Four Bullets at Baler Bay: The Story of Arthur Venville: Part 1
Remembering those who fought for our freedoms
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Release Date: November 11, 2025
The Boy Who Went to Sea
On a soft February evening in 1898, laughter spilled from the humble home on Nehalem Avenue in Sellwood, Oregon. Friends and neighbors had gathered to surprise seventeen-year-old Arthur Venville before he returned to duty with the United States Navy. The Sunday Oregonian described the gathering in its Society column:
“A surprise party was tendered to Mr. Arthur Venville … Music was furnished by Mr. and Mrs. J. P. Zirngiebel, and games and singing occupied the evening. After supper was served the young man was heartily wished good fortune in the service of his country.” ¹
It was a farewell in the purest sense of the word — cheerful, proud, and, for Arthur’s mother, edged with a fear she could not yet name.
The son of Denzell and Emily Holles Venville, Arthur was born in Dudley, England, in January 8, 1881. The family emigrated to North America shortly after Arthur’s birth, settling first in York, Ontario and later in St. Paul, Minnesota.
When he was just seven, Arthur’s father got sick, and on his deathbed he made his little boy promise he would be his mother’s “protection and comfort.” Although Arthur was likely too young to know what the words meant, it was a promise he would sacrifice everything to keep.
Arthur’s third sister was born two months later, and eight moths after that, his mother married Henry Marsh. Soon after, the family moved from St. Paul to Sellwood, and four half-siblings followed in rapid succession.
Life in the crowded Marsh household was an unrelenting financial struggle. Henry was often sick due to the lead paint he worked with, and the small income Emily made as an occasional housekeeper and seamstress barely put food on the table. Despite Arthur’s love of learning — he often dreamed of going to college — his promise to protect and comfort his mother was stronger. So, at just 11, he left school behind forever and became the family’s primary breadwinner, working full-time at a nearby hat factory to make ends meet.²
But hatmaking was dangerous work. Air in poorly ventilated workshops was heavy with microscopic fibers that settled in lungs and steamy conditions were breeding grounds for respiratory illnesses including tuberculosis. Mercury poisoning was a constant threat. By the end of 1896, 15-year-old Arthur’s health was beginning to fail.
A doctor sympathetic to his situation — or perhaps to his family’s circumstances, offered an unexpected solution: Arthur should go to sea. America wasn’t currently engaged in any war, the salty sea air would be good for his health, and by joining the US Navy, Uncle Sam could help him continue to support his mother and sisters.
On February 17, 1897, one month after his birthday, 17-year-old Arthur traveled to Mare Island Navy Yard in California and began his military career as an Apprentice, First Class.
One year later, almost to the day, the USS Maine mysteriously exploded while anchored in Havana Harbor in Cuba, killing 260 American service members. Although the cause of the explosion was under investigation, there was widespread belief the Spanish were responsible, and on March 26, 1898, the United States declared war on Spain, initiating the Spanish-American War.
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Arthur’s first wartime assignment was aboard the USS Independence, a receiving ship at the Mare Island Navy Yard. A short tour on the USS Bennington followed on patrol in the Hawaiian Islands. Then in early 1899 Arthur was assigned to the U.S.S. Yorktown, a gunboat newly ordered to Philippine waters during the campaign that followed the February 4th outbreak of the Philippine-America War.³
From the tropics, he wrote faithfully home. His last known letter, dated March 13, 1899, reached Sellwood weeks later. Arthur opened with the cheerful bravado of youth:
“I will write a line now to let you know that I am still alive and kicking, as I might not get a chance to write again for a couple of months.” ⁴
The letter, penned from Lingayen Bay, described coaling at Guam, the long passage from Honolulu, and the oppressive heat that made every movement an effort. “I think I have sweated enough in the past month to last me a year,” he joked.
Yet the tone was filled with anticipation of valor; at 18, Arthur believed himself seasoned by adventure, despite never firing a weapon.
We have had a little excitement here. The first night we fired five shots at boats coming too near the ship. One day two boatloads of men were sent ashore for rifle practice, and about 100 insurgents came marching down on them. We sighted the enemy from the ship and turned all our 6-inch guns loose on them, and after the first shot not an insurgent could be seen. About a week ago 40 of us were sent ashore to destroy the telegraph lines, and we cut off about half a mile of wire and brought it aboard. Two of our men were fired on while cutting, and all of us wanted to fire back, but the officer in charge would not let us, as he had orders not to do any fighting ashore.
He spoke of the Yorktown’s patrol to intercept arms-runners, the watch kept for “filibustering ships,” and his plans to return home when his four-year term expired:
“I expect to see all you folks at home in about two years and ten months from now.” ⁴
That letter — folded and refolded by his mother — was the last she would receive written in Arthur’s hand.
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In April, less than six weeks later, headlines carried a shock that stopped hearts across Oregon and all of America. Under the words “Portland Boy Captured”, The Oregonian printed Admiral George Dewey’s cable from Manila:
April 18 – Secretary of the Navy, Washington: Yorktown visited Baler, Luzon, east coast of Luzon, Philippine Islands, April 12th for the purpose of rescuing and bringing away the Spanish force, consisting of eighty soldiers, three offices and two priests, which were surrounded by 400 Insurgents. Some of the Insurgents are armed with Mauser rifles. ____ by natives, Lieutenant JC Gilmore, while making ____ was ambushed, fired upon and captured. His fate is unknown, as the insurgents refused to communicate afterward.
Among the seventeen names listed was “Denzell George Arthur Venville, apprentice, second class, enlisted Mare Island, CA. Born Dudley, England; next of kin, E. Marsh, Sellwood, OR.” ⁵
At Mrs. Mash’s home in Sellwood the news arrived by neighbors rather than telegram. Just weeks before she had shown friends Arthur’s buoyant letter, still smelling faintly of sea salt. Now the same newspapers that had printed the notice of his cheerful send-off reported that he was a prisoner of war in the Philippine jungles.
The story spread quickly through the city. Classmates recalled their young friend; church circles took up prayers. The Oregonian wrote that Arthur was “a bright and manly young fellow … with many friends in this city who hope for his safety.” ⁵ It was the kind of line meant to comfort, but to a mother listening as each word was read aloud to her by one of her daughters it was a deep ache.
For months no new information came. The Yorktown continued its patrols; the Navy listed the men of Gillmore’s party as “missing and presumed captured.” In Sellwood, the Mash household went on with the routines of life — church, work, chores —but each night Emily Mash kept a lamp burning near the window, in case some official letter or sailor’s friend should bring word.
It was the beginning of a vigil that would last more than two years.
Copyright 2025 Lori Olson White
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End Notes
“Society,” The Sunday Oregonian, Portland, OR, February 20, 1898, p. 13.
“Portland Boy Captured—Denzell G. A. Venville One of the Yorktown Party,” The Oregonian, Portland, OR, April 23, 1899, p. 6.
“Society,” The Sunday Oregonian, Portland, OR, February 20, 1898, p. 13; U.S. Navy Register 1899..
“Portland Boy Captured,” The Oregonian, Portland, OR, April 23, 1899, p. 6.
“Portland Boy Captured,” The Oregonian, Portland, OR, April 23, 1899, p. 6. Parts redacted.
The heartache this caused Emily is hard to imagine. Just getting through daily life would be so difficult.
Your stories make me love history even more! (I'm a history convert.)