THE ESCAPE FROM THE INN.
The soldiers who had made us prisoners were dark, determined-looking
fellows belonging to the Manila Home Guard, a body distinct from the
troops sent to the islands from Spain.
They were seven in number, including a lieutenant, who, as I afterward
learned, rejoiced in the unique name of Carlos Remondenanez.
“_Americanos!_” muttered the lieutenant, as he surveyed us. “Where you
come from?” he demanded, in by no means bad English.
“We came from Cavité,” I answered, glad to know that he would
understand me.
“Sailors from the American warships?”
“We are private citizens, on our way to Ma----” Dan checked himself.
“Ha! private citizens! Bah! You _Americanos_ are all out for a fight,
like a wild bull! But we will show you, here in Luzon and at Cuba, too!
When it is over the pigs will be sorry they took up arms against the
sons of my country,” and he slapped his chest.
Had the situation been less serious I would have been tempted to laugh
at his pomposity. But as that might have brought on my sudden death, I
resisted the temptation even to smile.
“Yes, it is too bad to have war with anybody,” I said calmly. “Do you
consider us your prisoners?”
“And why not, boy, why not? To be sure you are not old enough to be a
regular soldier, but your finger on the trigger of a gun may do as much
damage as the finger of a man of forty. Search them, men!” he added, to
his command, in Spanish.
Two of the party immediately advanced, and relieved us of the pistols
we had thrown down and also two daggers Dan had brought along from
Hong Kong. I think Lieutenant Remondenanez was strongly tempted to
confiscate our purses also, but did not dare on account of one of the
soldiers, who watched him closely. This man was a new recruit, so
Dan found out later, and was too high-minded to countenance such a
proceeding, even on the part of his officer, without reporting it at
headquarters.
Having been searched, we were marched out of the hollow to the trail
running down to the highway. Here we were placed in charge of three
soldiers, one of whom marched at either side of us and the other to the
rear.
Our course was along a series of dense palm trees which sheltered us
somewhat from the sun. Yet the walk was a hot one, and soon the wound I
had received gave me a violent headache.
“I must rest,” I said to Dan, and sank down almost exhausted.
“No rest for you!” shouted the corporal in charge of the detail, and
poked me with his bayonet, and sick as I was I had to get up and go on
my way.
But soon luck stood me in good stead. We arrived at a sort of wayside
inn, where there were two companies of Spanish soldiers, and here we
halted for further orders.
It was decided to keep us at the place over night, and we were
conducted to a rude stable in the rear, built of bamboo and palm leaves.
Inside were half a dozen small native ponies, belonging to as many
Spanish officers. It was a foul-smelling resort, and it made me feel
more sick than ever.
The place was already being used as a prison and outside four guards,
with ready guns, patrolled the sides of the stable at a distance of ten
paces.
“What a hole!” cried Dan, as we were shoved through the doorway and the
guard left us. “I’ll wager the stable is full of vermin!”
“Who is that as spakes!” came from the semi-darkness. “Sure an’ th’
voice sounds remarkably loik that of a friend, so it does!”
“Matt Gory!” burst out Dan and I simultaneously.
“An’ it’s Oliver an’ Dan, so it is!” ejaculated the Irish sailor,
rushing to us and catching our hands warmly. “Sure an’ it’s a sorry
place for a mating, aint it now?”
“How did you get here, Gory?” I asked. “I thought you were on the
_Starlight_?”
“Sure an thim haythins o’ Spaniards confiscated the ship, so they did.
Oi an’ Tom Dawson thried to escape, an’ here Oi am, as ye can behold if
yez have sharp eyes.”
“And what of Dawson?” asked Dan.
“Oi don’t know where he is. He started to join Commodore Dewey’s
marines at Cavité.”
“When did all this happen?”
“We lift the _Starlight_ a week ago, but Oi was captured yesterday. Phy
have yez yer head toied up?” he went on, to me.
I told him of our adventures in the hollow, and Dan related what had
occurred since we had left the _Starlight_. Matt Gory had arranged a
resting place of the cleanest straw to be found, in a corner, and here
I dropped, completely fagged out.
All told, the stable contained nine prisoners; the others being
Spaniards who sympathized with the insurgents. They were a motley
collection, and filled the already foul air with the noxious fumes of
their ever-present cigarettes.
While I rested, Dan spoke to one and another of them, and learned
considerable concerning the present situation in Manila. As we had
surmised, all business was at a standstill, the shops were closed, and
the streets were guarded by Spanish soldiers, the native policemen
not being trusted to do the duty. All was in a state of suppressed
excitement, and it was expected that Dewey would shell the city at
his pleasure. Provisions were scarce and there was much suffering,
especially among the poorer classes.
Strange as it may seem I rested well that night, and Dan also slept
soundly. We were stirring at sunrise, and with us Matt Gory, who had
suffered no injury and was willing at any moment to fight for his
liberty.
“Oi’ll not go to any dirthy Spanish prison if Oi can hilp it,--an’ Oi
think I can,” were his words.
“I am with you,” I answered. “But I don’t want to bite my nose off to
spite my face.”
At seven o’clock we were ordered out into the open air, and we were not
sorry, for the smell in the stable during the night had grown worse
instead of better. All were formed into single file and told to march
to the rear door of the inn and our breakfast would be dealt out to us.
“Like a lot of tramps getting a hand-out,” laughed Dan, when a Spanish
officer struck him with his sword and ordered him to keep silent.
Breakfast consisted of some stale bread, a chunk of meat that had been
stewed in rice, and water. We had to eat and drink standing up or let
it alone, and I hardly touched a mouthful.
The breakfast over, we were about to leave the inn, when without
warning a volley of shots came from a woods behind the hostelry and a
Spanish officer and two privates dropped dead within a dozen feet of
us. Before the Spaniards could recover from their astonishment a second
volley was delivered, and four others went down, including one of the
prisoners, who was struck by accident in the leg. Then came a wild yell
and about fifty Spanish rebels from Manila burst into view.
The scene that followed beggars my pen to describe. For some minutes
pandemonium reigned supreme, and Spanish officers and privates alike
knew not what to do. Some rushed into the inn and some out, and a
number took to their heels with all the speed of which their legs were
capable. Then a _capitan_ called them to order, and they formed into a
hollow square on the defensive.
“This is our chance!” yelled Matt Gory, as he seized Dan and me by the
arms. “Come on!”
“I am with you!” I answered.
“Let us make for the stable,” said Dan.
“Aint the woods betther?” queried the Irishman.
“The ponies!” I interrupted, understanding what my chum meant. “Just
the thing!”
And away we went for the stable. A Spanish guard tried to block our
way, but we tripped him over and tore his gun from him.
Dan was the first inside of the structure and he speedily untied three
of the small, but strong, animals and led them to a rear door. Then up
we leaped into the high, uncomfortable Spanish saddles (for the poor
beasts stood there with all their trappings) and off we sped down the
highway, leaving Spaniards, rebels, and the other prisoners to take
care of themselves.
Of course we did not escape unnoticed, and Spaniards and rebels both
fired on us. But their aim was poor, and the leaden messengers flew
wide of the mark. Soon we were out of sight around a bend, and then
we speedily took to a side trail that looked as if it might afford at
least temporary security.