Chapter C: L. P (3)

"We were fearing nothing," the leader of the schism explained, "when in one night, just before the American troops arrived on the scene, Spanish soldiers seized on the churches while we slept. The next day the American troops came, and as, it appears, they had been ordered to protect in possession of their properties whoever they might find in possession of them, they at once became allies of the friars."

"And here I, who was with them," exclaimed Saguanaldo indignantly, "I, who had given them peaceable possession of Manila, was ordered to protect the friars in possession that they gained by trickery."

"What did you do?" asked Mrs. Rizal.

"Do? I passed the word to as many of my followers as possible, and fled. Not one of them came, though."

"That seems to have been the best thing you could have done--for the friars," returned Mrs. Rizal. "In doing that you became rebellious against the United States, and now, I understand, have the American army on your trail."

"That is true; but what else could I have done? Had I done nothing I would have been fighting for the Spaniards, and, as it were, against myself. I had the Americans against me, anyhow."

"But now the case is hopeless. So long as the Spaniards were your enemies, without outside help, there was some hope that some day you might have beaten them. But, now that the Americans are allies of the Spaniards the case is hopeless. It is too great a nation for you to combat. Recall how the Spanish fleet melted away before the American fleet in the bay of Manila and tell me what chance you will have before the giant foe from across the seas."

"I don't see why the Americans turned against us, when they came here to fight the Spaniards," said Aglipay gloomily.

"The reason is very plain," returned the woman.

"Was it that they were offended at me because I had been made president of the Filipino republic?" asked Saguanaldo.

"No."

"Are the American people, then, not lovers of liberty, and are they merely waging a war of conquest in the name of liberty?" Aglipay asked.

"The answer is found in the fact that there is not a member of the Filipino Catholic church in all America, while there are ten million Roman Catholics there."

"Ah, political reasons, then," suggested the bishop. He as an olden friar understood something of how politics modified policies.

"Yes. Though your schism might have a greater power here than the friars have, it commands no influence in America. The American who favors the other side will have friends at home, while one who would favor you would find enemies there that might destroy his influence and his future. You are not only fighting the American army here, and the friars here, but also, as it were, all the people of America."

The two men reflected moodily for a few minutes.

"There is nothing to do but to fight until we perish," said Saguanaldo.

"One should not die for a cause unless there is good cause for the sacrifice. Do you find that the people rally to you?"

"No," said the insurgent bitterly. "They sympathize and see the danger, but it seems they have not the interest that dares to risk all and fight."

"Even the men you can command are not disciplined or drilled or properly equipped."

"No. The Americans have the equipment I had collected."

"Nor would the various tribes be likely to cling together," suggested the woman.

"This cursed race feeling! The only way the tribes will stay together is when they war with each other; then they are together in battling each other." There was dogged bitterness in Saguanaldo's words.

"I do not see how you can win by fighting. What does a grinning skull care for vengeance? But there is a way in which you may win, General Saguanaldo."

"How," asked the general, eagerly.

"By yielding. It is often the surest way of winning. You have an unexpected ally."

"Who can it be?"

"None other than the Pope at Rome."

"The Pope!" exclaimed both men in a breath.

"Yes. The Pope understands that the Spanish friars are at the bottom of the long trouble in the Philippines and is glad of the war that will give him an excuse for removing them. That will be a victory for him; and, as he has already managed to get possession of the churches, it means a victory for the church as well. If you can get the friendship of America, so that the country will treat you justly, it will also be a victory for the Filipino people."

"And I am to lose all that I have struggled for?" protested Saguanaldo.

"And I to lose the organization which I have built up through the years?" added the Bishop.

"Better to lose these things alone than to lose both them and your lives as well," suggested Mrs. Rizal.

"If a common soldier might be permitted to speak"--faltered Hilario Agonoy.

"Say what you wish," suggested the insurgent general. "We are all equal in our love for the cause."

"I prefer to fight even though I know we must lose. There is some satisfaction in punishing those who have treated us so unjustly, and every blow we strike will cause them to have the greater respect for the Filipino people in the future. If we could punish that Jesuit"--

"And Bishop Lonzello," added Aglipay.

"To my mind there is nothing left us to do but fight," added General Saguanaldo, visibly pleased. "We in the interior can conduct a guerrilla warfare that will cause the enemy to respect us, and make the new masters more inclined to do us justice. I trust, Señora Rizal, you will not desert us if we take this action."

Mrs. Rizal arose. "I am with, you to the last," she said. "I am not afraid to die, either, just as my husband died before me. If I may be asked to designate the service I am to perform, I would ask that the youth here and I be permitted to go among the people and arouse them with our songs and speeches. We can rally you a force, General."

"Go, and God bless you. There is one question I would ask you if I may speak to you in private."

General Saguanaldo and Mrs. Rizal stepped a few paces away.

"Have you seen Ambrosia?" he asked. "Is she well, and does she remain true to me?"

"Ambrosia has the strength of a man," returned Mrs. Rizal, "in the cause of Filipino independence. She is true, and will ever be near you--in spirit."

XIV.

THE COLLEGE YELL.

Mrs. Rizal and Hilario Agonoy, after much effort, succeeded in rallying a force to Saguanaldo. It was a motley crowd, composed of representatives of several different tribes, armed with shot guns, bolos and whatever they could secure, and garbed all the way from a soldier's uniform to breech clouts and feathers. There were perhaps five thousand of them, all told.

