Chapter V.Filipino UprisingThe close of the eventful year of 1898 was near at hand. General Otis had been made governor-general of the islands. He had received about 15,000 troops from home. These had all been landed and were quartered in the city of Manila.Preparations had begun by the American troops for a great day of field sports to be held on the Luneta—a beautiful narrow park paralleling Manila bay and extending southward from the walled-city about four miles—on New Year’s day, 1899.On the afternoon of January I, as planned, the exercises were begun. The afternoon program consisted of foot races, running high jumps, wheelbarrow race, fat man’s race, running broad jump, high kicking, fancy club swinging, tumbling, shot-put, sack race, tugs of war, five boxing contests, base ball, foot ball, and pole vaulting.Situated on the Luneta, about a mile south of the walled city, and distant from Manila bay about 100 feet, is a large bandstand. This served as headquarters for the exercises. The day was perfect—clear, cool and calm.About 2:00 P.M. over 40,000 natives, soldiers (including jack-tars from Dewey’s fleet, Spaniards and Americans) and foreign residents had assembled around this bandstand to hear the Address of Welcome and to witness the sports. When the speaker arose to deliver the address, for which he was afterward voted, and presented with, a medal by the Eight Army Corps, he said in part (verbatim report):“On behalf of these committeemen who have spared no efforts to make these Field Day Exercises a success, and this occasion one long to be remembered by those who have assembled here this afternoon, I bid you, one and all—officers, soldiers, sailors and civilians of every nationality—a hearty welcome.”“Again to you, the members of Admiral Dewey’s fleet, I feel obligated to extend a separate and special welcome; for without your chivalrous devotion to duty last May Day, yon shell-riven wrecks (part of unraised Spanish fleet visible above the bay) would not bespeak the down-fall of a sister nation, and we ourselves would not have been permitted to assemble here this afternoon. There is no braver man on land or sea than the American marine; and on behalf of the entire American army of occupation, I bid you a most cordial welcome.”Touching upon the question of territorial expansion, the speaker said:“This was a war for humanity, not for conquest. But simply because it suddenly closed and left us in possession of large tracts of new territory, is no reason why these spoils of war should be given up. I hold this to be true Americanism: that wherever the old flag is established through sacrifice of American blood, whether it be on the barren sands of the desert, at the frigid extremes of theearth, or on the rich and fertile islands of the sea, there is should remain triumphant, shedding forth beams of liberty to the oppressed, shouts of defiance to the oppressor, and furnish protection and enlightenment to all who come beneath its streaming folds forever!” (applause).A chubby Filipino maiden, standing near the speaker’s stand, and who had listened intently to every word of the address, because she now understood the English tongue, quietly elbowed her way through the dense crowd which was gradually becoming more compressed, until she reached a car drawn by two Chinese ponies on the old street car line running south from Manila to Fort Malate and back. Taking the car she rode up town to the Escolta. Going into the postoffice, she hastily wrote and mailed to Aguinaldo at Malolos a letter containing an account of what was said. It follows:“Manila, P. I., Jan. 1, 1899.My Dear General:Those wretched Americans are holding some kind of exercises on the Luneta this afternoon. I heard one of the speeches. It was awful bad. The fellow talked loud. He swung his hands in the air and the crowd seemed to get terribly excited over what he was saying.He told about that treaty of peace, and he said no power under the sun would haul down the American flag from over Manila.It made me angry. I am going right out to the Filipino trenches to see my Uncle (Colonel Miguel). He’ll fix those fellows. I’ll bet he’ll haul down their flag before tomorrow morning.Goodby,Marie.”The evening program on the Luneta, which followed the afternoon exercises, was largely literary in its nature. It consisted ofmusic by the California band, singing by the famous Washington Male Quartet, fancy dancing, selected recitations, and stump speeches. In addition, Privates Green and Martin boxed four rounds, much to the satisfaction of the natives.The program had just been completed when the Master of Ceremonies received from the American general in charge a note telling him to announce the conclusion of the program at once and to order all soldiers to report immediately at their respective regimental headquarters;—trouble had been reported at the out-posts. Reinforcements were hastened to several of the out-post reserves, and it appeared that the expected insurrection was at hand.After the out-break by the Filipinos on New Year’s night, it was evident to both sides that it was only a question of a short time when blood would be spilled in abundance. The Filipinos occupied all of the block-houses—some seventeen in number—around the city of Manila. This forced theAmericans to stand in the open and do guard duty exposed.The Filipino troops were saucy. They couldn’t understand why men should be armed with rifles and not be permitted to shoot. They tormented the American soldiers daily with hideous pranks. They grew bolder, and pushed their out-posts forward until they stood within a few feet of the American sentries.Marie went out and back through the American lines at will. She secretly kept the Filipino army thoroughly posted on the arrival of new troops from America. Occasionally she would take the train and go up to Malolos to see Aguinaldo. She was the best posted person in the Philippines as to what was going on in each of the hostile armies. Nobody suspected her. She was respected by the American troops. Everybody came to know her.Just before dusk, on the evening of February 4th, 1899, Marie and her mother left the city of Manila, in a cariole, drawn by aChinese pony which they had recently purchased. They had in it all of their most precious household trinkets. As they passed Colonel John M. Stotsenberg, commanding the 1st Nebraska volunteers, stationed on McLeod’s hill at the eastern edge of Manila, he recognized them, and called to Marie, “Where are you going?”“Out on a little trip,” retorted Marie.“How soon will you be back?” asked he.“O, I can’t tell,” responded Marie. “Mother is getting so nervous that we thought best to go away for awhile.”“Say, Marie,” said the colonel, “do you know who the Filipino officer is in command of all those thousands of troops that are now assembling in the ravines between the hills along the far side of the river valley, yonder?”“No, I do not,” she declared with an emphatic swing of her head.But she was lying. It was Colonel Miguel, her own uncle. She knew about it. He had secretlyinformed her that he was preparing to attack the city and burn it and that he was going to exterminate the American army of occupation and all foreign residents that fell into the hands of his mighty army. He told her that he had chosen the east side of the city as his main point of attack, so that Dewey could not reach his troops with the shells from his gun boats in case he tried to assist the American army, without elevating his guns and shooting completely over the city—a thing wholly impractical within itself, as Dewey could not determine whether his shells would be falling among the Filipino or the American troops. It was he who advised her to take her mother and flee to the hills for refuge.Colonel Stotsenberg then asked Marie if she knew anything about the proposed attack on the city by her people. This, she denied also. The colonel’s face flushed. Pulling back the flap of his tent, he said emphatically: “Do you see that gun, Marie? Tell those fellows over there when you pass theirlines that I said they could have trouble whenever they want it.”Marie drove on.Inside the colonel’s tent stood a large gun from the Utah battery, mounted, loaded, ready for action; its threatening nose was pointed directly at the line of little brown men assembled across the valley. The Filipinos were smarting for trouble. They wanted it badly. Wherever and whenever possible they improved every opportunity to bring it about. The trouble came. Colonel Stotsenberg that night used the cannon he had pointed out to Marie. A long pile of mangled forms lying at the base of the river hills on the opposite of the valley next morning told the results.Chapter VI.As A SpyMarie was well equipped by instinct and experience for a spy. The tragic nature of such work was exceptionally inviting to her. When a chance came to undertake it, she lost no time in embracing the opportunity.After passing out through the American lines, she drove on down the slope of the hill and crossed the San Juan River on the old stone bridge where the fighting was begun that night by young Grayson of the Nebraska regiment. After reaching the Filipinos’ lines she at once reported to her uncle, Colonel Miguel, and had an extended interview with him.Marie, Her Mother and Two Filipino ScoutsMarie, Her Mother and Two Filipino ScoutsSecret plans were agreed upon whereby she was to become the colonel’s chief scout. Two Filipino soldiers were sent to accompany her old mother to the little town of Angono on the eastern bank of Lake Laguna de Bay, near its northern end. A native family,quite familiar with the Sampalits and related to them, lived in this village. Marie stayed with the troops in the field. Her young brain danced at the thought of more bloodshed. She must be in the fight.Just what part Marie took in the attack made upon the Americans by the Filipinos on the night of February 4th, and in the fighting on February 5th, the world will never know. The two main figures in these operations were Colonel Miguel, in command of the main portion of the Filipino forces, and Colonel Stotsenberg, who commanded the 1st Nebraska volunteers. Before the close of the war these men were both shot; consequently, there is no one left to tell the story, and history is silent on the point.After the fight of February 4 and 5, the entire line of block-houses and intrenchments circumscribing Manila, were in the hands of the Americans. From the Pasig river on the east, around the city to the bay on the north, this line was commanded by Major-General MacArthur; the correspondingsemi-circle on the south, by Major-General Anderson.During the next seven weeks, fresh troops were constantly arriving. Each side was preparing for the long, inevitable conflict.At day break, on March 25, General MacArthur, leaving Hall’s brigade in the trenches and placing those of Otis and Hale on the firing line, which was over seven miles in length, made a brilliant charge along the entire front on the Filipinos’ breastworks about a mile and a half distant and constructed parallel to those of the Americans’.Before night he had cut the Filipino army into hopeless fragments; had advanced his own army over nine miles; had inflicted a terrible loss upon Aguinaldo’s troops; had demonstrated to them the difference between a determined American advance and an irresolute Spanish one; and had taken up in earnest the invasion of Luzon, the capture of the Filipinos’ temporary capital, Malolos, the overthrow of their provisional government,and the establishment of American sovereignty throughout the entire archipelago.That night, about eleven o’clock, a nervous Filipino woman came walking down along the American out-post reserves which, during actual war, are usually only from 100 to 200 feet in the rear of the sentries. She reached Company “G’s” reserve of the 1st South Dakota Volunteers, where she was ordered to halt. She refused, but acted as though she did not understand. Drawing a large bamboo bonnet down over her face to conceal her identity, she mumbled something apparently to herself, and walked rapidly on. In a moment she was seized; her bonnet was torn off; her identity revealed: it was Marie.She had been counting the American out-posts and the reserves to see if the defeated Filipinos, with the reinforcements which they had received, would be warranted in making a night attack.She boldly denied her identification; fought, scratched, scrambled—making it necessaryto employ two privates, a corporal and a sergeant to send her to the rear.When she was taken before Major William F. Allison, commanding the 3rd battalion of the South Dakotas, who was acting as field-officer that night, he ordered her restrained until morning. A tired private was detailed to guard her. He gave her a rubber poncho, and insisted that she wrap herself up in it and lie down to sleep. Although she drew the poncho about her to keep herself warm (it grew very chilly before morning) she refused to sleep, and made repeated efforts to escape. Her teeth chattered and she seemed distressed—evidently through fear of what the morning might bring to her.The next day she was set free, after taking a solemn oath to return to Manila and not take any further part in the insurrection. She pleaded earnestly for her liberty, and voluntarily promised that after her return to Manila she would do washing free of charge for the American soldiers who were sick in quarters.After being liberated, Marie walked eastward, following an irregular sled-road; that is, a road-way used by the Filipinos for sledding their rice to market. This is done by means of a bamboo sled drawn over the dry ground by a caribou. She followed this road for over two miles until she came to the San Mateo river.Although given a few hardtack by her captors at the time of her release, she was getting hungry. As she approached the stream she noticed an old Filipino standing near his bamboo cabin which was neatly tucked away oh the slope of a deep ravine near by. Turning from her pathway which had now grown somewhat indistinct she approached the old gentleman.When quite close to him she said, “Buenos dias,” (Good morning in Spanish.)“Magandang umaga,” (Good morning, in Tagalo), muttered the old man.After a brief conversation during which Marie told him that she had been captured by the Americans, had been terribly misusedand he had a miraculous escape, he invited her into his cabin where his aged wife gave her something to eat. This breakfast consisted of boiled rice, some fish which the old man had just brought from his set lines in the San Mateo river, and some bacon which he had found along the trail made by the American’s pack train the day before.While the old couple were outside of their home—he breaking up some bamboo with which to re-kindle the fire, and she, cleaning the fish—Marie ransacked the house. She stole a large diamond ring which the old man had taken from the finger of a Spanish officer during the previous insurrection. She opened an old mahogany chest and took from it a rosary valued at several hundred dollars; also a gold lined cup which the old man, himself, had stolen from a Spanish priest, and some Spanish coins.After a hearty lunch, she started on.Crossing the river at the rapids, on the boulders which projected above the water, she quickened her steps and hurried along.Changing her course to the southward, she started for the northern end of LakeLagunade Bay to see her mother.She had not gone far through a small clump of timber when she came upon the corpse of a Filipino soldier who had been shot in the previous day’s engagement,—perhaps by a stray ball. Hastily stealing the cross which hung from a small cord about his neck, and a valueless ring from one of his fingers, she seized his Mauser rifle and his cartridge belt which was partly filled with ammunition, and then resumed her journey.A short distance ahead was a large opening—an old rice field well cleared. She had scarcely begun to cross it when she heard a noise. She turned and saw the bow-legged old man whom she had robbed, with a machete in his hand, coming after her as fast as he could. He had discovered that the rosary was missing, and upon looking around, that several other things were gone; therefore he at once started in pursuit of the fiend who had just enjoyed his hospitality.Marie was not disturbed. Raising to her shoulder the rifle which she had just found, she took deliberate aim and at the first shot laid him low in death.She reached the small native village of Angono, where her mother was stopping, about four o’clock in the afternoon of March 26th.The old lady was wonderfully elated to receive the new jewels which Marie had stolen. She put on the rosary and danced about in the native hut like a young child on Christmas morning, when it sees the gorged stocking fastened to its bed.Chapter VII.Off For BalerThat night Marie had a good rest. The next morning, fired with ambition and discontent, she lit her accustomed cigarette and started for Manila. Instead of going overland, she went in a row boat via the Pasig river which drains the lake into Manila bay and which flows through the city of Manila situated at its mouth.While stealthily prowling around through Manila during the next few days, Marie accidentally discovered that plans were being carried out by the Americans to relieve the remnant of the old Spanish garrison of fifty men stationed at the little town of Baler, near the eastern coast of Luzon. This garrison was of course surrendered to the American forces with the remainder of the Spanish army on August 13, 1898, but as all lines of communication with them had been destroyed by the Filipinos they had neverbeen officially notified of the capitulation. Scouting parties brought in the information that they were being besieged by a horde of blood-thirsty Filipinos which outnumbered them ten to one, and that it was only a question of time before all would be exterminated.Accordingly, Admiral Dewey and General Otis decided that something must be done at once to relieve them. A rescuing party was formed and placed aboard the “Yorktown,” which carried them around the southern point of Luzon and then northward to the mouth of the Baler river.Marie, nerved by the thought of a new exploit, forgot her oath not to take up arms against the Americans again during the insurrection, and hastily departed overland for Baler to notify the besieging Filipinos of what was to take place, and to help them as best she could to resist the advance of the rescuing party.Although Baler is situated on the Baler river, near the eastern coast of Luzon, andManila is on the west side of the island Baler is, nevertheless, almost directly north of Manila. This is caused by the deep indention of Manila bay, on the extreme eastern side of which Manila is situated, and by the abrupt inclination to the westward of the eastern coast line of Luzon directly above a point straight east of Manila.In starting on her journey Marie left Manila by a little Filipino foot-path which enters the city in the northeastern part near the San Sebastian church. She followed it to Block-house No. 4, which is situated about three miles north and a trifle east of Manila. At that point she took a road which veered off perceptibly to the east for a short distance and which was made by the Americans’ commissary train on the morning that the advance was begun toward Malolos, March 25, preceding.She had gone but a quarter of a mile when her attention was attracted to a board used as the head-stone for a grave only a few feet distant from her pathway. Shewalked over to in and found these words inscribed thereon:“R. I. P. D. O. M.Wat Erbuf FaloBorn — (?) Died, February 12, 1899.To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;If this mound could speak no doubt it would tellBill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’He charged on two pickets whose names are below;They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.Signed: Barney and Barkley, Co. “M,” 1st. Col. Vols.”It was now April 2nd, and Marie hadahead of her about ninety miles overland to be made on foot or else on horse-back; and it was necessary for her to hurry along, as the rescuing party was scheduled to reach the mouth of Baler river April 10th, or 12th.Her course led past the little shack on the bank of the San Mateo river, where she had robbed the elderly couple who had been so kind to her and near where she later had shot the old man when he was pursuing her to regain possession of his stolen property.She found it deserted; but in a little bamboo corral nearby she found three Chinese ponies. Evidently they had made their escape from the scene of battle and had drifted into this yard for refuge. There was a small stack of rice straw just outside the corral. From this Marie soon made a stoutly-twisted rope which she hastily arranged in the form of a bridle. Placing it over the head of the largest pony she mounted him and rode off.She got ten miles beyond this last stoppingplace before sunset. That night she stopped at a small inland village. As she lay down to sleep on the bamboo floor in the hut of a Tagalo family whose acquaintance she had readily formed, recollections of the place which she had passed during the afternoon where she had previously robbed the old couple immediately after she was released upon oath by the Americans, suggested to her the thought that she was violating her oath; that she was now out in a country where she might be betrayed at any moment by her own people, or else be captured by a squad of American infantry or cavalry; therefore, she decided that on the following day she would destroy her identity.Filipinos at BreakfastFilipinos at Breakfast(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)Upon retiring the previous night Marie coiled up for a pillow her head of long black hair. “I hate to give it up,” thought she, “but what will the Americans do to me if they capture me another time? Oh! well, after the war is over it will soon grow out again.”The next morning, after a scanty breakfastof bananas and rice, and a pineapple which Marie salted heavily before she ate it, she went to a native barber and had her long hair cut close to the scalp, except for a little tuft on top which she had him brush up for a pompadour.Before cutting off her hair the barber tied a piece of hemp very tightly around it, just back of her neck. After he had detached it, he held it in front of Marie and asked her what she wished done with it. She took it in her own hands.The barber kept on trimming her shortened hair. Marie stopped talking and seemed to be in deep meditation.Presently the barber said. “That’s all.”Marie arose from the rough mahogany slab on which she had been sitting, handed him a puesta (twenty cents, Mexican), looked out of the window and said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll trade you my hair for that quilas (two-wheeled cart) standing there.”