# Under MacArthur in Luzon/Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI
A SCENE IN A MONASTERY
Captain Russell had thoroughly learned the old proverb to "make haste slowly," especially when facing an enemy in the dark. Twice before had he been in a situation similar to the present, so it was not novel even though trying. On those previous occasions he had escaped with a whole skin, and he intended to do so now if the deed was capable of accomplishment.
Making as little noise as possible, he dropped upon the wet ground, at the same time doing his best to pierce the darkness around him. Then, as he could see nothing, he picked up a stick lying near and threw it into the air, taking care not to hit the bushes close at hand. The stick came down about twenty feet away, landing in the brush with sufficient noise to attract the attention of the others in that vicinity. There followed a movement and a low murmur of voices, and then Ben ​caught sight of a woman, clad in native attire and carrying a little girl in her arms.
"Alto! (Stop!)" he called, in Spanish, and added hastily, "Are you alone?"
At the question the woman gave a slight scream. "I beg of you, Americano, no shoot!" she wailed, in the Tagalog dialect. "No shoot! I have harmed nobody!"
"Are you alone?" repeated the young captain, and took a step closer, at which the little girl began to cry violently.
"Yes, I am alone," answered the woman. "Oh, good señor, you will not harm little Muro and myself?"
"No, I will not harm you, my good woman. But where did you come from?"
"From Taytay."
"And what are you doing here?"
"The soldiers are at Taytay—they are fierce—they shoot and kill—I thought we would not be safe, so I took Muro and ran into the jungle."
"The American soldiers are at Taytay? How far is that from here?"
"Not a very long walk, señor. Oh, the war is dreadful—we are very much afraid!" And the ​woman hugged her little daughter tightly to her breast.
"Are any of the native soldiers in this jungle?"
"I think not. The army fled to Morong and to other places."
"Then show me the way to Taytay. I will see to it that you and your child are not harmed."
"You are sure of this?"
"Yes. See, I am a captain, and you can trust me. It is only the brutes who make war on the women and children, and they have no authority for so doing. Come; we will get to Taytay without delay."
The woman hesitated, but fearing that Ben might use violence, she finally consented to lead the way back to the village, and the party of three moved on through the jungle to where there was a well-defined trail. They had proceeded along the trail less than quarter of a mile when a shout greeted their ears and a small detachment of American volunteers burst into view.
"Hike her up, boys!" was the cry. "Hike her up, and don't give the natives a chance to rest!"
"Halt!" ordered Ben. "Lester, don't you know me?"
​"Captain Russell!" ejaculated the soldier addressed. "We were thinking you were dead."
"Mine cracious, it vos der cabtain, sure enough!" burst out a voice in German accents, and Carl Stummer, a volunteer who had served with Ben ever since the campaign in Cuba, rushed forward. "Dis vos der best news yet, py chiminy!"
"Captain Russell, sure enough, the saints be praised!" put in an Irish voice, and Dan Casey, another of the old volunteers, pressed to Ben's side. "Sure, captain, an' me an' Carl was afther gittin' ready to hold a wake fer ye,—only we couldn't foind the corpse!" And his honest face beamed broadly.
"Well, I'm a pretty lively corpse!" replied Ben. "But where are you bound?"
"Bound to clear out the rebels," answered Lester, who was in charge of the detachment.
"Und've vos pount to look for you und Lieutenant Gilmore," put in Stummer. "Didn't der lieutenant been mit you?"
"He was with me, but he got hurt, and the Filipinos separated us. As soon as the locality is cleared, we must send out a detachment to hunt for him. Where is the rest of the company?"
​"At Taytay."
"Then we might as well turn back, for there are no rebels in sight on this trail," continued Ben; and soon the detachment turned about and marched back to the village. The native woman and her child went along, but disappeared as soon as the first of the huts of the settlement came into sight.
At Taytay Ben found not only his own battalion, but also some of the Western volunteers and a small detachment of regulars. The first battalion had taken possession of a large storehouse, and were making themselves as comfortable as circumstances permitted, which was not saying much, since the village had been thoroughly looted by the rebels ere leaving it, and so far no American supplies had come up. Some of the boys of Ben's company had caught a little pig, which the company's butcher had slaughtered, and the cooks were now trying to roast the porker over a fire built outside the storehouse.
"Captain Russell!" exclaimed Major Morris, as he strode up and put out his hand. "Then the Tagals didn't get you, after all?"
"They did, though; but I got away, major." And Ben told his story in detail, to which not only the major but also a number of others listened with interest.
​"We must send out a detachment for the lieutenant by all means," said the major, when the captain had finished. "But do you think we can locate him in the dark?"
"It may be difficult, but I don't think it's impossible, major."
