IN THE PHILIPPINES
David Cable lost no time in hurrying away from Chicago with his
wife and Jane. They were whisked westward in his private car on
the second day after the Bansemer exposure. Broken-spirited, Jane
acquiesced in all their plans; she seemed as one in a stupor,
comprehending, yet unresponsive to the pain that enveloped her.
"I can't see anyone that I know here," she said listlessly. "Oh,
the thought of what they are saying!"
They did not tell her that Graydon had enlisted as a private soldier
in the United States Army; Jane only knew that she loved him and
that the bar sinister existed.
Cable's devotion to her was beautiful. He could not have been
more tender had she been his own daughter, instead of his wife's
imposition.
Jane was ill in Pasadena for many weeks. Her depressed condition
made her recovery doubtful. It was plain to two persons, at least,
that she did not care whether she lived or died. The physicians
were puzzled, but no explanation was offered by the Cables. It was
not until certain Chicago sojourners generously spread the news,
that the cause of her breakdown became apparent to the good doctors.
Before many days, the girl who sat, wan and distrait, upon the
flower-shaded piazza was an object of curiosity to fashionable
Pasadena. As soon as she was strong enough to endure the trip, the
hunted trio forsook Pasadena and fled northward.
San Francisco afforded relief in privacy. Jane's spirits began to
revive. There had not been, nor was there ever to be, any mention
of that terrible night and its revelations. What she may have felt
and suffered in secret could only be conjectured by those who loved
her. Bansemer's name was never uttered. His fate remained unknown
to her. The far-away, unhappy look in her eyes proved to them that
Graydon was never out of her thoughts.
David Cable was in Chicago when Mrs. Cable received word from her
sister, once Kate Coleman, that she soon would reach San Francisco
with her husband, bound for the Philippines. Kate was the wife of
a West Pointer who had achieved the rank of colonel in the volunteers,
by virtue of political necessity. His regiment had been ordered
to the islands, and she was accompanying him with their daughter,
a girl of sixteen.
Colonel Harbin had seen pleasant service at the Eastern posts where
his wife had attained a certain kind of social distinction in the
army fast set. She was not especially enamoured of the prospect
ahead of her in the Philippines; but the new colonel was a strict
disciplinarian on and off the field. He expected to be a brigadier-general
if fortune and favouritism supported him long enough. Mrs. Harbin
could never be anything more than a private in the ranks, so far
as his estimation of distinction was concerned. His daughter Ethel
had, by means of no uncertain favouritism, advanced a few points
ahead of her mother, and might have ranked as sergeant in the family
corps.
Mrs. Harbin played cards, drank highballs, flirted with the younger
officers, got talked about with pleasing emphasis, and was as happy
as any subordinate could be. They had not even thought of such a
thing as divorce, and the whole army wondered and expressed disgust.
The army's appetite for scandal is surpassed only by its bravery
in war. It is even hinted that the latter is welcomed as a loophole
for the former. War brings peace.
The arrival of the Harbins and a staff of gay young cadets fresh
from the banks of the Hudson put new life into the recluses. The
regiment was to remain at the Presidio for several weeks before
sailing. One of the lieutenants was a Chicago boy and an acquaintance
of Graydon Bansmer. It was from him that Jane learned that her
sweetheart was a soldier in the service, doubtless now in Luzon.
A week before the sailing of Colonel Harbin's transport Jane
suddenly announced that she had but one desire on earth, and that
was to go to Manila with her aunt. She did not present her plea with
the usual claim that she wanted to be of service to her country;
she was not asking to go out as a heroine of the ordinary type;
instead, she simply announced that she wanted to go as a temporary
member of Colonel Harbin's family, to endure their hardships and
to enjoy their enthusiasms. Mrs. Cable recognised the true motive,
however.
Her pleadings were in vain. The Harbins had lucklessly urged Jane
to join them. Telegrams flew back and forth across the continent
and David Cable came on to present his feeble objections.
When the great transport sailed away, Jane Cable was one of her
passengers, the ward of the regiment.
"It's just for a little while, dad," she said wistfully at the
dock. "A few months. I'll think of you every minute I'm away."
The blood of the man in the service was calling to her. The ocean
was between them; the longing to be near him, to tread the same
soil, had conquered in the eternal battle of love. After all, no
matter how the end was attained, she was a creature of life, brought
into the world to love and to be loved. She put the past behind her
and began to build a new future--a future in which the adoration
of Graydon Bansemer was the foundation. The hope that makes all
human averages was at the work of reconstruction; youth was the
builder. The months of destruction had not left a hopeless ruin
as the heritage of dead impulses.
The world grew brighter as the ship forged westward. Each day sent
warmer blood into her veins and a deeper light into her eyes. The
new life was not inspired by the longing to be his wife, but to
see him again and to comfort him. She would be no man's wife.