“All right”; said the barber, “My pony is dead, and the war has so devasted thecountry, and money has become so scarce, that I can’t afford to buy another one.”“The harness hanging on it goes with the cart,” said Marie.“Oh no!” exclaimed the barber, “my wife borrowed that, and I must return it.”“It doesn’t make any difference to whom it belongs,” said Marie, emphatically, “you traded me the cart, and everything that was in it goes with the trade. How do you suppose I could hitch my pony into the cart without a harness?”Just then she pulled a bolo out from under her apron. The barber said no more.Marie hitched her pony into the cart and started on toward Baler.That day she followed a good road leading toward the mountains near the eastern coast of Luzon. By night her pony had made twenty miles.She had already reached the foot-hills. It was impossible for her to make head-way any longer with the cart. She would soon be across the mountains and be in theregion to be approached by the American relief party. What was to be done?A happy thought came to Marie. She clasped her hands and muttered to herself, “I’ll trade the cart for a suit of men’s clothes and trade the harness for a sombrero,” (bamboo hat.)Since the middle of the afternoon she had been driving parallel to a stream that wound its way, nearby, from the mountains across the plains to the sea. Villages along the banks were numerous. At night fall she was still in Tagalo territory. It was her own tribe. She soon found a place to stay over night. Her pony was turned loose in a vacant yard, with an old bamboo fence around it, and given some young rice.That evening while smoking cigarettes, and while inflaming the minds of the villagers with startling stories about the atrocities, of the American soldiers, Marie finally succeeded in making the trade which she had planned during the afternoon.Next morning, April 5, she rode on. Beforeher lay sixty miles of unknown territory to be covered during the next four days, if she were to reach Baler in time to warn the besieging Filipinos of the contemplated attack by the Americans.A half mile out from the village, Marie came to an abrupt turn in the road. Near by was a dense cluster of banana trees. She dismounted, and while her pony was nibbling young rice she went into the thicket and changed her attire. Then she tied a good-sized stone up in her old clothes and threw them into the river. As she stood on the bank watching them sink, she saw her shadow in the water. How changed she looked! The sombrero was such a relief in keeping the hot sun off her head.“Now, I’ll not be recognized,” thought she. “How nice it is to be dressed like a man. From now on I mean to play a man’s part and be a full-fledged soldier.”Chapter VIII.The Gilmore IncidentMarie reached her destination late in the evening of April 9th, and she at once notified the officers commanding the Filipinos who were besieging Baler, what to expect. Knowing that with so small a force, if the Americans undertook to relieve the Spanish garrison, it would necessarily have to be done by way of the Baler river—as the town of Baler where the Spanish garrison was located is some two miles up the river from where it empties into the Pacific ocean, and the American troops were too greatly outnumbered by the Filipinos to make a land expedition safe,—she suggested to them the advisability of fortifying the river at specific intervals along either bank and of taking the precaution to cover the fortifications with freshly-cut brush so that the Americans could not locate them for the purpose of bombarding them in case they saw fit to loadsome of the smaller cannon on cascoes and make their way up the river for an attack in that way.The Filipinos took her suggestions, and the entrenchments and places for the sentries were quickly, yet very wisely, arranged. It was during the dry season and the river was very low at the time. This made it possible to dig ditches on the sand bars which extended far out into the stream; and by throwing into the river the loose sand taken therefrom, to conceal these entrenchments by strewing over them some fresh-cut limbs and old under brush which had the appearance of having drifted to their lodgment.The Yorktown arrived off the mouth of the Baler river, April 11, as scheduled. Ensign Stanley went ashore, under a flag of truce, where, to his surprise, he was cordially received by the Filipino officers; but their exceptionally good behavior and the twinkle of their eyes told only too plainly to the ensign that something was wrong. He therefore returned to the Yorktown without havingaccomplished anything in particular.The next morning, at four o’clock, Lieutenant Gilmore and sixteen brave associates left the Yorktown in a row boat, and entered the mouth of the river. Ensign Stanley and Quartermaster Lysac were put ashore to reconnoiter. In a few minutes daylight broke forth and those left in the boat were discovered by the Filipino sentry who was walking his beat along the shore. He gave the alarm. Lieutenant Gilmore and his party could easily have pulled out to sea and gotten away, but humanity forbade it. What would become of the two scouts who went ashore? Their comrades in the boat could not desert them, so they rowed up the river into the very jaws of impending danger.Presently out of a concealed trench hundreds of armed Filipinos opened a deadly fire on Gilmore and his comrades, at only fifty yards distance. The water at this point was shallow. The boat got stuck in the mud. There was nothing to do but to fight. In a moment Morrisy fell dead, having beenshot through the head; Dillon followed; then McDonald, then Nygard;—Marie was doing deadly work with her Mauser rifle.The Americans returned the fire as best they could; but what was the use. They could see nothing to fire at, so perfectly had the Filipinos screened their trenches; besides, the Filipinos were using smokeless powder.Four of Gilmore’s men were already dead, two were mortally wounded and begging their comrades to shoot them before they fell into the hands of the Filipinos, and two more were slightly wounded. Most of the oars had been badly shattered by the enemy’s rifle balls. In this moment of desperation, Ellsworth, Woodbury and Edwards jumped overboard and tried to push the boat out to mid-stream. It was no use; the tide was coming in and the current was so strong that they could not compete against it.Lieutenant Gilmore was firing his revolver. He decided to change and use one ofthe dead men’s rifles. As he picked it up he noticed the lock had been struck by a Remington ball and the clip had been jammed in. He handed it to an apprentice lad, named Venville, to be fixed.The boy had scarcely begun to examine the gun, when a bullet struck him in the fleshy part of the neck. He had never been under fire before. Looking up calmly, he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit.”In a moment another bullet struck him in the chest and came out of his arm pit. With his attentionrivetedon his task, he remarked, “I’m hit again, Mr. Gilmore.”Only a moment later another ball grazed the side of his head and cut a painful wound in his scalp. “Mr. Gilmore, they’ve hit me again,” he muttered, while he kept on working at the gun, with blood running down all over him.In a few minutes a fourth ball passed through the lad’s ankle, one of the most painful parts of the body in which to get shot. This time, with a slight tremble in his voice,he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit once more; but I’ve fixed your gun, Sir.”Just at this moment the Filipinos saw that the Americans’ fire had practically ceased. Throwing back from off their trench the limbs and underbrush that had concealed them, the Filipinos, armed with guns, spears, bolos and clubs, made a bold dash for the boat and captured the entire crew.End of the Boat BattleEnd of the Boat Battle(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)Chapter IX.The American PrisonersThose of the Americans who were alive and able to help themselves were ordered to go ashore on the sand bar, where the Filipinos robbed them of their personal effects and then lined them up preparatory to shooting them all down in a body. Gilmore, being an officer, protested against having his hands tied. He claimed, according to the accepted rules of warfare, that on account of his rank he had a right to die honorably with his hands free. The Filipinos have great superstitions about “rank” in military affairs. Marie knew the significance of Gilmore’s request; she respected it.The Filipinos had loaded their rifles, cocked them, raised the same to their shoulders, had taken aim, and Marie was about to give the fatal command, “Fire!”, when a shout from the bank stopped her and for a moment engaged the attention of both theAmericans and the Filipinos. It came from a Filipino officer, running down to the shore. He ordered them to stop. One second longer would have been too late.This Tagalo officer ordered the Americans to get back into their boat and to row across to the opposite shore. After bailing the water out of the boat and plugging up the holes in it made by the enemy’s rifle balls, they obeyed his command.When they went ashore, Lieutenant Gilmore asked permission to bury his dead comrades. This privilege was emphatically denied. What was done with their bodies by the Filipinos is hard to tell, but in all probability, as was customary with the natives, they cut them into fragments and threw them away.The ones who were mortally wounded, but who were still alive, were placed under a tree by Gilmore and his comrades, and left to die. The Lieutenant asked that a native doctor be summoned to give them aid, but itwas not done. What their fate was Eternity alone will reveal.Gilmore and his comrades picked up the lesser wounded and carried them, and together the whole procession was marched inland about a mile to the Filipino Commandante’s headquarters.Here they were questioned at length. Gilmore asked permission to write a note to the commander of the Yorktown telling him of their fate. Permission was granted, but the note was never delivered. The two scouts who went ashore, returned to the Yorktown in the afternoon and reported that they had heard heavy firing up the river.After waiting several days for news of some kind for them, and finally concluding that they were either captured or killed, the crew of the Yorktown, heavy-hearted over their failure and their sacrifice, steamed back to Manila.During the afternoon of the same day that the battle took place, the American prisonerswere ordered to march to an old bamboo church in the northern outskirts of the little town of Baler, a mile and a half farther on. By this time the wounded men were suffering terribly. Little Venville’s ankle had swollen badly. From his four wounds he had bled so much that he had grown faint. Therefore, he and several of the others had to be carried.En route to their new destination, the Americans passed in sight of the old stone church being used as a fortress by the Spanish garrison whom they had originally set out to relieve. The Americans had gone to the Philippines to fight the Spaniards. They were now sacrificing their lives to save them.At the bamboo church, an old Filipino with a kindly face and a manner that elevated him above his fellow tribesmen, came in to see them. He examined the wounded and then disappeared. Presently he returned with some large leaves that resembled rhubarb, under his arm. Out of the big stems of these native herbs he squeezed a milkysecretion which he permitted to drop into the gaping wounds of the Americans. The torture of the wounded occasioned by this liquid was damnable. The men grew deathly pale. They rolled and screamed and begged to be shot. But it did not last long. In ten minutes the torture had ceased, the men became quiet, the swelling around their wounds was gradually reduced, and their temperatures soon lowered. The herb doctor evidently knew his business.The next day the Filipinos received orders from Aguinaldo, who, with his appointed congress, was now at San Isidro, to march the captured Americans to his headquarters. Accordingly, the trip was undertaken. But the apprentice lad, Venville, was unable to go along. Obeying the stubborn orders of the rapacious Filipinos his comrades left him lying on the floor of the old rickety bamboo church,—wounded—uncared for—suffering—hungry—thirsty—dying. A year later the assistance of the entire naval organization in the Philippines was given tothe task of trying to ascertain from the Filipinos in the neighborhood of Baler some information concerning the lad’s whereabouts or his burial place, but no trace of him, dead or alive, could ever be found.An aged mother, ill and bowed,Keeps asking, “Where’s my boy?”But zephyrs from the OrientRefuse to bring the joy.Amid great privations the marching column crossed the mountains and the fertile plains on the opposite side, to the city of San Isidro. It was heralded in advance that the Americans were coming through the country. Obeying their greatest national instinct—curiosity—the natives assembled by thousands in the villages along the road. Every one of them kept crowding forward to get to touch the Americans to see what their skins felt like. Others were looking for the long feathers in their hair, which they had heard so much about. It was all the Filipino guards could do to restrain their own people. The latter, like monkeys, jabbered incessantly.Gilmore’s men hurled back at them defiant epithets. They realized that involuntarily they had become the chief actors in a new moving circus.Again, when they reached San Isidro, a great throng of curious natives had come to town to see them. These fellows were very hostile to the Americans. It was all the native guard could do to keep the Filipinos from doing violence to them. Gilmore was again questioned at length and then he was separated from his comrades and all were hurried off to jail.In a few days it was rumored that the American army was approaching the city. Aguinaldo and his associates hurriedly prepared to leave. Orders were given to march the prisoners overland north and then westward across another range of high mountains to Arancay, on the western coast of Luzon,—a distance of 100 miles.This time the crowd of prisoners was greatly increased. At San Isidro there were added 600 Spaniards; a small tribe of mountainNegritos whom Aguinaldo had originally sent to fight the Americans, but who, being armed only with spears and bolos, soon got tired of seeing their number decrease so rapidly before American riflemen, and refused to fight, and who were later imprisoned and terribly misused by Aguinaldo’s selected guards; and eighteen Americans in addition to Gilmore’s party (total twenty-six Americans), who had been captured in as many different ways around Manila by the crafty, cunning Filipinos. Among them was Frank Stone, of the U. S. Signal Corps, captured by some “amigos” (friendly natives) on the railroad track near Manila, while out strolling one Sunday afternoon; Private Curran, of the 16th U.S. Infantry who was grabbed within fifty feet of his own outpost, gagged and dragged into captivity; also a civilian who had gone to the Philippines to sell liquor.This fellow was captured by the Filipinos in the outskirts of Manila while he was searching for a small boatload of stolenbeer. He was the life of the expedition. He took his captivity as a joke, told stories to keep the prisoners good natured, and painted on ever boulder that he passed the seemingly sacrilegious words, “Drink Blank’s beer on the road to H——.” It was, however, this harmless practice that later on enabled the American relief party to follow the prisoners’ trail.After reaching the western shore of Luzon, the party was marched northward along the beach, another 100 miles, to the city of Vigan. Here they were imprisoned for three months longer. The sudden presence of an American war-ship in the harbor, off Vigan, caused the natives to abandon that city and start inland with their prisoners for some mountain fastness. The Americans were separated from the rest of the prisoners whom they never saw again.High up in the mountains of northern Luzon, two of the American boys were taken sick with fever and fell down, exhausted. The Filipino lieutenant who had charge of theprisoners, ordered them to go on; they could not. He threatened to shoot them. Gilmore interceded for them without avail. The Americans refused to leave their Anglo-Saxon comrades and prepared to fight. At this moment the Filipino officer himself was suddenly taken ill, and by the time he was able to advance, the sick Americans were able to go along.A few days later they struggled over the crest of the divide and came upon the headwaters of a beautiful mountain torrent dancing down the rocky ledges in its onward course to the sea. At a widened place in the canon, the Filipinos withdrew from the Americans, and with guns in hand took their positions on the rocks round-about and above them.“Prepare to die,” said Gilmore to his companions; “they are going to shoot us.” Calling the Filipino lieutenant to his side Gilmore asked him why he did not shoot them on the opposite side of the mountains,and not have made them make all of that hard climb for nothing.The native officer said in reply: “My orders were to shoot all of you when I got you up in the mountains, where, in all probability, your bodies would be destroyed by wild animals and no trace of them ever be found by your countrymen; but a few nights ago when you showed me that crucifix tattooed on your chest while you were a midshipman in America, I decided not to carry out my order, but to let you all go free. I may be punished for disobedience of orders; but we are both bound together by the great Catholic church, and my conscience forbids that I should kill you.”Gilmore replied: “You might as well shoot us as to set us free away up here in the mountains in our weakened condition with nothing to defend ourselves with against the savages whose territory we will have to cross in order to get to the sea. Can’t you spare us at least two rifles and some ammunition? If you will do this, I will giveyou a letter which, should you fall into the hands of the Americans, will make you safe and bring you ample reward.”The Filipino looked meditatingly at the ground for several moments, then he calmly said, “I shall not dare to do it. An American relief party, seeking your liberation, is close on our heels. They will protect and care for you. Goodby!”Gilmore did not believe him.Under cover of the night the Filipinos disappeared. In the morning, after nine long, tedious months of captivity resulting from Marie Sampalit’s depredations,—sick, nearly starved, practically nude, with nothing but two battle axes and a bolo for both weapons of defense and for tools—the Americans at last found themselves free men in the wilds of northern Luzon, with positive death left behind, and with possible life and all of its happy associations still before them.The RescueThe Rescue(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)Their first day of liberty was spent in preparing bamboo rafts on which to float down the tortuous, winding river to the sea.The next night they all slept well; and on the following morning, just after they had gotten up and begun to saunter around, everybody present was suddenly shocked by the shrill yell of a strong American voice. They all looked up, and while their hearts for a moment seemingly stopped beating and fairly rose in their throats, the liberated prisoners beheld the blue shirts and khaki trousers of Colonel Hare’s rescue party that for several weeks had been on their trail.What rejoicing! The bony, ill-clad prisoners fell on the strong bosoms of their rescuers and wept.Colonel Hare’s father, Judge Hare, of Washington, D.C., knew Gilmore personally. He had seen the military reports of his captivity among the natives. When his son bade him goodby as he started for the Philippines, Judge Hare said, “My boy, God bless you; find Gilmore and bring him home!” Colonel Hare had remained true to his trust.The party could not retrace their steps over the mountains, owing to the weakenedcondition of the prisoners and the lack of food. Their only chance for self-preservation and a possible return to civilization lay in carrying out Gilmore’s designs to build bamboo rafts and float down the river to the sea. This was done. In going over rapids and water-falls, many rafts were destroyed and new ones had to be built.Two of the boys got the measles. The raft on which one of them, Private Day, was being transported, got smashed on the rocks and he was thrown into the water. He took cold and died the next day. His comrades took his body with them and did not bury it until they finally reached the little town of Ambulug, at the mouth of the stream they had been following, on the northern coast of Luzon. There, amid a simple but impressive ceremony, it was buried in the church-yard of the cathedral to await the resurrection morn.At Ambulug the Americans secured ox-carts drawn by caribous and drove along the beach to the city of Aparri, at the mouth ofthe Cagayan river. Here they were met by a detachment of American Marines who took them aboard a war-ship, lying out to sea, which carried them around the northwest promontory of Luzon to the city of Vigan on the western coast, at which place they had been imprisoned for so long.Here they met General Young who shook hands with each of them; congratulated the rescued and complimented the rescuers.Floating Down the Rapids.Floating Down the Rapids.