"Are you too tired to undertake the task?"
"I'd have to be a good deal more tired before I'd forget a fellow-soldier who was in Gilmore's fix," answered Ben, warmly. "Just let me swallow a cup of coffee and a sandwich, and I'll be on the way."
"Sorry, but there is no coffee in camp. I can supply you with a little bread, though, and your cooks are getting some pork into shape for eating."
"Then I'll take a pork chop, some bread, and a drink of water, and let it go at that. But I'd rather have the hot coffee."
"Want a little whiskey?"
"You know I don't drink, major," and so speaking, Ben hurried off. Inside of ten minutes he had had his "bite," as he expressed it, and then he called Stummer, Casey, and half a dozen others to him and told them of what he wished to do. All were eager to go along, regardless of the possible danger.
In order to reach the spot where Gilmore had been ​left, the party had to take a side road running toward Antipolo. The rain had now cleared away entirely, but the night was pitch dark. The heat was oppressive—of that peculiar quality which follows a heavy downfall of rain in the tropics.
"Sure an' this heat afther the rain makes wan feel loike he was comin' out av a Turkish bath," observed Dan Casey, as they trudged along. "I niver seen the loike av this counthry, wid its hotness an' its coldness, an' its rain, an' dryness aftherwards."
"Und its mud," put in Carl Stummer. "Ton't forgot dot peautiful mud, Tan. I neffer seen me so many kinds of mud in mine whole life pefore—plack mud, red mud, prown mud, yeller mud, und all der stickiest mud vot effer vos alretty!" And at this a laugh went up from the others, who all agreed with the speaker, for, as Ben has since expressed it, it was the "muddiest mud" any of them had ever experienced. The wagon trains never came through, and had to be sent back to Manila until the wet season was at an end. During that campaign one small but heavy field-piece sank so deep in the roadbed that it went out of sight and, so far as known, has never been recovered.
Nearly a mile of the distance to Antipolo was ​covered when the detachment came in sight of a small stone building, half tumbled down and covered with vines, standing close to the roadside. This building had been built by the Spanish friars of Luzon many years before, being used as both a monastery and a school, but a thunderbolt had once wrecked the steeple, and from that time on there had been a superstition connected with the place and it had been practically deserted.
There was a light shining out from an upper window of the monastery, and as the detachment drew closer the Americans heard two voices high-pitched in anger, speaking in Spanish.
"Something is wrong," said Ben. "One of those voices sounds like that of a woman."
"Sure an' it is a faymale!" cried Dan Casey. "An' she's afther wantin' help, if I know anything about it," he added.
The voices grew more distinct as they drew closer, and Ben caught the words, in Spanish: "Leave me, you villain! I want nothing more to do with you."
"You must give me the box, Inez!" replied a brutal voice. "I will not leave you without it."
"The box is mine, Barnabas Moval," came in the ​woman's voice. "My father left me those lands, and you shall not take them from me."
"Fool, the lands are mine!" stormed the man. "And if you will not give up the box willingly, then I will take it from you."
"Never!"
"And why not? We are alone here—not a soul is within hearing. If I cannot obtain that box by fair means, I will take it by foul. Do you not know that the Americanos are in this neighborhood, and that they have shot down more than one Tagalog woman? "
"And you would shoot me and let the authorities suspect it was the work of the Americanos?" The woman gave a scream. "No! no! you shall not! you dare not!"
"I dare do anything, Inez Garabella, when it pleases me. Now, be quick. Will you give me the box, or not?"
"It is mine, you know it is mine,—and the lands are mine, too. Oh, Barnabas, how can you be so cruel—and after you promised my dead father you would take care of me—"
"Bah! take care of you, you ugly thing? No, you can go where you please and do what you please. ​But I must and will have the box. Out with it at once, or I will shoot!"
During this conversation Ben had run into the monastery, and he was now mounting the well-worn stone stairs, two steps at a time, with Stummer and Casey close at his heels. The door to the lighted room was on a crack, and he peeped in.
The scene was truly a dramatic one. Standing upon one side of a table was a woman of twenty or twenty-two, with black hair, black eyes, and a face that looked like that of a gypsy. On one cheek was a rough, red scar, quite spoiling the little beauty of which she might otherwise have been possessed.
Opposite to this strange-looking creature stood a man, evidently of mixed blood, in which the Malayan predominated, tall, thin, with short stubby hair, high cheek-bones, and teeth which showed like those of a wolf. He was dressed in the uniform of a Tagalog soldier and held a pistol in his hand.
Both the man and the woman were almost breathless, as if they had been running hard. The woman had her hands up as if to protect herself from a shot. As Ben looked into the room the man raised his pistol to the level of the woman's head.