune favors the brave. After the war, Fry and his family fell on hard times. In 1873, with his resources exhausted and seven children to feed, he jumped at the opportunity to earn $150 per month commanding Virginius. The ship’s agent was vague about the crew, cargo, and ports of call but emphasized that Virginius sailed under United States registry. Fry probably knew better than to ask too many questions. Darkness finally came, but clear skies and a full moon did not auger well for Fry and his crew. Virginius began to slow, the hours at full speed having taken their toll. Leaks in the ship’s rattled caulking weighed down Virginius and allowed the Spanish corvette to close within striking distance. After several near misses, disaster struck. A Spanish shell penetrated one of Virginius’s smokestacks. The chase was over. Fry surrendered his ship, and a boarding party raised Spain’s national ensign in place of the American flag. The captured vessel was towed to Santiago de Cuba, where Spanish authorities imprisoned Virginius’s entire crew. To the Spanish military commander in Santiago, General Don Juan Burriel , Virginius was an infuriating symbol of Cuban treachery and American duplicity. Almost immediately, he executed four known insurgents. But what would he do with Fry and the others, especially those who were British or American citizens? Given Burriel’s reputation for ruthlessness and brutality, Fry already knew the answer. Over the heated protests of the senior American and British diplomats in Santiago, the former naval officer and thirty-six others were convicted in a sham trial. Executions were scheduled for 8 November , but Burriel expedited the process when he discovered that a British warship was steaming toward Santiago. On the morning of 7 November, Spanish authorities took the condemned men to receive last rites. Shortly thereafter, they were marched to a wall on the city’s outskirts. Fry, the only prisoner not bound, went down the line saying farewell. Upon reaching the end, he took off his cap and turned around. The ensuing volley brought both death and an international crisis.1 News of the brutal slayings reached Washington on 12 November. President Ulysses S. Grant was morally outraged and immediately ordered the navy to assemble a fleet in Key West. Public sentiment for war was strong. The New York Times declared that the U.S. government had a duty “to use all 8 Information...