CHAPTER XII.
CROSSING THE SIERRA MADRES.
She remained at Ilagan until the middle of June, when it began to berumored that the Americans were preparing to invade the Cagayan valley,not only soldiers from the south but with the "mosquito fleet" comingup the river from its mouth at the extreme northern end of the islandof Luzon. Nobody in the city seemed to know just where Aguinaldo hadgone. Part of his advance guard had arrived in the city some threemonths before, but he had not come, and his soldiers had soon departedfor the southeast, following the valley of the Pinacanalan river.
Tired of her surroundings and impatient to join Aguinaldo, Mariedeparted by the same route that his soldiers had taken. From anold native living all alone in a bamboo shack on the bank of the RioMasagan river, which empties into the Pinacanalan about eighteen milessoutheast of Ilagan, she learned that Aguinaldo and his troops hadstarted up the valley of the Masagan. This stream rises high up nearthe summit of the Sierra Madre mountains which parallel the easterncoast of northern Luzon for nearly five hundred miles, and are inlandfrom the coast from ten to thirty miles.
Marie had with her three trusted natives from Ilagan. She did not wantto spend another night alone in the mountains. After proceeding upthe Masagan for thirty-five miles to a place where its valley narrowsitself to a gorge, its bed was so strewn with huge boulders that itbecame impossible to travel any longer on horseback; therefore, oneof the natives was sent back with the horses, and Marie and the twoothers continued the ascent on foot, taking with them such equipmentand provisions as they could conveniently carry.
After many hardships they succeeded in crossing the range in safetyand soon found themselves descending the other side. A Filipinoscouting party was met at the evening of the first day's tramp downthe Pacific slope. They were well supplied with food--thing Marie andher companions greatly needed. From them it was learned that Aguinaldoand his body guard and quite a complement of Filipino soldiers weresecreted at the little town of Palanan on a small stream by the samename, about ten miles back from the coast and lying directly eastof them on the journey which they were pursuing. This party escortedthem to Filipino headquarters, which they reached July 10, 1900.
Marie was cordially welcomed by Aguinaldo, who restored her to aposition on his staff and secured from her the identical informationwhich he desired relative to the movement of the American troops, andthe very information, strange to say, which led to his own discoveryand capture by General Funston of the American forces in March ofthe following year.
Aguinaldo learned from Marie that from the Filipinos' standpoint, thewar around Manila had been a dismal failure. He decided, therefore,to send one of his trusted generals south by practically the sameroute over which Marie had come, with information to the Filipinotroops east and south of Manila to move all their available forcesnorth with the quickest possible despatch and to place them under hisimmediate command so that he might not only render himself immune fromcapture, but take the initiative and oppose the American campaign inthe valley of the Cagayan river.
In December, 1900, about three months before his capture by GeneralFunston, Aguinaldo, having learned that the Americans were making theirway in great numbers into the valley of the Cagayan, asked Marie totake up duty as a spy again; to recross the Sierra Madre mountains;visit the American lines; ascertain their number of soldiers on dutyin the valley on the opposite side of the mountains and then to bringthis information to him, so that when reinforcements should arrivehe would know better how to undertake the campaign.
To this, Marie willingly assented, but she insisted that she couldnot make the trip alone over the rugged Sierra Madre mountains;that she had nearly famished crossing them the first time. Aguinaldotherefor fitted out a little expedition consisting of eight Filipinos,in addition to Marie, and a pack-train of fourteen ponies to accompanyher over the divide. Nine of the animals were for riding purposes;the other five were to pack the supplies,--three of them for theoutward trip, two for the incoming. In addition to the rice whichthey took along, they were instructed to forage as much as possible.
On December 9, the party started out on their perilous undertaking. Apoint far up on the mountain slope, near a refreshing mineral spring,having been reached on December 17, the party halted and establisheda sub-base for their return trip. It was evident to them that theyhad struck the wrong trail and were going to be compelled to sendMarie back through a different gorge from the one by which she andher associates had come over a few months before.
Here the party divided into two relays--one to accompany Marie closeto the top of the mountains, the other to remain where it was untilher guides returned. At this temporary base three Filipinos and twopack-horses were left. The Filipinos thus left behind were instructedto hunt and trap all they could till their comrades returned.
