CHAPTER XVIIIA RIVER EXPEDITION
AfterPhil and his party had gone on their hazardous mission, Sydney went aboard the gunboat to make ready for the work which had been left in his hands. He felt it keenly that he could not share this dangerous expedition, but there was some consolation in the knowledge that O’Neil was with Phil.
Another detachment, footsore and tired from its forced march from a distant post, had arrived at the ranch, and the two staff officers were untiringly arranging all the details for the attack in force.
Sydney, upon his arrival on the gunboat, gave orders that all obstructions be cleared away from the guns, and directed the placing of iron sheeting to protect the officers and men who would be, with him, exposed on the gunboat’s bridge.
The plan of attack was to divide the force of soldiers; the gunboat to carry as many ofthe men as her limited deck space would accommodate, and the remainder were to go by trail, guided by Garcia. A sufficient force would remain to guard the ranch, to which point supplies were on their way up the river from Palilo.
General Wilson would command the expedition in person from on board the gunboat.
At sunrise Sydney was awake, and already the camp ashore was alive and the lad saw the companies drawn up, their rifles stacked, eating their morning meal. Hurriedly dressing he was rowed ashore, but before leaving he had ordered all his boats to be lowered for transporting the soldiers to the gunboat.
“Major Lukban, one of Rodriguez’s officers, will go with you as a guide,” Captain Blynn informed the lad as he stepped ashore. “He was wounded in the attack on the ranch, but he is well enough to go on the gunboat, and he knows the navigation of the river. He is now questioning an insurgent officer who was brought in by one of our companies; they captured him in a village several miles from here.
“Lukban is like a wild beast; they havejust told him of Rodriguez’s murder by Espinosa and Salas, so I suppose we had best keep an eye on this unfortunate prisoner.”
Captain Blynn led Sydney down to the basement of the ranch house. The midshipman, when his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, gave an exclamation of surprised horror as he saw a half-strangled native on the floor with several others astride his heaving chest. Sydney noticed the wounded major in a chair, looking down upon his victim, a savage smile on his face.
“It’s not strictly orthodox,” Captain Blynn whispered as he saw the horror in Sydney’s eyes, “but it’s effective.”
“A little more,” Major Lukban ordered in a cold voice, after nodding a welcome to the newcomers.
Sydney saw the native at the prisoner’s head slowly pour the water which he held in a bamboo cup between the prisoner’s teeth. The unfortunate man choked, while the veins in his neck stood out like whip-cords. His eyes turned glassy and staring, while his colorless face became a sickly blue.
“You’ll kill him,” Sydney cried aghast.“It shouldn’t be allowed, captain,” he appealed, turning to the army man.
“Don’t you worry, Monroe,” the captain answered calmly, “he knows within a few drops of how much the man can stand—watch!” he added quietly, as the natives raised the prone captive to a sitting position and struck him smartly on the back with their open hands. The native coughed and sputtered; gradually his color returned and he drew great gasping breaths.
After the prisoner had returned to a comparatively normal condition, the inquisitor reached out his hand and struck him smartly across the cheek. Where his hand had fallen, a white imprint was left, dying out gradually, as the sluggish blood flowed back again.
“This is the ‘water cure,’” Captain Blynn observed as Major Lukban fired question after question at the thoroughly cowed and now tractable prisoner. “He will exact a confession from him which will give us all the information we need. If you or I did this we would be court-martialed and maybe dismissed but——” He ended with an expressive shrug.
Sydney turned sick at the sight of a human being tortured beyond endurance and a fear rose in his mind as he thought of poor Phil in Espinosa’s hands. As he watched, the native appeared to hesitate in answering a question, but a wave of Lukban’s hand, bringing the attending natives and the water cup nearer, caused him to answer the question immediately. Once the native refused to answer and then despite his cries of fear and struggles almost superhuman, he was forced back upon his back, and his jaws pried rudely open with a stick, while the bamboo cup was poised menacingly above his open mouth.
The next moment the cup was sent spinning from the native’s hand and Sydney had jerked the captive to his feet, and stood flushed with anger and excitement between him and his torturer.
“I shan’t stand by and see any more of this torture,” he exclaimed forcefully. “It’s a disgrace for us to allow it.”
Captain Blynn shrugged his shoulders, while Lukban glared angrily at the indignant champion.
“But, señor, I must have that question answered,”he declared. “It will not injure him, and it may save us many lives.”
“What was the question?” Captain Blynn asked.
“Whether there is a third trail from the stronghold and how it may be reached,” he answered. “You see, captain, if there is we must guard it, for otherwise all will escape us.”
