The Campaign of the Jungle: or, Under Lawton through Luzon

“I think you are right there,” replied Ben. “But we can’t do anything for them now until they lay down their arms.”

“The war has ruined hundreds of planters and merchants, – whole fortunes have been swept away, – and the insurgents have levied taxes which are beyond endurance. To some, Aguinaldo is their idol, but to me he is a base schemer who wants everything, and only for his own glory. But he cannot hold out much longer, – you are pressing him into the very mountains, – and once away from the civilization of the towns, his followers will become nothing but banditti– mark me if it is not so.”

“You are a resident of Luzon?” went on Ben.

“Hardly. I belong in Spain – but I have lived here for several years.”

“Do you know one Benedicto Lupez, or his brother José.”

At this question the brow of Señor Romano darkened.

“Do I know them? Ah, yes, I know them only too well. They are rascals, villains, cheats of the worst order. I trust they are not your friends.”

“Hardly, although I should like first-rate to meet them, and especially to meet Benedicto.”

“And for what? Excuse my curiosity, but what can an American captain and gentleman like you have in common with Benedicto Lupez?”

“I want to get hold of some bank money that he carried off,” answered the young captain, and told the story of the missing funds and the part the Spaniard was supposed to have played in their disappearance.

“It is like Lupez,” answered Señor Romano. “He is wanted in Cuba for having swindled a rich aunt out of a small fortune; and in Manila you will find a hundred people who will tell you that both brothers are rascals to the last degree, although, so far, they have kept out of the clutches of the law – through bribery, I think.”

“Not during General Otis’s term of office?”

“No; before the city fell into your hands. The government was very corrupt and winked at Lupez’s doings so long as he divided with certain officials.”

“And what did he work at?”

“Land schemes and loan companies. He once got me interested in a land scheme, and his rascality cost me many dollars, and I came pretty near to going to prison in the bargain.” Señor Romano paused a moment. “If your troops take San Isidro, you will have a good chance to catch both of the brothers.”

“What! do you mean to say they are at San Isidro?” exclaimed the young captain.

“They are, or, at least, they were two or three days ago. How long they will stay there, I cannot say. They were at the council of war held by Aguinaldo’s followers.”

“I see.” Ben mused for a moment. “Of course you do not know if they had the stolen money with them?”

“They appeared to have some money, for both were offered positions in the army, and that would not have happened had not they had funds to buy the offices with. They appeared to be very thick with a general named Porlar, – a tricky fellow of French-Malay blood. I believe the three had some scheme they wished to put through.”

“Well, I’d like to catch the pair. I wonder if Aguinaldo would keep them around him, if he knew their real characters?”

At this Señor Romano laughed outright. “You do not know how bad are some of the men around the arch rebel, capitan. He has some bad advisers, I can tell you that. To some of the worst of the crowd, Aguinaldo is but a figurehead.”

The pair discussed the matter for half an hour; and during that time Ben became convinced that Señor Romano had small sympathy for the insurgents, and was certainly not of their number.

“I will do what I can for you, señor,” he said, on parting. “I do not believe you will be kept a prisoner long.” And the young captain was right on this score; the Spanish gentleman was released inside of forty-eight hours, and journeyed to Manila in company with a detachment bound for the capital of Luzon.

The two talks made Ben do a good deal of sober thinking. He now knew to a certainty that Larry was alive and well, and he knew also that Benedicto Lupez was at or near San Isidro, and more than likely had the stolen money on his person. “I wish we could push ahead without delay,” he muttered. “I might make a splendid strike all around. I know Larry is just aching to be at liberty once more.”

But supplies were again slow in coming to the front, and General Lawton did not feel like risking his men when the Filipinos might surrender at any moment. So a delay of several days occurred, with only a little skirmish here and there to break the monotony.

“Hullo, here’s news!” cried Major Morris, as he rushed up to Ben’s quarters one morning. “Dewey is going to sail for the United States.”

“With the Olympia?” queried the young captain.

“Yes. The warship leaves next Saturday, with all on board. Won’t he get a rousing reception when he arrives home?”

“Larry won’t be with him,” said Ben.

“By Jove, captain, that’s so. It’s too bad, isn’t it? I suppose he would like to go, too.”