(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Chapter V.Filipino UprisingThe close of the eventful year of 1898 was near at hand. General Otis had been made governor-general of the islands. He had received about 15,000 troops from home. These had all been landed and were quartered in the city of Manila.Preparations had begun by the American troops for a great day of field sports to be held on the Luneta—a beautiful narrow park paralleling Manila bay and extending southward from the walled-city about four miles—on New Year’s day, 1899.On the afternoon of January I, as planned, the exercises were begun. The afternoon program consisted of foot races, running high jumps, wheelbarrow race, fat man’s race, running broad jump, high kicking, fancy club swinging, tumbling, shot-put, sack race, tugs of war, five boxing contests, base ball, foot ball, and pole vaulting.Situated on the Luneta, about a mile south of the walled city, and distant from Manila bay about 100 feet, is a large bandstand. This served as headquarters for the exercises. The day was perfect—clear, cool and calm.About 2:00 P.M. over 40,000 natives, soldiers (including jack-tars from Dewey’s fleet, Spaniards and Americans) and foreign residents had assembled around this bandstand to hear the Address of Welcome and to witness the sports. When the speaker arose to deliver the address, for which he was afterward voted, and presented with, a medal by the Eight Army Corps, he said in part (verbatim report):“On behalf of these committeemen who have spared no efforts to make these Field Day Exercises a success, and this occasion one long to be remembered by those who have assembled here this afternoon, I bid you, one and all—officers, soldiers, sailors and civilians of every nationality—a hearty welcome.”“Again to you, the members of Admiral Dewey’s fleet, I feel obligated to extend a separate and special welcome; for without your chivalrous devotion to duty last May Day, yon shell-riven wrecks (part of unraised Spanish fleet visible above the bay) would not bespeak the down-fall of a sister nation, and we ourselves would not have been permitted to assemble here this afternoon. There is no braver man on land or sea than the American marine; and on behalf of the entire American army of occupation, I bid you a most cordial welcome.”Touching upon the question of territorial expansion, the speaker said:“This was a war for humanity, not for conquest. But simply because it suddenly closed and left us in possession of large tracts of new territory, is no reason why these spoils of war should be given up. I hold this to be true Americanism: that wherever the old flag is established through sacrifice of American blood, whether it be on the barren sands of the desert, at the frigid extremes of theearth, or on the rich and fertile islands of the sea, there is should remain triumphant, shedding forth beams of liberty to the oppressed, shouts of defiance to the oppressor, and furnish protection and enlightenment to all who come beneath its streaming folds forever!” (applause).A chubby Filipino maiden, standing near the speaker’s stand, and who had listened intently to every word of the address, because she now understood the English tongue, quietly elbowed her way through the dense crowd which was gradually becoming more compressed, until she reached a car drawn by two Chinese ponies on the old street car line running south from Manila to Fort Malate and back. Taking the car she rode up town to the Escolta. Going into the postoffice, she hastily wrote and mailed to Aguinaldo at Malolos a letter containing an account of what was said. It follows:“Manila, P. I., Jan. 1, 1899.My Dear General:Those wretched Americans are holding some kind of exercises on the Luneta this afternoon. I heard one of the speeches. It was awful bad. The fellow talked loud. He swung his hands in the air and the crowd seemed to get terribly excited over what he was saying.He told about that treaty of peace, and he said no power under the sun would haul down the American flag from over Manila.It made me angry. I am going right out to the Filipino trenches to see my Uncle (Colonel Miguel). He’ll fix those fellows. I’ll bet he’ll haul down their flag before tomorrow morning.Goodby,Marie.”The evening program on the Luneta, which followed the afternoon exercises, was largely literary in its nature. It consisted ofmusic by the California band, singing by the famous Washington Male Quartet, fancy dancing, selected recitations, and stump speeches. In addition, Privates Green and Martin boxed four rounds, much to the satisfaction of the natives.The program had just been completed when the Master of Ceremonies received from the American general in charge a note telling him to announce the conclusion of the program at once and to order all soldiers to report immediately at their respective regimental headquarters;—trouble had been reported at the out-posts. Reinforcements were hastened to several of the out-post reserves, and it appeared that the expected insurrection was at hand.After the out-break by the Filipinos on New Year’s night, it was evident to both sides that it was only a question of a short time when blood would be spilled in abundance. The Filipinos occupied all of the block-houses—some seventeen in number—around the city of Manila. This forced theAmericans to stand in the open and do guard duty exposed.The Filipino troops were saucy. They couldn’t understand why men should be armed with rifles and not be permitted to shoot. They tormented the American soldiers daily with hideous pranks. They grew bolder, and pushed their out-posts forward until they stood within a few feet of the American sentries.Marie went out and back through the American lines at will. She secretly kept the Filipino army thoroughly posted on the arrival of new troops from America. Occasionally she would take the train and go up to Malolos to see Aguinaldo. She was the best posted person in the Philippines as to what was going on in each of the hostile armies. Nobody suspected her. She was respected by the American troops. Everybody came to know her.Just before dusk, on the evening of February 4th, 1899, Marie and her mother left the city of Manila, in a cariole, drawn by aChinese pony which they had recently purchased. They had in it all of their most precious household trinkets. As they passed Colonel John M. Stotsenberg, commanding the 1st Nebraska volunteers, stationed on McLeod’s hill at the eastern edge of Manila, he recognized them, and called to Marie, “Where are you going?”“Out on a little trip,” retorted Marie.“How soon will you be back?” asked he.“O, I can’t tell,” responded Marie. “Mother is getting so nervous that we thought best to go away for awhile.”“Say, Marie,” said the colonel, “do you know who the Filipino officer is in command of all those thousands of troops that are now assembling in the ravines between the hills along the far side of the river valley, yonder?”“No, I do not,” she declared with an emphatic swing of her head.But she was lying. It was Colonel Miguel, her own uncle. She knew about it. He had secretlyinformed her that he was preparing to attack the city and burn it and that he was going to exterminate the American army of occupation and all foreign residents that fell into the hands of his mighty army. He told her that he had chosen the east side of the city as his main point of attack, so that Dewey could not reach his troops with the shells from his gun boats in case he tried to assist the American army, without elevating his guns and shooting completely over the city—a thing wholly impractical within itself, as Dewey could not determine whether his shells would be falling among the Filipino or the American troops. It was he who advised her to take her mother and flee to the hills for refuge.Colonel Stotsenberg then asked Marie if she knew anything about the proposed attack on the city by her people. This, she denied also. The colonel’s face flushed. Pulling back the flap of his tent, he said emphatically: “Do you see that gun, Marie? Tell those fellows over there when you pass theirlines that I said they could have trouble whenever they want it.”Marie drove on.Inside the colonel’s tent stood a large gun from the Utah battery, mounted, loaded, ready for action; its threatening nose was pointed directly at the line of little brown men assembled across the valley. The Filipinos were smarting for trouble. They wanted it badly. Wherever and whenever possible they improved every opportunity to bring it about. The trouble came. Colonel Stotsenberg that night used the cannon he had pointed out to Marie. A long pile of mangled forms lying at the base of the river hills on the opposite of the valley next morning told the results.
Chapter V.Filipino Uprising
The close of the eventful year of 1898 was near at hand. General Otis had been made governor-general of the islands. He had received about 15,000 troops from home. These had all been landed and were quartered in the city of Manila.Preparations had begun by the American troops for a great day of field sports to be held on the Luneta—a beautiful narrow park paralleling Manila bay and extending southward from the walled-city about four miles—on New Year’s day, 1899.On the afternoon of January I, as planned, the exercises were begun. The afternoon program consisted of foot races, running high jumps, wheelbarrow race, fat man’s race, running broad jump, high kicking, fancy club swinging, tumbling, shot-put, sack race, tugs of war, five boxing contests, base ball, foot ball, and pole vaulting.Situated on the Luneta, about a mile south of the walled city, and distant from Manila bay about 100 feet, is a large bandstand. This served as headquarters for the exercises. The day was perfect—clear, cool and calm.About 2:00 P.M. over 40,000 natives, soldiers (including jack-tars from Dewey’s fleet, Spaniards and Americans) and foreign residents had assembled around this bandstand to hear the Address of Welcome and to witness the sports. When the speaker arose to deliver the address, for which he was afterward voted, and presented with, a medal by the Eight Army Corps, he said in part (verbatim report):“On behalf of these committeemen who have spared no efforts to make these Field Day Exercises a success, and this occasion one long to be remembered by those who have assembled here this afternoon, I bid you, one and all—officers, soldiers, sailors and civilians of every nationality—a hearty welcome.”“Again to you, the members of Admiral Dewey’s fleet, I feel obligated to extend a separate and special welcome; for without your chivalrous devotion to duty last May Day, yon shell-riven wrecks (part of unraised Spanish fleet visible above the bay) would not bespeak the down-fall of a sister nation, and we ourselves would not have been permitted to assemble here this afternoon. There is no braver man on land or sea than the American marine; and on behalf of the entire American army of occupation, I bid you a most cordial welcome.”Touching upon the question of territorial expansion, the speaker said:“This was a war for humanity, not for conquest. But simply because it suddenly closed and left us in possession of large tracts of new territory, is no reason why these spoils of war should be given up. I hold this to be true Americanism: that wherever the old flag is established through sacrifice of American blood, whether it be on the barren sands of the desert, at the frigid extremes of theearth, or on the rich and fertile islands of the sea, there is should remain triumphant, shedding forth beams of liberty to the oppressed, shouts of defiance to the oppressor, and furnish protection and enlightenment to all who come beneath its streaming folds forever!” (applause).A chubby Filipino maiden, standing near the speaker’s stand, and who had listened intently to every word of the address, because she now understood the English tongue, quietly elbowed her way through the dense crowd which was gradually becoming more compressed, until she reached a car drawn by two Chinese ponies on the old street car line running south from Manila to Fort Malate and back. Taking the car she rode up town to the Escolta. Going into the postoffice, she hastily wrote and mailed to Aguinaldo at Malolos a letter containing an account of what was said. It follows:“Manila, P. I., Jan. 1, 1899.My Dear General:Those wretched Americans are holding some kind of exercises on the Luneta this afternoon. I heard one of the speeches. It was awful bad. The fellow talked loud. He swung his hands in the air and the crowd seemed to get terribly excited over what he was saying.He told about that treaty of peace, and he said no power under the sun would haul down the American flag from over Manila.It made me angry. I am going right out to the Filipino trenches to see my Uncle (Colonel Miguel). He’ll fix those fellows. I’ll bet he’ll haul down their flag before tomorrow morning.Goodby,Marie.”The evening program on the Luneta, which followed the afternoon exercises, was largely literary in its nature. It consisted ofmusic by the California band, singing by the famous Washington Male Quartet, fancy dancing, selected recitations, and stump speeches. In addition, Privates Green and Martin boxed four rounds, much to the satisfaction of the natives.The program had just been completed when the Master of Ceremonies received from the American general in charge a note telling him to announce the conclusion of the program at once and to order all soldiers to report immediately at their respective regimental headquarters;—trouble had been reported at the out-posts. Reinforcements were hastened to several of the out-post reserves, and it appeared that the expected insurrection was at hand.After the out-break by the Filipinos on New Year’s night, it was evident to both sides that it was only a question of a short time when blood would be spilled in abundance. The Filipinos occupied all of the block-houses—some seventeen in number—around the city of Manila. This forced theAmericans to stand in the open and do guard duty exposed.The Filipino troops were saucy. They couldn’t understand why men should be armed with rifles and not be permitted to shoot. They tormented the American soldiers daily with hideous pranks. They grew bolder, and pushed their out-posts forward until they stood within a few feet of the American sentries.Marie went out and back through the American lines at will. She secretly kept the Filipino army thoroughly posted on the arrival of new troops from America. Occasionally she would take the train and go up to Malolos to see Aguinaldo. She was the best posted person in the Philippines as to what was going on in each of the hostile armies. Nobody suspected her. She was respected by the American troops. Everybody came to know her.Just before dusk, on the evening of February 4th, 1899, Marie and her mother left the city of Manila, in a cariole, drawn by aChinese pony which they had recently purchased. They had in it all of their most precious household trinkets. As they passed Colonel John M. Stotsenberg, commanding the 1st Nebraska volunteers, stationed on McLeod’s hill at the eastern edge of Manila, he recognized them, and called to Marie, “Where are you going?”“Out on a little trip,” retorted Marie.“How soon will you be back?” asked he.“O, I can’t tell,” responded Marie. “Mother is getting so nervous that we thought best to go away for awhile.”“Say, Marie,” said the colonel, “do you know who the Filipino officer is in command of all those thousands of troops that are now assembling in the ravines between the hills along the far side of the river valley, yonder?”“No, I do not,” she declared with an emphatic swing of her head.But she was lying. It was Colonel Miguel, her own uncle. She knew about it. He had secretlyinformed her that he was preparing to attack the city and burn it and that he was going to exterminate the American army of occupation and all foreign residents that fell into the hands of his mighty army. He told her that he had chosen the east side of the city as his main point of attack, so that Dewey could not reach his troops with the shells from his gun boats in case he tried to assist the American army, without elevating his guns and shooting completely over the city—a thing wholly impractical within itself, as Dewey could not determine whether his shells would be falling among the Filipino or the American troops. It was he who advised her to take her mother and flee to the hills for refuge.Colonel Stotsenberg then asked Marie if she knew anything about the proposed attack on the city by her people. This, she denied also. The colonel’s face flushed. Pulling back the flap of his tent, he said emphatically: “Do you see that gun, Marie? Tell those fellows over there when you pass theirlines that I said they could have trouble whenever they want it.”Marie drove on.Inside the colonel’s tent stood a large gun from the Utah battery, mounted, loaded, ready for action; its threatening nose was pointed directly at the line of little brown men assembled across the valley. The Filipinos were smarting for trouble. They wanted it badly. Wherever and whenever possible they improved every opportunity to bring it about. The trouble came. Colonel Stotsenberg that night used the cannon he had pointed out to Marie. A long pile of mangled forms lying at the base of the river hills on the opposite of the valley next morning told the results.
The close of the eventful year of 1898 was near at hand. General Otis had been made governor-general of the islands. He had received about 15,000 troops from home. These had all been landed and were quartered in the city of Manila.
Preparations had begun by the American troops for a great day of field sports to be held on the Luneta—a beautiful narrow park paralleling Manila bay and extending southward from the walled-city about four miles—on New Year’s day, 1899.
On the afternoon of January I, as planned, the exercises were begun. The afternoon program consisted of foot races, running high jumps, wheelbarrow race, fat man’s race, running broad jump, high kicking, fancy club swinging, tumbling, shot-put, sack race, tugs of war, five boxing contests, base ball, foot ball, and pole vaulting.
Situated on the Luneta, about a mile south of the walled city, and distant from Manila bay about 100 feet, is a large bandstand. This served as headquarters for the exercises. The day was perfect—clear, cool and calm.
About 2:00 P.M. over 40,000 natives, soldiers (including jack-tars from Dewey’s fleet, Spaniards and Americans) and foreign residents had assembled around this bandstand to hear the Address of Welcome and to witness the sports. When the speaker arose to deliver the address, for which he was afterward voted, and presented with, a medal by the Eight Army Corps, he said in part (verbatim report):
“On behalf of these committeemen who have spared no efforts to make these Field Day Exercises a success, and this occasion one long to be remembered by those who have assembled here this afternoon, I bid you, one and all—officers, soldiers, sailors and civilians of every nationality—a hearty welcome.”
“Again to you, the members of Admiral Dewey’s fleet, I feel obligated to extend a separate and special welcome; for without your chivalrous devotion to duty last May Day, yon shell-riven wrecks (part of unraised Spanish fleet visible above the bay) would not bespeak the down-fall of a sister nation, and we ourselves would not have been permitted to assemble here this afternoon. There is no braver man on land or sea than the American marine; and on behalf of the entire American army of occupation, I bid you a most cordial welcome.”
Touching upon the question of territorial expansion, the speaker said:
“This was a war for humanity, not for conquest. But simply because it suddenly closed and left us in possession of large tracts of new territory, is no reason why these spoils of war should be given up. I hold this to be true Americanism: that wherever the old flag is established through sacrifice of American blood, whether it be on the barren sands of the desert, at the frigid extremes of theearth, or on the rich and fertile islands of the sea, there is should remain triumphant, shedding forth beams of liberty to the oppressed, shouts of defiance to the oppressor, and furnish protection and enlightenment to all who come beneath its streaming folds forever!” (applause).
A chubby Filipino maiden, standing near the speaker’s stand, and who had listened intently to every word of the address, because she now understood the English tongue, quietly elbowed her way through the dense crowd which was gradually becoming more compressed, until she reached a car drawn by two Chinese ponies on the old street car line running south from Manila to Fort Malate and back. Taking the car she rode up town to the Escolta. Going into the postoffice, she hastily wrote and mailed to Aguinaldo at Malolos a letter containing an account of what was said. It follows:
“Manila, P. I., Jan. 1, 1899.My Dear General:Those wretched Americans are holding some kind of exercises on the Luneta this afternoon. I heard one of the speeches. It was awful bad. The fellow talked loud. He swung his hands in the air and the crowd seemed to get terribly excited over what he was saying.He told about that treaty of peace, and he said no power under the sun would haul down the American flag from over Manila.It made me angry. I am going right out to the Filipino trenches to see my Uncle (Colonel Miguel). He’ll fix those fellows. I’ll bet he’ll haul down their flag before tomorrow morning.Goodby,Marie.”
“Manila, P. I., Jan. 1, 1899.My Dear General:Those wretched Americans are holding some kind of exercises on the Luneta this afternoon. I heard one of the speeches. It was awful bad. The fellow talked loud. He swung his hands in the air and the crowd seemed to get terribly excited over what he was saying.He told about that treaty of peace, and he said no power under the sun would haul down the American flag from over Manila.It made me angry. I am going right out to the Filipino trenches to see my Uncle (Colonel Miguel). He’ll fix those fellows. I’ll bet he’ll haul down their flag before tomorrow morning.Goodby,Marie.”
“Manila, P. I., Jan. 1, 1899.My Dear General:Those wretched Americans are holding some kind of exercises on the Luneta this afternoon. I heard one of the speeches. It was awful bad. The fellow talked loud. He swung his hands in the air and the crowd seemed to get terribly excited over what he was saying.He told about that treaty of peace, and he said no power under the sun would haul down the American flag from over Manila.It made me angry. I am going right out to the Filipino trenches to see my Uncle (Colonel Miguel). He’ll fix those fellows. I’ll bet he’ll haul down their flag before tomorrow morning.Goodby,Marie.”
“Manila, P. I., Jan. 1, 1899.My Dear General:Those wretched Americans are holding some kind of exercises on the Luneta this afternoon. I heard one of the speeches. It was awful bad. The fellow talked loud. He swung his hands in the air and the crowd seemed to get terribly excited over what he was saying.He told about that treaty of peace, and he said no power under the sun would haul down the American flag from over Manila.It made me angry. I am going right out to the Filipino trenches to see my Uncle (Colonel Miguel). He’ll fix those fellows. I’ll bet he’ll haul down their flag before tomorrow morning.Goodby,Marie.”
“Manila, P. I., Jan. 1, 1899.
