THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS AND THE REBELS
“Well, there are only two ways of getting back,” remarked the mate of
the _Columbia_, after a long pause. “One is to climb the hill, and the
other is to skirt either the east or the west shore. It’s a close mile
across, and I reckon it’s three miles around, one way or the other.”
“Yes, I reckon it is three miles by way of the shore,” answered Hobson.
“But there is a beach most of the way, if not all of the way, and it
will be easier walking on that than it will be a-climbing the rocks.”
“I say let us try the shore,” put in Vincent, who was as scared as any
one. “We won’t be worried about snakes, and we’ll see more than if we
went back by the way we came. The question is, which shore, east or
west?”
The question was debated for a few minutes, and it was decided that,
according to the view from the top of the hill, the eastern shore
route must be the shorter, and would, consequently, be the best to
take, for all felt that they must now be getting back to the ship. Both
the rifle and shotgun were loaded, and off they started, the two armed
men in advance, on the alert to fire at the first enemy which might
appear.
For the first mile nothing came to view but the ocean upon one side,
and a stretch of beach and brush upon the other, backed up by the
forests previously mentioned. In the brush and trees could be heard
great numbers of birds, and both Grandon and Vincent would have gone in
for game had it not been that the remembrance of the snake held them
back. Yet they managed, by keeping wide awake, to bring down several
cockatoos and a species of wild turkey, and of these they were very
proud.
After the turkey was killed and slung over the mate’s shoulder, another
mile was covered, and then they came to a small bay, or inlet, on the
other side of which was a hump of rocks, hiding the south shore, where
they knew the _Columbia_ must be at anchor. Striker was now again in
advance, with Larry beside him.
“Avast!” cried the Yankee sailor, suddenly plucking the boy by the
sleeve. “Get back there, out of sight, all of you, and I’ll capture a
prize wuth havin’!”
He motioned to the others, who came to an immediate halt. Looking
ahead, they saw at the back of the sunny inlet several large turtles
basking on the beach, their necks and legs stretched out to the fullest
extent.
“Can you do the trick?” whispered Hobson. “I’ve heard tell it’s got to
be managed cleverly or the turtle will get away.”
“Trust me――I’ve done it before――when I was ashore on Luzon!” answered
the Yankee sailor. “Watch me, Larry; it’s a trick worth knowing――in
case ye are cast ashore some day with no food and no gun to bring it
down with.”
While the rest of the party retreated to the shelter of some nearby
bushes, having by this time gotten over the greater part of the fright
occasioned by the snake, Luke Striker crawled stealthily along the
beach and entered the shallow waters of the inlet, pursuing a course
which presently brought him up directly in front of the turtles, who
still lay unconscious of their danger.
In a few minutes Striker had gained the edge of the beach, and here he
paused, to decide the question of which turtle to attack first. There
were three in a bunch, two nearly side by side and the third a few
yards to the rear, while a fourth turtle lay still further back, but
somewhat to the left of its mates.
Having fixed his plan of attack, the Yankee rushed forward as nimbly as
his long legs would carry him, and, catching the nearest turtle by the
side edge of the shell gave it a scoop which immediately placed it upon
its back, with its legs squirming harmlessly in the air.
Instantly there was a commotion, and with a great flapping the
remaining turtles started up, and, seeing their enemy, made a rush
towards the nearest water, that beside the one turned over uttering a
savage hiss at Striker as it darted by, just escaping his reach.
With the next nearest turtle gone, the Yankee leaped for the one behind
the pair, which started for the water, then on seeing the sailor
directly in the way, turned to move to one side. Another dexterous
scoop, and this one was also helpless, and away went Striker for the
fourth, now ten yards off and making for the water at the height of
its clumsy speed. It was a nip-and-tuck race, in more ways than one;
for as the sailor reached the turtle, it suddenly turned, gave him a
vicious nip in the leg, and before Striker could recover tumbled into
the water and was gone.
“Wuow!” came from the Yankee, and for the time being his captures were
forgotten, as he danced around in pain. Soon the wound was uncovered,
and was found to be not unlike what an angry cat might have made.
Striker lost no time in bathing it with salt water, and then with some
brandy Grandon carried in a flask, doing this to avoid the possibility
of blood poisoning.
The two turtles lying upon their backs were each over a foot and a
half in diameter, with shells of unusual beauty, as Larry could see at
a glance. They were soon put to death, and turned over, and the boy
examined them with interest.
“They are hawk’s-bill turtles,” said Vincent. “A good catch. Do you
know what this shell is used for?” he went on, to Larry.
“It looks a little like tortoise-shell.”
“It is tortoise-shell, although it will need a deal of polishing
before it will show up as beautiful as it does in combs and ladies’
pocket-knives, and the like. The natives take the shell off by turning
the poor creatures over and making a fire under ’em while they are
still alive; but that is the wust kind of cruelty.”
No time was lost, after Striker’s wound had been dressed, in fastening
several bits of cord to the two turtles, and while Larry and the
Yankee carried one between them, the others of the party took care
of the second. Crossing the hump of rocks, they came in sight of the
_Columbia_ as anticipated, and soon after entered the yawl and rowed
out to the schooner.
“I was calculating you had got lost,” cried Captain Ponsberry, when
they appeared. “Humph! A couple o’ good hawk’s-bills, but not much to
eat.”
“Aren’t the turtles good eating?” asked Larry.
“About as good as that sawfish, lad. Green turtles are the thing; these
are poor stuff, although we might try one, just for a change.”
