A DARING PLAN
Phil stood silently by, his mind occupied over the details of a daring
plan.
The exchange proposed by Espinosa was out of the question, even if
Colonel Martinez had surrendered, which he had not done up to the
present time; and until his sins in Luzon were forgiven Phil knew that
he preferred his liberty. But this threat against Tillotson’s life
worried Phil. Espinosa was sufficiently cruel to carry it out, he was
sure.
Leaving the group of officers, who were still pondering over the
contents of Espinosa’s communication, Phil went in search of Maria.
There were points in his plan which she could throw light upon.
He found her in the house, heavy-eyed with sorrow and loss of sleep,
but she greeted him with a smile and waited patiently until the room
was empty before signing him to speak, for she saw that he had
something of importance to communicate.
“How much dependence can we put upon Garcia as a guide?” he asked
eagerly. “I have a plan, and all depends upon whether he can be trusted
to lead us against Espinosa, if not willingly, then under intimidation.”
“Before they killed my father and carried away the treasure,” the girl
answered, a spark of excitement entering her dull eyes, “Espinosa and
Salas got the information necessary for their work from Garcia, bound
and helpless where your sailors had left him. They refused to liberate
him and hoped he would be killed by the Americans. You can be sure,”
she added, “that he will take keen pleasure in running his enemies to
earth.”
“And now for my favor from you,” the lad continued in a lower tone; “as
Garcia will take Lopez’s place as guide for the soldiers to the trail
up the mountain, I want twenty-five of your men whom you would trust
to the death, under the command of Lopez, to take O’Neil and me as
prisoners to Espinosa’s camp.”
The girl gave a low exclamation of surprised horror, regarding Phil
fixedly, half believing the lad was out of his mind.
“I mean it,” he exclaimed earnestly. “It’s the only chance we have
of saving Tillotson’s life. Your men must pretend to have deserted
after the death of their master,” he dropped his voice as he saw the
look of pain in Maria’s eyes at the mention of her father’s sad fate.
“Lopez will claim to have taken us prisoners and then deserted to the
insurgents. It’s a good plan,” he cried enthusiastically, “and is sure
to be successful.”
Maria paled at the mere thought of such rashness, but seeing Phil could
not be moved from his avowed intention, she gave her consent grudgingly.
The general was not so easily convinced. His natural and inherent
cautiousness could not be changed even under the combined persuasion
of the midshipman and his staff officers, Major Marble and Captain
Blynn, who were both enthusiastic over the conception of such a daring
strategy.
“The very impertinence of it will make it successful,” Major Marble
exclaimed. “They will not believe that one could be so rash as to
willingly place his life in danger.”
“You’ll have to stay with the gunboat,” Phil explained to Sydney, who
was visibly put out that he too could not be allowed to go. “I shall
take only O’Neil. The general has ordered that all the soldiers who can
be spared from the garrisons throughout the island be despatched to
rendezvous here and will need the ‘Mindinao’ to carry troops and shell
the stronghold from the river. If you find it possible take her through
the cañon; there is a trail on the other side from the westward. If you
are successful we shall have them between our two parties.”
That evening Maria and her small brother followed their father’s body
to his grave in the family cemetery. The general himself read the
solemn burial service and a company of American infantry fired three
volleys over the grave of the murdered patriot.
General Wilson established his field headquarters in the house of
mourning and before three o’clock of the next day the first of the
detachments of soldiers arrived and went into camp on the river slope.
“We shall have about one thousand rifles for the attack,” Captain
Blynn told the midshipmen, after Phil had unfolded to him and Major
Marble the details of his plan to rescue Lieutenant Tillotson, “and by
to-morrow afternoon they should all be assembled here. The general,”
he added, “is very much worked up over Espinosa’s threat, and realizes
that it is not an empty one, but he still refuses to allow you to take
this terrible chance.”
Within a short time Phil was summoned to the general’s room.
“I cannot allow you to take this risk,” he said kindly, a light of
admiration in his eyes. “Why should two American lives be jeopardized
to save one? And perhaps some will say that Lieutenant Tillotson does
not deserve such a sacrifice at your hands.”
“That makes me more anxious to take the risk,” Phil urged. “We did not
part friends, and I can’t help feeling that our quarrel has had some
part in his misfortune.”
Under the confiding influence of the general’s manner, Phil told of his
affair with Tillotson, doing his best to make a good case for his one
time enemy.
The general shook his head thoughtfully.