My Dear General:
Those wretched Americans are holding some kind of exercises on the Luneta this afternoon. I heard one of the speeches. It was awful bad. The fellow talked loud. He swung his hands in the air and the crowd seemed to get terribly excited over what he was saying.
He told about that treaty of peace, and he said no power under the sun would haul down the American flag from over Manila.
It made me angry. I am going right out to the Filipino trenches to see my Uncle (Colonel Miguel). He’ll fix those fellows. I’ll bet he’ll haul down their flag before tomorrow morning.
Goodby,
Marie.”
The evening program on the Luneta, which followed the afternoon exercises, was largely literary in its nature. It consisted ofmusic by the California band, singing by the famous Washington Male Quartet, fancy dancing, selected recitations, and stump speeches. In addition, Privates Green and Martin boxed four rounds, much to the satisfaction of the natives.
The program had just been completed when the Master of Ceremonies received from the American general in charge a note telling him to announce the conclusion of the program at once and to order all soldiers to report immediately at their respective regimental headquarters;—trouble had been reported at the out-posts. Reinforcements were hastened to several of the out-post reserves, and it appeared that the expected insurrection was at hand.
After the out-break by the Filipinos on New Year’s night, it was evident to both sides that it was only a question of a short time when blood would be spilled in abundance. The Filipinos occupied all of the block-houses—some seventeen in number—around the city of Manila. This forced theAmericans to stand in the open and do guard duty exposed.
The Filipino troops were saucy. They couldn’t understand why men should be armed with rifles and not be permitted to shoot. They tormented the American soldiers daily with hideous pranks. They grew bolder, and pushed their out-posts forward until they stood within a few feet of the American sentries.
Marie went out and back through the American lines at will. She secretly kept the Filipino army thoroughly posted on the arrival of new troops from America. Occasionally she would take the train and go up to Malolos to see Aguinaldo. She was the best posted person in the Philippines as to what was going on in each of the hostile armies. Nobody suspected her. She was respected by the American troops. Everybody came to know her.
Just before dusk, on the evening of February 4th, 1899, Marie and her mother left the city of Manila, in a cariole, drawn by aChinese pony which they had recently purchased. They had in it all of their most precious household trinkets. As they passed Colonel John M. Stotsenberg, commanding the 1st Nebraska volunteers, stationed on McLeod’s hill at the eastern edge of Manila, he recognized them, and called to Marie, “Where are you going?”
“Out on a little trip,” retorted Marie.
“How soon will you be back?” asked he.
“O, I can’t tell,” responded Marie. “Mother is getting so nervous that we thought best to go away for awhile.”
“Say, Marie,” said the colonel, “do you know who the Filipino officer is in command of all those thousands of troops that are now assembling in the ravines between the hills along the far side of the river valley, yonder?”
“No, I do not,” she declared with an emphatic swing of her head.
But she was lying. It was Colonel Miguel, her own uncle. She knew about it. He had secretlyinformed her that he was preparing to attack the city and burn it and that he was going to exterminate the American army of occupation and all foreign residents that fell into the hands of his mighty army. He told her that he had chosen the east side of the city as his main point of attack, so that Dewey could not reach his troops with the shells from his gun boats in case he tried to assist the American army, without elevating his guns and shooting completely over the city—a thing wholly impractical within itself, as Dewey could not determine whether his shells would be falling among the Filipino or the American troops. It was he who advised her to take her mother and flee to the hills for refuge.
Colonel Stotsenberg then asked Marie if she knew anything about the proposed attack on the city by her people. This, she denied also. The colonel’s face flushed. Pulling back the flap of his tent, he said emphatically: “Do you see that gun, Marie? Tell those fellows over there when you pass theirlines that I said they could have trouble whenever they want it.”
Marie drove on.
Inside the colonel’s tent stood a large gun from the Utah battery, mounted, loaded, ready for action; its threatening nose was pointed directly at the line of little brown men assembled across the valley. The Filipinos were smarting for trouble. They wanted it badly. Wherever and whenever possible they improved every opportunity to bring it about. The trouble came. Colonel Stotsenberg that night used the cannon he had pointed out to Marie. A long pile of mangled forms lying at the base of the river hills on the opposite of the valley next morning told the results.
Chapter VI.As A SpyMarie was well equipped by instinct and experience for a spy. The tragic nature of such work was exceptionally inviting to her. When a chance came to undertake it, she lost no time in embracing the opportunity.After passing out through the American lines, she drove on down the slope of the hill and crossed the San Juan River on the old stone bridge where the fighting was begun that night by young Grayson of the Nebraska regiment. After reaching the Filipinos’ lines she at once reported to her uncle, Colonel Miguel, and had an extended interview with him.Marie, Her Mother and Two Filipino ScoutsMarie, Her Mother and Two Filipino ScoutsSecret plans were agreed upon whereby she was to become the colonel’s chief scout. Two Filipino soldiers were sent to accompany her old mother to the little town of Angono on the eastern bank of Lake Laguna de Bay, near its northern end. A native family,quite familiar with the Sampalits and related to them, lived in this village. Marie stayed with the troops in the field. Her young brain danced at the thought of more bloodshed. She must be in the fight.Just what part Marie took in the attack made upon the Americans by the Filipinos on the night of February 4th, and in the fighting on February 5th, the world will never know. The two main figures in these operations were Colonel Miguel, in command of the main portion of the Filipino forces, and Colonel Stotsenberg, who commanded the 1st Nebraska volunteers. Before the close of the war these men were both shot; consequently, there is no one left to tell the story, and history is silent on the point.After the fight of February 4 and 5, the entire line of block-houses and intrenchments circumscribing Manila, were in the hands of the Americans. From the Pasig river on the east, around the city to the bay on the north, this line was commanded by Major-General MacArthur; the correspondingsemi-circle on the south, by Major-General Anderson.During the next seven weeks, fresh troops were constantly arriving. Each side was preparing for the long, inevitable conflict.At day break, on March 25, General MacArthur, leaving Hall’s brigade in the trenches and placing those of Otis and Hale on the firing line, which was over seven miles in length, made a brilliant charge along the entire front on the Filipinos’ breastworks about a mile and a half distant and constructed parallel to those of the Americans’.Before night he had cut the Filipino army into hopeless fragments; had advanced his own army over nine miles; had inflicted a terrible loss upon Aguinaldo’s troops; had demonstrated to them the difference between a determined American advance and an irresolute Spanish one; and had taken up in earnest the invasion of Luzon, the capture of the Filipinos’ temporary capital, Malolos, the overthrow of their provisional government,and the establishment of American sovereignty throughout the entire archipelago.That night, about eleven o’clock, a nervous Filipino woman came walking down along the American out-post reserves which, during actual war, are usually only from 100 to 200 feet in the rear of the sentries. She reached Company “G’s” reserve of the 1st South Dakota Volunteers, where she was ordered to halt. She refused, but acted as though she did not understand. Drawing a large bamboo bonnet down over her face to conceal her identity, she mumbled something apparently to herself, and walked rapidly on. In a moment she was seized; her bonnet was torn off; her identity revealed: it was Marie.She had been counting the American out-posts and the reserves to see if the defeated Filipinos, with the reinforcements which they had received, would be warranted in making a night attack.She boldly denied her identification; fought, scratched, scrambled—making it necessaryto employ two privates, a corporal and a sergeant to send her to the rear.When she was taken before Major William F. Allison, commanding the 3rd battalion of the South Dakotas, who was acting as field-officer that night, he ordered her restrained until morning. A tired private was detailed to guard her. He gave her a rubber poncho, and insisted that she wrap herself up in it and lie down to sleep. Although she drew the poncho about her to keep herself warm (it grew very chilly before morning) she refused to sleep, and made repeated efforts to escape. Her teeth chattered and she seemed distressed—evidently through fear of what the morning might bring to her.The next day she was set free, after taking a solemn oath to return to Manila and not take any further part in the insurrection. She pleaded earnestly for her liberty, and voluntarily promised that after her return to Manila she would do washing free of charge for the American soldiers who were sick in quarters.After being liberated, Marie walked eastward, following an irregular sled-road; that is, a road-way used by the Filipinos for sledding their rice to market. This is done by means of a bamboo sled drawn over the dry ground by a caribou. She followed this road for over two miles until she came to the San Mateo river.Although given a few hardtack by her captors at the time of her release, she was getting hungry. As she approached the stream she noticed an old Filipino standing near his bamboo cabin which was neatly tucked away oh the slope of a deep ravine near by. Turning from her pathway which had now grown somewhat indistinct she approached the old gentleman.When quite close to him she said, “Buenos dias,” (Good morning in Spanish.)“Magandang umaga,” (Good morning, in Tagalo), muttered the old man.After a brief conversation during which Marie told him that she had been captured by the Americans, had been terribly misusedand he had a miraculous escape, he invited her into his cabin where his aged wife gave her something to eat. This breakfast consisted of boiled rice, some fish which the old man had just brought from his set lines in the San Mateo river, and some bacon which he had found along the trail made by the American’s pack train the day before.While the old couple were outside of their home—he breaking up some bamboo with which to re-kindle the fire, and she, cleaning the fish—Marie ransacked the house. She stole a large diamond ring which the old man had taken from the finger of a Spanish officer during the previous insurrection. She opened an old mahogany chest and took from it a rosary valued at several hundred dollars; also a gold lined cup which the old man, himself, had stolen from a Spanish priest, and some Spanish coins.After a hearty lunch, she started on.Crossing the river at the rapids, on the boulders which projected above the water, she quickened her steps and hurried along.Changing her course to the southward, she started for the northern end of LakeLagunade Bay to see her mother.She had not gone far through a small clump of timber when she came upon the corpse of a Filipino soldier who had been shot in the previous day’s engagement,—perhaps by a stray ball. Hastily stealing the cross which hung from a small cord about his neck, and a valueless ring from one of his fingers, she seized his Mauser rifle and his cartridge belt which was partly filled with ammunition, and then resumed her journey.A short distance ahead was a large opening—an old rice field well cleared. She had scarcely begun to cross it when she heard a noise. She turned and saw the bow-legged old man whom she had robbed, with a machete in his hand, coming after her as fast as he could. He had discovered that the rosary was missing, and upon looking around, that several other things were gone; therefore he at once started in pursuit of the fiend who had just enjoyed his hospitality.Marie was not disturbed. Raising to her shoulder the rifle which she had just found, she took deliberate aim and at the first shot laid him low in death.She reached the small native village of Angono, where her mother was stopping, about four o’clock in the afternoon of March 26th.The old lady was wonderfully elated to receive the new jewels which Marie had stolen. She put on the rosary and danced about in the native hut like a young child on Christmas morning, when it sees the gorged stocking fastened to its bed.
Chapter VI.As A Spy
Marie was well equipped by instinct and experience for a spy. The tragic nature of such work was exceptionally inviting to her. When a chance came to undertake it, she lost no time in embracing the opportunity.After passing out through the American lines, she drove on down the slope of the hill and crossed the San Juan River on the old stone bridge where the fighting was begun that night by young Grayson of the Nebraska regiment. After reaching the Filipinos’ lines she at once reported to her uncle, Colonel Miguel, and had an extended interview with him.Marie, Her Mother and Two Filipino ScoutsMarie, Her Mother and Two Filipino ScoutsSecret plans were agreed upon whereby she was to become the colonel’s chief scout. Two Filipino soldiers were sent to accompany her old mother to the little town of Angono on the eastern bank of Lake Laguna de Bay, near its northern end. A native family,quite familiar with the Sampalits and related to them, lived in this village. Marie stayed with the troops in the field. Her young brain danced at the thought of more bloodshed. She must be in the fight.Just what part Marie took in the attack made upon the Americans by the Filipinos on the night of February 4th, and in the fighting on February 5th, the world will never know. The two main figures in these operations were Colonel Miguel, in command of the main portion of the Filipino forces, and Colonel Stotsenberg, who commanded the 1st Nebraska volunteers. Before the close of the war these men were both shot; consequently, there is no one left to tell the story, and history is silent on the point.After the fight of February 4 and 5, the entire line of block-houses and intrenchments circumscribing Manila, were in the hands of the Americans. From the Pasig river on the east, around the city to the bay on the north, this line was commanded by Major-General MacArthur; the correspondingsemi-circle on the south, by Major-General Anderson.During the next seven weeks, fresh troops were constantly arriving. Each side was preparing for the long, inevitable conflict.At day break, on March 25, General MacArthur, leaving Hall’s brigade in the trenches and placing those of Otis and Hale on the firing line, which was over seven miles in length, made a brilliant charge along the entire front on the Filipinos’ breastworks about a mile and a half distant and constructed parallel to those of the Americans’.Before night he had cut the Filipino army into hopeless fragments; had advanced his own army over nine miles; had inflicted a terrible loss upon Aguinaldo’s troops; had demonstrated to them the difference between a determined American advance and an irresolute Spanish one; and had taken up in earnest the invasion of Luzon, the capture of the Filipinos’ temporary capital, Malolos, the overthrow of their provisional government,and the establishment of American sovereignty throughout the entire archipelago.That night, about eleven o’clock, a nervous Filipino woman came walking down along the American out-post reserves which, during actual war, are usually only from 100 to 200 feet in the rear of the sentries. She reached Company “G’s” reserve of the 1st South Dakota Volunteers, where she was ordered to halt. She refused, but acted as though she did not understand. Drawing a large bamboo bonnet down over her face to conceal her identity, she mumbled something apparently to herself, and walked rapidly on. In a moment she was seized; her bonnet was torn off; her identity revealed: it was Marie.She had been counting the American out-posts and the reserves to see if the defeated Filipinos, with the reinforcements which they had received, would be warranted in making a night attack.She boldly denied her identification; fought, scratched, scrambled—making it necessaryto employ two privates, a corporal and a sergeant to send her to the rear.When she was taken before Major William F. Allison, commanding the 3rd battalion of the South Dakotas, who was acting as field-officer that night, he ordered her restrained until morning. A tired private was detailed to guard her. He gave her a rubber poncho, and insisted that she wrap herself up in it and lie down to sleep. Although she drew the poncho about her to keep herself warm (it grew very chilly before morning) she refused to sleep, and made repeated efforts to escape. Her teeth chattered and she seemed distressed—evidently through fear of what the morning might bring to her.The next day she was set free, after taking a solemn oath to return to Manila and not take any further part in the insurrection. She pleaded earnestly for her liberty, and voluntarily promised that after her return to Manila she would do washing free of charge for the American soldiers who were sick in quarters.After being liberated, Marie walked eastward, following an irregular sled-road; that is, a road-way used by the Filipinos for sledding their rice to market. This is done by means of a bamboo sled drawn over the dry ground by a caribou. She followed this road for over two miles until she came to the San Mateo river.Although given a few hardtack by her captors at the time of her release, she was getting hungry. As she approached the stream she noticed an old Filipino standing near his bamboo cabin which was neatly tucked away oh the slope of a deep ravine near by. Turning from her pathway which had now grown somewhat indistinct she approached the old gentleman.When quite close to him she said, “Buenos dias,” (Good morning in Spanish.)“Magandang umaga,” (Good morning, in Tagalo), muttered the old man.After a brief conversation during which Marie told him that she had been captured by the Americans, had been terribly misusedand he had a miraculous escape, he invited her into his cabin where his aged wife gave her something to eat. This breakfast consisted of boiled rice, some fish which the old man had just brought from his set lines in the San Mateo river, and some bacon which he had found along the trail made by the American’s pack train the day before.While the old couple were outside of their home—he breaking up some bamboo with which to re-kindle the fire, and she, cleaning the fish—Marie ransacked the house. She stole a large diamond ring which the old man had taken from the finger of a Spanish officer during the previous insurrection. She opened an old mahogany chest and took from it a rosary valued at several hundred dollars; also a gold lined cup which the old man, himself, had stolen from a Spanish priest, and some Spanish coins.After a hearty lunch, she started on.Crossing the river at the rapids, on the boulders which projected above the water, she quickened her steps and hurried along.Changing her course to the southward, she started for the northern end of LakeLagunade Bay to see her mother.She had not gone far through a small clump of timber when she came upon the corpse of a Filipino soldier who had been shot in the previous day’s engagement,—perhaps by a stray ball. Hastily stealing the cross which hung from a small cord about his neck, and a valueless ring from one of his fingers, she seized his Mauser rifle and his cartridge belt which was partly filled with ammunition, and then resumed her journey.A short distance ahead was a large opening—an old rice field well cleared. She had scarcely begun to cross it when she heard a noise. She turned and saw the bow-legged old man whom she had robbed, with a machete in his hand, coming after her as fast as he could. He had discovered that the rosary was missing, and upon looking around, that several other things were gone; therefore he at once started in pursuit of the fiend who had just enjoyed his hospitality.Marie was not disturbed. Raising to her shoulder the rifle which she had just found, she took deliberate aim and at the first shot laid him low in death.She reached the small native village of Angono, where her mother was stopping, about four o’clock in the afternoon of March 26th.The old lady was wonderfully elated to receive the new jewels which Marie had stolen. She put on the rosary and danced about in the native hut like a young child on Christmas morning, when it sees the gorged stocking fastened to its bed.
Marie was well equipped by instinct and experience for a spy. The tragic nature of such work was exceptionally inviting to her. When a chance came to undertake it, she lost no time in embracing the opportunity.
After passing out through the American lines, she drove on down the slope of the hill and crossed the San Juan River on the old stone bridge where the fighting was begun that night by young Grayson of the Nebraska regiment. After reaching the Filipinos’ lines she at once reported to her uncle, Colonel Miguel, and had an extended interview with him.
Marie, Her Mother and Two Filipino ScoutsMarie, Her Mother and Two Filipino Scouts
Marie, Her Mother and Two Filipino Scouts
Secret plans were agreed upon whereby she was to become the colonel’s chief scout. Two Filipino soldiers were sent to accompany her old mother to the little town of Angono on the eastern bank of Lake Laguna de Bay, near its northern end. A native family,quite familiar with the Sampalits and related to them, lived in this village. Marie stayed with the troops in the field. Her young brain danced at the thought of more bloodshed. She must be in the fight.
Just what part Marie took in the attack made upon the Americans by the Filipinos on the night of February 4th, and in the fighting on February 5th, the world will never know. The two main figures in these operations were Colonel Miguel, in command of the main portion of the Filipino forces, and Colonel Stotsenberg, who commanded the 1st Nebraska volunteers. Before the close of the war these men were both shot; consequently, there is no one left to tell the story, and history is silent on the point.
