A NIGHT OF ALARM
After the midshipmen had ridden away Maria returned to the large
living-room to bid her father good-night. A new pleasure had come
into her life, and what was more natural than that she should wish to
share it with him? These frank, young Americans had proved themselves
to be of a quality which she had not thought existed outside of the
story-books of her childhood. She believed that in their friendship
her father’s difficulties would melt away. Juan Rodriguez, interested
as he had always been in the political trials of his country together
with the management of his vast estates, from which he had reaped great
riches, like most Filipinos of the upper class, had treated his only
daughter more as a heaven-sent treasure rather than as a daughter to
confide in and in whom to seek womanly sympathy in his perplexities.
Her principal care had been for her brother, Juan, the pride of the
old man’s life. Upon this seven-year-old boy the greater part of his
affection was centred. Maria was not at all sleepy, and, seeing a light
in her father’s bedroom, she slipped in quietly to pour out her heart
to the stern but kindly parent.
On the threshold she stopped in startled amazement. Her slippered feet
had made no sound and the door as she pushed it open caused him to
glance up in annoyed surprise. She saw her father on his knees in the
corner before several heavy iron-bound chests, and their opened covers
displayed to her anxious eyes a great wealth of gold and silver coins.
More money than her young imagination had ever dreamed of.
As Rodriguez’s eyes encountered the startled look in his daughter’s
face, an expression of stern annoyance came into his own as he snapped
the huge lids shut and rose to his feet.
“Why do you keep all that money here?” she asked anxiously.
Her father looked worried at the question.
“All the money I have is in those chests, daughter,” he answered in a
low voice. “It has been buried, but when Garcia deserted me, Lopez
and I dug it up and brought it in here. I fear these native banks, and
if I should be robbed by the insurgents I would leave you and Juan
penniless. My lands are valuable, but these,” pointing to the chests,
“contain the most of my wealth. My ambition is to take my children
abroad, away from this turmoil and strife where they can see the world
and be educated in a way befitting the blood in their veins.”
Maria put her arms about the old man’s neck and kissed him fondly.
“Father,” she began, her eyes smiling with happiness, “I came in to
speak to you of the two young men who have just left us. Tell them of
your troubles and I know they will be able to solve the difficulty.”
Rodriguez smiled sadly.
“Your knights, child, I see have already been endowed with magic
powers,” he answered lovingly, patting her smooth black hair, “but we
have a cruel and unscrupulous enemy against us, and I am sure by now
he knows of the existence of this treasure. Garcia and I were the only
ones who knew where it was buried, and I trusted him as a brother but
he has deserted and betrayed me. Lopez is from the people, but his
honesty and loyalty are beyond doubt. Captain Blynn knows that this
money is here and has promised to send a company of soldiers to take it
to safety in the government vaults at Palilo. I had hoped he would be
here before now,” he ended in a worried tone.
“Why bury it?” Maria exclaimed. “Our American friends would gladly take
it on the gunboat, where it will be perfectly safe.”
Rodriguez’s face lighted up.
“I will ask them to-morrow,” she added as she kissed her father in
parting, “and now don’t lose any sleep over your troublesome gold.” She
turned, a happy smile on her face, and glided noiselessly to the door,
to enter her own room; she stopped and the smile froze on her face and
the fear within her made her faint; she clutched reeling at the door
and steadied herself. The face of a man had been pressed against the
dark glass of the window in her room, and she knew instantly that he
had seen through the opened door the three coveted chests of treasure.
She passed her hands across her face in horror, hoping that it was but
a trick of the imagination, conjured up by her anxiety. But no, the
face had been too vividly distinct. As she had entered the darkness
of her room, for an instant the light from her father’s lamp had been
reflected on the intruder’s face, and in that terrible moment she had
recognized her father’s former confidant, but now his enemy, Garcia.