“It is very hard for me to allow you to undertake such a rash
adventure,” he answered, putting his hand affectionately on the
midshipman’s shoulder, “but war is war, and if pluck will bring
success, Tillotson’s life will be saved. Tell me now,” he added,
seating himself and motioning Phil to a chair, “how far you have worked
out the details of your plan, for every point must be covered; there
must be no loophole for failure. Can you expect that each of your
twenty-five men will keep the secret after they have mixed with the
enemy?”
Phil outlined each step as he had thought it out during the last
anxious twenty-four hours, while the general listened, his face grave
and thoughtful.
They would start after nightfall, and by sending men ahead to announce
their coming would be received by the insurgents with acclamation. They
would spend the next day at the camp and Lopez would endeavor to keep
his men from mixing with the enemy, and the next night the gunboat
and as many troops as the general could muster would lay siege to the
stronghold. The remainder Phil had not thought out. Chance alone
must decide the outcome, but he hoped to save Lieutenant Tillotson’s
life and their own, and maybe by Lopez and his men commanding the top
of the trail they could aid the American troops in their fight for
the stronghold. When the attack was made he would use Lopez’s men to
prevent Espinosa from carrying out his threat against Tillotson’s
life. The gunboat must use its fire against the fortifications, but be
careful to direct its shell to the left of the stronghold, for he hoped
that his own men would be at the right near the trail leading down the
precipice.
“There are a great many chances for failure,” the general said
thoughtfully as Phil finished, “but with your energy and perseverance I
believe you will win.” He shook the lad’s hand warmly in parting.
“I wish I could go with you,” Maria said sadly as Phil bade her
good-bye; “but you can put your full trust in Lopez. It was he who
betrayed the Katipunan society to me to save my father’s life. How he
got the information I do not know, but if his act were known his life
would be forfeited.”
Without ceremony Phil and O’Neil, their hands tied securely with ropes
made fast to their bodies and held in the hands of the make-believe
deserting natives, filed along the narrow trail leading parallel to the
fast flowing river. Two messengers had been sent ahead to notify the
insurgent leader of the joyful tidings of the important captures. Their
progress was rapid, and inside of three hours the house which had been
the scene of Phil’s and Maria’s strategy was reached. There the party
waited.
After what seemed an interminable time to the anxious prisoners, a
challenge suddenly broke the stillness of the dismal woods and Phil’s
old enemy, Colonel Salas, stood before him. A great joy shone from his
dark vengeful eyes as he beheld the bound prisoners.
“My chief will be delighted to receive such distinguished visitors,”
he laughed, kicking Phil viciously as he lay helpless upon the ground.
“That is for your cleverness of yesterday,” he snarled. “We’ll see you
are kindly treated. We shall give you all the refined initiations that
we can think of to make your stay with us pleasant and then----” He
stopped with a significant gesture.
“O’Neil,” Phil whispered after Colonel Salas had left him to join
Lopez, who had assembled his men ready to advance, “I am afraid we are
in for a pretty bad time of it. But if I ever get the opportunity I’ll
make that little brown piece of pomposity pay for that kick he gave me.”
“Well, sir,” O’Neil replied evasively, “I may have been in worse
situations--no doubt I have--but this one seems rather more
complicated. I think we’ll have many kicks and worse to pay back before
we can call our bodies our own and not footballs for these little brown
brothers to score with.”
After a rapid parley the party were again in motion. Phil and O’Neil
were roughly seized by two natives and forced ahead up the trail. Two
or three times Phil’s foot slipped into yawning holes at either side of
the trail, but each time he was dragged back to safety by the natives
behind him.
“This whole place is trapped,” O’Neil whispered, pointing to where his
foot had uncovered the top of a square hole some six feet deep, the
lantern carried by a man in front betraying to view the green bamboo
spears at the bottom.
Phil shivered as he gazed down on the pointed sticks as sharp as a
needle, and poisoned, he knew, with a deadly vegetable sap that would
kill within the hour.
“Be careful, Mr. Perry,” O’Neil cautioned in a low, anxious voice.
“These men know where the traps are, and will try to catch you if you
make a misstep--but they might fail,” he added with a shudder.
A halt was called suddenly as they moved through a densely wooded
section of the level trail, while several of Colonel Salas’ men moved
cautiously ahead and appeared to work quietly in the jungle. After a
few minutes they reappeared and signaled for the column to proceed.
“Spring traps,” O’Neil informed the midshipman. “They’ve detached them
from their springs. If we hadn’t known they were there one of us would
have caught his foot in a piece of innocent looking vine which would
have pulled a trigger and sent twenty or more spears across the trail
with force sufficient to penetrate a pine board.”