After the fight of February 4 and 5, the entire line of block-houses and intrenchments circumscribing Manila, were in the hands of the Americans. From the Pasig river on the east, around the city to the bay on the north, this line was commanded by Major-General MacArthur; the correspondingsemi-circle on the south, by Major-General Anderson.
During the next seven weeks, fresh troops were constantly arriving. Each side was preparing for the long, inevitable conflict.
At day break, on March 25, General MacArthur, leaving Hall’s brigade in the trenches and placing those of Otis and Hale on the firing line, which was over seven miles in length, made a brilliant charge along the entire front on the Filipinos’ breastworks about a mile and a half distant and constructed parallel to those of the Americans’.
Before night he had cut the Filipino army into hopeless fragments; had advanced his own army over nine miles; had inflicted a terrible loss upon Aguinaldo’s troops; had demonstrated to them the difference between a determined American advance and an irresolute Spanish one; and had taken up in earnest the invasion of Luzon, the capture of the Filipinos’ temporary capital, Malolos, the overthrow of their provisional government,and the establishment of American sovereignty throughout the entire archipelago.
That night, about eleven o’clock, a nervous Filipino woman came walking down along the American out-post reserves which, during actual war, are usually only from 100 to 200 feet in the rear of the sentries. She reached Company “G’s” reserve of the 1st South Dakota Volunteers, where she was ordered to halt. She refused, but acted as though she did not understand. Drawing a large bamboo bonnet down over her face to conceal her identity, she mumbled something apparently to herself, and walked rapidly on. In a moment she was seized; her bonnet was torn off; her identity revealed: it was Marie.
She had been counting the American out-posts and the reserves to see if the defeated Filipinos, with the reinforcements which they had received, would be warranted in making a night attack.
She boldly denied her identification; fought, scratched, scrambled—making it necessaryto employ two privates, a corporal and a sergeant to send her to the rear.
When she was taken before Major William F. Allison, commanding the 3rd battalion of the South Dakotas, who was acting as field-officer that night, he ordered her restrained until morning. A tired private was detailed to guard her. He gave her a rubber poncho, and insisted that she wrap herself up in it and lie down to sleep. Although she drew the poncho about her to keep herself warm (it grew very chilly before morning) she refused to sleep, and made repeated efforts to escape. Her teeth chattered and she seemed distressed—evidently through fear of what the morning might bring to her.
The next day she was set free, after taking a solemn oath to return to Manila and not take any further part in the insurrection. She pleaded earnestly for her liberty, and voluntarily promised that after her return to Manila she would do washing free of charge for the American soldiers who were sick in quarters.
After being liberated, Marie walked eastward, following an irregular sled-road; that is, a road-way used by the Filipinos for sledding their rice to market. This is done by means of a bamboo sled drawn over the dry ground by a caribou. She followed this road for over two miles until she came to the San Mateo river.
Although given a few hardtack by her captors at the time of her release, she was getting hungry. As she approached the stream she noticed an old Filipino standing near his bamboo cabin which was neatly tucked away oh the slope of a deep ravine near by. Turning from her pathway which had now grown somewhat indistinct she approached the old gentleman.
When quite close to him she said, “Buenos dias,” (Good morning in Spanish.)
“Magandang umaga,” (Good morning, in Tagalo), muttered the old man.
After a brief conversation during which Marie told him that she had been captured by the Americans, had been terribly misusedand he had a miraculous escape, he invited her into his cabin where his aged wife gave her something to eat. This breakfast consisted of boiled rice, some fish which the old man had just brought from his set lines in the San Mateo river, and some bacon which he had found along the trail made by the American’s pack train the day before.
While the old couple were outside of their home—he breaking up some bamboo with which to re-kindle the fire, and she, cleaning the fish—Marie ransacked the house. She stole a large diamond ring which the old man had taken from the finger of a Spanish officer during the previous insurrection. She opened an old mahogany chest and took from it a rosary valued at several hundred dollars; also a gold lined cup which the old man, himself, had stolen from a Spanish priest, and some Spanish coins.
After a hearty lunch, she started on.
Crossing the river at the rapids, on the boulders which projected above the water, she quickened her steps and hurried along.Changing her course to the southward, she started for the northern end of LakeLagunade Bay to see her mother.
She had not gone far through a small clump of timber when she came upon the corpse of a Filipino soldier who had been shot in the previous day’s engagement,—perhaps by a stray ball. Hastily stealing the cross which hung from a small cord about his neck, and a valueless ring from one of his fingers, she seized his Mauser rifle and his cartridge belt which was partly filled with ammunition, and then resumed her journey.
A short distance ahead was a large opening—an old rice field well cleared. She had scarcely begun to cross it when she heard a noise. She turned and saw the bow-legged old man whom she had robbed, with a machete in his hand, coming after her as fast as he could. He had discovered that the rosary was missing, and upon looking around, that several other things were gone; therefore he at once started in pursuit of the fiend who had just enjoyed his hospitality.Marie was not disturbed. Raising to her shoulder the rifle which she had just found, she took deliberate aim and at the first shot laid him low in death.
She reached the small native village of Angono, where her mother was stopping, about four o’clock in the afternoon of March 26th.
The old lady was wonderfully elated to receive the new jewels which Marie had stolen. She put on the rosary and danced about in the native hut like a young child on Christmas morning, when it sees the gorged stocking fastened to its bed.
Chapter VII.Off For BalerThat night Marie had a good rest. The next morning, fired with ambition and discontent, she lit her accustomed cigarette and started for Manila. Instead of going overland, she went in a row boat via the Pasig river which drains the lake into Manila bay and which flows through the city of Manila situated at its mouth.While stealthily prowling around through Manila during the next few days, Marie accidentally discovered that plans were being carried out by the Americans to relieve the remnant of the old Spanish garrison of fifty men stationed at the little town of Baler, near the eastern coast of Luzon. This garrison was of course surrendered to the American forces with the remainder of the Spanish army on August 13, 1898, but as all lines of communication with them had been destroyed by the Filipinos they had neverbeen officially notified of the capitulation. Scouting parties brought in the information that they were being besieged by a horde of blood-thirsty Filipinos which outnumbered them ten to one, and that it was only a question of time before all would be exterminated.Accordingly, Admiral Dewey and General Otis decided that something must be done at once to relieve them. A rescuing party was formed and placed aboard the “Yorktown,” which carried them around the southern point of Luzon and then northward to the mouth of the Baler river.Marie, nerved by the thought of a new exploit, forgot her oath not to take up arms against the Americans again during the insurrection, and hastily departed overland for Baler to notify the besieging Filipinos of what was to take place, and to help them as best she could to resist the advance of the rescuing party.Although Baler is situated on the Baler river, near the eastern coast of Luzon, andManila is on the west side of the island Baler is, nevertheless, almost directly north of Manila. This is caused by the deep indention of Manila bay, on the extreme eastern side of which Manila is situated, and by the abrupt inclination to the westward of the eastern coast line of Luzon directly above a point straight east of Manila.In starting on her journey Marie left Manila by a little Filipino foot-path which enters the city in the northeastern part near the San Sebastian church. She followed it to Block-house No. 4, which is situated about three miles north and a trifle east of Manila. At that point she took a road which veered off perceptibly to the east for a short distance and which was made by the Americans’ commissary train on the morning that the advance was begun toward Malolos, March 25, preceding.She had gone but a quarter of a mile when her attention was attracted to a board used as the head-stone for a grave only a few feet distant from her pathway. Shewalked over to in and found these words inscribed thereon:“R. I. P. D. O. M.Wat Erbuf FaloBorn — (?) Died, February 12, 1899.To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;If this mound could speak no doubt it would tellBill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’He charged on two pickets whose names are below;They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.Signed: Barney and Barkley, Co. “M,” 1st. Col. Vols.”It was now April 2nd, and Marie hadahead of her about ninety miles overland to be made on foot or else on horse-back; and it was necessary for her to hurry along, as the rescuing party was scheduled to reach the mouth of Baler river April 10th, or 12th.Her course led past the little shack on the bank of the San Mateo river, where she had robbed the elderly couple who had been so kind to her and near where she later had shot the old man when he was pursuing her to regain possession of his stolen property.She found it deserted; but in a little bamboo corral nearby she found three Chinese ponies. Evidently they had made their escape from the scene of battle and had drifted into this yard for refuge. There was a small stack of rice straw just outside the corral. From this Marie soon made a stoutly-twisted rope which she hastily arranged in the form of a bridle. Placing it over the head of the largest pony she mounted him and rode off.She got ten miles beyond this last stoppingplace before sunset. That night she stopped at a small inland village. As she lay down to sleep on the bamboo floor in the hut of a Tagalo family whose acquaintance she had readily formed, recollections of the place which she had passed during the afternoon where she had previously robbed the old couple immediately after she was released upon oath by the Americans, suggested to her the thought that she was violating her oath; that she was now out in a country where she might be betrayed at any moment by her own people, or else be captured by a squad of American infantry or cavalry; therefore, she decided that on the following day she would destroy her identity.Filipinos at BreakfastFilipinos at Breakfast(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)Upon retiring the previous night Marie coiled up for a pillow her head of long black hair. “I hate to give it up,” thought she, “but what will the Americans do to me if they capture me another time? Oh! well, after the war is over it will soon grow out again.”The next morning, after a scanty breakfastof bananas and rice, and a pineapple which Marie salted heavily before she ate it, she went to a native barber and had her long hair cut close to the scalp, except for a little tuft on top which she had him brush up for a pompadour.Before cutting off her hair the barber tied a piece of hemp very tightly around it, just back of her neck. After he had detached it, he held it in front of Marie and asked her what she wished done with it. She took it in her own hands.The barber kept on trimming her shortened hair. Marie stopped talking and seemed to be in deep meditation.Presently the barber said. “That’s all.”Marie arose from the rough mahogany slab on which she had been sitting, handed him a puesta (twenty cents, Mexican), looked out of the window and said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll trade you my hair for that quilas (two-wheeled cart) standing there.”“All right”; said the barber, “My pony is dead, and the war has so devasted thecountry, and money has become so scarce, that I can’t afford to buy another one.”“The harness hanging on it goes with the cart,” said Marie.“Oh no!” exclaimed the barber, “my wife borrowed that, and I must return it.”“It doesn’t make any difference to whom it belongs,” said Marie, emphatically, “you traded me the cart, and everything that was in it goes with the trade. How do you suppose I could hitch my pony into the cart without a harness?”Just then she pulled a bolo out from under her apron. The barber said no more.Marie hitched her pony into the cart and started on toward Baler.That day she followed a good road leading toward the mountains near the eastern coast of Luzon. By night her pony had made twenty miles.She had already reached the foot-hills. It was impossible for her to make head-way any longer with the cart. She would soon be across the mountains and be in theregion to be approached by the American relief party. What was to be done?A happy thought came to Marie. She clasped her hands and muttered to herself, “I’ll trade the cart for a suit of men’s clothes and trade the harness for a sombrero,” (bamboo hat.)Since the middle of the afternoon she had been driving parallel to a stream that wound its way, nearby, from the mountains across the plains to the sea. Villages along the banks were numerous. At night fall she was still in Tagalo territory. It was her own tribe. She soon found a place to stay over night. Her pony was turned loose in a vacant yard, with an old bamboo fence around it, and given some young rice.That evening while smoking cigarettes, and while inflaming the minds of the villagers with startling stories about the atrocities, of the American soldiers, Marie finally succeeded in making the trade which she had planned during the afternoon.Next morning, April 5, she rode on. Beforeher lay sixty miles of unknown territory to be covered during the next four days, if she were to reach Baler in time to warn the besieging Filipinos of the contemplated attack by the Americans.A half mile out from the village, Marie came to an abrupt turn in the road. Near by was a dense cluster of banana trees. She dismounted, and while her pony was nibbling young rice she went into the thicket and changed her attire. Then she tied a good-sized stone up in her old clothes and threw them into the river. As she stood on the bank watching them sink, she saw her shadow in the water. How changed she looked! The sombrero was such a relief in keeping the hot sun off her head.“Now, I’ll not be recognized,” thought she. “How nice it is to be dressed like a man. From now on I mean to play a man’s part and be a full-fledged soldier.”
Chapter VII.Off For Baler
That night Marie had a good rest. The next morning, fired with ambition and discontent, she lit her accustomed cigarette and started for Manila. Instead of going overland, she went in a row boat via the Pasig river which drains the lake into Manila bay and which flows through the city of Manila situated at its mouth.While stealthily prowling around through Manila during the next few days, Marie accidentally discovered that plans were being carried out by the Americans to relieve the remnant of the old Spanish garrison of fifty men stationed at the little town of Baler, near the eastern coast of Luzon. This garrison was of course surrendered to the American forces with the remainder of the Spanish army on August 13, 1898, but as all lines of communication with them had been destroyed by the Filipinos they had neverbeen officially notified of the capitulation. Scouting parties brought in the information that they were being besieged by a horde of blood-thirsty Filipinos which outnumbered them ten to one, and that it was only a question of time before all would be exterminated.Accordingly, Admiral Dewey and General Otis decided that something must be done at once to relieve them. A rescuing party was formed and placed aboard the “Yorktown,” which carried them around the southern point of Luzon and then northward to the mouth of the Baler river.Marie, nerved by the thought of a new exploit, forgot her oath not to take up arms against the Americans again during the insurrection, and hastily departed overland for Baler to notify the besieging Filipinos of what was to take place, and to help them as best she could to resist the advance of the rescuing party.Although Baler is situated on the Baler river, near the eastern coast of Luzon, andManila is on the west side of the island Baler is, nevertheless, almost directly north of Manila. This is caused by the deep indention of Manila bay, on the extreme eastern side of which Manila is situated, and by the abrupt inclination to the westward of the eastern coast line of Luzon directly above a point straight east of Manila.In starting on her journey Marie left Manila by a little Filipino foot-path which enters the city in the northeastern part near the San Sebastian church. She followed it to Block-house No. 4, which is situated about three miles north and a trifle east of Manila. At that point she took a road which veered off perceptibly to the east for a short distance and which was made by the Americans’ commissary train on the morning that the advance was begun toward Malolos, March 25, preceding.She had gone but a quarter of a mile when her attention was attracted to a board used as the head-stone for a grave only a few feet distant from her pathway. Shewalked over to in and found these words inscribed thereon:“R. I. P. D. O. M.Wat Erbuf FaloBorn — (?) Died, February 12, 1899.To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;If this mound could speak no doubt it would tellBill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’He charged on two pickets whose names are below;They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.Signed: Barney and Barkley, Co. “M,” 1st. Col. Vols.”It was now April 2nd, and Marie hadahead of her about ninety miles overland to be made on foot or else on horse-back; and it was necessary for her to hurry along, as the rescuing party was scheduled to reach the mouth of Baler river April 10th, or 12th.Her course led past the little shack on the bank of the San Mateo river, where she had robbed the elderly couple who had been so kind to her and near where she later had shot the old man when he was pursuing her to regain possession of his stolen property.She found it deserted; but in a little bamboo corral nearby she found three Chinese ponies. Evidently they had made their escape from the scene of battle and had drifted into this yard for refuge. There was a small stack of rice straw just outside the corral. From this Marie soon made a stoutly-twisted rope which she hastily arranged in the form of a bridle. Placing it over the head of the largest pony she mounted him and rode off.She got ten miles beyond this last stoppingplace before sunset. That night she stopped at a small inland village. As she lay down to sleep on the bamboo floor in the hut of a Tagalo family whose acquaintance she had readily formed, recollections of the place which she had passed during the afternoon where she had previously robbed the old couple immediately after she was released upon oath by the Americans, suggested to her the thought that she was violating her oath; that she was now out in a country where she might be betrayed at any moment by her own people, or else be captured by a squad of American infantry or cavalry; therefore, she decided that on the following day she would destroy her identity.Filipinos at BreakfastFilipinos at Breakfast(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)Upon retiring the previous night Marie coiled up for a pillow her head of long black hair. “I hate to give it up,” thought she, “but what will the Americans do to me if they capture me another time? Oh! well, after the war is over it will soon grow out again.”The next morning, after a scanty breakfastof bananas and rice, and a pineapple which Marie salted heavily before she ate it, she went to a native barber and had her long hair cut close to the scalp, except for a little tuft on top which she had him brush up for a pompadour.Before cutting off her hair the barber tied a piece of hemp very tightly around it, just back of her neck. After he had detached it, he held it in front of Marie and asked her what she wished done with it. She took it in her own hands.The barber kept on trimming her shortened hair. Marie stopped talking and seemed to be in deep meditation.Presently the barber said. “That’s all.”Marie arose from the rough mahogany slab on which she had been sitting, handed him a puesta (twenty cents, Mexican), looked out of the window and said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll trade you my hair for that quilas (two-wheeled cart) standing there.”“All right”; said the barber, “My pony is dead, and the war has so devasted thecountry, and money has become so scarce, that I can’t afford to buy another one.”“The harness hanging on it goes with the cart,” said Marie.“Oh no!” exclaimed the barber, “my wife borrowed that, and I must return it.”“It doesn’t make any difference to whom it belongs,” said Marie, emphatically, “you traded me the cart, and everything that was in it goes with the trade. How do you suppose I could hitch my pony into the cart without a harness?”Just then she pulled a bolo out from under her apron. The barber said no more.Marie hitched her pony into the cart and started on toward Baler.That day she followed a good road leading toward the mountains near the eastern coast of Luzon. By night her pony had made twenty miles.She had already reached the foot-hills. It was impossible for her to make head-way any longer with the cart. She would soon be across the mountains and be in theregion to be approached by the American relief party. What was to be done?A happy thought came to Marie. She clasped her hands and muttered to herself, “I’ll trade the cart for a suit of men’s clothes and trade the harness for a sombrero,” (bamboo hat.)Since the middle of the afternoon she had been driving parallel to a stream that wound its way, nearby, from the mountains across the plains to the sea. Villages along the banks were numerous. At night fall she was still in Tagalo territory. It was her own tribe. She soon found a place to stay over night. Her pony was turned loose in a vacant yard, with an old bamboo fence around it, and given some young rice.That evening while smoking cigarettes, and while inflaming the minds of the villagers with startling stories about the atrocities, of the American soldiers, Marie finally succeeded in making the trade which she had planned during the afternoon.Next morning, April 5, she rode on. Beforeher lay sixty miles of unknown territory to be covered during the next four days, if she were to reach Baler in time to warn the besieging Filipinos of the contemplated attack by the Americans.A half mile out from the village, Marie came to an abrupt turn in the road. Near by was a dense cluster of banana trees. She dismounted, and while her pony was nibbling young rice she went into the thicket and changed her attire. Then she tied a good-sized stone up in her old clothes and threw them into the river. As she stood on the bank watching them sink, she saw her shadow in the water. How changed she looked! The sombrero was such a relief in keeping the hot sun off her head.“Now, I’ll not be recognized,” thought she. “How nice it is to be dressed like a man. From now on I mean to play a man’s part and be a full-fledged soldier.”
