A FILIPINO MARTYR
Phil and Sydney were hard pushed to keep up with the native as he
spurred his horse forward over the dark road.
“The ranch is being attacked!” Lopez cried in a voice of fear. “My poor
master will surely be killed!”
Phil’s thoughts were only for the frail girl whom he had begun to look
upon as his own especial charge. He knew the cruelty of the Filipinos
when once their anger was aroused and he believed that her part in
Espinosa’s betrayal must now be known to that treacherous leader.
Probably Colonel Salas himself formed a part of the attacking force,
and the lad thought fearfully of the vengeance he would take upon the
helpless girl if she fell into his hands. As they approached the ranch,
the volume of fire increased alarmingly.
“They are in force!” Phil exclaimed, his heart sinking within him as
he urged his tired mount forward.
The ranch with its surrounding orchard of fruit trees now lay just
below them and the white road winding down the hill glistened in the
dim moonlight. Tongues of flame darted here and there from the shadows
of trees and shrub, even close to the house itself, while further in
the background toward the river a line of flame resembling fireflies
on a summer evening told him the soldiers of Rodriguez were stubbornly
resisting the main attack from their solidly built trenches. As they
plunged madly down the hill road, his alert eyes tried to disentangle
the situation. He saw many moving figures flitting through the trees,
the moonlight glinting on their bright bladed bolos, while toward
the river a long line of flashing rifles told of a rescue party
approaching, from whom the flitting figures were fleeing.
Three white figures appeared suddenly from behind a tree close to the
retreating bolo-men and the lad’s heart gave a great leap of joy as he
recognized even in the dim light the stalwart figure of O’Neil.
Then as he charged forward with his companions close beside him,
Maria’s cry made his heart sink and at the same instant he saw
the figure of a man emerge from the house and dart away after the
retreating bolo-men.
“Where are we needed?” a familiar voice shouted from the company which
had now halted at the house, and the anxious lads, after firing their
revolvers in vain at the fleeing figure, were shaking Captain Blynn’s
hand.
“In the trenches, sir,” O’Neil volunteered eagerly. “They are hard
pushed, sir.”
Captain Blynn gave a hurried order and his company of American soldiers
rushed eagerly toward the thick of the firing, followed by O’Neil and
his men. All were eager to again try conclusions with the elusive foe.
Phil and Sydney followed the anxious Lopez to the house. As they
entered the hall they were horrified to find everything in confusion.
The furniture was wrecked in many places, and there were blood-stains
on floor and wall, showing there had been a terrible struggle. A light
was burning dimly in an alcove. In the corner lay the white form of
an American sailor mutilated and dead. Further up the stairs they saw
the other poor sailor breathing his last. Clearing the body with a
bound the lads gazed with sinking heart upon the dead face of Señor
Rodriguez, lying on the floor of his bedroom, while all about him was
confusion and ruin.
“Where is the girl?” Sydney asked in a faint, fearful voice.
“Señorita!” Phil called hopelessly.
A faint sob came to their ears from an inner room. Rushing in they
found the girl on the floor, her hands and feet securely bound. About
her mouth a gag had been placed, but it had fallen, leaving the mouth
free.
They quickly released her and placed her tenderly on the bed.
“She managed to get off the gag and scream,” Phil whispered with
admiration, “before she fainted. Bring that light, Syd, she may be
hurt.”
The light was soon brought, and the lads were relieved to find that she
was unharmed.
Lopez meanwhile had stayed at the bedside of his dead master, moaning
piteously. The noise caught the girl’s ear as she awaked from her
stupor under the administration of the midshipmen.
“It was Espinosa himself,” she exclaimed in an anguish of sorrow.
“They forced the door and killed the brave sailors. My father defended
himself but he is no match for five men. Espinosa struck him down from
behind. I ran to guard little Juan, but they caught me and bound me.”
