# Under MacArthur in Luzon/Chapter 20

CHAPTER XX
CAPTURE AND ESCAPE OF THE "YORKTOWN" MEN
Although there was no moon, the night was clear, the storm having departed several hours before. At the sharp rock there was but a single tree, so that the shadows here were not so thick as at the locality where the Americans were held prisoners.
Slowly, and with extreme caution, Walter advanced step by step until he was within two yards of the sleeping Tagal, who snored and groaned lustily in his heavy slumber. The fire had been allowed to die down, and the man's form could be seen but indistinctly. There was a glint on the gun barrel, and toward this the young sailor made his way.
Four steps more and he had the weapon in his possession. It was a Mauser of recent type, and loaded. Looking down at the sleeping rebel, he saw that the fellow wore a belt half filled with cartridges.
"If I could only get that belt," thought the youth; but he dared not undertake the task, since the ​article was strapped tightly, and one hand of the sleeper rested on the buckle. Nevertheless, by careful work he managed to pull seven of the cartridges from the belt, and these he slipped into one of his pockets.
Retreating as speedily as he could without making any noise, Walter next circled around several trees and came closer to where Si was at work. The Yankee lad had aroused two of the prisoners and had his hands over their mouths to prevent any outcry.
"Hush!" whispered Si. "Don't make any noise. I will cut you loose."
The prisoners were much amazed, but they understood, and remained quiet while he cut their bonds.
"Now arm yourselves if you can," went on the Yankee lad, in a voice filled with restrained excitement. "But don't wake the rebels up until I've cut loose some of your friends."
"All right, messmate," was the whispered reply from one of the men, and Si was now certain he was a sailor, for he wore a seaman's headgear, upon the band of which appeared the name Yorktown.
"I have the rifle," whispered Walter. "What shall I do next?"
​"Better stand guard and shoot the first rebel who tries to harm us," was Si's ready reply. Then he moved away in the darkness of several trees growing close together, while the two sailors who had been released did likewise.
An instant later came a shrill cry of alarm, one of the sailors having stepped on the arm of a Filipino lying in a dark hollow, and in a moment the entire camp was in commotion.
"The jig is up!" came from Si. "Walter, where are you?"
"Here," answered the young sailor.
As Walter spoke, one of the rebels seemed to rise up almost at his feet, and the youth saw a rifle pointed directly at his breast. But his own weapon was up, and with his heart in his throat he pulled the trigger. There was a crack and a flash, and Walter saw the Filipino fall back, badly wounded in the shoulder.
"Good for you, lad!" cried one of the released prisoners, and with a bound he was at the fallen one's side and had snatched away his Mauser. Then he, too, blazed away, and a rebel who was making for Si dropped in his tracks, shot through the head.
​By this time all the prisoners were aroused, and they called to be released. But the Filipinos gathered in front of them, and a volley was fired at our friends and the two who had had their bonds cut. The volley had scarce died away, when Walter felt a dull pain in his thigh. Putting down his hand, he brought it up covered with blood.
"I—I am shot!" he gasped.
"Shot?" repeated Si. "Oh, Walter! Is it bad?"
"It's in the leg—I don't know how bad. I've got to retreat." And then Walter backed away into the jungle behind the rocks, limping painfully, and thinking that every step must be his last.
"You're a brave boy, right enough," cried a voice into his ear, and before Walter could answer he found himself raised up bodily and borne along he knew not to where. His head began to swim, and presently he went into a dreamy state bordering upon unconsciousness. He felt the bushes scratch his face and hands, and felt the warm blood flowing down his trousers leg to his foot. He tried to rouse himself, but could not, and in a ​listless way wondered if he was fatally wounded and if this state was the beginning of death.
When Walter's brain began to clear, he found himself flat on his back in utter darkness, his head resting on a folded-up sailor's jacket, and his right hand held by the tar who had carried him off.
"Where—am—I?" he asked weakly.
"Hush!" was the whispered return. "Keep quiet, and you'll be all right." And the sailor gave him a reassuring clutch of the hand. A long silence followed, during which the youth put his hand down to the wound in his thigh, to find it tightly bandaged.
Fully an hour went by before the lad spoke again, and during that time the sailor left him several times, to see if any of the enemy or any of their friends were at hand. But no one appeared.
"Where is Si?" asked Walter, when he could stand the suspense no longer.
"Was that your friend?"
"Yes."
"I don't know what became of him, lad. The last I saw he was fighting hand to hand with that knife he carried."
​"And what of that other prisoner who was released?"