That night Marie had a good rest. The next morning, fired with ambition and discontent, she lit her accustomed cigarette and started for Manila. Instead of going overland, she went in a row boat via the Pasig river which drains the lake into Manila bay and which flows through the city of Manila situated at its mouth.
While stealthily prowling around through Manila during the next few days, Marie accidentally discovered that plans were being carried out by the Americans to relieve the remnant of the old Spanish garrison of fifty men stationed at the little town of Baler, near the eastern coast of Luzon. This garrison was of course surrendered to the American forces with the remainder of the Spanish army on August 13, 1898, but as all lines of communication with them had been destroyed by the Filipinos they had neverbeen officially notified of the capitulation. Scouting parties brought in the information that they were being besieged by a horde of blood-thirsty Filipinos which outnumbered them ten to one, and that it was only a question of time before all would be exterminated.
Accordingly, Admiral Dewey and General Otis decided that something must be done at once to relieve them. A rescuing party was formed and placed aboard the “Yorktown,” which carried them around the southern point of Luzon and then northward to the mouth of the Baler river.
Marie, nerved by the thought of a new exploit, forgot her oath not to take up arms against the Americans again during the insurrection, and hastily departed overland for Baler to notify the besieging Filipinos of what was to take place, and to help them as best she could to resist the advance of the rescuing party.
Although Baler is situated on the Baler river, near the eastern coast of Luzon, andManila is on the west side of the island Baler is, nevertheless, almost directly north of Manila. This is caused by the deep indention of Manila bay, on the extreme eastern side of which Manila is situated, and by the abrupt inclination to the westward of the eastern coast line of Luzon directly above a point straight east of Manila.
In starting on her journey Marie left Manila by a little Filipino foot-path which enters the city in the northeastern part near the San Sebastian church. She followed it to Block-house No. 4, which is situated about three miles north and a trifle east of Manila. At that point she took a road which veered off perceptibly to the east for a short distance and which was made by the Americans’ commissary train on the morning that the advance was begun toward Malolos, March 25, preceding.
She had gone but a quarter of a mile when her attention was attracted to a board used as the head-stone for a grave only a few feet distant from her pathway. Shewalked over to in and found these words inscribed thereon:
“R. I. P. D. O. M.Wat Erbuf FaloBorn — (?) Died, February 12, 1899.To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;If this mound could speak no doubt it would tellBill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’He charged on two pickets whose names are below;They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.Signed: Barney and Barkley, Co. “M,” 1st. Col. Vols.”
“R. I. P. D. O. M.Wat Erbuf FaloBorn — (?) Died, February 12, 1899.To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;If this mound could speak no doubt it would tellBill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’He charged on two pickets whose names are below;They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.Signed: Barney and Barkley, Co. “M,” 1st. Col. Vols.”
“R. I. P. D. O. M.Wat Erbuf FaloBorn — (?) Died, February 12, 1899.To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;If this mound could speak no doubt it would tellBill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’He charged on two pickets whose names are below;They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.Signed: Barney and Barkley, Co. “M,” 1st. Col. Vols.”
“R. I. P. D. O. M.Wat Erbuf FaloBorn — (?) Died, February 12, 1899.To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;If this mound could speak no doubt it would tellBill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’He charged on two pickets whose names are below;They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.Signed: Barney and Barkley, Co. “M,” 1st. Col. Vols.”
“R. I. P. D. O. M.
Wat Erbuf Falo
Born — (?) Died, February 12, 1899.
To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;If this mound could speak no doubt it would tellBill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’He charged on two pickets whose names are below;They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.
To those who bring flowers to this lonely grave,
Some facts on its headstone we wish to engrave;
If this mound could speak no doubt it would tell
Bill Sherman was right when he said, ’War is Hell.’
He charged on two pickets whose names are below;
They took him for niggers,—poor wronged buffalo.
As to the way he met death, everybody knows how;
As to whom he belonged we don’t caribou.
Signed: Barney and Barkley, Co. “M,” 1st. Col. Vols.”
It was now April 2nd, and Marie hadahead of her about ninety miles overland to be made on foot or else on horse-back; and it was necessary for her to hurry along, as the rescuing party was scheduled to reach the mouth of Baler river April 10th, or 12th.
Her course led past the little shack on the bank of the San Mateo river, where she had robbed the elderly couple who had been so kind to her and near where she later had shot the old man when he was pursuing her to regain possession of his stolen property.
She found it deserted; but in a little bamboo corral nearby she found three Chinese ponies. Evidently they had made their escape from the scene of battle and had drifted into this yard for refuge. There was a small stack of rice straw just outside the corral. From this Marie soon made a stoutly-twisted rope which she hastily arranged in the form of a bridle. Placing it over the head of the largest pony she mounted him and rode off.
She got ten miles beyond this last stoppingplace before sunset. That night she stopped at a small inland village. As she lay down to sleep on the bamboo floor in the hut of a Tagalo family whose acquaintance she had readily formed, recollections of the place which she had passed during the afternoon where she had previously robbed the old couple immediately after she was released upon oath by the Americans, suggested to her the thought that she was violating her oath; that she was now out in a country where she might be betrayed at any moment by her own people, or else be captured by a squad of American infantry or cavalry; therefore, she decided that on the following day she would destroy her identity.
Filipinos at BreakfastFilipinos at Breakfast(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Filipinos at Breakfast
(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Upon retiring the previous night Marie coiled up for a pillow her head of long black hair. “I hate to give it up,” thought she, “but what will the Americans do to me if they capture me another time? Oh! well, after the war is over it will soon grow out again.”
The next morning, after a scanty breakfastof bananas and rice, and a pineapple which Marie salted heavily before she ate it, she went to a native barber and had her long hair cut close to the scalp, except for a little tuft on top which she had him brush up for a pompadour.
Before cutting off her hair the barber tied a piece of hemp very tightly around it, just back of her neck. After he had detached it, he held it in front of Marie and asked her what she wished done with it. She took it in her own hands.
The barber kept on trimming her shortened hair. Marie stopped talking and seemed to be in deep meditation.
Presently the barber said. “That’s all.”
Marie arose from the rough mahogany slab on which she had been sitting, handed him a puesta (twenty cents, Mexican), looked out of the window and said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll trade you my hair for that quilas (two-wheeled cart) standing there.”
“All right”; said the barber, “My pony is dead, and the war has so devasted thecountry, and money has become so scarce, that I can’t afford to buy another one.”
“The harness hanging on it goes with the cart,” said Marie.
“Oh no!” exclaimed the barber, “my wife borrowed that, and I must return it.”
“It doesn’t make any difference to whom it belongs,” said Marie, emphatically, “you traded me the cart, and everything that was in it goes with the trade. How do you suppose I could hitch my pony into the cart without a harness?”
Just then she pulled a bolo out from under her apron. The barber said no more.
Marie hitched her pony into the cart and started on toward Baler.
That day she followed a good road leading toward the mountains near the eastern coast of Luzon. By night her pony had made twenty miles.
She had already reached the foot-hills. It was impossible for her to make head-way any longer with the cart. She would soon be across the mountains and be in theregion to be approached by the American relief party. What was to be done?
A happy thought came to Marie. She clasped her hands and muttered to herself, “I’ll trade the cart for a suit of men’s clothes and trade the harness for a sombrero,” (bamboo hat.)
Since the middle of the afternoon she had been driving parallel to a stream that wound its way, nearby, from the mountains across the plains to the sea. Villages along the banks were numerous. At night fall she was still in Tagalo territory. It was her own tribe. She soon found a place to stay over night. Her pony was turned loose in a vacant yard, with an old bamboo fence around it, and given some young rice.
That evening while smoking cigarettes, and while inflaming the minds of the villagers with startling stories about the atrocities, of the American soldiers, Marie finally succeeded in making the trade which she had planned during the afternoon.
Next morning, April 5, she rode on. Beforeher lay sixty miles of unknown territory to be covered during the next four days, if she were to reach Baler in time to warn the besieging Filipinos of the contemplated attack by the Americans.
A half mile out from the village, Marie came to an abrupt turn in the road. Near by was a dense cluster of banana trees. She dismounted, and while her pony was nibbling young rice she went into the thicket and changed her attire. Then she tied a good-sized stone up in her old clothes and threw them into the river. As she stood on the bank watching them sink, she saw her shadow in the water. How changed she looked! The sombrero was such a relief in keeping the hot sun off her head.
“Now, I’ll not be recognized,” thought she. “How nice it is to be dressed like a man. From now on I mean to play a man’s part and be a full-fledged soldier.”
Chapter VIII.The Gilmore IncidentMarie reached her destination late in the evening of April 9th, and she at once notified the officers commanding the Filipinos who were besieging Baler, what to expect. Knowing that with so small a force, if the Americans undertook to relieve the Spanish garrison, it would necessarily have to be done by way of the Baler river—as the town of Baler where the Spanish garrison was located is some two miles up the river from where it empties into the Pacific ocean, and the American troops were too greatly outnumbered by the Filipinos to make a land expedition safe,—she suggested to them the advisability of fortifying the river at specific intervals along either bank and of taking the precaution to cover the fortifications with freshly-cut brush so that the Americans could not locate them for the purpose of bombarding them in case they saw fit to loadsome of the smaller cannon on cascoes and make their way up the river for an attack in that way.The Filipinos took her suggestions, and the entrenchments and places for the sentries were quickly, yet very wisely, arranged. It was during the dry season and the river was very low at the time. This made it possible to dig ditches on the sand bars which extended far out into the stream; and by throwing into the river the loose sand taken therefrom, to conceal these entrenchments by strewing over them some fresh-cut limbs and old under brush which had the appearance of having drifted to their lodgment.The Yorktown arrived off the mouth of the Baler river, April 11, as scheduled. Ensign Stanley went ashore, under a flag of truce, where, to his surprise, he was cordially received by the Filipino officers; but their exceptionally good behavior and the twinkle of their eyes told only too plainly to the ensign that something was wrong. He therefore returned to the Yorktown without havingaccomplished anything in particular.The next morning, at four o’clock, Lieutenant Gilmore and sixteen brave associates left the Yorktown in a row boat, and entered the mouth of the river. Ensign Stanley and Quartermaster Lysac were put ashore to reconnoiter. In a few minutes daylight broke forth and those left in the boat were discovered by the Filipino sentry who was walking his beat along the shore. He gave the alarm. Lieutenant Gilmore and his party could easily have pulled out to sea and gotten away, but humanity forbade it. What would become of the two scouts who went ashore? Their comrades in the boat could not desert them, so they rowed up the river into the very jaws of impending danger.Presently out of a concealed trench hundreds of armed Filipinos opened a deadly fire on Gilmore and his comrades, at only fifty yards distance. The water at this point was shallow. The boat got stuck in the mud. There was nothing to do but to fight. In a moment Morrisy fell dead, having beenshot through the head; Dillon followed; then McDonald, then Nygard;—Marie was doing deadly work with her Mauser rifle.The Americans returned the fire as best they could; but what was the use. They could see nothing to fire at, so perfectly had the Filipinos screened their trenches; besides, the Filipinos were using smokeless powder.Four of Gilmore’s men were already dead, two were mortally wounded and begging their comrades to shoot them before they fell into the hands of the Filipinos, and two more were slightly wounded. Most of the oars had been badly shattered by the enemy’s rifle balls. In this moment of desperation, Ellsworth, Woodbury and Edwards jumped overboard and tried to push the boat out to mid-stream. It was no use; the tide was coming in and the current was so strong that they could not compete against it.Lieutenant Gilmore was firing his revolver. He decided to change and use one ofthe dead men’s rifles. As he picked it up he noticed the lock had been struck by a Remington ball and the clip had been jammed in. He handed it to an apprentice lad, named Venville, to be fixed.The boy had scarcely begun to examine the gun, when a bullet struck him in the fleshy part of the neck. He had never been under fire before. Looking up calmly, he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit.”In a moment another bullet struck him in the chest and came out of his arm pit. With his attentionrivetedon his task, he remarked, “I’m hit again, Mr. Gilmore.”Only a moment later another ball grazed the side of his head and cut a painful wound in his scalp. “Mr. Gilmore, they’ve hit me again,” he muttered, while he kept on working at the gun, with blood running down all over him.In a few minutes a fourth ball passed through the lad’s ankle, one of the most painful parts of the body in which to get shot. This time, with a slight tremble in his voice,he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit once more; but I’ve fixed your gun, Sir.”Just at this moment the Filipinos saw that the Americans’ fire had practically ceased. Throwing back from off their trench the limbs and underbrush that had concealed them, the Filipinos, armed with guns, spears, bolos and clubs, made a bold dash for the boat and captured the entire crew.End of the Boat BattleEnd of the Boat Battle(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Chapter VIII.The Gilmore Incident
Marie reached her destination late in the evening of April 9th, and she at once notified the officers commanding the Filipinos who were besieging Baler, what to expect. Knowing that with so small a force, if the Americans undertook to relieve the Spanish garrison, it would necessarily have to be done by way of the Baler river—as the town of Baler where the Spanish garrison was located is some two miles up the river from where it empties into the Pacific ocean, and the American troops were too greatly outnumbered by the Filipinos to make a land expedition safe,—she suggested to them the advisability of fortifying the river at specific intervals along either bank and of taking the precaution to cover the fortifications with freshly-cut brush so that the Americans could not locate them for the purpose of bombarding them in case they saw fit to loadsome of the smaller cannon on cascoes and make their way up the river for an attack in that way.The Filipinos took her suggestions, and the entrenchments and places for the sentries were quickly, yet very wisely, arranged. It was during the dry season and the river was very low at the time. This made it possible to dig ditches on the sand bars which extended far out into the stream; and by throwing into the river the loose sand taken therefrom, to conceal these entrenchments by strewing over them some fresh-cut limbs and old under brush which had the appearance of having drifted to their lodgment.The Yorktown arrived off the mouth of the Baler river, April 11, as scheduled. Ensign Stanley went ashore, under a flag of truce, where, to his surprise, he was cordially received by the Filipino officers; but their exceptionally good behavior and the twinkle of their eyes told only too plainly to the ensign that something was wrong. He therefore returned to the Yorktown without havingaccomplished anything in particular.The next morning, at four o’clock, Lieutenant Gilmore and sixteen brave associates left the Yorktown in a row boat, and entered the mouth of the river. Ensign Stanley and Quartermaster Lysac were put ashore to reconnoiter. In a few minutes daylight broke forth and those left in the boat were discovered by the Filipino sentry who was walking his beat along the shore. He gave the alarm. Lieutenant Gilmore and his party could easily have pulled out to sea and gotten away, but humanity forbade it. What would become of the two scouts who went ashore? Their comrades in the boat could not desert them, so they rowed up the river into the very jaws of impending danger.Presently out of a concealed trench hundreds of armed Filipinos opened a deadly fire on Gilmore and his comrades, at only fifty yards distance. The water at this point was shallow. The boat got stuck in the mud. There was nothing to do but to fight. In a moment Morrisy fell dead, having beenshot through the head; Dillon followed; then McDonald, then Nygard;—Marie was doing deadly work with her Mauser rifle.The Americans returned the fire as best they could; but what was the use. They could see nothing to fire at, so perfectly had the Filipinos screened their trenches; besides, the Filipinos were using smokeless powder.Four of Gilmore’s men were already dead, two were mortally wounded and begging their comrades to shoot them before they fell into the hands of the Filipinos, and two more were slightly wounded. Most of the oars had been badly shattered by the enemy’s rifle balls. In this moment of desperation, Ellsworth, Woodbury and Edwards jumped overboard and tried to push the boat out to mid-stream. It was no use; the tide was coming in and the current was so strong that they could not compete against it.Lieutenant Gilmore was firing his revolver. He decided to change and use one ofthe dead men’s rifles. As he picked it up he noticed the lock had been struck by a Remington ball and the clip had been jammed in. He handed it to an apprentice lad, named Venville, to be fixed.The boy had scarcely begun to examine the gun, when a bullet struck him in the fleshy part of the neck. He had never been under fire before. Looking up calmly, he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit.”In a moment another bullet struck him in the chest and came out of his arm pit. With his attentionrivetedon his task, he remarked, “I’m hit again, Mr. Gilmore.”Only a moment later another ball grazed the side of his head and cut a painful wound in his scalp. “Mr. Gilmore, they’ve hit me again,” he muttered, while he kept on working at the gun, with blood running down all over him.In a few minutes a fourth ball passed through the lad’s ankle, one of the most painful parts of the body in which to get shot. This time, with a slight tremble in his voice,he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit once more; but I’ve fixed your gun, Sir.”Just at this moment the Filipinos saw that the Americans’ fire had practically ceased. Throwing back from off their trench the limbs and underbrush that had concealed them, the Filipinos, armed with guns, spears, bolos and clubs, made a bold dash for the boat and captured the entire crew.End of the Boat BattleEnd of the Boat Battle(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Marie reached her destination late in the evening of April 9th, and she at once notified the officers commanding the Filipinos who were besieging Baler, what to expect. Knowing that with so small a force, if the Americans undertook to relieve the Spanish garrison, it would necessarily have to be done by way of the Baler river—as the town of Baler where the Spanish garrison was located is some two miles up the river from where it empties into the Pacific ocean, and the American troops were too greatly outnumbered by the Filipinos to make a land expedition safe,—she suggested to them the advisability of fortifying the river at specific intervals along either bank and of taking the precaution to cover the fortifications with freshly-cut brush so that the Americans could not locate them for the purpose of bombarding them in case they saw fit to loadsome of the smaller cannon on cascoes and make their way up the river for an attack in that way.