At last, one hot, soft morning in early July, the great transport
slipped past Corregidor and turned its nose across Manila bay, past
Cavite, toward the anchorage which ended the long voyage. The city
of Manila lay stretched out before them--Manila, the new American
capital.
The troops were marched off to quarters and the Harbins, with Jane
Cable, repaired at once to the Oriente, where they were to live
prior to taking a house in Ermita or San Miguel. The campaign was
not being pushed vigorously at this time; it was the rainy season.
Desultory fighting was going on between the troops and the insurgents;
there were numerous scouting and exploring expeditions into the
enemy's country. The famous round robin of the correspondents had
been sent to the United States by this time, taking severely to task
the army censorship which prevented the real condition of affairs
from reaching the deluded public. The situation was much worse
on the island of Luzon than anyone at home could have imagined.
But little truth escaped the vigilant wisdom of the arbitrarians.
It was not until later on, however, that the effects of the round
robin were felt in headquarters at Manila; when that time came the
Ayuntamiento in the walled city was not a pleasant retreat for the
newspaper men who had dared.
A week elapsed before Jane could find the opportunity to make
inquiries concerning the whereabouts of Graydon Bansemer. Her
thoughts had been of nothing else; her eagerness had been tempered
by the diffidence of the over-zealous. She and pretty Ethel Harbin
had made life endurable for the gay young officers who came over
on the ship; the pretty wives of certain captains and lieutenants
had small scope for their blandishments at close range. Flirtations
were hard to manage in space so small. The two girls were therefore
in a state of siege most of the time. The abject following fell
away perceptibly when the broader field of action on shore gave
their married sisters a chance to manoeuvre with some degree of
security. A faithful few remained in train, however. Ethel Harbin,
like the ingenue in the play, had each finger clumsily but tightly
wrapped with a breathing uniform of blue. It must be admitted in
shame, however, that she changed the bandages often and without
conscience or ceremony.
Jane's admirers were in love with her. She was not the sort to
inspire idle fancies--either in married or unmarried men. In any
event, it looked a long time to these chaps before they could get
back to the States, and she was worth while.
Perhaps her most, devoted admirer was Lieutenant Bray. Good-looking
and coming from an excellent Southern family, he was a great
favourite with all. Jane liked him better than any of the rest;
she would have liked him still better had he been able to resist
a tendency to boast of the stock from which he had sprung. The
knowledge of her disadvantages in life, the contrast between their
respective positions, all tended to emphasise the irony of fate;
and she often found herself wondering how this sprig of true
aristocracy would conduct himself if he discovered that, after all,
she was only a FOUNDLING.
It was Lieutenant Bray who made inquiries at general headquarters
and found, after considerable trouble, that Graydon Bansemer's
company was in the north, subject to the requirements of Young,
chief of scouts. Irksome were the lazy summer months for Jane.
She tired of the attentions of men; she sickened with longing and
anxiety. Day after day she prayed that the troops in the north
might be relieved; she watched for the order that would call for
their return from the wet lands above. Sickness was prevalent among
the fighting corps; the wet season had undermined the health of
many. Constant news came down to Manila of the minor engagements,
and she looked at every report for news of Graydon. Colonel Harbin,
occasionally, had private advices from the north. She heard of
Graydon's bravery more than once and glowed with pride. Down in
her tired, anxious heart she was wondering if it were possible for
her to go to the front in any capacity.
At last, with October, came the waning of the rainy season.
November brought active fighting. A general movement of the troops
was directed against Aguinaldo. In his prime, as a leader, he
controlled the north, and his capture was imperative. Lawton and
Young began operations on the right; McArthur on the centre; with
Wheaton pushing forward on the extreme left. The insurgents fell
back from Tarlac. There were many big fights at San Jacinto and
other places now famous in history.
The Red Cross society held forth at Malolos, reaching gradually
into the country north. Sick and wounded men came into the hospitals
daily and in larger numbers than one would have supposed. The villages
or barrios all along the line of advance saw their convents turned
into hospitals; as fast as possible the nurses were hurried up
to them. Men and women in this noble service did heroic, faithful
work both for the white and the brown men who went down. From the
field hospitals the men were taken to the convents and treated
until they were able to be moved to Manila.
Further north fled Aguinaldo and the Filipinos. Wheaton was ordered
to cut off his retreat; Young was killed; Cunningham took charge
of the scouts who scoured the country. Parties of ten or fifteen
picked men fell out in advance of the main body, seeking to
develop the enemy and his defences. These brave fellows attracted
the hidden fire of ambush, exposed themselves to all the treacheries
of warfare, and afterwards were mustered out with a kind word from
the department. They were the men who tested the territory. It was
with one of these scouting parties that Graydon Bansemer ventured
far into the enemy's country early in November.