THE KATIPUNAN SOCIETY
After Phil had reached his ship he scarcely remembered how he had
behaved to his anxious and sympathetic friend, Major Marble. The boy’s
mind was dazed. He had not believed that Tillotson would dare make
charges against him, but now that they had been made, how should he
act? The mere words of each charge were only too true but Phil felt
that he had had strong and sufficient reasons for acting as he did. But
now he must refute these charges or else go before a court-martial.
But how could he refute them? There was but one way and that was to go
to General Wilson and tell his story, which would be corroborated by
Sydney. It would be tantamount to telling the general that one of his
officers was an arrant coward and unfit to be trusted with hazardous
expeditions. And even then the charges would still hold. They were true
in substance, every one of them. As commanding officer of a gunboat
Phil was within his rights when he laid his plans as to where the
attack of the gunboat should be and the locality to land his own men;
but he could only advise the army man from his nautical experience as
to where the best place would be to land the soldiers in order that
their coöperation might be harmonious. Lieutenant Tillotson was free to
accept his suggestions or refuse them as he saw fit. So long as they
were both afloat the army officer could give no orders to him, nor
could Phil give orders to his superior in rank. To the anxious lad it
was certainly a perplexing situation. His conscience was quite clear
upon the soundness of the plan he had proposed, and he felt that in
carrying it out they had struck a severe blow at the insurrection and
had saved the beleaguered garrison. The lieutenant’s action might in
feeble minds be excused through the plea of caution, but no strong man
would hesitate to say that it was a case where caution should not have
been considered.
Sydney was beside himself with indignation when he learned of the
spiteful charges of the lieutenant and was for seeking him out and
bestowing personal vengeance, but Phil dissuaded him from any such rash
act.
“I should have ordered his men out of the boats,” Phil said bitterly,
“when I saw Tillotson was not coming. We might have won without them,
although they were a great comfort, and if the Colt gun had gone back
on us they would have been a necessity.”
“What will you do?” Sydney asked, exasperated at the apparent
indecision of his friend. “Tell the straight story to the general and
he’ll make it hot for that dandified gentleman soldier.”
“The worst of it is,” Phil replied gravely, “Tillotson is the son of
an influential man in the Philippine government, and if he takes our
part the general will incur the father’s displeasure, for a father will
never believe wrong of a son. A general has been suspended for less,
and that would ruin his army career. I think our best plan is to try to
compromise with Tillotson, and if he won’t listen to reason then ask
the general to send us to another part of the island.”
Major Marble, as much as he disliked the task, was in duty bound
to hand this report to the general through his judge-advocate
general. Captain Blynn believed he was a fair man and was proud of
his reputation of being scrupulously honest, yet when he read this
arraignment of the young midshipman, a smile, almost of pleasure,
passed over his face. Here was a case in which he took the greatest
delight. The captain instinctively disliked Tillotson. He saw that he
did not have the making of a soldier, and this expedition had been one
of the few with which he had been entrusted. On another occasion his
command had suffered severely from an ambush of bolo-men, and there had
been vague rumors that Tillotson had not behaved as it was traditional
a ----th Infantry officer should, but there had been nothing official,
thanks doubtless to his father’s influence. As Captain Blynn read he
recognized the work of a law graduate. Each charge was described at
length in an enclosed letter. Undoubtedly the circumstances were true.
“Queer youngster, that fellow Perry,” Captain Blynn exclaimed almost in
admiration as he finished and folded the communication preparatory to
laying it before his chief. “He’s got grit, but I fear bad judgment.
I could never see why he allowed that Martinez to escape. Espinosa
says it was deliberate. Well, he must pay for his ill-judged acts. I
don’t want any one about here who’s going to have qualms of conscience
about killing a Filipino who won’t surrender. He handled that attack at
Binalbagan splendidly, though,” he thought. “But I am afraid we’ve got
to make an example of him.”
As Captain Blynn approached the general’s office, he caught the sound
of voices from within, and soon saw that the midshipman himself was
talking earnestly with the general. Captain Blynn was not deterred;
with him business was business and here was the officer charged with a
grave offense.
“I have a letter here, sir,” he said in his cold, official voice
addressing his chief, “written by Lieutenant Tillotson, making very
serious charges of misconduct against Midshipman Perry.”