“The money is gone too,” groaned Lopez. This to him seemed as great a
sorrow as the death of his master.
“They lowered it out the window,” Maria said. She entered her father’s
room, walking unsteadily between the two midshipmen, and knelt in
prayer before her father’s couch.
Phil’s eyes fell before those of the girl as she arose dry-eyed and
calm. He saw the anguish in her face, however, and vowed that he would
lighten her task wherever it lay in his power.
“Is Juan safe?” Lopez asked suddenly, his mind at last grasping the
horrible calamity which had fallen on his master’s house and realizing
that his first duty was with the living.
The girl nodded.
“Inez brought the alarm that the house was surrounded. She hid the
boy and herself. Espinosa searched for him and his intention was to
carry us both away as his prisoners.” Then a sudden fear came into her
voice and her eyes flashed with excited terror. “He said that Colonel
Martinez had been killed. Is it so?”
The lads shook their heads.
“We have no news, Maria,” Phil said kindly. “No, it cannot be so. It
was but prompted by this cruel man to taunt you.”
She sighed hopefully.
“If he had known of this attack and was alive he would have prevented
it,” she exclaimed suddenly, her hope turning to dejection.
While they were talking the fusillade slowly diminished and soon ceased
altogether and in a short time Captain Blynn’s voice was heard in the
hall below.
In the large living-room the army and navy men sat, until the daylight
sifted in through the shell windows, talking of the perplexing
situation, while Maria was made to go to bed and sleep. The doctor who
accompanied the captain regarded her with eyes of grave concern.
“She must not be overexcited. She is outwardly calm but her heart acts
queerly. It may snap at any moment,” he had told the lads.
“I have received a long letter from your friend, Colonel Martinez,” the
captain exclaimed to the midshipmen after disposing of a steaming cup
of coffee. “He said he would willingly surrender to General Wilson if
the price on his head were removed, and he sent me papers and documents
which I have already sent to the governor-general in Manila which prove
Martinez’s innocence of certain crimes committed in Luzon and implicate
a Filipino now high in the good graces of the government.”
Phil thoughtfully sent Lopez to Maria to tell her of Captain Blynn’s
news and then gave Captain Blynn the story of the recent tragedy on the
floor above.
“Poor Rodriguez,” the captain murmured. “If he had taken the other
side he would now be alive. The money,” he added, his face troubled--“I
am too late. I promised him I would come, but I was delayed by
important matters with the general.”
“A search at once,” Phil exclaimed rising hastily from his chair; “they
can’t have gone far with those heavy chests.”
Lopez smiled grimly.
“Señor, it would be impossible to follow them. By now the treasure is
either carefully hidden or else in a banka hurrying up the river to
Espinosa’s stronghold. We must capture Espinosa; where he is the money
will be also.”
“Quite right, Lopez,” Captain Blynn agreed. “It’s not pleasant to hike
in this country at night either, young man,” he added to Phil, whose
sudden show of excitement in the prospect of another fight had died
down; “every trail is trapped, and I don’t relish a green bamboo spear
through me even for all old Rodriguez’s money. Espinosa undoubtedly has
planned this attack carefully and in the darkness we would simply be
wasting our time and be losing sleep.
“Some of our friend Espinosa’s plotting, in the light of this affair,
is now quite plain. Rodriguez was in his way, and so is Martinez, but
I don’t exactly see why; and this attack was made easy through his
winning of Garcia, the trusted friend of Rodriguez. But how did he
learn of this money?”
“Why,” Phil exclaimed, a scowl on his face, “Lopez tells me that Garcia
alone knew of its existence and coveted it, and readily persuaded
Espinosa to help him obtain it and share it. With that amount of money
they can make this war very difficult for us or they can escape with
their booty to Hongkong.”
“Well,” said the captain yawning outright, “I must get some sleep. The
bridge is clear; I’ll wait here until you bring up the gunboat. The
general is coming himself to look over the ground. We’ve had reports
that the rebel army is massing at Matiginao, where supplies for a year
have been collected.
