FIRST SHOT OF A NEW WAR
Three weeks passed by. Marie had gone down town late in April to
do some shopping. While she was standing in the door of the old
postoffice on the Escolta, she heard the shrill voice of a Filipino
lad piping out: "Papers! Papers! All about the war with the United
States. Dewey's comin'!" He had a bundle of newspapers under his right
arm and was waving one in his left hand. Everybody rushed out of the
bazaars and offices along the Escolta where they were transacting
their business, and each one who could get near enough to the boy,
eagerly bought a morning paper.
The lad's papers were all gone but one. Marie Sampalit snatched it from
his hands, and dropped into one of them a small coin. She stepped into
the corridor of the post office, to escape the annoyance of the crowd,
and read the large head lines:
"WAR BETWEEN THE UNITED STATES AND SPAIN
dewey en route to manila great naval
battle friday or saturday in manila bay
The Stone Wall Around the City will be
Razed to the Ground. Great Loss of Life."
"Then, I'm off for Corregidor Island right away!" exclaimed
Marie. "Dewey can't get into the Bay except by that route. That's
where the fight will begin. Mother doesn't know this. I'll tell her
I am going to take some supplies to the Spanish garrison. I will go
at once!"
She set out from Manila in a small casco, or flat-bottomed native boat,
heavily laden with fresh fish, pine-apples, mangoes, bananas, tobacco
and cigarettes--all intended for the Spanish garrison on Corregidor
Island. Manila is situated on the eastern shore of Manila Bay. From
there to the island it is nearly thirty miles. Her little boat was
driven forward on its journey by an easterly wind that gently swelled
the tiny sails.
She reached the island at five o'clock that afternoon and was given
a royal welcome by the Spanish soldiers. Marie gave them the morning
paper containing the news of Dewey's prospective arrival. She asked
permission to take part in the fight.
Marie was a favorite with the Spanish garrison. Her genial disposition,
added to her almost inconceivable daring, had won for her the
friendship and admiration of all. The gunners had playfully taught
her all about loading, firing and swabbing their cannon. She had also
learned the art of good marksmanship, so that at a target practice
she was an adept.
Impatiently she awaited the arrival of the American fleet. She heard
the Spaniards discuss among themselves the cowardice of the American
soldiers, and saw them wager the Dewey would not come to Manila at all
but that he would sail down around the Malay Peninsula and hasten home
by way of Good Hope to save his vessels from certain destruction. All
this sounded plausible to her and she grew restless and enthusiastic
as the dull hours dragged away.
Dewey was so long in coming from Hongkong and the garrison on the
island had been kept at their guns ready for action for so many hours
without rest that many of them were completely tired out by the last
day of April, and asked for relief. It was hard to give it. Marie's
opportunity had come. Her ability as an expert rifle shot was known
alike to officers and enlisted men. She offered to serve. The Spanish
commandant could not well refuse. He needed her services; besides,
the Spaniards were just then doing all within their power to win the
temporary friendship of the natives. Consequently, he promised to
assign her to duty for the night.
The sunset, as viewed from Corregidor Island on the evening of
April 30, was most glorious. Not a cloud was in the sky; a dead calm
prevailed, so that the sea was unusually smooth. As the sun sank to
rest behind the shimmering horizon it caused the island to cast a
long shadow over Manila bay as far as the eye could reach, but this
soon disappeared.
When the sun had sunk from view, Marie noticed that a comparatively
new moon was visible in the sky, and she remarked to the Sergeant
of the Guard, "It will not be very dark to-night. We can see the
Americanos a long way off."
"Yes," replied the Sergeant, "the only difficulty with the cowards is
that they will not come near enough to be seen at all. They have had
plenty of time to run from Hongkong to Manila and back again; still
they have not been seen or heard of. I'll bet you a peso (Spanish
dollar) that they have gone home and that all of this excitement has
been for nothing. Dewey is getting old, Marie; he doesn't want to go
to a watery grave so far from home. If he were young and ambitious,
it would be different. Old men do not care much about real fighting,
especially on the sea. It is different with old generals commanding
land forces. They can sit away back in the rear of the battle-field,
receive messages that come to them; plan certain movements based upon
these reports; and while they do have considerable responsibility,
still they are not in the actual fight. As for Dewey, nobody has
ever heard of him. He is not a recognized naval commander. Besides,
the old fellow, according to reports, is slow and easy going. If he
should come to make us an unfriendly call tonight, mark my word, Marie,
there will not be a sliver of his entire fleet left floating above the
water yonder inside of thirty minutes after the first shot is fired."
He had scarcely concluded speaking when the Officer of the Guard,
Lieutenant Orlando, called out, "Sergeant of the Guard! Fall in the
First Relief!" The Sergeant threw his arm over Marie's shoulder in an
affectionate manner, smacked a hurried caress against her olive cheek,
jumped up from the little bamboo bench on which they were sitting,
rushed up to the guard house and cried out, "First Relief! Fall in!"