“Captain Perry has just told me that he had heard of these charges,”
the general replied in an annoyed voice. “It seems to me, Perry, you
have stirred up quite a hornet’s nest in the few days you have been in
Kapay.”
Phil blushed furiously, and his eyes flared forth his indignation at
such an unfair remark. Especially as he could make no answer to an
officer of such rank.
The general adjusted his glasses and read from beginning to end the
report placed on his desk by the captain; then he glanced up, a puzzled
look on his deeply lined face.
“This is a very ugly business,” he said sharply. “We have no time to
investigate such matters. We are busy putting down this rebellion. Yet
such conduct as charged in this report, Mr. Perry, cannot go unheeded.
There’s but one thing to do,” he continued after a moment’s thought.
“Wire to the admiral at Manila and request your detachment for private
reasons.”
“That would be a tacit acknowledgment that I am in the wrong,” Phil
cried out, his voice trembling with anger at the injustice in the
general’s words.
“Read this letter,” the general said brusquely, “and if you can clear
yourself do so before Captain Blynn and myself.”
Phil took the letter and read page after page of incriminating evidence
against him. It told of the disagreement as to the plan of landing and
the time of landing. Then of the departure of the expedition from the
gunboat, when the accuser claimed that Phil had deliberately shoved off
without him, “doubtlessly jealous of being outranked,” the report read.
Then of his insubordination ashore after the attack when he, Tillotson,
had taken charge of the work of clearing up the battle-field. Of the
withdrawal of the sailors and their refusal to help until an imperative
order had been sent the midshipman not to go to the gunboat, but to
return and give aid to the soldiers.
Phil’s heart thumped as he read. The report was untrue in so far as
the imputations on his reasons were concerned, but the incidents were
only too true, and except by bringing a charge of cowardice and calling
soldiers and sailors to corroborate him, he could not deny the report.
Tillotson’s report stated further that both midshipmen had during the
return trip acted toward him in a manner which lessened the respect of
the sailors for him. That one of them had made remarks derogatory to
his character as a soldier.
Phil handed the report back, his eyes swimming. His anger was rife
within him and he dared not speak.
“This is a case for a Court of Inquiry,” Captain Blynn said to the
general, “but I cannot see how an army court can decide on the case of
a naval officer. Mr. Perry apparently cannot deny these charges, so
if he is disinclined to wire the admiral, I suggest that you send a
message asking to have him relieved.”
The general nodded his head in the affirmative and Captain Blynn
withdrew to prepare the fatal telegram.
“I am sorry, Mr. Perry,” the general said, his face softening. “I have
heard of your fight, and it was a masterpiece. I believe you have the
stuff in you; but insubordination cannot be condoned. You must learn to
obey and be respectful to officers higher in rank.”
“Why couldn’t he tell the general just how everything had happened?” he
thought as he listened to the kindly voice, “not to ask that he might
retain his ship but simply to clear his name of this cloud.”
Captain Blynn appeared, telegram in hand, which he laid before the
general for his signature.
“Before I send this,” the latter said turning to Phil, “see Lieutenant
Tillotson yourself, and if he is willing to withdraw this report I
shall forget the incident.”
Phil left the office, knowing that it was but a respite. He had passed
Tillotson on the street when on the way to the general’s office and had
saluted and spoken, but his greeting had been ignored.
It was dark when Phil left the headquarters building and walked toward
the docks. As he passed slowly through a narrow street, the forbidding
windowless walls towering over him with here and there a dark alleyway,
where an assassin might lurk, he instinctively felt for the handle of
his navy revolver lying in its holster slung to his left hip. At the
end of the street near the river and but a few paces from the gunboat
he saw a calesa drawn up, its curtains drawn closely, just beyond the
glare of a street lamp, and he was surprised to see a hand wave to him
from the gloom inside.
Stepping cautiously to the side of the awaiting vehicle, he heard his
name called in a familiar woman’s voice. It was the unknown girl of the
“Negros.”
“Señor Perry, may I speak to you?” she inquired excitedly in Spanish.
Phil took her outstretched hand eagerly, forgetting for the moment his
own trouble.
“What is it, señorita?” he asked eagerly.
“Come to-night to the northeast corner of the Plaza, at nine o’clock;
bring some of your men with you. Maria Rodriguez will show her
gratitude to the brave American officers.” He would have detained her,
to learn more, but her sharp command to the alert driver had come
before he could recover from the startling summons and the next moment
the calesa was racing madly up the street.
