Volunteers from the Marblehead and the Nashville manned the boats that
were sent into the shallow waters to grapple for the cable. Each ship
furnished a cutter and a launch, under the command of a lieutenant.
The men who were to do the work were in the cutters, and each of the
launches carried a small rapid-fire gun to protect the workers as much
as possible. The Nashville shelled the shore and then the boats were
ordered in. They went within one hundred yards of the shore and then
began to grapple for the cable. As calmly as though they were fishing,
the men worked with their hooks. At last the cable was caught, and
soon it was brought to view. It proved not to be the Santiago cable,
but about a hundred feet of its length were cut out of it, and the
brave fellows grappled for another. They found it, hauled it up, and,
with what tools they had, hacked it in two.

They were not unmolested, however, for Spaniards began to show
themselves on the shore, and a perfect hail of bullets dimpled the
water around the Americans as they worked. When a man in the boats was
hit, another took his place. Sturdy arms at the oars held the boats
against the strong current, while others hacked away the tough wires.

Then the guns of the ships sent an iron storm among the rocks and
trees and the soft sands. They drove the Spaniards to shelter, and
then they knocked the cable-house, the fort and the light-house to
bits. It was not intended at first to destroy the light-house, but
when it was discovered that the Spaniards used it for a shelter while
firing upon the Americans, the gunners were ordered to cut it down,
and in a short time nothing remained of it but a heap of ruins.

The personal bravery of the men in the boats was wonderful. Although