“I can’t say as to that. Perhaps he would just as lief stay here and join some command on land, or some other ship, especially if he knew that my brother Walter was coming on. But I am sure he would like to see his old messmates off,” concluded Ben.

Admiral Dewey started for the United States at four o’clock in the afternoon of Saturday, May 20. The departure proved a gala time, the harbor and shipping being decorated, and the other warships firing a salute. The bands played “Auld Lang Syne,” “Home, Sweet Home,” and “America,” and the jackies crowded the tops to get a last look at the noble flagship as she slipped down the bay toward the China Sea, with the admiral standing on the bridge, hat in hand, and waving them a final adieu. In all the time he had been at Manila, Admiral Dewey had served his country well, and his home-coming was indeed to be one of grand triumph.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE ADVANCE UPON SAN ISIDRO

“Why, Luke Striker, is it possible! I thought you had sailed for the United States on the Olympia.”

“Well, ye hadn’t no right to think that, captain,” responded the old gunner, as he shook hands warmly. “It might be that the others could go away and leave Larry behind, but he’s too much my boy for me to do that – yes, sirree. When I hears as we were to set sail for the States, I goes up to the admiral himself, an’ says I: ‘Admiral,’ says I, ‘do you remember how Larry Russell an’ yer humble servant comes on board of the Olympia?’ says I. ‘Yes,’ says he. ‘I remember it well,’ says he. ‘Well,’ says I, ‘Larry is ashore, a prisoner of the enemy,’ says I. ‘I don’t want to go for to leave him, nohow. Can’t you leave me behind,’ says I. And he laughs and asks me all about Larry, and finally says I can go ashore and report to Rear Admiral Watson – who is comin’ on – sometime later. And here I am, come to the front, to find Larry, ef sech a thing is possible.”

The old sailor’s honest speech went straight to Ben’s heart, and he saw very plainly how deep was Luke’s affection for his younger brother. “You’re a messmate worth having, Luke!” he exclaimed. “I don’t wonder Larry thought so much of you.”

“Avast, I’m only a common sea-dog at the best, captain, – an ef I remained behind to cast around fer the lad, ye mustn’t think thet Jack Biddle an’ the others have forgotten Larry, fer they ain’t, not by a jugful. Every man jack o’ them is his friend, an’ was, almost from the start.”

Luke had come up to the camp by way of Malolos, accompanying a pack-train of caribao carts carrying rations and army equipments. He had left the Olympia several days before, and had not waited to witness the departure of the flagship.

As Luke wished to remain with Ben, the latter lost no time in presenting the matter to Colonel Darcy and to Major Morris, and Luke was taken into the regiment camp as a cook, for he had once been a cook on a merchantman, years before. The position was largely an honorary one, and the sailor was permitted to leave his pots and kettles whenever he pleased.

“It’s good news,” he said, when the young captain had told him what the prisoners had said about Larry and Benedicto Lupez. “I’ve an idee we’ll get to Larry soon, an’ down thet tarnal Spaniard in the bargain.”

The conversation took place on Tuesday. On Wednesday orders came to strike camp, and the march of the regiment was taken toward San Isidro by way of Baluarte, a small village seven miles to the southeast of the new rebel capital. In the meantime, although the Americans were not aware of it, Aguinaldo was preparing to decamp, with his so-called congress, into the mountain fastnesses, still further northward.

“We are in for another fight,” said Major Morris, as he came to Ben that afternoon. “And I’ve an idea it is going to be something to the finish.”

“That means, then, that we are bound for San Isidro!” cried the young captain. “Hurrah! that’s the best news I’ve heard in a week.”

The regiment was soon on the road, spread out in proper battalion form. The day was close, and it looked as if a thunderstorm was at hand. The growth along the road was thick, and at certain points the overhanging branches had to be cut off that the troops might pass. The trail was bad, and often a gun, or wagon, had to stop so that a hole might be bridged over with bamboo poles. Here and there they passed a nipa hut, but these places were deserted, excepting in rare instances, where an aged native would stand at the door, holding up a white rag as a signal of surrender, or to show that he was an amigo, or friend.

“It’s pitiable,” said Ben to Major Morris, as they trudged along side by side. “I reckon some of these ignorant creatures have an idea that we have come to annihilate them.”

