CONCLUSION
Scarcely a second elapsed between the time Espinosa had leaped to
the proa’s deck and the discharge of his revolver, but in that
second Phil had seen the awful havoc among the traitor’s followers.
Espinosa himself, sorely wounded as he was, could hardly have helped
hitting his mark. Phil was conscious of a shot from his own boat
almost simultaneously with a sharp pain in his left shoulder, and saw
the would-be slayer pitch forward into the sea. In that second the
outriggers of the two boats came together and Gregorio and his two
natives quickly jumped on board to lower the captured vessel’s sails,
while O’Neil put the helm of his own craft over to bring the wind ahead
and stop their progress.
Phil balanced himself on the sail of the boat, his eyes following
the bubbles which closed over the body of the wounded man. Then a
trembling seized him as a great black fin protruded from the water and
the sun’s rays reflected deep red against the green of the reef.
“Sharks,” he cried hoarsely, balancing himself with a great effort, for
he had been about to plunge overboard to rescue his enemy.
O’Neil as if by intuition had seized the lad by the foot and forcibly
hauled him back into the boat.
The two boats were soon secured together and the Americans, putting
aside their weapons of destruction, looked down pityingly upon the
terrified natives huddled together in the bottom of the proa. Many were
wounded by the Krag bullets and several had died not knowing pain, so
swiftly had death come. Far astern a black curl of smoke marked the
gunboat.
All hands turned to willingly and administered to the stricken enemy
and soon all the wounded were made as comfortable as possible, their
bleeding stanched, while the two boats were being steered toward the
west. The treasure was found hidden under the footboards of the proa
and this treasure had sealed the traitor’s doom, for in carrying it he
had delayed his flight, allowing Gregorio and Lopez to all but overtake
him.
Inside of two hours the “Mindinao,” steaming cautiously between the
numberless shoals, took the Americans and their captives on board and
was steaming joyfully back to Palilo with her glad tidings.
The wound in Phil’s shoulder turned out happily to be but a glancing
blow and under Sydney’s administration he suffered only the
inconvenience of carrying his arm in a black silk sling about his neck.
As Phil brought his gunboat for the last time to her berth, there on
the dock stood General Wilson and his aides, and before the gangway had
been down a moment they came on board to praise the work of the navy
men, and hear the thrilling story of the end of Espinosa.
A sad-eyed stranger in civilian’s clothes stood silently by as Phil
modestly told how the outlaw had died. Then he grasped the lad’s hand
while the general murmured a name which made the young man blush as if
with shame. He stood in the presence of Lieutenant Tillotson’s father.
“My boy,” the bereaved man said in a low voice, “you have a father’s
blessing. The general has told me of your unselfish and reckless act in
a vain endeavor to save my son.”
Phil turned away to hide his emotion.
Mr. Tillotson, taking the body of his son, sailed the following day for
Manila.
For ten days the “Mindinao” remained quietly at her dock, while from
all over the island there came to Palilo to surrender to the general
small bands of insurgent soldiers. Gregorio Rodriguez, the acknowledged
leader after Espinosa’s death, had sent word to all his captains to
stop fighting, and their obedience was instant.
One evening somewhat over a week later, on board the “Mindinao” a
dinner party was in progress. The happy general, a weight of care
lifted from his shoulders, sat on Phil’s right, while about the board
were the well-known faces of his friends. O’Neil, barred by naval
etiquette from partaking at his captain’s table, in the shadow of the
night, stood near, hanging on every word spoken. The Chinese servants
with smiling faces flitted between the galley and the quarter-deck.
Maria sat between the two midshipmen, and the sadness in her eyes still
lingered, but a look of admiration would kindle as she talked to each
of her two friends in turn.
General Wilson held in his hand two unopened telegrams which had just
been handed him by an orderly.
The general tore one of the yellow envelopes and ran his eye hurriedly
over the contents.
“My congratulations, governor,” he exclaimed, as he passed the paper to
Gregorio Rodriguez.
The native could hardly believe his eyes, for these were the words he
read:
“Gregorio Rodriguez appointed civil governor of the Island of Kapay
to-day by the governor-general.”
Rodriguez rose to his feet and strode quietly to the general’s side.
“General Wilson,” he said reverently, “this fulfils my father’s dearest
wish. I would that he could know.” Then he dropped on one knee and,
much to the surprise of the gray-haired prosaic veteran, raised the
blue-veined hand to his lips. Maria remained seated, but her dark eyes
beamed lovingly on her brother.
Then the other telegram was opened and a smile appeared on the
warrior’s face.
The lads were consumed with impatience, for by the look in the
general’s eyes they realized it concerned them. He read the message.
“I am appointed ambassador to Japan. Have selected Blynn as military
attaché and Midshipmen Perry and Monroe naval attachés to our
embassy. Wire their answers.
“TILLOTSON.”
The midshipmen’s hearts beat fast and they were about to cry out their
delight, when the tearful face of Maria caught their eye; and instead
Phil answered soberly, “I doubt if we have sufficient rank to accept.”
O’Neil had heard enough, and as he moved forward toward his hammock
slung on the forecastle he murmured gruffly:
“I can’t let ’em go alone. They need me to look out for them.” And Phil
and Sydney, had they heard, would have said he was right.
Other books in this same series are:
A UNITED STATES MIDSHIPMAN AFLOAT
A UNITED STATES MIDSHIPMAN IN CHINA
A UNITED STATES MIDSHIPMAN IN JAPAN
A UNITED STATES MIDSHIPMAN IN THE SOUTH SEAS
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A lorcha is a Filipino schooner; its sails are usually made of
a rough canvas, yellow in color, manufactured from a native fibre,
usually hemp.
[2] “Friend, a letter.”
[3] Pulijanes--ladrones, outlaw
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.