Full of his news, he boarded the gunboat and confided to Sydney the
girl’s message.
“Maria Rodriguez,” Sydney exclaimed. “She’s the daughter of Juan
Rodriguez, the wealthiest Filipino in Kapay. I wonder what’s up? Her
father, you know, refuses to join the insurgents, and yet will not aid
the Americans, and the general will not molest him. He lives on his
estates just beyond the city on the river.”
O’Neil was summoned and told to make up a party of five good men to
accompany them and then the midshipmen sat down to dinner; but neither
had an appetite for food.
Phil told Sydney of the outcome of his visit to the general and the
latter was cast down with gloom.
“I shan’t stay without you,” he asserted. “Can’t something be done? Is
there no way to make this man Tillotson back down?”
Phil shook his head. “I shan’t try. I’ll just take my medicine. It’s
bitter, but every one who was there knows that he was in the wrong.”
Nine o’clock saw the small party at the northeast corner of the Plaza.
The city seemed deserted. There was no one on the streets. Suddenly
the clanking of a sword was heard and the sailors slunk quietly out of
sight into the shadow of a near-by doorway.
“It’s Lieutenant Tillotson,” Phil whispered, “inspecting sentries; he’s
officer of the guard to-night.”
After the officer had passed, the party waited anxiously for several
minutes and then a native appeared walking slowly toward them from a
cross street. He stopped fifty yards away and beckoned; then turned
quickly and walked away.
Phil and Sydney leading, they followed the vanishing figure ahead of
them. He guided them through street after street, leading farther and
farther away from the occupied part of the city. Suddenly the native
stopped, beckoned with his hand, and entered a doorway of a pretentious
Filipino dwelling.
“Your men must wait here, señor; it is the señorita’s order,” the
native told the lads. “The officers are to come with me.” He raised his
finger to his lips to caution silence. “If we are discovered it will
mean death, señor.”
“What’s the game, sir?” O’Neil asked eagerly, not having heard the
whispered words of the native.
“You’re to stay here out of sight,” Phil explained quietly. “If we need
help I’ll fire my revolver.”
With a parting caution the midshipmen stealthily followed their guide
up the street, hugging the dark shadow of the houses, and entered the
wide archway of a large native building. Inside was total darkness, and
it needed all their confidence in the girl who had invited them to come
to still their awakening suspicions.
The guide gave a low whistle and the slight sound caused their hearts
to beat faster amid the profound silence within.
“Señores, you have come,” a woman’s musical voice dispelled their
fears. “Please step this way; I am sorry there can be no light.”
Phil quietly led the way in the direction of the voice, and his eyes
soon discerned the figure of the girl, a darker object among the
surrounding gloom. He felt a warm, confiding hand in his, and allowed
himself to be led deeper into the blackness of the building.
The midshipmen followed blindly; their eyes, unaccustomed to the
darkness, could see nothing. They knew from an occasional contact
with a wall that they were in a narrow passage and from the damp odor
they knew it must be some depth below the ground. Several times their
heavily shod feet slipped on the muddy floor, and occasionally they
could hear the tinkly drip of water. The passageway led gradually
downward, the dampness increasing.
Finally the girl stopped and the sound of the heavy breathing of the
four people filled the narrow limits of their surroundings.
“These are underground passages, built years ago during a threatened
uprising of the natives against the Spaniards,” Señorita Rodriguez
whispered. “This passage leads to the secret chamber of the ‘Sociedad
de Katipunan.’ To be present at a meeting the penalty for a non-member
is to take the oath or suffer death. Only the direst necessity has
brought me here to-night. I have no right to ask you, señores,” she
said pleadingly, “to take this great risk for my sake, and if you so
decide we can now turn back. Lopez, my father’s trusted patron, will go
with me.”
“We will go with you, señorita,” Phil answered without a second’s
hesitation. “What are we to see?” he asked, unable to control his
curiosity at the mystery of it all.
“Come, you shall discover for yourself,” she said as she moved forward,
her hand still in Phil’s, while Sydney held his companion by the coat
sleeve and Lopez, as noiseless as an Apache, brought up the rear. “The
meeting will not take place for some time, and meanwhile we shall have
time to talk.”
Silently they moved forward until presently, from the sound of their
footfalls, Phil knew that the walls had receded and that they had
entered a large chamber.