“You can be sure that Aguinaldo and his followers have taught them something like that,” replied the major. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t look so terrified.”

At one point in the road, they came to a tumble-down hut, at the doorway of which rested a woman and her three small children, all watching the soldiers with eyes full of terror. Going up to the woman, Ben spoke kindly to her, but she immediately fled into the dilapidated structure, dragging her trio of offspring after her.

“You can’t make friends that way,” cried Major Morris. “They won’t trust you. I’ve tried it more than once.”

There was now a hill to climb, thick with tropical trees and brush. The regiment had scarcely covered a hundred feet of the ascent, when there came a volley of shots from a ridge beyond, which wounded two soldiers in the front rank.

“The rebels are in sight!” was the cry. “Come on, boys, let us drive ’em back! On to San Isidro!” And away went one battalion after another, fatigued by a two miles’ tramp, but eager to engage once more in the fray. It was found that the insurgents had the ridge well fortified, and General Lawton at once spread out his troops in a semicircle, in the hope of surrounding the ridge and cutting off the defenders from the main body of Aguinaldo’s army.

Ben’s regiment was coming, “head on,” for the top of the ridge. The way was over ground much broken by tree-stumps, rocks, and entangling vines, that brought many a soldier flat.

“Sure, an’ it’s a rigular fish-net!” spluttered Dan Casey, as he tried in vain to rise, with vines ensnaring both arms and legs. “I don’t know but phwat a fellow wants a wire-cutter here, just as they had ’em in Cuby to cut the wire finces wid.”

“Nefer mind, so long as we got by der dop of dot hill,” answered Carl Stummer, as he hauled his mate out of the entanglement. “Be dankful dot you ain’t parefooted by dem dorns.” And on went both once more. There was many a slip and a tumble, but very little grumbling.

“Down!” The cry came from the front, and down went Ben’s company into a little hollow, for the rebels had them in plain view now, and the two lines were less than three hundred yards apart. A volley from the insurgents followed, but nobody was struck.

“Forward twenty-five yards!” cried Ben, and up went the company for another dash. It was a soul-trying moment, and none felt it more than the young commander, who ran on ahead to inspire his men. He knew that at any instant a bullet might hit him to lay him low forever. But his “baptism of fire” had been complete, and he did not flinch.

“Hot work, this!” The words came from Gilmore as he came up the hill close to Ben. “It’s going to be no picnic taking that ridge.”

“True, Gilmore; but it’s got to be done,” answered the young commander. “Down!” he shouted, and again the company fell flat. Then began a firing at will, which lasted the best part of ten minutes. The insurgents, likewise, fired, and a corporal and a private were wounded and had to be carried to the rear.

Looking around, Ben espied Luke Striker in the ranks of Company D. The old sailor had provided himself with a rifle and an ammunition belt, and was popping away at a lively rate.

“I couldn’t help it,” said Luke, when the young captain came up to him. “It’s the best fun I’ve had sence thet air muss in Manila Bay, when we blowed old Montojo out o’ the water, off Cavite. Say, but we’ll git to the top o’ the hill afore long, jes’ see ef we don’t!” And Luke blazed away again, and so Ben left him.

The rest of the battalion was now closing in, and soon another advance was made, until the first line of the American troops was less than a hundred and fifty yards away from the insurgents’ outer intrenchments. Then a yell came from a jungle on the left.

“What’s that? more rebels?” cried Ben, and listened.

“No, no, the Filipinos are retreating!” came from a score of throats. “See, they are scattering like sheep! Up the hill, fellows; the fight is ours!” And a regular stampede occurred, each command trying to get to the top of the ridge first. The rebels were indeed retreating into a thicket behind the ridge. They went less than half a mile, however, and then made another stand, this time on the upper side of a mountain stream, – the very stream at which Larry and his companions had stopped after the escape from the caves under the mountain.

To ford the stream would have been an easy matter under ordinary circumstances, but with the rebels guarding the upper bank, it was extremely hazardous, and the regiment came to a halt on the edge of the brush overhanging the water.

“They are straight ahead, boys,” said Major Morris, after his scouts had reported to him. “We will make a detour to the right. Forward, and on the double-quick!”