The on-going squad, consisting of Marie and five native soldiers, tookwith them their six riding ponies and three of the pack-horses. Theydeparted from their comrades early in the morning, December 18. Bynight of the second day they had gotten so near the crest they couldplainly discern that in one long march Marie could cross the divideand get a safe distance down the slope on the opposite side. Coming toan old stone church they dismounted and established themselves for thenight. It was December 19,--the anniversary of Lawton's death. Marieremarked about it.
This old church had partly fallen down. Vines and mosses had sointerlaced themselves in climbing over its rocky walls and across itsopenings that they had to be cut away by the unwelcome intruders beforethey could gain an entrance. The stone cross on the front gable wasstill in place; but the old mahogany door had long since been tornfrom its hinges by the mountain storms, and it lay in a state ofdecay on the ground. An earthquake had destroyed part of the roof,and had caused the west wall to become inclined and to crumble.
Within, one end of the old altar was still found to be intact. Thepriest's pulpit chair had become ivy-mantled, and one handle had rottedfrom its fastenings and had fallen to the floor. Statues of the Saintshad pitched from their moorings in the alcoves along the walls and werelying face-downward or standing on their heads amid the debris below.
What hands had built this old church, none could tell. It seemedcertain that no human being had entered it for over a century. Themountain tribes who had lifted into place the huge chalk stonesthat composed its massive walls, under the devout leadership of somepious monk, for a place of worship, had long since perished from theearth. The mountain game which rendered possible their habitation inthis altitude had vanished. Everything and everybody had evidentlygiven way before some fierce invasion of one of their southern tribes.
Marie was busy cleaning off the trash from the massive rock that layat the entrance to the door-way. "1765," said she; "come, see thedate chiseled in the rock! I wonder what has become of the tribe thatbuilt it?"
A soldier who had made his entrance by one of the window openings,was busily engaged in prying up a huge flat stone just back of thealtar. He had it loosened; he called for help to remove it. When thestone had been overturned and had fallen back onto its aged neighbors,some soft damp earth beneath it was slowly scraped away.
"Listen!" said the native who on bended knees was doing thesacrilegious work, "Did you hear that grating noise?"
He scraped again with his bolo turned edgewise, and gripping the backof it firmly with both hands. "Do you hear it?" said he. "It's here!"
In a few minutes a metallic box was pried out of the earth whereinit had lain unmolested for many years.
"Can you read the inscription on it?" asked Marie.
Carefully the sediment and rust shales were removed. The grooves inthe letters and figures of the inscription were carefully cleanedout with a knife. It read
FATHER JUADANEZ 1768.
"The old father has been dead a long time," said the fellow who wasdoing the details of the work.
"I wonder," said Mar
ie, "if we really ought to disturb his bones."
"Do you suppose they put any valuables in the little chest when theysealed it up?" asked another.
"It has always been customary to put in the sacred urn," said Marie.
"Cut it open!" commanded a corporal.
"I can't," said the robber; "we'll have to build a fire and meltit open."
This they did; and in it they found the dust of his bones and a numberof valuables including the Patricia's gold-lined cup which Marie tookand hung on her belt.
That night a terrible storm swept over the mountains. Marie and hercompanions crept into the old church for refuge. The ponies had beengiven some rice and then set free to forage as best they could. Theywere stampeded by the violence of the wind and rain.
The morning broke cool and clear. Everybody was astir at day-break. Theponies were gone, but plenty of rice remained. Marie soon saw a wayout of the difficulty. She left three of her men at the old church toawait the return of the two who were to accompany her until she reachedsome plan for speedy descent on the opposite side of the mountains.
The advance party started out early on foot, taking with them sucha supply of rice and bananas as they could carry. Only three milesfarther up they entered a canon whose rocky walls, at places almostperpendicular and seeming to form pillars for the sky, were so closetogether at their base that it would have been impossible to have usedthe ponies for travel, even though they had not retreated in the storm.
Good progress was made, and by sun-down, December 20, they had reachedthe upper rivulets of what afterwards proved to be the north fork ofthe Rio Masagan, instead of the south fork which she had previouslyfollowed. The beautiful valleys below them were plainly visible asthe sun sank to rest over the distant hills. A small native villagecould be seen on the bank of the stream a few miles ahead. The partybivouacked for the night.