The story they had to tell about the snake was listened to with much
interest. “I do not blame you for trying to keep out of the reach of
those reptiles,” said Mr. Wells. “If one of them caught any of the
party, the unfortunate would be crushed to a jelly and then slowly
devoured. Perhaps that is what happened to the former inhabitant of the
solitary hut you visited.”
In coming over the hump of rocks near Turtle Cove, as Larry named the
spot, they had located another spring, less than a hundred yards from
shore. Upon learning of this, the schooner was towed around to the
inlet, and the task of filling the water-casks began that afternoon and
was completed the next day. Then up went the anchor once more, every
sail was set, and the trip to Hong Kong was resumed.
Again the days lengthened into weeks, and as nothing occurred in the
way of storms the voyage became as monotonous as before. The only
break was on Sunday, when the Rev. Martin Wells held a regular church
service, morning and evening, which all were glad to attend, some,
among whom was Larry, because they thought it the proper thing to do,
and the others because the missionary was a good speaker and it helped
to pass the time. Even Olan Oleson attended, but it is doubtful if
the sermons and prayers affected the wicked-minded Norwegian, who was
plotting continually to revenge himself upon Larry and Striker.
Mr. Wells was much pleased to see what an interest Larry took in his
work, and how ready the lad was to lead in the singing of the hymns,
and the two became better friends than ever. The missionary had long
since heard the story of the boy’s trouble at home, and while he did
not exactly approve of what had been done, yet he felt it a hard task
to offer any censure, considering how Larry and his brothers must have
suffered through the loss of their mother and the breaking up of the
home. He advised Larry to write a plain straightforward letter to Job
Dowling from Hong Kong, telling of what he had done, and then to hope
for the best.
“You’ll feel better for having written, mark my words,” he concluded.
“And your uncle ought to know where you are, in case anything happens
to you.” And Larry promised that the letter should be written.
As the time sped by, the vast Pacific Ocean was left behind, and they
began to crawl slowly but surely into the South China Sea, at a point
directly below the most southerly extremity of the island of Formosa.
“It won’t be many days now before our trip comes to an end,” remarked
the missionary to Larry, one hot, starlit evening, as the two lounged
along the starboard rail, wondering when the coast of Formosa would be
sighted. “The distance from South Point on Formosa to Hong Kong is not
much over four hundred miles.”
“This is the island from which the famous Formosa teas come, I
suppose?” said Larry.
“Yes, the island is famous for its teas, and tea-growing is its main
industry, although, I believe, rice is also raised to some extent.”
“Striker was telling me that the Philippines are directly south of us,”
went on the boy. “He has visited Luzon, which he says is the largest of
the group.”
“Yes, Luzon is the largest island, and upon that is situated Manila,
the principal city. There are a great number of islands, some
navigators placing the figure at thirteen hundred, but many of these
are mere bits of coral formation and uninhabited. The islands of any
consequence, and which are peopled, number in the neighborhood of four
hundred.”
“Four hundred! Well, that is enough, I’m sure.”
The missionary smiled. “Yes, that is enough, yet you must remember that
the Philippines are only one group of islands out of many in Oceanica.
How many islands there really are will, perhaps, never be known; for
many of them are of volcanic origin, and rise and sink as volcanoes
burst forth or earthquakes occur.”
“That wouldn’t be very nice, if a fellow should happen to be around at
the time.”
“Thousands of the natives have lost their lives through the actions
of the volcanoes and the earthquakes, as well as by the tidal waves
which very often accompany such phenomena. But there are millions more
to take the places of the lost ones, and so, poor creatures, they are
never missed. I presume the Philippines will be of unusual interest to
the Americans in case the blowing up of the _Maine_ should lead to a
war with Spain.”
“Why should they be?”
“Outside of Cuba and Porto Rico, the Philippines are Spain’s only
colonial possessions of value, and I have heard it stated that the
Philippines are among the richest islands in the world, being, on
account of their volcanic origin, full of precious minerals. Besides
this, large quantities of hemp are grown here, out of which manila rope
and manila paper are made.”
“And does Spain rule the natives here as badly as she rules the Cubans?”
“Yes, every bit, if not worse. Uprisings are frequent, and Spain has
a regular standing army quartered in and around Manila, Bulacano, and
other cities. Even now the natives are in a state of revolt, under the
leadership of a General Aguinaldo. The natives have put up with the
iron hand of tyranny for years, and should they ever win what they
are fighting for, it is likely every Spaniard on the islands will be
butchered.”
Larry shuddered. “Coming from the States, one would scarcely dream of
such horrors, Mr. Wells.”
“That is true, Lawrence; but, as I told you in a previous talk, Spain
has only herself to blame for all this. She has misused these people
for centuries, and now must take the consequence. I can scarcely
believe it, yet only a short while ago I received several letters from
Manila and Hong Kong giving the details of a fearful slaughter of
rebels whom the Spanish troops in Luzon had captured. There were over
a hundred of them, and the poor fellows were taken to the Lunetta,
a favorite concourse outside of Manila, where in the presence of
thousands of people, including women,――I cannot call such immodest
creatures ladies,――the victims were bound, drawn up in a long line with
the Spanish details behind them, and, at a given signal, were shot
down like so many dogs. Our missionary at Manila mentioned one of the
number in particular, a young fellow not over eighteen years of age,
in whom he had become greatly interested. The poor boy was drawn up in
line with the rest, but was not killed at the first volley, nor at the
second, and at last a Spanish surgeon who was on duty there ordered one
of the soldiers to come up close with his gun and finish the poor lad,
and this was done in a manner I would not care to put into words. When
such things occur, is it any wonder that those who are oppressed rise
up determined to either throw off the yoke of tyranny or give up their
lives in the effort?”