Every soldier felt that delay would mean a serious loss, and a rapid rush was made through the jungle to a point where the stream became rocky and winding. Here an excellent ford was found, and they went over in column of fours. They could now enfilade the rebels’ position, and this they did so disastrously that the Filipinos speedily threw down a large part of their arms and fled helter-skelter into the mountain fastnesses still further to the northward.

The battle over, the battalion came to rest under the shade of the trees lining the stream, many of the soldiers throwing themselves down in a state bordering upon exhaustion, for the humidity in the air told upon them greatly. There was not a breath of a breeze, and the water hardly quenched the thirst that raged within them. As Major Morris declared, ‘It was the primest place to catch a fever in’ he had ever seen.

Ben was sitting at the foot of a tall tree talking to Gilmore, when he saw the advance guards bringing in two Americans, one evidently a sailor. At once he sprang to meet the sailor, thinking the man might know something about Larry.

The two men proved to be Dan Leroy and Boxer, the scout, and when he mentioned his brother’s name to them, both were of course astonished.

“Do we know him!” cried Leroy. “Sure and didn’t he and I run away together from the rebels, and Boxer, here, helping us to get out of the prison caves. Yes, yes, I know Larry well.” And then Leroy told of the escape from the caves, and of how all three of the party had become lost in the swamp lands.

“We were in the swamps two days, and thought we would never get out,” he continued. “Luckily, we had some caribao meat with us; otherwise we should have starved to death. The swamps were full of mosquitoes and lizards and lots of other things, and we were almost eaten up alive, eh, Boxer?”

“So we were,” replied the scout.

“But what of my brother?” asked Ben, impatiently.

At this the faces of both of the men fell.

“We can’t say what became o’ him,” said the sailor from the Yorktown. “You see, after we got out of the swamp, we determined to stick to the high ground until we found a regular trail leading to the south. Well, our walk took us up to a high cliff overlooking a gorge filled with trees and bushes. We were walking ahead, with Larry at our heels, as we thought, when Boxer chanced to look around, and the boy was gone.”

“Gone!” gasped Ben, in horror.

“Yes, gone! We couldn’t understand it, and called to him, but he didn’t answer. Then we went back about quarter of a mile, past the spot where we had seen him last, and fired the pistol as a signal. But he had disappeared totally, and we couldn’t find hide nor hair o’ him, try our level best.”

The confession was a sickening one, and for several minutes Ben could not trust himself to speak.

“And – and what do you think became of my brother?” he asked, at length.

Both men shrugged their shoulders. “I’m afraid he fell over the cliff,” said Boxer. “You see, the footpath was narrow and mighty slippery in spots.”

At once Ben’s mind went back to that scene in far-away Cuba, when Gerald Holgait had fallen over a cliff. Had a similar fate overtaken his brother? and if so, was he still alive or had he been dashed to his death?

“How far is that spot from here?” he demanded abruptly.

“Not over a mile, cap’n,” answered Boxer.

“I see you are a scout. Can you take me to the place?”

“Certainly – but – but – it’s mighty risky, cap’n – so many rebs lurking about.”

“Never mind – I must find Larry, alive or dead. Take me to him, and I’ll pay you well for your services.”

“I ain’t asking a cent, cap’n – that ain’t my style.”

“Then you will take me?”

“I will,” said Boxer, promptly. “Only I’ll have to report first and get official permission.”

“Major Morris will arrange that for you, I feel certain,” answered Ben, turning to the major, who sat near, drinking in the conversation.

“Yes, I’ll arrange that,” said the major. “But I don’t see how I am going to do without you, captain.”

“Would you keep me from looking for my brother?”

“No, no, go ahead, and Gilmore can take the company.”

So it was arranged; and inside of quarter of an hour Ben and Boxer were ready to depart.

“Captain, can’t I go with ye?” It was Luke Striker who asked the question. The anxious look on his face spoke more eloquently than words, and Ben consented without argument.

And so the three set off on the search for Larry, little dreaming of the strange happenings in store for them.

CHAPTER XXIX

LARRY IS SENTENCED TO BE SHOT

To go back to Larry, at the time mentioned by Dan Leroy, when the boy had been following the old sailor and the scout along the cliff overlooking the valley in which both the Filipino and the American troops were encamped.