“We’re going to have the biggest fight in the history of the war,” he
added in a sleepy voice as he lay full length on the wicker lounge. “By
the way, old man Tillotson promises all kinds of rewards to any one
who will rescue his son. He’s coming down himself--sailed from Manila
the day after he got the news.”
Although the midshipmen and their men would have liked nothing better
than to follow Captain Blynn’s example for a few hours’ nap, they felt
that the startling news that the entire rebel army was collecting
upon Matiginao made it imperative for them to leave the situation at
the Rodriguez ranch in the hands of Captain Blynn and return to their
gunboat. So far their work had not been crowned with success. True,
they had exposed a traitor, but in doing so the American soldiers had
acquired a new and sagacious enemy in Espinosa. The remaining members
of the Katipunan society had taken flight, and had fled before the
vengeance of Captain Blynn whom they all hated and feared. Rodriguez
had been killed, and enough gold to continue the war indefinitely had
been taken almost before their eyes, and they had been powerless to
prevent it. This was not a pleasant retrospective dream in which to
indulge as they watched in silence the even breathing of the complacent
army man.
“We seem so powerless against them,” Sydney complained. “Our enemies
are everywhere. One moment the natives about us seem friendly, and the
next they are sticking us in the back with knives. When we start on an
expedition the enemy know just how many men we have and where we are
going, so there can be no surprise, while they always take us unawares.”
“But now, it’s different since Espinosa and the Katipunans have been
forced to leave Palilo,” Phil exclaimed. “In the last few days Captain
Blynn says our soldiers in the provinces have surprised several bands
of insurgents. So you see they have ceased to be kept posted by spies
at headquarters.
“Espinosa is collecting all his men in Matiginao with the idea of
safety and a hope of being able to capture Palilo before the two extra
regiments arrive, but General Wilson will checkmate him by withdrawing
half his men to surround him in his mountain stronghold. Now we have
some chance; before, they simply knew when we were coming, and if they
couldn’t meet us with three times our number they kept out of the way.
But come,” he added suddenly jumping to his feet, “we are wasting
time.”
The Americans returned down the river in their cutter, this time the
midshipmen taking turns at the oars, and it was nearly eight o’clock
before they stood once more on the deck of the “Mindinao.” The bodies
of the dead sailors were sent at once to the army hospital for burial.
“Major Marble has been here twice to see you, sir,” the quartermaster
informed Phil; “he said he’d return again in an hour.”
“Breakfast first,” Phil shouted to the Chinese steward, who came aft,
smiling blandly at the return of his officers, steaming coffee in hand.
While they were still at table Major Marble arrived, and was told all
the news of the river.
“The audacity of those beggars,” he exclaimed, “attacking in force
within ten miles of headquarters. It’s a shame, the few men we are
allowed to cover this entire country. The general sees now that what
is needed is concentration, but if we withdraw our entire garrisons
from the towns it will mean that the innocent people there who have
befriended us will suffer.”
“I suppose you are right, major,” Phil said thoughtfully, “but in war
it seems to me that one can’t stop to consider the feelings of innocent
people where the success of the cause is concerned. Espinosa has twice
as many troops as the general, and they are fighting on their home
soil. They know every footpath. Some are not armed with a rifle but
are far more dangerous to us with their bolos and fanatical bravery.
We did not see his stronghold, I am glad to say,” he smiled grimly at
the words, “but we know that one thousand men held it successfully
against five times that number of Spaniards a generation ago. From what
I have seen I say concentrate every available man and crush this fellow
Espinosa before he gets any stronger.”
Major Marble nodded his head in agreement with the views of the young
navy man.
“If we could always do what our military training dictates,” he
answered sadly, “this war might not have begun.”
“I shall go up the river in an hour,” Phil announced, “and if the
general wishes I shall be honored to have him on board.”
