THE ESCAPED OUTLAW
Lukban was the first to recover from the stunning news that Espinosa
had, by a miracle, escaped out of the Americans’ hands when all outlets
were supposed to have been covered.
“He doesn’t dare stay in Kapay,” the native exclaimed after Phil had
explained to the general the manner of his escape. “The natives fear
him, but without his followers and with the incumbrance of Rodriguez’s
treasure, the dangers he must face will make him do his utmost to leave
the island.”
General Wilson listened intently, his eyes wandering over the
victorious battle-field behind him where Captain Blynn’s men were
quietly disarming the now docile natives.
“I fear we cannot stop him now,” General Wilson said disappointedly,
“but I suppose we should be satisfied with our victory. This means the
end of the war on Kapay.”
Lukban had turned and was earnestly engaged in conversation with Lopez,
and then he asked several eager questions of Garcia, who had joined the
group. Finally he turned to General Wilson, his black eyes snapping
with renewed eagerness.
“Lopez wishes to follow him,” he exclaimed excitedly. “He will take his
hundred men, who are only too anxious to see him captured and punished
for his many crimes, and especially for the murder of Señor Rodriguez.
If he is pressed closely he will make for the nearest point of escape
which by the trail is Banate. This Garcia assures me was his intention
if he was defeated. Garcia wishes to go with Lopez, and he can arrange
a signal by fires on the hill behind the swamps to be seen by the
gunboat at sea. The gunboat must go down the river at once and at sea
await the signal. Espinosa must attempt his escape by proa to Megras.
It is only fifty miles away and if he reaches there he will be safe for
the time among his friends living on that island.”
Phil’s face suddenly beamed in smiles as Lukban’s plan slowly unfolded
before him. Highly delighted, he shook hands enthusiastically with the
speaker, until the latter cried out in pain from the well meant but
rough show of appreciation.
“Major Marble and I will return with you at once,” General Wilson added
quietly to Phil after he had in but a few words approved the proposed
plan. “Blynn can settle the question of prisoners. I’d like to have
Espinosa behind bars before I wire to Manila giving them this news.”
Phil solemnly told of the sad fate of Lieutenant Tillotson and the
general shook his head mournfully.
“Maybe it is better so,” he whispered half to himself, but to Phil,
standing close by, these words from the old soldier’s heart came
distinctly.
A detail of men carried the body of the dead officer across the
battle-field, and as they passed solemnly through the joyful troops who
had collected to cheer the white-haired veteran, the soldiers became
suddenly silent as their eyes fell upon the stretcher and were told the
identity of that figure underneath the flag. None had reverenced the
officer in life, but in death all were anxious to render respect.
Phil told the general of the pitiful plight of Lieutenant Tillotson,
and of the cruel manner of his death, and generously praised the
doubtful courage of the army man.
“It’s a glorious end for a soldier,” General Wilson murmured. “I have
always felt that I could welcome it, and now,” he added disappointedly,
“I shall probably die in my bed like an ordinary citizen. My career is
almost over; in another year I shall have left active service behind.”
While the general and his party climbed down the difficult trail to
reach the gunboat at anchor in the river below them, Lopez and Garcia
with their trusty company had nimbly descended the almost precipitous
side of the mountain and were eagerly following the trail of the
fleeing insurgent and his ill-gotten spoils.
The “Mindinao” steamed fearlessly down the river, her flag at half-mast
in honor of those whose mortal remains lay covered on the quarter-deck;
the soldiers who had given their lives in the attack on the most
formidable of insurgent strongholds. Phil and O’Neil were given
prompt attention by the surgeon and several ugly wounds were carefully
dressed. Phil was glad to relinquish his command to Sydney and remained
luxuriously in his cot.
At Rodriguez’s ranch the gunboat stopped and reverently landed the dead
heroes, to be buried in the cemetery, and here General Wilson and his
adjutant-general disembarked to return to Palilo by road.