Early the next morning, after a light lunch of cold rice, Marie wasoff on her important mission.
Her two escorts made their way back to the old church, where afteranother night's rest, the five undertook their return journey tothe sub-base at the spring far down the mountain side. When theyreached this camp they found their ponies all returned to it; andtheir comrades, thinking they had all been captured or slain by theAmericans, were hastily preparing to retreat. The entire party, exceptMarie, got back to Aguinaldo's camp at Palanan, on Christmas Day.
Marie, was therefore, left to arrange for her own return, after herspy work had been completed. She contemplated securing help fromthe natives at Ilagan, among whom she had previously lived for afew months.
CHAPTER XIII.
COMPENSATION
On the evening of December 24, 1900,--one of those dark nights inthe Philippines when the air seems so dense that you can almosttake hold of it with your hands--when the heavy clouds blanket theearth so closely that the terrible thunders seem to shake the earthin its orbit, with the deep-toned diapason of their melody--whenthe lightening bugs flutter from twig to twig, revealing theirlanterned wings--when the human heart beats with a conscious thumpin anticipation of something awful--when those who are out alonewhistle to give themselves courage--when the zigzag openings rentthrough the clouds by the vicious lightning flashes almost revealEternity;--Christmas Eve, that sacred occasion which we all celebrateand shall continue to celebrate till the end of time, to commemoratethe birth of our Christ,--a sharp-eyed, dare-devil Filipino creptslowly out of the city of Ilagan along a foot-path toward theAmericans' camp about a mile north of that city.
When so near to the Americans that their out-posts were plainly visibleduring the flashes of lightning, the Filipino spy crept into a bamboothicket not over fifty feet from an American sentry. After lying therefor a half hour, waiting for the storm to come, the native grew atrifle bolder and arose to his knees. That moment the sharp eyes ofthe sentry caught him.
"Corporal of the Guard!" called the sentry in a loud voice.
The corporal, being suspicious that something unusual was taking place,in responding to the call took with him two armed privates.
Approaching the sentry, with light steps and in a crouching attitude,the corporal said in a heavy whisper, "What's the matter, Jack?"
The sentry was standing with gun in hand, loaded, cocked, and withbayonet fixed. Keeping his eye centered on the exact spot where he hadlast seen the slowly gravitating figure before him, the guard saidin an undertone that denoted grave alarm, "Do you see that thicketjust to the left of that big mango tree?"
"Yes;" said the corporal in a whisper, "What's the trouble?"
"There's a man in there," said the sentry. "I saw him quite plainly atfirst--and I think he's got a gun in his hand. You better watch out,boys. He's still there."
The corporal and the two privates fixed the bayonets on theirKrag-Jorgensons, filled the magazines, slipped a shell into thebarrel of each rifle, cocked them, crouched close to the ground,some ten feet apart, and began to move forward, a step at a time,between the flashes of lightening. Each time it would flash, theywould peer into the thicket. Each step brought them nearer.
"There he lies!," said one of the privates in a quick out-spoken voice.
"Amigo," (a friend) said the stretched-out form, as three guns wereraised in unison with the anxious muzzles pointing directly at him.
"Este no quere combate" (you don't desire to fight), said the corporal,in crude Spanish.
"Mucho amigo" (very friendly), came the reply.
"Vamose aque!" (come here), commanded the corporal.
With his eyes fixed in theirs, the Filipino raised himself slowly upand came toward the three Americans who stood but twelve feet away.
"Take him by the arms," said the corporal to the two privates who werewith him, "while I look behind that rice-dyke to see if he had a gun."
"Here's what the rascal was up to," said the corporal, holding aMauser above his head. "Good thing you saw him when you did, Jack."
The storm was coming nearer; the first gust of wind had just struckthem. It blew back the Filipino's little checkered frock. The corporalsaw a glitter.
"Watch out! boys, he's got a machete under his coat," said thecorporal.
He was searched for more weapons and then marched inside the Americanlines and taken directly to headquarters. A drum-head court wasconvened at once and the prisoner led in.