“The general is waiting anxiously to know that,” the major replied
promptly; “that was my mission here, but your exploits so interested me
I had nearly forgotten my mission.”
Within the hour the “Mindinao,” flying the blue flag with one white
star at her main truck in honor of her distinguished passenger, General
Wilson, cast off from the dock and steamed up the river.
“That was a fine piece of work,” Phil exclaimed in admiration, as
he examined the cleverly constructed drawbridge built within the
twenty-four hours by the army engineers. Its width was just sufficient
to admit the “Mindinao.”
Phil stood on the bridge beside the man at the wheel, piloting the
gunboat through the ever-changing shoals, while O’Neil in person heaved
the lead in the chains, calling out the depth in feet.
After leaving the town the river ran through several miles of nipa
swamp land, the home of the carnivorous land crab, the crocodile and
the bandit Filipino. The gunboat continued cautiously, Phil keeping
the sharp bow within the deep water, sometimes so close to the thickly
wooded shore that he could have reached out and touched with his hand
the overhanging trees.
Before noon the “Mindinao” had anchored off Rodriguez’s ranch and
the general and party were landed to view the scene of the recent
fight. The shore was lined with curious and excited natives, those of
Rodriguez’s men, who had been spared from the fierce attack. To them
the presence of the gunboat so far up the river was almost a miracle.
They pointed knowingly at the big guns and clapped their hands in
savage joy at the thought of what they could do against the enemy.
Captain Blynn had taken the situation in hand and had distributed the
soldiers of his company to reinforce the native companies. A feeling of
relief was now manifested by all. They were confident that no attack
would be attempted while the gunboat’s guns frowned menacingly out
there in the river.
“That’s worth a regiment,” Captain Blynn exclaimed as he saluted the
general and helped him from the “Mindinao’s” cutter to the bamboo
pier, pointing to the graceful white ship, standing sharply against the
dark background of jungle grass and banana trees. As they walked toward
the house Captain Blynn dropped behind and took Phil’s arm confidingly.
“After you had gone my men found a native tied up in all sorts of
sailor knots with silk neckerchiefs, just under Rodriguez’s window.
Señorita Rodriguez recognized him at once as a former friend of her
father who she said had betrayed him. He was pretty well frightened
and to save his skin, for he believes we are going to kill him, he has
offered to show us the trail to Espinosa’s stronghold.”
Phil shook his head in mystery.
“I don’t know how he got there, unless----” He turned and called O’Neil
from the boat. “O’Neil, do you know anything about a native securely
bound with sailor neckerchiefs?”
“Sure, sir. It was the one that crawled out of the window,” he
explained hastily; “the young lady saw his face spying on her father.
His name is Garcia.”
“Do you know,” the captain said knowingly, “that he is the only
prisoner captured? There wasn’t a single wounded man in sight this
morning. It isn’t the custom of the country, you see.”
Phil involuntarily shuddered. “How callous one becomes,” he thought,
“in war time. Think of maybe a hundred wounded men cruelly butchered by
brother natives.”
Before they reached the house the party was startled by a rifle-shot
from behind them. Glancing about quickly they saw a large canoe manned
by natives appear from behind the trees and paddle directly for the
gunboat; a large white flag flew prominently from the bow of the boat.
Phil and Captain Blynn walked quickly back and sent O’Neil and his
cutter out to learn the meaning of the flag of truce. The general and
the rest of the party halted and waited, eager to see what this strange
move might mean.
The boat came quickly back and Phil took a letter from a native’s hand
scanning it with beating heart. “For the general,” he said.
All watched the general break the seal and fumble with his glasses.
It seemed ages before he finished the few short lines and handed the
letter to Captain Blynn.
“Lieutenant Tillotson is my prisoner. I will surrender him safely in
exchange for the deserter Colonel Martinez. If you attack me I shall
have him shot.
“ESPINOSA.”