"He ran off in another direction. I was hoping some of them would come this way."
"Where are we?"
"In a hollow under a big cliff. I carried you here after you were shot. How does the leg feel?"
"I can't feel anything."
"Humph! I hope the wound isn't a bad one; for if it is, I don't know what we will do. But tell me, how did you come here—miles and miles away from any of the ships?"
"It's a long story. We were on a transport bound for Manila and took a run ashore, and the natives came after us."
"What! Then you didn't come from one of the warships of the squadron?"
"No. Did you?"
"Yes; I and my messmates all belong to the Yorktown. Our craft was on the Baler River, and fourteen of us, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Gillmore, were sent out in a cutter to reconnoitre up the stream. We went up a pretty good distance, and didn't see anything to alarm us, when all of a sudden we were attacked from both ​sides. Almost a hundred rebels were in the bushes, and they pumped out so much lead that four of our men were killed outright and several of them were wounded. I got a nip in the arm, near the elbow. We tried our best to fight them off, and killed at least half a dozen. But then the cutter got to leaking so fast from the holes shot into her that she sank and we had to swim for it."
"And how many of you were taken? only the four I saw?"
"No, seven of us—all that weren't killed or wounded, including our commander, who fought as pluckily as anybody you ever saw. When we got ashore we found ourselves in the hands of a Spanish traitor who had joined the rebels some time before. He was very brutal, and handled us like dogs."
"But didn't your ship come to rescue you?"
"I suppose so; but we were marched inland in double-quick order, for about three or four miles, to a hidden camp of the rebels. There we were bound hands and feet and used about as meanly as anybody can imagine. The Spaniard was in command, and after waiting two days he said we were all to be shot."
​"Shot?" cried Walter. "But they didn't carry the order into execution."
"They came pretty close to do it, lad. We were lined up and blindfolded and told to get ready to die. But just as the detail was on the point of firing, the Spaniard came rushing up and said it was not to be—that the execution was to be delayed. Then we were marched off, through mud and water, and over the rocks, to San Isidro, the rebel capital, where we were placed in prison, under a certain General Tiño, the roughest old dog of a rebel I ever clapped eyes on."
"While you were at San Isidro, did you see Aguinaldo?" asked Walter, more interested than ever.
"I saw him once and tried to speak to him, but he wouldn't listen to me nor to anybody else. Our troops were pressing him hard, and I reckon he was getting ready to leave for parts unknown. We were kept at San Isidro for several days, and then we started with part of the rebel army for Vigan, which we reached four weeks later, ragged, footsore, and half starved, as you see me now. Oh, but we suffered, how much no outsider will ever realize. More than once I wished I was dead."
​"What became of the other three of your party?"
"I believe they are not far off, for we were generally kept pretty close together. The commander was with the others. We've been in the mountains so long now that I've lost track of time. There are other prisoners, too, but no sailors."
"Didn't you try to escape?"
"Bless you, yes, more than a dozen times. But the guards were sharp, and when one or another got away he was always brought back and treated to the worst flogging I ever witnessed. One man, one of the soldiers who joined us after we left Vigan, died from the treatment."
The story the sailor had told was strictly true, and, it may be added here, the whole tale of the capture of the men from the Yorktown, their fearful sufferings for eight weary and heartrending months, their long marches through jungles and swamps, and their final rescue by a detachment of soldiers under the command of Colonel L. H. Hare, reads far more like some romance of the dark ages than a narrative of present-day facts. They, with some other prisoners, were taken to the most forlorn mountain region known, in the vicinity of the Arbaluque River, and here their captors left them ​to their fate, without food or firearms, and with half of the number ready to drop from sickness and exhaustion. It took the abandoned ones three days to gain the bank of the stream, in the meantime living on nothing but berries and the meat of a lame horse which one day came straying toward them. At the river they constructed rafts, but the savage natives confronted them, and all they had to defend themselves with were stones and clubs, while the natives wounded several of the party with arrows and spears. The exhausted ones would surely have been killed to a man, but just then some shots were heard in the natives' rear, and into view burst the party under Colonel Hare, speedily putting the Filipinos to flight.
But though rescued, the ex-prisoners were by no means safe and free from sufferings. The rescuers were also out of food, and to move across the country was now becoming impossible, on account of the heavy rains. Rafts were constructed on the river, and all hands embarked for a trip full of perils, for the current ran swiftly and more than one raft was overturned in the rapids through which they had to pass. When the party finally got back to the coast and among friends, every man was more dead than alive.