She stood panic-stricken, at a loss how to act. To give the alarm might
insure her father’s death. Perhaps the enemy had made their way within
and were at that very moment concealed in the great vacant rooms, lying
hidden in the darkness waiting until the household were all asleep,
and then murder and robbery would be their aim. If she told her father
now, she knew that he would fearlessly and at once give the alarm and
call for his armed men to protect him. Then a thought made the blood
freeze in her veins, as her active mind sought for the means Garcia
had employed to pass her father’s sentries. There could be but one
solution. Garcia had sowed dissension among her father’s retainers. How
many of his men could now be trusted? While she stood in terrified
silence, a loud knock on the outside door caused her young body to
tremble in mortal terror. What could it mean? Who would come at this
hour in the morning? She saw her father make ready to answer, for the
servants all slept in a house adjoining.
“I’ll open it,” she cried, trying to disguise the tremble in her voice,
and with shaking limbs she crept down the stairs. Holding her breath,
she listened. Then she drew back the bolts in trembling haste and threw
wide the door.
O’Neil and his tired companions, the boat’s crew, stood in open-eyed
wonder as this wild-eyed but now joyous girl dragged them inside and
again barred the door.
“What’s the trouble, señorita?” O’Neil asked in calm surprise.
She put her finger to her lips and led them into the dining-room, where
the remnants of the midshipmen’s supper still remained. The five men
fell upon the food ravenously while Maria stood by, fear and hope in
turns showing in her dark eyes.
She told them of the trip up the river and the escape from the ladrone
leader, then of the valuable treasure in her father’s room and the
face she had seen at the window. After she had finished she watched
O’Neil’s face as if it were an oracle and she a petitioner before it.
The boatswain’s mate ate for several minutes in silence.
“Where are your men posted?” he asked suddenly.
“They are divided into four companies, one at each of the outposts,”
she answered.
“Does any one except your father and Colonel Martinez know of Garcia’s
treachery?” he asked.
“Yes, two, Lopez and Lukban,” she replied, “and they are both away from
the ranch. Lopez has just gone to Palilo with our friends.”
“That’s bad,” the sailor exclaimed, a cloud on his otherwise
expressionless face. “Then your men believe that Garcia is still their
friend? He has, of course, accomplices among them and his object surely
must be the treasure. He has discovered that it has been dug up, and
now knows it is in your father’s room. I do not believe there is any
immediate danger unless at the same time the insurgents are to make an
attack in force.”
The girl listened eagerly, nodding her head in agreement with the
wise words of this cool and calm American. O’Neil’s companions,
understanding no Spanish, had finished their meal and were dozing
contentedly in their chairs.
“Have you a servant you can trust?” O’Neil asked after a moment’s
thought.
“My maid, Inez,” she answered.
“All right; give her a revolver and tell her to go to each company and
quietly wake the men and tell them to get ready immediately to repel an
attack. If she is in danger of being captured by a lurking enemy tell
her to use the revolver. I’ll leave two men with you and your father,
while I’ll take two to try to bag this Garcia.”
Maria listened eagerly, hope rising as the sailor clearly outlined his
plan of action. She was sure Inez could be depended upon. Quietly she
flew up the stairs. As she passed her father’s room she saw that he had
retired, but had left the light burning for her. She stopped a second,
listening to his easy breathing. He was asleep. Then she went through
her own room, a chill passing through her as her eyes turned in fear
toward the window.
She took hold of Inez’s arm and shook her into wakefulness. The old
woman, who had nursed Maria as a baby, sat up rubbing the sleep out of
her eyes.
“Keep quiet,” Maria whispered in a commanding voice. “We are all in
danger of being murdered. I want you to take this revolver and go to
each outpost, tell the officer on guard that it is Señor Rodriguez’s
order to form his men to repel an attack at once. If you fail fire the
revolver as a signal to us.”
The old woman rose to her feet trembling violently. She counted her
beads, murmuring her prayers, but there was never a word of fear or
hesitancy.