Captain Blynn nodded, glancing amusedly at Sydney’s excited face.
“I am afraid, major, that question must remain unanswered,” he said in a level tone, turning and leading the way out.
Sydney turned the half-drowned prisoner over to one of Captain Blynn’s soldiers with orders to guard him carefully and to allow no interference by their native allies.
By nine o’clock two hundred men had been embarked on the gunboat and five hundred more had started under the command of Captain Blynn along the trail leading up the river; Garcia as leader was at their head.
In the party on the gunboat were General Wilson, Major Marble and Major Lukban; the latter, still sullen and angry with Sydney for his unwarranted presumption in making himdiscontinue his torture, stood with his former victim on the bridge of the “Mindinao.”
Sydney headed the vessel into the narrow channel, cautiously picking his way through the numerous shoals; one minute the gunboat clung closely to the steep river bank on one side and the next it was scraping the overhanging trees on the other side.
From the masthead the lookout kept the soldiers on shore in sight, and Sydney regulated his speed to just keep pace with them. He thought often and with grave concern of Phil. What luck had he had? His heartbeats quickened as he vaguely wondered if he were alive! He realized the terrible cruelty of the Filipino leader, and Espinosa had reason to hate the young naval man!
The small house, where the midshipmen had unexpectedly met Colonel Salas, flashed into view as they rounded a bend in the river, and from the bridge Sydney could discern with his glasses far in the distance the enemy’s stronghold, Matiginao, “the impregnable.”
As the gunboat swept slowly by close inshore the soldiers waved their campaign hatsin silent salute to their formidable navy ally.
“This, from here on, is unknown river, sir,” Sydney reported to the general, sitting calmly talking with his adjutant-general.
The general nodded and answered with a smile.
“All right, admiral, I am entirely satisfied to rely upon your judgment.”
Major Lukban had during the gunboat’s progress up the river stood by Sydney’s side, showing his appreciation of the lad’s navigation at intervals by a silent nod, while at the same time he kept one guarding eye upon his captive, whose crafty, sullen eyes roved incessantly along the wooded slopes of the narrowing river.
“This is not new to you then, major?” Sydney asked suddenly, as he directed the ship’s head toward a large dead tree which stood out a lone sentinel on a rocky point ahead.
“As a boy I was brought up on this river,” the native replied sadly. “Then many thousand of my people lived in plenty and happiness along its banks.”
“Where have they all gone?” the lad inquiredinterestedly, his eyes gazing about for the signs of a deserted population.
Lukban pointed to the tall mountains ahead of them.
“Time and again the Spaniards have endeavored to drive out the outlaws from yonder stronghold, and the poor people who made their living on the river were mercilessly preyed upon by the war parties of the contending factions, until none were left. Juan Rodriguez alone has managed to remain, but only by his fearless courage and the devotion of his followers. Neither side cared to provoke him in his security until Espinosa coveted his lands and his money and, who can say, maybe his beautiful daughter.”
“Maria!” Sydney exclaimed.
The native lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Espinosa has had but one ambition all his life; to marry the daughter of Rodriguez; but she scorned him, and to save her from his persistent attention, Señorita Maria was sent away to Manila to school. Now he has robbed her of her father and stolen the treasure which had been hoarded for her. For many years Espinosa has been the head of the outlaws ofKapay. Holding positions of trust under Spanish rule, he directed the rebel movements and prevented their annihilation by the Spanish columns. This identical work he has attempted under the American rule, but his treachery has at last been exposed. Until he openly threatened the life of Rodriguez, none of us dared to thwart him. His murderers are everywhere, and his society of the Katipunan is far-reaching. Nowhere in the archipelago is one safe from their vengeance. Maria, woman as she is, has been marked for the assassin’s knife if she continues to refuse to become the wife of its leader. Garcia, Rodriguez’s trusted friend and overseer, was lured by terrible threats of vengeance and hopes of reward to betray his benefactor. He had been chosen by the society to commit the repulsive crime of murdering his friend. He came to the Rodriguez house intending to kill the father and carry away the daughter into captivity, which would have been for her a living death. Through the administering of the water and the voluntary confessions of Garcia, I have found out every motive which has actuated both Espinosa and Garcia. Thewould-be murderer entered the room of his victim, but in the light of the lamp could not bring himself to murder his lifelong friend. He at least had remaining some of the kindlier feelings in his heart. Turning out the light he was about to despatch him with a swift dagger thrust as he lay innocently sleeping; then hearing a noise on the stairs he withdrew into the darkness of an adjoining room. It was Señorita Maria and the two Americans who had remained to protect her. Seeing that to stay would mean discovery, he escaped by a window, intending to meet Espinosa and his men as they stole through the uproar of the bolo attack and tell him of the locality of the treasure. Espinosa is a leader of no mean order. His attack on the ranch was masterfully executed. Even though wounded, he came unhindered through the thick of the attack, with his body-guard of twenty faithful men. These were the ones who entered the house and carried away the treasure chests.