Marie hastened after him. As the relief was forming in line, she seized
a Mauser rifle that stood leaning against a huge rock, grabbed up a
cartridge belt well filled with Mauser ammunition that was lying on
the ground near by, hastily adjusted it to fit her waist measure,
buckled it on and fell into the rear rank.
"Count fours!" ordered the Sergeant. As is usual in military affairs,
the front and rear rank men count in unison; that is, number one in
the front rank and number one in the rear rank both count "one" at the
same time; second file counts "two," etc. When it came to Marie she
piped out simultaneously with the corporal who stood in front of her,
"quatro." (four).
As the guard was marched along the stony pathways on Corregidor Island
and the various sentinels were relieved, Marie soon saw that there was
not going to be a place for her. She tip-toed up to the corporal who
was posting the relief and asked him where he was going to station her.
"Never mind," said the corporal, "we have a place for you." And sure
enough, they had.
Every soldier or civilian who has ever been on this island will readily
recall the rough, hard-beaten, winding path that led from the summit of
the hill, in a south-westerly direction, down over precipices, around
clumps of bamboo, to a beautiful fresh water spring which bubbled
out of the coral rocks at a point just high enough to prevent it from
being inundated or even infiltrated during the season of high tides.
A few feet from this spring and elevated but slightly above it, is a
massive, flat rock. Along the north and west sides of this rock is a
vertical stone precipice some eight feet high, which from its upper
edge inclines back gradually at an angle of about twenty degrees
above a horizontal plane, toward the crest of the island.
On this rock Spain firmly bolted one of her most modern cannon--a
good seven-inch gun. It was so situated on a revolving casement that
its shots could be made to sweep the whole Boca Grande channel, as
the large entrance south of the island is called. Marie had often
operated this gun. She had done splendid work with it on a floating
target two miles distant. Its deadly roar was her delight. Oh! if
she could but use it just once on an actual enemy instead of firing
it at an indicated one!
When the old guard had been relieved and the sentries were marched
back to the guard-house to be dismissed, poor Marie, heavy hearted,
marched along. Just as they approached the guard-house, the sergeant
motioned to her to fall out and to come toward him. This she did.
Into her ear he whispered the information that was to start her on her
eventful military career. "Marie," said he, "the officer of the Guard
informs me that we cannot use you in the infantry service tonight,
but that you will be needed with the artillery."
"Good!" exclaimed Marie, "Where shall I serve?"
"At the new gun on the large rock near the spring," answered the
Sergeant.
"Thank heaven!" said Marie. "Dewey will surely come, and when I put
a solid shot through the 'Olympia' just below the water line--the
battle will be half over. Oh! I'm so anxious! May I go down there
tonight and take charge of the gun at once?"
The Sergeant told her to report to the headquarters of the artillery
department where she would receive instructions.
At last she found herself on actual duty. How her young heart throbbed
as her black eyes peered forth into the darkness. Toward midnight,
small clouds began to drift oceanward. For a few moments at a time
they would obscure the quartered cheek of the young moon. Oh! if
Dewey would but come. The hopes of a life-time were poised on that
painful "if." Before her was the dream of glory; behind her, the
dreary forgetfulness of the past. Hour after hour whiled away. The
tiny lights in the natives' shacks along the opposite shore began to
go out and grow fewer and fewer until the closing day had died safely
away into the solemn night. As usual, "taps" were blown at ten o'clock
and things on the island grew very quiet. Days--yes, weeks--seemed
to crowd themselves into those long hours. Would he ever come?
Presently she heard the sentry's shrill cry on the brow of the hill,
"Twelve o'clock! All's well!" The echo of his repeated call had
scarcely died away when Marie thought she saw something dark on the
water near the center of the channel, perhaps three miles away. She
whispered to a member of the artillery corps, who sat near her watching
the shadow of his pipe on the rock near the base of the cannon. They
both looked. Surely! it's Dewey! The artilleryman sent up a rocket as
a warning. Marie took hurried aim. "Boom!" went her cannon, and from
its mouth a seven-inch shot was hurled over the "Concord," between
its main and mizzen masts. It went a trifle high and did no harm.
"Bang!" went one of the port batteries on the "Raleigh" and before
its flash was gone a shudder shot through every vein, every nerve
and every fiber of Marie's body. Such a crash she had never heard
before. "War is hell" to be sure. She sniffed the smoke from her own
gun, and looked around to see what had happened. The stone precipice
behind her was torn into fragments. A man's hand protruded from the
debris. "My God!" she murmured. Yes, there was the evidence. The
man who had sat by her side and who sent up the rocket, lay cold in
death. His head was torn off and his body was mangled among the pieces
of broken rock. The gunner on the "Raleigh" had done his work well;
and Marie's dream of American cowardice, of their poor marksmanship
and of her ability to sink Dewey's flag ship, were shattered in an
instant. She had fired the FIRST gun of the war, but not the LAST!