“Good, Inez,” Maria whispered, kissing the old wrinkled face. The girl
saw it was set determinedly, yet a great and unknown terror looked out
of her appealing eyes. But the girl knew that she would be the safest
messenger. No one else could be depended upon like Inez, and she would
sacrifice her old life willingly to help her beloved master.
When Maria again entered the dining-room O’Neil had turned out the lamp
and was ready to carry out his daring plan.
“Two of my men will remain here with you, señorita,” he told Maria as
she held open the door. “We’ll soon bag this fellow Garcia, if he’s
still hanging about.”
O’Neil, followed cautiously by his two men, walked slowly about the
great house. As noiselessly as Indians they crept within its shadow,
straining their eyes toward the portico and covered porches above their
heads. There still remained the light in the room above where the girl
and her two protectors were doubtless now guarding her father and his
treasure. While O’Neil stood listening eagerly, a shadow crossed the
windows; it moved slowly inch by inch. The house was silent. Off to his
left O’Neil could hear a babble of excited voices and the rattle of
military accoutrements. Inez’s warning had been given and the native
soldiers were hastening to their stations to repel an enemy. The
shadow slowly crossed and disappeared and then the light was suddenly
extinguished. O’Neil was about to seek further when a noise from above
arrested his attention. He recognized at once that a sash was being
opened slowly. Then as he watched a dark figure appeared and dropped
noiselessly to the porch roof a few feet below the window. Quietly it
lowered itself to the edge of the roof and then with the agility of an
acrobat or a sailor climbed down the post near which the boatswain’s
mate and his men were standing. The next moment two powerful arms
enfolded it and a cry of fear was promptly stifled.
Then from the dark shadow of the woods to the northward came a volley
of musketry, followed by the war-cry of the bolo-man.
Hastily binding their prisoner with their neckerchiefs, the sailors
flung him on to the porch and rushed to join the defenders scarcely
four hundred yards away. Rodriguez had carefully laid out his plan of
defense, and before the attacking enemy could come to a hand to hand
fight, over three hundred yards of cleared land must be traversed.
As O’Neil and his men reached the trenches where the native soldiers
were excitedly firing blindly into the night, he could see a bobbing
line of men rapidly running across this open space, firing as they
advanced. Hastily surveying his surroundings, he saw that on one flank
was the river defended by a company of men and on the flank away from
the river was still another company. The excited native officers were
shouting orders to their men, the purport of which O’Neil could but
guess. The bobbing figures seemed in vast numbers and they advanced
rapidly in spite of the fire from the trenches. Suddenly the company
from the river bank left its post and came at double time to the middle
of the line of defense. O’Neil and his men had seized a rifle each
from lifeless hands and were elbow to elbow--vociferously haranguing
the men, cautioning them to aim at the constantly moving enemy. Before
they could realize its significance, a line of men arose suddenly from
the short grass, only a few score of yards in front of the trenches,
to which point they had crawled unobserved, while the defenders had
been firing at the visible enemy. The next second this avalanche of
naked humanity had cleared the intervening yards and were hacking at
the surprised defenders with their sharp bolos. Their friends in their
rear still kept up a brisk fire and many of the bolo-men suffered by
it. O’Neil suddenly found himself occupied by three fanatics bent upon
his destruction, while his companions near him were in as perilous
a position. Throwing away his empty rifle he drew his revolver and
fired unerringly at the nearest native. Then seizing the fallen man’s
bolo he rushed upon his other two assailants. So fierce had been the
onslaught of the bolo-men that they had surged into and even beyond the
rifle-pits, leaving a trail of destruction in their path.