“When Garcia, escaping, reached the ground, your trusty boatswain’s mate, O’Neil, was on the spot.”
Major Lukban’s eyes were on his restive captive as he talked in low tones to Sydney.
“We must keep an eye on him,” he continued. “He has given me so much information that he would be killed if he fell into Espinosa’s hands. Knowing the danger he runs, acting as our guide, he may attempt to escape.”
The “Mindinao” was now where the dapper little colonel had taken his involuntary bath. The river had become sensibly narrower and the shores more treacherously rocky.
The captive suddenly turned and excitedly spoke to Major Lukban in the native language, his gaze meanwhile roving over the cliffs just visible ahead.
Lukban gave Sydney the man’s words in Spanish:
“He says the gunboat can pass through the cañon, but you must keep close to the left hand shore to avoid the huge rocks which the insurgents will hurl from the top of the stronghold.”
Sydney’s heart beat faster. They had not as yet come in sight of the whirling maelstrom of water as it hurled itself through the narrowgorge, but the top of the cañon was in plain sight. One huge boulder dislodged from the heights, striking the deck of the “Mindinao,” could easily pierce her frail steel shell.
“Will you go through on the gunboat, sir?” Sydney asked the general eagerly as the “Mindinao” rounded a bend in the river, and the muddy racing water loomed ahead straight as if nature had laid a ruler along its path. About a mile away the other end of the cañon appeared, a white streak of light between the sombre rocks.
The general regarded him in surprise.
“How would you expect me to go?” he asked, a twinkle appearing in his eyes for a fraction of a second.
“I was thinking of the danger, sir,” the lad added hurriedly in apology. “They’ll probably throw rocks down on us.”
“The commanding general cannot always be three miles in the rear,” the veteran replied, now smiling broadly.
Sydney had sent word to the engine room that he desired all speed possible and despite the current against them, the wooded shores were passed quickly.
“To your guns,” he called in a clear voice without a note of excitement. “Major,” he added turning to the adjutant-general, “some of your best shots might take station to pick off the enemy on the cliffs. Those on this end I hope will be Phil and his friendly natives.” He turned suddenly pale as the possibility occurred to him of shelling his own people.
The gunboat sped swiftly toward the cañon. Through glasses the jagged rocks at the top could be seen covered with a curious crowd of natives. Several sharp reports came muffled to his ears. The soft coo of the alarm concha vibrated above the stillness. He called his three gun-pointers up on the bridge and cautioned them with painstaking care of their important duty. “Shoot at the middle and the left; Captain Perry is on that mountain and I hope at this end. All three will fire together and I will control from here.”
The men listened gravely and returned to their guns.
“Load,” Sydney ordered harshly. The breech-blocks clicked shut and the crew stood expectantly alert. The soldiers, unaccustomedto artillery, unconsciously edged away from the three bow guns.
“Set your sights at 1,500 yards,” Sydney directed, at the same time giving a signal to the helmsman to hold the ship steady on her course.
“Fire when you’re on, aim at the edge of the rock,” he said in a tense voice.
The three guns roared almost in unison and three black dots winged swiftly out toward the frowning cliffs ahead of the gunboat. Three dull brown splashes suddenly appeared just under the edge of the cliff and the reverberations died out slowly to an unearthly wail.
“Seventeen hundred,” the lad cried out sharply, for the shots had fallen short of the mark.
The sight-setters corrected their sights by a swift movement of the wheel under their hand and the air was again rent by the discharges.
“Fine shots,” the general exclaimed excitedly as he leveled his glass at the top of the mountain where the three shells had exploded, scattering the rock and dirt in all directionsand causing the inquisitive insurgents to hurriedly seek shelter.
“Rapid fire,” Sydney ordered calmly and his voice had scarcely died away when a puff of white smoke belched from the stronghold.
The lad’s heart almost stopped beating. Artillery he did not fear, if he could return the fire. He was confident that he could take care of himself with those three unerring guns, but this gun of the enemy was mounted just where Phil had warned him not to shoot. He sickened at the thought of disobeying the order, yet there was the menacing screech of the shell in his ears, as it struck the water only a few hundred yards ahead of his approaching gunboat.
What else could he do? The gun must be silenced before the “Mindinao” could proceed, and the gorge was only a thousand yards ahead.