Phil half wished that he had not volunteered for this nerve-racking
ordeal. After all what did he owe Tillotson? Had not the army man tried
to injure him in every way? Yet the lad knew for that very reason he
had asked to be allowed to risk his own life to rescue him. Then he
thought suddenly of O’Neil. His stalwart form was just ahead of him,
dimly outlined in the darkness. Had he acted generously to this brave
and willing sailor?
“O’Neil, I am mighty sorry I brought you along,” he exclaimed suddenly.
O’Neil stopped in his tracks so suddenly that the two brown men bumped
their heads with some force against his back and cried out with
surprise.
“Why, sir!” he answered in an aggrieved tone. “Have I done anything to
displease you, sir?”
Phil laughed outright, only to be prodded by the sharp bayonets of his
captors for his incautiousness.
“If that’s the way you feel about it,” he said, “I am glad you are
here.”
Inside of ten minutes, conversation was impossible, for they needed
all their breath for the precipitous climb up the face of the cliff
leading to the top of the mountain. The natives on each side of the
prisoners pulled and pushed them up the jagged and rocky trail until
their bodies were bruised and their skin torn in many places by the
cruel cactus and “Spanish bayonet,” which seemed to have been planted
by nature as a further difficulty for those who dared to ascend the
secret trail to the insurgent stronghold.
After many rests, out of breath, footsore, bleeding and tired, the top
was reached and with scant courtesy O’Neil and Phil were thrown into a
nipa shack, where they fell unceremoniously on top of a sleeping human
being who awakened with a cry of alarm and fear, striking at them with
his manacled hands.
“It’s Lieutenant Tillotson,” O’Neil exclaimed gladly, as he rolled away
to the farthest side of the small hut, to put himself out of reach of
the startled prisoner.
“Who are you?” came from the figure, in a weak voice. “Yes, I am
Lieutenant Tillotson. Tell me I’m not dreaming. Didn’t I hear a white
man’s voice?”
[Illustration: _UP THE FACE OF THE CLIFF_]
Phil could see him dimly by the light of the camp-fire outside. The man
had been completely cowed. What terrible torture had been inflicted to
cause him to become such an abject figure, groveling before them, his
voice hollow, and in his eyes a light of unreasonable fear?
“It is Midshipman Perry and O’Neil from the gunboat, Tillotson,” the
lad whispered. “We hope to save you if you will keep quiet and do just
what we tell you.” Phil could have wept in pity at the sight of the
physical wreck before him. He was shocked at the sight. Tillotson’s
eyes were dull and the face empty of hope.
“You don’t know what you are saying,” he answered in a monotonous
voice. “No one can be saved who is brought to this place. Death is the
one avenue of escape. Oh! No one knows of the tortures I have endured
from that fiend’s hands.” Then his face lit up for a second as he
raised himself from the ground and stared at Phil, who had approached
and stood looking down pityingly upon him. “How can you save me? Oh,
tell me the truth. Are you not prisoners also?”
Phil seated himself by the side of the unnerved man and begged him to
be calm and reserve his strength. After a few moments he told him of
the plan and his hopes for success.
“Let us pray for success,” the captive cried weakly. “I had determined
to throw myself off the cliff rather than undergo another day’s
torture.”
Tillotson talked for an hour, gruesomely dwelling on the details of his
horrible treatment by Espinosa. He told of his mission to the spy, with
the letter which Phil had taken from the dead messenger at Binalbagan.
The message was in Espinosa’s own handwriting, and warned the attackers
of the gunboat’s approach.
“I see now that I have been repaid for my stupidity,” he moaned. “I
believed that I could unmask him and earn the thanks of the general,
but first I wished to get from him a full confession and implicate
his accomplices. I showed him the letter and told him I would call at
his house after visiting the sentries.” The overwrought officer broke
down and sobbed for several minutes before continuing. “I was a child
in his hands; I did not know his power. His followers trapped me and
carried me away by water, bringing me to this awful place. Every day
some new torture is devised for me. To-day I was suspended by my neck
with only my toes on the ground. That was the worst so far. I don’t
know what it will be to-morrow,” he ended with a shudder.
Phil tried to console him as best he could, but a great fear had
entered his thoughts. If this terrible punishment had been meted out
to Tillotson, what would the treacherous and cruel Espinosa devise for
him? Surely something many, many times more horrible.