The bolo-men, now at close quarters with those in the trenches, made
good use of their keen-bladed knives, but Rodriguez’s men, familiar
with the method of attack of these fanatics, appeared to flee, and then
turning shot their would-be pursuers down by the score. O’Neil and his
companions were in these few exciting minutes many times in peril of
their lives but soon the last of the attacking horde lay gasping on the
grass behind the intrenchment and the sailors and their dusky allies
were again in comparative security awaiting grimly the final attack of
the bobbing figures some hundreds of yards in their front, from whose
direction a hail of bullets whistled incessantly. O’Neil felt himself
all over hardly believing that he had escaped unscathed. The sailor
during his many years of service had never seen a fight more desperate.
He had frequently heard of the insurgent method of employing bolo-men;
using their riflemen as a screen, the practically unarmed horde, who
believed that their “Anting-Anting” charms rendered them invulnerable,
crawling snake-like, unobserved beyond their firing line until they
reached the rifle-pits of their enemy. Now he felt sure the attack on
the ranch would fail. Rodriguez’s natives had successfully weathered
the bolo rush, which they had learned to fear most. He did not know the
numbers of the attackers, but if they could be held off until morning
the soldiers who had been promised from Palilo to guard Rodriguez’s
treasure would surely be there to turn the tide in their favor. By the
fire from the trenches surrounding the ranch house on all sides except
that covered by the river, beyond which was an impenetrable swamp,
he knew that their line had not been broken. With a lighter heart
he counseled the natives near him to be careful of their ammunition,
setting them an example by firing deliberately only when a target
native exposed himself in the clearing in front of them. So much
occupied were those in the trenches that they failed to see several
great canoes land near the pier, and their occupants in single file
noiselessly steal toward the ranch house.
Again and again the insurgents made their onslaught, but each time were
received unflinchingly and driven back in confusion across the cleared
ground, many being left dead or dying on the field.
A disheveled, terrified figure came running from the house toward the
trenches; it glanced about wildly seeking some one and then threw
itself at O’Neil’s feet, clasping his legs tightly, almost upsetting
him among the stiffening bodies of the dead on the floor of the trench.
In the dim light he recognized the woman Inez who had courageously
spread the alarm among the native soldiers and her incoherent words
filled the sailor’s heart with dire forebodings.
“Oh, señor, save my master,” she cried; “he is in mortal danger.”
O’Neil bent down and unclasped the woman’s hands and lifted her to her
feet, but her body crumpled and the American saw with a sob of horror
that Inez had done her last service to the Rodriguez family; a bolo
cut on her old body had claimed her among the victims slain in this
unnecessary war.
The boatswain’s mate laid the woman’s body aside and with a score
of willing men started on a run for the house. Half-way there they
stopped precipitously, hardly believing their eyes, a great fear in
their hearts, for from the river there came a noiseless band of men,
dim shadows under the gloom of the trees. O’Neil counted them as their
silhouettes crossed a vista in the trees, and his hopes died within
him. Here was a new enemy, striking from the rear. The men in the
trenches could not leave their positions; to do so would allow many
hundreds of the insurgents to sweep the ranch.
“Forward!” he cried; “we must reach the ranch house first.”
He saw that this was their only hope to save the inmates.
Then a cry of joy leaped from his lips as tongues of flame leaped from
the vicinity of the house, directed upon the advancing men from the
river. He heard an order given sharply in the English tongue and a
volley shattered the darkness asunder.
“American soldiers!” he cried jubilantly.
O’Neil and his men had meanwhile circled away from the river in hopes
of making a rush for an entrance; now with sudden consternation O’Neil
saw that the appearance of the soldiers from the river would place
him in the line of retreat of those now surrounding the ranch house.
Selecting the protection of a tree trunk he called upon his men to do
likewise. He heard the order “Charge” given in the silvery peals of a
bugle and the next moment the terrified natives were fleeing directly
toward him, the hindmost slashing with their bolos those in front of
them in their mad haste to seek safety. Then the drumming of hoof-beats
was heard and three horsemen appeared suddenly from the night,
emptying their revolvers as they came into the fleeing savages.
A woman’s scream pierced the night and the figure of a man silently
dropped from the roof and disappeared in the darkness.