The Filipinos took her suggestions, and the entrenchments and places for the sentries were quickly, yet very wisely, arranged. It was during the dry season and the river was very low at the time. This made it possible to dig ditches on the sand bars which extended far out into the stream; and by throwing into the river the loose sand taken therefrom, to conceal these entrenchments by strewing over them some fresh-cut limbs and old under brush which had the appearance of having drifted to their lodgment.
The Yorktown arrived off the mouth of the Baler river, April 11, as scheduled. Ensign Stanley went ashore, under a flag of truce, where, to his surprise, he was cordially received by the Filipino officers; but their exceptionally good behavior and the twinkle of their eyes told only too plainly to the ensign that something was wrong. He therefore returned to the Yorktown without havingaccomplished anything in particular.
The next morning, at four o’clock, Lieutenant Gilmore and sixteen brave associates left the Yorktown in a row boat, and entered the mouth of the river. Ensign Stanley and Quartermaster Lysac were put ashore to reconnoiter. In a few minutes daylight broke forth and those left in the boat were discovered by the Filipino sentry who was walking his beat along the shore. He gave the alarm. Lieutenant Gilmore and his party could easily have pulled out to sea and gotten away, but humanity forbade it. What would become of the two scouts who went ashore? Their comrades in the boat could not desert them, so they rowed up the river into the very jaws of impending danger.
Presently out of a concealed trench hundreds of armed Filipinos opened a deadly fire on Gilmore and his comrades, at only fifty yards distance. The water at this point was shallow. The boat got stuck in the mud. There was nothing to do but to fight. In a moment Morrisy fell dead, having beenshot through the head; Dillon followed; then McDonald, then Nygard;—Marie was doing deadly work with her Mauser rifle.
The Americans returned the fire as best they could; but what was the use. They could see nothing to fire at, so perfectly had the Filipinos screened their trenches; besides, the Filipinos were using smokeless powder.
Four of Gilmore’s men were already dead, two were mortally wounded and begging their comrades to shoot them before they fell into the hands of the Filipinos, and two more were slightly wounded. Most of the oars had been badly shattered by the enemy’s rifle balls. In this moment of desperation, Ellsworth, Woodbury and Edwards jumped overboard and tried to push the boat out to mid-stream. It was no use; the tide was coming in and the current was so strong that they could not compete against it.
Lieutenant Gilmore was firing his revolver. He decided to change and use one ofthe dead men’s rifles. As he picked it up he noticed the lock had been struck by a Remington ball and the clip had been jammed in. He handed it to an apprentice lad, named Venville, to be fixed.
The boy had scarcely begun to examine the gun, when a bullet struck him in the fleshy part of the neck. He had never been under fire before. Looking up calmly, he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit.”
In a moment another bullet struck him in the chest and came out of his arm pit. With his attentionrivetedon his task, he remarked, “I’m hit again, Mr. Gilmore.”
Only a moment later another ball grazed the side of his head and cut a painful wound in his scalp. “Mr. Gilmore, they’ve hit me again,” he muttered, while he kept on working at the gun, with blood running down all over him.
In a few minutes a fourth ball passed through the lad’s ankle, one of the most painful parts of the body in which to get shot. This time, with a slight tremble in his voice,he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit once more; but I’ve fixed your gun, Sir.”
Just at this moment the Filipinos saw that the Americans’ fire had practically ceased. Throwing back from off their trench the limbs and underbrush that had concealed them, the Filipinos, armed with guns, spears, bolos and clubs, made a bold dash for the boat and captured the entire crew.
End of the Boat BattleEnd of the Boat Battle(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
End of the Boat Battle
(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Chapter IX.The American PrisonersThose of the Americans who were alive and able to help themselves were ordered to go ashore on the sand bar, where the Filipinos robbed them of their personal effects and then lined them up preparatory to shooting them all down in a body. Gilmore, being an officer, protested against having his hands tied. He claimed, according to the accepted rules of warfare, that on account of his rank he had a right to die honorably with his hands free. The Filipinos have great superstitions about “rank” in military affairs. Marie knew the significance of Gilmore’s request; she respected it.The Filipinos had loaded their rifles, cocked them, raised the same to their shoulders, had taken aim, and Marie was about to give the fatal command, “Fire!”, when a shout from the bank stopped her and for a moment engaged the attention of both theAmericans and the Filipinos. It came from a Filipino officer, running down to the shore. He ordered them to stop. One second longer would have been too late.This Tagalo officer ordered the Americans to get back into their boat and to row across to the opposite shore. After bailing the water out of the boat and plugging up the holes in it made by the enemy’s rifle balls, they obeyed his command.When they went ashore, Lieutenant Gilmore asked permission to bury his dead comrades. This privilege was emphatically denied. What was done with their bodies by the Filipinos is hard to tell, but in all probability, as was customary with the natives, they cut them into fragments and threw them away.The ones who were mortally wounded, but who were still alive, were placed under a tree by Gilmore and his comrades, and left to die. The Lieutenant asked that a native doctor be summoned to give them aid, but itwas not done. What their fate was Eternity alone will reveal.Gilmore and his comrades picked up the lesser wounded and carried them, and together the whole procession was marched inland about a mile to the Filipino Commandante’s headquarters.Here they were questioned at length. Gilmore asked permission to write a note to the commander of the Yorktown telling him of their fate. Permission was granted, but the note was never delivered. The two scouts who went ashore, returned to the Yorktown in the afternoon and reported that they had heard heavy firing up the river.After waiting several days for news of some kind for them, and finally concluding that they were either captured or killed, the crew of the Yorktown, heavy-hearted over their failure and their sacrifice, steamed back to Manila.During the afternoon of the same day that the battle took place, the American prisonerswere ordered to march to an old bamboo church in the northern outskirts of the little town of Baler, a mile and a half farther on. By this time the wounded men were suffering terribly. Little Venville’s ankle had swollen badly. From his four wounds he had bled so much that he had grown faint. Therefore, he and several of the others had to be carried.En route to their new destination, the Americans passed in sight of the old stone church being used as a fortress by the Spanish garrison whom they had originally set out to relieve. The Americans had gone to the Philippines to fight the Spaniards. They were now sacrificing their lives to save them.At the bamboo church, an old Filipino with a kindly face and a manner that elevated him above his fellow tribesmen, came in to see them. He examined the wounded and then disappeared. Presently he returned with some large leaves that resembled rhubarb, under his arm. Out of the big stems of these native herbs he squeezed a milkysecretion which he permitted to drop into the gaping wounds of the Americans. The torture of the wounded occasioned by this liquid was damnable. The men grew deathly pale. They rolled and screamed and begged to be shot. But it did not last long. In ten minutes the torture had ceased, the men became quiet, the swelling around their wounds was gradually reduced, and their temperatures soon lowered. The herb doctor evidently knew his business.The next day the Filipinos received orders from Aguinaldo, who, with his appointed congress, was now at San Isidro, to march the captured Americans to his headquarters. Accordingly, the trip was undertaken. But the apprentice lad, Venville, was unable to go along. Obeying the stubborn orders of the rapacious Filipinos his comrades left him lying on the floor of the old rickety bamboo church,—wounded—uncared for—suffering—hungry—thirsty—dying. A year later the assistance of the entire naval organization in the Philippines was given tothe task of trying to ascertain from the Filipinos in the neighborhood of Baler some information concerning the lad’s whereabouts or his burial place, but no trace of him, dead or alive, could ever be found.An aged mother, ill and bowed,Keeps asking, “Where’s my boy?”But zephyrs from the OrientRefuse to bring the joy.Amid great privations the marching column crossed the mountains and the fertile plains on the opposite side, to the city of San Isidro. It was heralded in advance that the Americans were coming through the country. Obeying their greatest national instinct—curiosity—the natives assembled by thousands in the villages along the road. Every one of them kept crowding forward to get to touch the Americans to see what their skins felt like. Others were looking for the long feathers in their hair, which they had heard so much about. It was all the Filipino guards could do to restrain their own people. The latter, like monkeys, jabbered incessantly.Gilmore’s men hurled back at them defiant epithets. They realized that involuntarily they had become the chief actors in a new moving circus.Again, when they reached San Isidro, a great throng of curious natives had come to town to see them. These fellows were very hostile to the Americans. It was all the native guard could do to keep the Filipinos from doing violence to them. Gilmore was again questioned at length and then he was separated from his comrades and all were hurried off to jail.In a few days it was rumored that the American army was approaching the city. Aguinaldo and his associates hurriedly prepared to leave. Orders were given to march the prisoners overland north and then westward across another range of high mountains to Arancay, on the western coast of Luzon,—a distance of 100 miles.This time the crowd of prisoners was greatly increased. At San Isidro there were added 600 Spaniards; a small tribe of mountainNegritos whom Aguinaldo had originally sent to fight the Americans, but who, being armed only with spears and bolos, soon got tired of seeing their number decrease so rapidly before American riflemen, and refused to fight, and who were later imprisoned and terribly misused by Aguinaldo’s selected guards; and eighteen Americans in addition to Gilmore’s party (total twenty-six Americans), who had been captured in as many different ways around Manila by the crafty, cunning Filipinos. Among them was Frank Stone, of the U. S. Signal Corps, captured by some “amigos” (friendly natives) on the railroad track near Manila, while out strolling one Sunday afternoon; Private Curran, of the 16th U.S. Infantry who was grabbed within fifty feet of his own outpost, gagged and dragged into captivity; also a civilian who had gone to the Philippines to sell liquor.This fellow was captured by the Filipinos in the outskirts of Manila while he was searching for a small boatload of stolenbeer. He was the life of the expedition. He took his captivity as a joke, told stories to keep the prisoners good natured, and painted on ever boulder that he passed the seemingly sacrilegious words, “Drink Blank’s beer on the road to H——.” It was, however, this harmless practice that later on enabled the American relief party to follow the prisoners’ trail.After reaching the western shore of Luzon, the party was marched northward along the beach, another 100 miles, to the city of Vigan. Here they were imprisoned for three months longer. The sudden presence of an American war-ship in the harbor, off Vigan, caused the natives to abandon that city and start inland with their prisoners for some mountain fastness. The Americans were separated from the rest of the prisoners whom they never saw again.High up in the mountains of northern Luzon, two of the American boys were taken sick with fever and fell down, exhausted. The Filipino lieutenant who had charge of theprisoners, ordered them to go on; they could not. He threatened to shoot them. Gilmore interceded for them without avail. The Americans refused to leave their Anglo-Saxon comrades and prepared to fight. At this moment the Filipino officer himself was suddenly taken ill, and by the time he was able to advance, the sick Americans were able to go along.A few days later they struggled over the crest of the divide and came upon the headwaters of a beautiful mountain torrent dancing down the rocky ledges in its onward course to the sea. At a widened place in the canon, the Filipinos withdrew from the Americans, and with guns in hand took their positions on the rocks round-about and above them.“Prepare to die,” said Gilmore to his companions; “they are going to shoot us.” Calling the Filipino lieutenant to his side Gilmore asked him why he did not shoot them on the opposite side of the mountains,and not have made them make all of that hard climb for nothing.The native officer said in reply: “My orders were to shoot all of you when I got you up in the mountains, where, in all probability, your bodies would be destroyed by wild animals and no trace of them ever be found by your countrymen; but a few nights ago when you showed me that crucifix tattooed on your chest while you were a midshipman in America, I decided not to carry out my order, but to let you all go free. I may be punished for disobedience of orders; but we are both bound together by the great Catholic church, and my conscience forbids that I should kill you.”Gilmore replied: “You might as well shoot us as to set us free away up here in the mountains in our weakened condition with nothing to defend ourselves with against the savages whose territory we will have to cross in order to get to the sea. Can’t you spare us at least two rifles and some ammunition? If you will do this, I will giveyou a letter which, should you fall into the hands of the Americans, will make you safe and bring you ample reward.”The Filipino looked meditatingly at the ground for several moments, then he calmly said, “I shall not dare to do it. An American relief party, seeking your liberation, is close on our heels. They will protect and care for you. Goodby!”Gilmore did not believe him.Under cover of the night the Filipinos disappeared. In the morning, after nine long, tedious months of captivity resulting from Marie Sampalit’s depredations,—sick, nearly starved, practically nude, with nothing but two battle axes and a bolo for both weapons of defense and for tools—the Americans at last found themselves free men in the wilds of northern Luzon, with positive death left behind, and with possible life and all of its happy associations still before them.The RescueThe Rescue(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)Their first day of liberty was spent in preparing bamboo rafts on which to float down the tortuous, winding river to the sea.The next night they all slept well; and on the following morning, just after they had gotten up and begun to saunter around, everybody present was suddenly shocked by the shrill yell of a strong American voice. They all looked up, and while their hearts for a moment seemingly stopped beating and fairly rose in their throats, the liberated prisoners beheld the blue shirts and khaki trousers of Colonel Hare’s rescue party that for several weeks had been on their trail.What rejoicing! The bony, ill-clad prisoners fell on the strong bosoms of their rescuers and wept.Colonel Hare’s father, Judge Hare, of Washington, D.C., knew Gilmore personally. He had seen the military reports of his captivity among the natives. When his son bade him goodby as he started for the Philippines, Judge Hare said, “My boy, God bless you; find Gilmore and bring him home!” Colonel Hare had remained true to his trust.The party could not retrace their steps over the mountains, owing to the weakenedcondition of the prisoners and the lack of food. Their only chance for self-preservation and a possible return to civilization lay in carrying out Gilmore’s designs to build bamboo rafts and float down the river to the sea. This was done. In going over rapids and water-falls, many rafts were destroyed and new ones had to be built.Two of the boys got the measles. The raft on which one of them, Private Day, was being transported, got smashed on the rocks and he was thrown into the water. He took cold and died the next day. His comrades took his body with them and did not bury it until they finally reached the little town of Ambulug, at the mouth of the stream they had been following, on the northern coast of Luzon. There, amid a simple but impressive ceremony, it was buried in the church-yard of the cathedral to await the resurrection morn.At Ambulug the Americans secured ox-carts drawn by caribous and drove along the beach to the city of Aparri, at the mouth ofthe Cagayan river. Here they were met by a detachment of American Marines who took them aboard a war-ship, lying out to sea, which carried them around the northwest promontory of Luzon to the city of Vigan on the western coast, at which place they had been imprisoned for so long.Here they met General Young who shook hands with each of them; congratulated the rescued and complimented the rescuers.Floating Down the Rapids.Floating Down the Rapids.(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Chapter IX.The American Prisoners
Those of the Americans who were alive and able to help themselves were ordered to go ashore on the sand bar, where the Filipinos robbed them of their personal effects and then lined them up preparatory to shooting them all down in a body. Gilmore, being an officer, protested against having his hands tied. He claimed, according to the accepted rules of warfare, that on account of his rank he had a right to die honorably with his hands free. The Filipinos have great superstitions about “rank” in military affairs. Marie knew the significance of Gilmore’s request; she respected it.The Filipinos had loaded their rifles, cocked them, raised the same to their shoulders, had taken aim, and Marie was about to give the fatal command, “Fire!”, when a shout from the bank stopped her and for a moment engaged the attention of both theAmericans and the Filipinos. It came from a Filipino officer, running down to the shore. He ordered them to stop. One second longer would have been too late.This Tagalo officer ordered the Americans to get back into their boat and to row across to the opposite shore. After bailing the water out of the boat and plugging up the holes in it made by the enemy’s rifle balls, they obeyed his command.When they went ashore, Lieutenant Gilmore asked permission to bury his dead comrades. This privilege was emphatically denied. What was done with their bodies by the Filipinos is hard to tell, but in all probability, as was customary with the natives, they cut them into fragments and threw them away.The ones who were mortally wounded, but who were still alive, were placed under a tree by Gilmore and his comrades, and left to die. The Lieutenant asked that a native doctor be summoned to give them aid, but itwas not done. What their fate was Eternity alone will reveal.Gilmore and his comrades picked up the lesser wounded and carried them, and together the whole procession was marched inland about a mile to the Filipino Commandante’s headquarters.Here they were questioned at length. Gilmore asked permission to write a note to the commander of the Yorktown telling him of their fate. Permission was granted, but the note was never delivered. The two scouts who went ashore, returned to the Yorktown in the afternoon and reported that they had heard heavy firing up the river.After waiting several days for news of some kind for them, and finally concluding that they were either captured or killed, the crew of the Yorktown, heavy-hearted over their failure and their sacrifice, steamed back to Manila.During the afternoon of the same day that the battle took place, the American prisonerswere ordered to march to an old bamboo church in the northern outskirts of the little town of Baler, a mile and a half farther on. By this time the wounded men were suffering terribly. Little Venville’s ankle had swollen badly. From his four wounds he had bled so much that he had grown faint. Therefore, he and several of the others had to be carried.En route to their new destination, the Americans passed in sight of the old stone church being used as a fortress by the Spanish garrison whom they had originally set out to relieve. The Americans had gone to the Philippines to fight the Spaniards. They were now sacrificing their lives to save them.At the bamboo church, an old Filipino with a kindly face and a manner that elevated him above his fellow tribesmen, came in to see them. He examined the wounded and then disappeared. Presently he returned with some large leaves that resembled rhubarb, under his arm. Out of the big stems of these native herbs he squeezed a milkysecretion which he permitted to drop into the gaping wounds of the Americans. The torture of the wounded occasioned by this liquid was damnable. The men grew deathly pale. They rolled and screamed and begged to be shot. But it did not last long. In ten minutes the torture had ceased, the men became quiet, the swelling around their wounds was gradually reduced, and their temperatures soon lowered. The herb doctor evidently knew his business.The next day the Filipinos received orders from Aguinaldo, who, with his appointed congress, was now at San Isidro, to march the captured Americans to his headquarters. Accordingly, the trip was undertaken. But the apprentice lad, Venville, was unable to go along. Obeying the stubborn orders of the rapacious Filipinos his comrades left him lying on the floor of the old rickety bamboo church,—wounded—uncared for—suffering—hungry—thirsty—dying. A year later the assistance of the entire naval organization in the Philippines was given tothe task of trying to ascertain from the Filipinos in the neighborhood of Baler some information concerning the lad’s whereabouts or his burial place, but no trace of him, dead or alive, could ever be found.An aged mother, ill and bowed,Keeps asking, “Where’s my boy?”But