With hands clinched, muscles taut, eyes piercing at the court, helistened to the reading of the charge:
"Caught acting as a spy for the enemy in violation of the Articlesof War; armed, with intent to take the life of an American sentryon guard!"
After the testimony had been taken, the prisoner was given a chanceto speak, but he absolutely refused to do so, even though addressedin several different languages and dialects.
"He spoke Spanish to us as we captured him," interjected the corporal.
"GUILTY!"
said the lieutenant-colonel who was presiding, in a firm militarytone. "The court fixes the penalty at death, and sentences the prisonerto be shot at sun-rise."
"Remove him, Sergeant, and detail a firing squad to execute the orderof the court!"
As the prisoner was led away, the lieutenant-colonel dropped hischin in the palms of his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees,and muttered in a semi-regretful way: "I hate to do it; but in thepast we have always been so chicken-hearted about punishing theseblood-thirsty natives that they have now come to regard our kindnessas cowardice. I can't help but feel that it will bring the war to aclose quicker if we deal with them hereafter with a good firm hand."
"I wonder what province the young fellow came from," said a majorwho was sitting near.
"I really don't know," replied the lieutenant-colonel: "his face showshim to be a Tagalo. Certain it is that he didn't come from Isabellaprovince in which we are now campaigning. I wouldn't be surprised ifAguinaldo were near here and if he had sent this young dare-devil tocut down our sentry, so as to make an attack upon us tonight duringthe storm."
Tow
ard morning the storm subsided. At day-break a comparatively shallowgrave was hastily dug near the edge of a little bamboo thicket ona slightly elevated piece of ground. As the flickering rays of thetropical sun began to shoot above the pale, ashen-gray hue of theeastern horizon, the prisoner was led to the foot of his prospectivetomb. The firing squad took its place in line.
The guns had been carefully loaded in advance for their deadly work;all but one contained blank cartridges. As usual, after loading, theguns were intermixed, so that no man might know which one containedthe deadly bullet.
"Ready!" commanded the sergeant who had charge of the squad,--thecorporal having taken his usual place in line with his men.
"Click," went the hammers of the rifles in unison, as they werebrought to a full cock.
"Aim!" came the next command in a firmer tone. The soldiers broughttheir rifles to their shoulders. Every barrel was pointed at thechest of the prisoner, who now for the first time, began to trembleand turn a sickly yellow.
"Fire!" commanded the sergeant.
"Bang!" went the united roar of the guns; and as the light powder smokecleared away and the echoes reverberated through the woods of northernLuzon, the firing squad stepped forward to view their heroic dead.
A private jumped into the grave and turned the corpse over ontoits back.
That night Frank W. Pugh, of the regular army, a member of thisunfortunate firing squad, who died later at Fort Worth, Texas, offever contracted in the Philippines, sitting in his little dog-tent,meditating, wrote in his diary, which is now preserved in the archivesat Washington with other relics of the war, the following appropriatepoem:
A CHRISTMAS COURT-MARTIAL
"The night was dark and threatening rain, No stars were in the sky; We caught him hiding in the pines-- A Filipino spy. A slender youth with coal black eyes, Brim full of frightened tears; We turned him over to the guard, I fear with callous jeers.
Next morning it was Christmas day, The sun was shining hot, A drum-head court had said, "The spy, Is sentenced to be shot." Erect before the officers, He still disdained to speak, Although a single crystal drop, Empearled his olive cheek.
Upon a long and hurried march, In light array, you see, We could not take the boy along, So stood him near a tree; Told off the little firing squad, And ordered it in line. One gun was loaded in the lot-- I hope it was not mine.
Birds in the branches overhead Sang softly in the heat. The grave, a trench of steaming sand, Gaped yellow at his feet; He faced us with a dauntless air, Although his lips were white;-- Our grim old Sergeant turned away, He could not stand the sight.
A flash, a roar, a cloud of smoke, And headlong to the ground He fell face downward in the grave, And died without a sound. We turned him over on his back, And DEATH the TRUTH confessed, For through his open jacket peeped A Woman's tender breast."
Marie Sampalit had earned her doom. After her grave had been filled,the soldier boys placed at its head a cartridge-box lid on which theyinscribed the pitiful word,
"UNKNOWN."
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