Just as the “Mindinao” started ahead, after landing her passengers,
on its way to the mouth of the river, a native canoe paddled rapidly
from the landing, and ran up alongside of the gunboat. An excited hail
came from its occupant, answered by an angry cry from Major Lukban
who turned, his face deathly pale, and his hands trembling, to the
midshipmen at his side.
“Señorita Maria is missing,” he gasped.
The midshipmen were stunned at the suddenness of this unexpected and
disquieting news. Maria captured! What did it mean?
Lukban declared that his first duty was to his young mistress and the
lads heartily approved of his desire to be landed to attempt to trail
the lost girl and her brother.
The excited native was brought on board from his canoe and told the
eager men the meagre details of her loss.
She and Juan had gone out to the cemetery in the morning, and had not
returned. A search had been made in the afternoon and the footprints
of men had been discovered, showing that the girl had fallen into the
hands of a party of natives.
The midshipmen bade good-bye to their native friend who entered the
canoe and paddled shoreward, and then Phil rang for full speed ahead on
the engines.
“The loyalty of these natives to the Rodriguez family is touching,”
Sydney exclaimed in admiration. “Garcia alone betrayed his friend; but
he did it through superstitious fear of the Katipunan society. Lopez is
as staunch as a rock, and Lukban, you can see, would lay down his life
willingly for his young mistress.”
Two hours later the “Mindinao” had steamed through the harbor of Palilo
and turned her bow northward.
During the night Sydney and O’Neil took turns with Phil in standing
watch on the gunboat’s bridge, carefully searching the shore for the
signal agreed upon with Lopez. Would he succeed in coming up with the
fleeing outlaw?
The night wore slowly along and morning dawned clear, finding all three
of the Americans up and on the bridge of the rapidly moving vessel.
No sails were in sight. A wide expanse of water was before them, while
on the port hand the low swamp land of Banate was in plain sight.
Phil steered his ship in toward the bamboo town nestling in the hollow
of two small hills in the midst of the swampy mouth of the Mani River.
As they approached, the Americans could discover naught but the usual
listless life of a Filipino village.
“I’ll patrol here,” Phil said, as he steered further offshore.
All day long the gunboat steamed backward and forward over fifteen
miles of coast line. An occasional sail was sighted and overhauled,
only to find in it a handful of frightened fishermen.
As night approached the gunboat was brought to a stop in the centre
of the line of patrol in order that it might be at an equal distance
from all possible points of departure, in case Espinosa had eluded his
pursuers.
“If he has a proa in waiting, hidden in the swamps of one of these
estuaries, he will choose night for his escape,” Phil declared as he
studied his inaccurate chart, “and at night he can easily elude us, for
it is too dark to see a half mile. Our only hope is that there will be
no wind, and if the air is sufficiently calm we can hear the dip of
oars for miles.”
Phil stationed his sailors as lookouts everywhere, with orders to
listen alertly and make known to him if they heard the slightest sound.
The night drew on. The others had gone below for their broken night’s
sleep, and Sydney was alone on the bridge. A half dozen lookouts were
alert, peering into the night, their energies bent on catching the
faintest sound from the distant shore.
Suddenly Sydney’s ears caught a dull sound which seemed to come from
the direction of the land. He listened intently, his breath held
tight. The dawn wind brought to his nostrils the sweet damp smell of
earth mingled with the pungent odor of smoke from the early morning
fires of the villagers.
All lights were extinguished on the “Mindinao” and the midshipman knew
that the vessel was, even at a short distance, invisible.
Now the sound came distinctly to his ears. It was the steady dip of
oars and their rattle in the locks. He could hear the low muffled swish
as the blades shook themselves clear of the water.
Several of the lookouts reported in whispers the presence of the
strange craft.
Gradually the sound approached, the boat invisible, while slowly the
gray streak of dawn spread in the east. The sound was now located ahead
and the boat appeared to be traveling fast, doubtless propelled by both
oars and sail. Was it only a fisherman going out early to spread his
nets? Or was it the outlaw Espinosa attempting escape, and carrying off
Rodriguez’s gold and the more precious treasures, Maria and Juan?
Sydney sent one of the men to call Phil to the bridge immediately.