zephyrs from the OrientRefuse to bring the joy.Amid great privations the marching column crossed the mountains and the fertile plains on the opposite side, to the city of San Isidro. It was heralded in advance that the Americans were coming through the country. Obeying their greatest national instinct—curiosity—the natives assembled by thousands in the villages along the road. Every one of them kept crowding forward to get to touch the Americans to see what their skins felt like. Others were looking for the long feathers in their hair, which they had heard so much about. It was all the Filipino guards could do to restrain their own people. The latter, like monkeys, jabbered incessantly.Gilmore’s men hurled back at them defiant epithets. They realized that involuntarily they had become the chief actors in a new moving circus.Again, when they reached San Isidro, a great throng of curious natives had come to town to see them. These fellows were very hostile to the Americans. It was all the native guard could do to keep the Filipinos from doing violence to them. Gilmore was again questioned at length and then he was separated from his comrades and all were hurried off to jail.In a few days it was rumored that the American army was approaching the city. Aguinaldo and his associates hurriedly prepared to leave. Orders were given to march the prisoners overland north and then westward across another range of high mountains to Arancay, on the western coast of Luzon,—a distance of 100 miles.This time the crowd of prisoners was greatly increased. At San Isidro there were added 600 Spaniards; a small tribe of mountainNegritos whom Aguinaldo had originally sent to fight the Americans, but who, being armed only with spears and bolos, soon got tired of seeing their number decrease so rapidly before American riflemen, and refused to fight, and who were later imprisoned and terribly misused by Aguinaldo’s selected guards; and eighteen Americans in addition to Gilmore’s party (total twenty-six Americans), who had been captured in as many different ways around Manila by the crafty, cunning Filipinos. Among them was Frank Stone, of the U. S. Signal Corps, captured by some “amigos” (friendly natives) on the railroad track near Manila, while out strolling one Sunday afternoon; Private Curran, of the 16th U.S. Infantry who was grabbed within fifty feet of his own outpost, gagged and dragged into captivity; also a civilian who had gone to the Philippines to sell liquor.This fellow was captured by the Filipinos in the outskirts of Manila while he was searching for a small boatload of stolenbeer. He was the life of the expedition. He took his captivity as a joke, told stories to keep the prisoners good natured, and painted on ever boulder that he passed the seemingly sacrilegious words, “Drink Blank’s beer on the road to H——.” It was, however, this harmless practice that later on enabled the American relief party to follow the prisoners’ trail.After reaching the western shore of Luzon, the party was marched northward along the beach, another 100 miles, to the city of Vigan. Here they were imprisoned for three months longer. The sudden presence of an American war-ship in the harbor, off Vigan, caused the natives to abandon that city and start inland with their prisoners for some mountain fastness. The Americans were separated from the rest of the prisoners whom they never saw again.High up in the mountains of northern Luzon, two of the American boys were taken sick with fever and fell down, exhausted. The Filipino lieutenant who had charge of theprisoners, ordered them to go on; they could not. He threatened to shoot them. Gilmore interceded for them without avail. The Americans refused to leave their Anglo-Saxon comrades and prepared to fight. At this moment the Filipino officer himself was suddenly taken ill, and by the time he was able to advance, the sick Americans were able to go along.A few days later they struggled over the crest of the divide and came upon the headwaters of a beautiful mountain torrent dancing down the rocky ledges in its onward course to the sea. At a widened place in the canon, the Filipinos withdrew from the Americans, and with guns in hand took their positions on the rocks round-about and above them.“Prepare to die,” said Gilmore to his companions; “they are going to shoot us.” Calling the Filipino lieutenant to his side Gilmore asked him why he did not shoot them on the opposite side of the mountains,and not have made them make all of that hard climb for nothing.The native officer said in reply: “My orders were to shoot all of you when I got you up in the mountains, where, in all probability, your bodies would be destroyed by wild animals and no trace of them ever be found by your countrymen; but a few nights ago when you showed me that crucifix tattooed on your chest while you were a midshipman in America, I decided not to carry out my order, but to let you all go free. I may be punished for disobedience of orders; but we are both bound together by the great Catholic church, and my conscience forbids that I should kill you.”Gilmore replied: “You might as well shoot us as to set us free away up here in the mountains in our weakened condition with nothing to defend ourselves with against the savages whose territory we will have to cross in order to get to the sea. Can’t you spare us at least two rifles and some ammunition? If you will do this, I will giveyou a letter which, should you fall into the hands of the Americans, will make you safe and bring you ample reward.”The Filipino looked meditatingly at the ground for several moments, then he calmly said, “I shall not dare to do it. An American relief party, seeking your liberation, is close on our heels. They will protect and care for you. Goodby!”Gilmore did not believe him.Under cover of the night the Filipinos disappeared. In the morning, after nine long, tedious months of captivity resulting from Marie Sampalit’s depredations,—sick, nearly starved, practically nude, with nothing but two battle axes and a bolo for both weapons of defense and for tools—the Americans at last found themselves free men in the wilds of northern Luzon, with positive death left behind, and with possible life and all of its happy associations still before them.The RescueThe Rescue(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)Their first day of liberty was spent in preparing bamboo rafts on which to float down the tortuous, winding river to the sea.The next night they all slept well; and on the following morning, just after they had gotten up and begun to saunter around, everybody present was suddenly shocked by the shrill yell of a strong American voice. They all looked up, and while their hearts for a moment seemingly stopped beating and fairly rose in their throats, the liberated prisoners beheld the blue shirts and khaki trousers of Colonel Hare’s rescue party that for several weeks had been on their trail.What rejoicing! The bony, ill-clad prisoners fell on the strong bosoms of their rescuers and wept.Colonel Hare’s father, Judge Hare, of Washington, D.C., knew Gilmore personally. He had seen the military reports of his captivity among the natives. When his son bade him goodby as he started for the Philippines, Judge Hare said, “My boy, God bless you; find Gilmore and bring him home!” Colonel Hare had remained true to his trust.The party could not retrace their steps over the mountains, owing to the weakenedcondition of the prisoners and the lack of food. Their only chance for self-preservation and a possible return to civilization lay in carrying out Gilmore’s designs to build bamboo rafts and float down the river to the sea. This was done. In going over rapids and water-falls, many rafts were destroyed and new ones had to be built.Two of the boys got the measles. The raft on which one of them, Private Day, was being transported, got smashed on the rocks and he was thrown into the water. He took cold and died the next day. His comrades took his body with them and did not bury it until they finally reached the little town of Ambulug, at the mouth of the stream they had been following, on the northern coast of Luzon. There, amid a simple but impressive ceremony, it was buried in the church-yard of the cathedral to await the resurrection morn.At Ambulug the Americans secured ox-carts drawn by caribous and drove along the beach to the city of Aparri, at the mouth ofthe Cagayan river. Here they were met by a detachment of American Marines who took them aboard a war-ship, lying out to sea, which carried them around the northwest promontory of Luzon to the city of Vigan on the western coast, at which place they had been imprisoned for so long.Here they met General Young who shook hands with each of them; congratulated the rescued and complimented the rescuers.Floating Down the Rapids.Floating Down the Rapids.(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Those of the Americans who were alive and able to help themselves were ordered to go ashore on the sand bar, where the Filipinos robbed them of their personal effects and then lined them up preparatory to shooting them all down in a body. Gilmore, being an officer, protested against having his hands tied. He claimed, according to the accepted rules of warfare, that on account of his rank he had a right to die honorably with his hands free. The Filipinos have great superstitions about “rank” in military affairs. Marie knew the significance of Gilmore’s request; she respected it.
The Filipinos had loaded their rifles, cocked them, raised the same to their shoulders, had taken aim, and Marie was about to give the fatal command, “Fire!”, when a shout from the bank stopped her and for a moment engaged the attention of both theAmericans and the Filipinos. It came from a Filipino officer, running down to the shore. He ordered them to stop. One second longer would have been too late.
This Tagalo officer ordered the Americans to get back into their boat and to row across to the opposite shore. After bailing the water out of the boat and plugging up the holes in it made by the enemy’s rifle balls, they obeyed his command.
When they went ashore, Lieutenant Gilmore asked permission to bury his dead comrades. This privilege was emphatically denied. What was done with their bodies by the Filipinos is hard to tell, but in all probability, as was customary with the natives, they cut them into fragments and threw them away.
The ones who were mortally wounded, but who were still alive, were placed under a tree by Gilmore and his comrades, and left to die. The Lieutenant asked that a native doctor be summoned to give them aid, but itwas not done. What their fate was Eternity alone will reveal.
Gilmore and his comrades picked up the lesser wounded and carried them, and together the whole procession was marched inland about a mile to the Filipino Commandante’s headquarters.
Here they were questioned at length. Gilmore asked permission to write a note to the commander of the Yorktown telling him of their fate. Permission was granted, but the note was never delivered. The two scouts who went ashore, returned to the Yorktown in the afternoon and reported that they had heard heavy firing up the river.
After waiting several days for news of some kind for them, and finally concluding that they were either captured or killed, the crew of the Yorktown, heavy-hearted over their failure and their sacrifice, steamed back to Manila.
During the afternoon of the same day that the battle took place, the American prisonerswere ordered to march to an old bamboo church in the northern outskirts of the little town of Baler, a mile and a half farther on. By this time the wounded men were suffering terribly. Little Venville’s ankle had swollen badly. From his four wounds he had bled so much that he had grown faint. Therefore, he and several of the others had to be carried.
En route to their new destination, the Americans passed in sight of the old stone church being used as a fortress by the Spanish garrison whom they had originally set out to relieve. The Americans had gone to the Philippines to fight the Spaniards. They were now sacrificing their lives to save them.
At the bamboo church, an old Filipino with a kindly face and a manner that elevated him above his fellow tribesmen, came in to see them. He examined the wounded and then disappeared. Presently he returned with some large leaves that resembled rhubarb, under his arm. Out of the big stems of these native herbs he squeezed a milkysecretion which he permitted to drop into the gaping wounds of the Americans. The torture of the wounded occasioned by this liquid was damnable. The men grew deathly pale. They rolled and screamed and begged to be shot. But it did not last long. In ten minutes the torture had ceased, the men became quiet, the swelling around their wounds was gradually reduced, and their temperatures soon lowered. The herb doctor evidently knew his business.
The next day the Filipinos received orders from Aguinaldo, who, with his appointed congress, was now at San Isidro, to march the captured Americans to his headquarters. Accordingly, the trip was undertaken. But the apprentice lad, Venville, was unable to go along. Obeying the stubborn orders of the rapacious Filipinos his comrades left him lying on the floor of the old rickety bamboo church,—wounded—uncared for—suffering—hungry—thirsty—dying. A year later the assistance of the entire naval organization in the Philippines was given tothe task of trying to ascertain from the Filipinos in the neighborhood of Baler some information concerning the lad’s whereabouts or his burial place, but no trace of him, dead or alive, could ever be found.
An aged mother, ill and bowed,Keeps asking, “Where’s my boy?”But zephyrs from the OrientRefuse to bring the joy.
An aged mother, ill and bowed,
Keeps asking, “Where’s my boy?”
But zephyrs from the Orient
Refuse to bring the joy.
Amid great privations the marching column crossed the mountains and the fertile plains on the opposite side, to the city of San Isidro. It was heralded in advance that the Americans were coming through the country. Obeying their greatest national instinct—curiosity—the natives assembled by thousands in the villages along the road. Every one of them kept crowding forward to get to touch the Americans to see what their skins felt like. Others were looking for the long feathers in their hair, which they had heard so much about. It was all the Filipino guards could do to restrain their own people. The latter, like monkeys, jabbered incessantly.Gilmore’s men hurled back at them defiant epithets. They realized that involuntarily they had become the chief actors in a new moving circus.
Again, when they reached San Isidro, a great throng of curious natives had come to town to see them. These fellows were very hostile to the Americans. It was all the native guard could do to keep the Filipinos from doing violence to them. Gilmore was again questioned at length and then he was separated from his comrades and all were hurried off to jail.
In a few days it was rumored that the American army was approaching the city. Aguinaldo and his associates hurriedly prepared to leave. Orders were given to march the prisoners overland north and then westward across another range of high mountains to Arancay, on the western coast of Luzon,—a distance of 100 miles.
This time the crowd of prisoners was greatly increased. At San Isidro there were added 600 Spaniards; a small tribe of mountainNegritos whom Aguinaldo had originally sent to fight the Americans, but who, being armed only with spears and bolos, soon got tired of seeing their number decrease so rapidly before American riflemen, and refused to fight, and who were later imprisoned and terribly misused by Aguinaldo’s selected guards; and eighteen Americans in addition to Gilmore’s party (total twenty-six Americans), who had been captured in as many different ways around Manila by the crafty, cunning Filipinos. Among them was Frank Stone, of the U. S. Signal Corps, captured by some “amigos” (friendly natives) on the railroad track near Manila, while out strolling one Sunday afternoon; Private Curran, of the 16th U.S. Infantry who was grabbed within fifty feet of his own outpost, gagged and dragged into captivity; also a civilian who had gone to the Philippines to sell liquor.
This fellow was captured by the Filipinos in the outskirts of Manila while he was searching for a small boatload of stolenbeer. He was the life of the expedition. He took his captivity as a joke, told stories to keep the prisoners good natured, and painted on ever boulder that he passed the seemingly sacrilegious words, “Drink Blank’s beer on the road to H——.” It was, however, this harmless practice that later on enabled the American relief party to follow the prisoners’ trail.
After reaching the western shore of Luzon, the party was marched northward along the beach, another 100 miles, to the city of Vigan. Here they were imprisoned for three months longer. The sudden presence of an American war-ship in the harbor, off Vigan, caused the natives to abandon that city and start inland with their prisoners for some mountain fastness. The Americans were separated from the rest of the prisoners whom they never saw again.
High up in the mountains of northern Luzon, two of the American boys were taken sick with fever and fell down, exhausted. The Filipino lieutenant who had charge of theprisoners, ordered them to go on; they could not. He threatened to shoot them. Gilmore interceded for them without avail. The Americans refused to leave their Anglo-Saxon comrades and prepared to fight. At this moment the Filipino officer himself was suddenly taken ill, and by the time he was able to advance, the sick Americans were able to go along.
A few days later they struggled over the crest of the divide and came upon the headwaters of a beautiful mountain torrent dancing down the rocky ledges in its onward course to the sea. At a widened place in the canon, the Filipinos withdrew from the Americans, and with guns in hand took their positions on the rocks round-about and above them.
“Prepare to die,” said Gilmore to his companions; “they are going to shoot us.” Calling the Filipino lieutenant to his side Gilmore asked him why he did not shoot them on the opposite side of the mountains,and not have made them make all of that hard climb for nothing.
The native officer said in reply: “My orders were to shoot all of you when I got you up in the mountains, where, in all probability, your bodies would be destroyed by wild animals and no trace of them ever be found by your countrymen; but a few nights ago when you showed me that crucifix tattooed on your chest while you were a midshipman in America, I decided not to carry out my order, but to let you all go free. I may be punished for disobedience of orders; but we are both bound together by the great Catholic church, and my conscience forbids that I should kill you.”
Gilmore replied: “You might as well shoot us as to set us free away up here in the mountains in our weakened condition with nothing to defend ourselves with against the savages whose territory we will have to cross in order to get to the sea. Can’t you spare us at least two rifles and some ammunition? If you will do this, I will giveyou a letter which, should you fall into the hands of the Americans, will make you safe and bring you ample reward.”
The Filipino looked meditatingly at the ground for several moments, then he calmly said, “I shall not dare to do it. An American relief party, seeking your liberation, is close on our heels. They will protect and care for you. Goodby!”
Gilmore did not believe him.
Under cover of the night the Filipinos disappeared. In the morning, after nine long, tedious months of captivity resulting from Marie Sampalit’s depredations,—sick, nearly starved, practically nude, with nothing but two battle axes and a bolo for both weapons of defense and for tools—the Americans at last found themselves free men in the wilds of northern Luzon, with positive death left behind, and with possible life and all of its happy associations still before them.
The RescueThe Rescue(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
The Rescue
(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Their first day of liberty was spent in preparing bamboo rafts on which to float down the tortuous, winding river to the sea.The next night they all slept well; and on the following morning, just after they had gotten up and begun to saunter around, everybody present was suddenly shocked by the shrill yell of a strong American voice. They all looked up, and while their hearts for a moment seemingly stopped beating and fairly rose in their throats, the liberated prisoners beheld the blue shirts and khaki trousers of Colonel Hare’s rescue party that for several weeks had been on their trail.
What rejoicing! The bony, ill-clad prisoners fell on the strong bosoms of their rescuers and wept.
Colonel Hare’s father, Judge Hare, of Washington, D.C., knew Gilmore personally. He had seen the military reports of his captivity among the natives. When his son bade him goodby as he started for the Philippines, Judge Hare said, “My boy, God bless you; find Gilmore and bring him home!” Colonel Hare had remained true to his trust.
The party could not retrace their steps over the mountains, owing to the weakenedcondition of the prisoners and the lack of food. Their only chance for self-preservation and a possible return to civilization lay in carrying out Gilmore’s designs to build bamboo rafts and float down the river to the sea. This was done. In going over rapids and water-falls, many rafts were destroyed and new ones had to be built.
Two of the boys got the measles. The raft on which one of them, Private Day, was being transported, got smashed on the rocks and he was thrown into the water. He took cold and died the next day. His comrades took his body with them and did not bury it until they finally reached the little town of Ambulug, at the mouth of the stream they had been following, on the northern coast of Luzon. There, amid a simple but impressive ceremony, it was buried in the church-yard of the cathedral to await the resurrection morn.
At Ambulug the Americans secured ox-carts drawn by caribous and drove along the beach to the city of Aparri, at the mouth ofthe Cagayan river. Here they were met by a detachment of American Marines who took them aboard a war-ship, lying out to sea, which carried them around the northwest promontory of Luzon to the city of Vigan on the western coast, at which place they had been imprisoned for so long.
Here they met General Young who shook hands with each of them; congratulated the rescued and complimented the rescuers.
Floating Down the Rapids.Floating Down the Rapids.(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
Floating Down the Rapids.
(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)