The adventures in the swamp had been exceedingly tiring, and the youth could scarcely drag one foot after the other, as the party of three hurried along over rocks and through thickets which at certain points seemed almost impassible.

“O dear! I’ll be glad when this day’s tramp comes to an end,” he thought. “I wonder how far the American camp is from here?”

He tried to look across the valley, but there was a bluish vapor hanging over trees and brush which shut off a larger portion of the view. The party had been walking over a trail which now brought them directly to the edge of the cliff. Here the footpath was scarcely two feet wide, and was backed up by high rocks and thorn bushes, around which it was difficult to climb without injury.

The men were as tired as the boy, and it must be confessed that for a half hour or more they paid little attention to Larry. Gradually the youth lagged behind, until those ahead were lost to view around a sharp turn of the cliff.

And it was then that an accident happened which put Larry in great peril all in an instant. In trying to make the turn, the boy got hold of a slender tree by which to support himself. Leroy and Boxer had grasped the same tree, and their swinging around had loosened its frail hold on the rocks, and as Larry grasped it, down went the sapling over the edge of the cliff, carrying the youth with it.

The boy had no time to cry out, and he clung fast, not knowing what else to do, until the tree landed with a mighty crash on the top of another tree at the foot of the cliff. The sudden stoppage caused Larry to loose his hold, and he bumped from limb to limb in the tree below until he struck the ground with a dull thud; and then for the time being he knew no more.

When the boy came to his senses, he found it was night and pitch dark under the thick tree, through the branches of which he had fallen. He rested on a bed of soft moss, and this cushionlike substance had most likely saved him from fatal injury.

His first feeling was one of bewilderment, his next that his left foot felt as if it was on fire, with a shooting pain that ran well up to his knee. Catching hold of the foot, he felt that the ankle was much swollen, and that his shoe-top was ready to burst with the pressure. Scarcely realizing what he was doing, he loosened the shoe, at which part of the pain left him.

“I suppose I ought to be thankful that I wasn’t killed,” he thought, rather dismally. “I wonder where Leroy and that scout are? I don’t suppose it will do any good to call for them. The top of that cliff must be a hundred feet from here.”

The fall had almost finished what was left of Larry’s already ragged suit, and he found himself scratched in a dozen places, with a bad cut over one eye and several splinters in his left hand. Feeling in his pocket, he found several matches which Leroy had given him on leaving the prison cave, and he lit one of these and set fire to a few dried leaves which happened to be ready to hand.

The light afforded a little consolation, and by its rays the boy made out a pool of water not far off, and to this he dragged himself, to get a drink and then bathe the ankle. This member of his body had been so badly wrenched that standing upon it was out of the question, as he speedily discovered by a trial which made him scream with pain.

“I’m in for it now,” he thought. “With such an ankle as this, I can’t go on, and what am I to do here, alone in the woods and with absolutely nothing to eat? I’d be better off in a Filipino prison.”

Slowly the night wore along, until a faint light in the east announced the coming of day. During the darkness the jungle had been almost silent, but now the birds began to tune up, and here and there Larry heard the movements of small animals, although none of the latter showed themselves.

It was more pleasant under the big tree than down by the pool, and as daylight came on, Larry dragged himself back to his first resting-place. As he came up to the tree he saw a broken branch resting there and on it a bird’s nest containing half a dozen speckled eggs.

“Here’s a little luck, anyway,” he murmured, and taking some of the tree limbs, he made a fire and cooked the eggs in the hot ashes. When they were done, he broke off the shells and ate the eggs, and although the flavor was by no means to be prized, yet they did much toward relieving the hunger he had felt before taking the fall over the cliff.

The day that followed was one which Larry says he will never forget, and for good reason. Neither human being nor beast came near him, and even the birds flying overhead seemed to give him a wide berth. Time and again he cried out, but the only answer that came back was the echo from the cliff, repeating his own words as if in mockery. Occasionally he heard firing at a great distance, but toward nightfall even this died out. He could scarcely move from his resting-place, and it was not until darkness came on that the pain in his ankle subsided sufficiently to allow of his sleeping in comfort.

The long sleep did the boy a world of good, and when he awakened he found the swelling in his ankle gone down, along with much of the pain, and on getting up he found that he could walk, but it must be slowly and with care. He was again hungry, and his first effort was to supply himself with something to eat.