“The stairs, señor,” Maria whispered, and the lads found themselves
mounting earthen steps. Again their feet struck wooden boards and they
knew that they had ascended from the passage and were in a large room
directly over the one which they had just left.
“This is the old Spanish inquisition room,” the girl said in a low
voice, “and a fitting meeting-place for the Katipunan murderers. But
come, they may be here any moment.”
Phil admired the daring of this frail girl. She had led them into the
very nest of these traitorous outlaws, for it now dawned upon him what
was the true meaning of these meetings.
“Do they enter the same way as we have come?” he asked anxiously,
casting an apprehensive glance behind him.
“No,” Maria answered, a smile on her face as she felt the lad’s hand
tremble imperceptibly on her own. “We are not in the room; it is beyond
us, as you shall see soon. We are in a covered gallery which is secret
and known to but few even of the society. The passage through which
we came has not been used for years, and until last night was closed
with earth. Lopez has spent all day with some of his most trusty men
clearing it in order that we might pass.”
Phil cautiously peered about him, but his eyes could not penetrate
the darkness. He knew that his feet were on boards, and that his hand
rested upon a wall which was rough and dry. Then suddenly as if by a
flash of lightning a vivid picture of his surroundings was shown him.
“They are coming,” Maria whispered in a startled voice. “Lie down and
for your life do not speak.” The next second all was again blackness.
The lads and their companions had noiselessly thrown themselves down on
the floor and were holding their breath in an agony of suspense. The
cool handle of Phil’s revolver, which he had unconsciously drawn from
its holster, brought back his confidence. At least they would not die
without some injury to their enemy.
Again came the flash of light; it flickered and seemed on the point of
extinction, and then continued dimly. Phil recognized that this time
the match had not gone out in the room over which their gallery looked,
and that a candle was dimly burning. Then another and another candle
was lighted and little by little the great room was exposed to their
view.
Figures of men could be seen clustered about a table in the far end
of the hall, some seated in chairs, but most of them on the ground in
native fashion, while beyond the table was a niche in which an image
glittered. The midshipmen soon discovered that it was an exaggerated
emblem of the Katipunan society which they had seen on insurgent flags;
the sun within a flaming triangle, all of pure silver.
A noise of feet and guarded voices came to their ears as the room
slowly filled with men. As the light from the many candles shone upon
their faces the anxious watchers saw that each man was masked.
After an interminable interval of time all was hushed and a man arose
from a seat near the symbol of the society and beckoned one of the
others to approach.
Phil felt the girl beside him tremble violently, and give a sharp gasp
of pain.
“Garcia,” she breathed, “my father’s trusted friend.”
“Our unknown brother,” the leader said in Spanish, which Phil was to
learn was the accepted language of the society, “has been summoned to
join our society; his name is recorded secretly in the recording book;
his number is one thousand and ten.” The leader then drew from his
scabbard a sharp glistening bolo and circled it with the adroitness
of a juggler about the head of the newly enrolled member. Gradually
one after another of the masked natives arose, their keen-bladed bolos
held aloft, while in single file they moved slowly with a rhythmical
dancing step toward the silent “one thousand and ten.” As they advanced
a weird chant broke from twoscore throats. It was not loud, but the
volume filled the high vaulted chamber and lent an uncanny air to the
mysterious initiation. It seemed to Phil as he watched, his eyes
fairly bulging from their sockets, that the unfortunate man would
surely be severed into a thousand pieces by these fierce, savage
fanatics, but he stood silent, his arms folded across his breast, while
his eyes gleamed in exultant excitement.
Slowly the members danced by their new comrade and returned to their
seats.
Then the new member, by sign from the leader, advanced and prostrated
himself before the emblem.
“The sign of giving his life to the cause,” Maria whispered. Then she
stiffened and a stifled sob broke from between her clenched lips as the
voice of the speaker filled the room.
“Rodriguez has refused the summons. He is no longer our friend. He has
gone over to the despised Americans. Through him our men were attacked
and killed at Banate, and also at Binalbagan. He holds his servants
from joining our cause only through fear. Once he is removed they will
all join us.”
“It is all untrue!” Maria’s voice, clear, low, and distinct, sounded
through the room, and at once the assemblage was on its feet, gazing
distrustfully at each other. Phil’s hand had grasped the girl’s arm
with a grip of steel, fearing that in her indignation and anger she
would expose herself to the view of these twoscore traitors.