With this force, Saguanaldo began a careful march toward the north part of the island. Mrs. Rizal and Agonoy went ahead and discovered that a force of Americans were advancing inland to meet them. Consequently Saguanaldo stopped at the banks of the Rio Grande, and prepared rifle pits. He also removed from the bridge that crosses the stream the flooring, leaving only the sills, the girders, and cross pieces about every seven feet apart. The first night after these preparations had been made the American troops appeared and encamped on the bank opposite, some 300 feet away.

The Filipinos were not inclined to attack, but relied on the river, which was high and threatening, to keep the enemy from them. Yet the second night, about 11 p. m., the cackling and crowing of chickens at farm houses on the other side, and part way down stream, told them that some movement was in progress. It was immediately across the stream from where Agonoy had been stationed with some threescore natives. At the time the clatter began the moon came out, and it was revealed that a force of Americans was at work on the margin of the river, evidently trying to launch some rafts with a view to crossing. Agonoy directed the men to fire, and a fusillade from the insurgents soon drove the Americans to cover. Hiding behind trees, stumps, rocks or anything that would afford protection, they remained silent until the fire of the insurgents ceased. Then, after a time, they again made endeavor to launch their rafts, until the forces under Agonoy once more drove them away.

This first victory, won by the insurgents, gave them great encouragement and Agonoy was publicly commended by the general. It is still remembered that when this occurred the young officer first blushed fiery red and then broke into tears.

The day following the Americans undertook by daylight the thing which they had before tried at night. But they began in a little different way. They were seen to dump some rafts into the river over a high bank, and then two men, stripped to the skin, dived into the stream and began to swim across. The insurgents peppered at them, while the Americans from the other shore shot at every head among the Filipinos that showed itself. Bullets splashed on all sides of the swimmers, but none took effect. As they drew to shore they were protected by the bank, the Filipinos being unable to fire at them because of thus exposing themselves. Then it was seen that they had borne a cable across the stream. It became apparent that the intention was to hitch it so some object on the Filipino side of the river and thus form a means of propelling the rafts across the stream. But the two naked, unarmed white men, alone on the Filipino side of the Rio Grande, were unable to find a place to which to hitch. Daubed with dirt and glistening with the water, they raced back and forth under protection of the bank, looking for stump or tree, but in vain.

"There is a stump in the rifle pit, up there," remarked one.

"We must hitch to that," said the other. "Make you some mud balls."

They scooped up mud from the river and hugged to their breasts the balls of filth as they started to climb the banks directly ahead of them. Meantime the American soldiers fired over their heads. As they arose over the bank and stood erect looking into the rifle pits, they began throwing the mud balls. The first one struck Agonoy full in the face, and the young commander, with eyes and mouth full of dirt, began clawing at the mud and retreating. The natives, seeing this, and not knowing the nature of the new weapon, broke into a run and retreated.

Meantime a raft had started across the stream, with two men and the clothing and guns of the men who were now tying the cable to the stump. When midstream the rope slipped and the raft upset, precipitating all in the water. The two men reached shore, but the clothing of the men who had swum the river was lost. Other rafts were on the way. Before Agonoy could rally the natives, a small force of Americans had crossed over.

Then began an opera bouffe charge; naked and begrimed Americans and men in khaki against naked and half-clothed representatives of a half a dozen races! And as the Americans came on a run they broke into a college yell:

Rock chalk,
Jay hawk,
Chicken hawk,
Tommy hawk,
K. U.!

There was a peculiar laughable twist on the "U." that added to the grotesqueness of the incident.

By this time they were reinforced by a small body of men who had crossed the bridge on the girders, and as these came up yelling other college yells and firing as rapidly as possible, at nothing, the Filipinos, in utter consternation, broke ranks and fled.

In the course of a few hours, however, Saguanaldo, who understood the lay of the country thoroughly, had again brought his forces into order and had forded the river a little lower down. He was now on the side of the stream nearest Manila, while the Americans, after all had crossed and they had leisurely partaken of dinner, were hunting him further in the interior. It had been a bloodless battle, with the victory apparently on one side and yet the advantage decidedly on the side of the defeated.

After the troops had been collected Saguanaldo called Agonoy to him and said:

"The honors of the first encounter belong to you. Name the reward you desire."

"All I wish is to serve my country further," replied the youth with another blush. "Permit me to go ahead to Manila and inform you how to take the city."

"Another should accompany you, so that if something happens to one the other may escape."

"Permit me to go to spy out the land," asked Bishop Aglipay.

"You, Bishop?"

"Yes. Let each go in his own way and alone. Then we can report and will not be in collusion."

"Does that suit you, Señor Agonoy?"

"I shall be satisfied. If we can wreak vengeance on the bishop's enemy, the Jesuit, I shall be repaid for all dangers and suffering that may ensue."

"Then go, and success attend your efforts," returned Saguanaldo. And he looked on the youth with searching eyes that for a third time caused Agonoy to blush.

XV.

WORLD POLITICS.

"I'm going to invite Judge Daft to occupy this convento," suggested Violeta to Bishop Lonzello, a few days after he arrived.

"You will do nothing of the kind," replied the bishop. "It is a little too much, you coming here and ordering us from the islands; but, as if this was not sufficient, now you want us to give up our dormitories. I may yield the land for the good of the church, but I am not going to stand this individual insult from a stranger."

"Oh, be reasonable," persuaded the Jesuit. "I am doing it solely for your good. You will get the rental for it, and a republic is never niggardly in such matters. The convento is really the only suitable building in Manila for the purpose, and we can use the tender of it in cementing a very valuable pact. Depend on it, you will lose nothing by it. Another thing"--

"Nombre de Dios! Is there anything else?"

"Of course there is. We must syndicate the friar lands."

"I do not understand."

"If the United States undertakes to deal with the friars as individuals, it will be able to handle them to its notion. But by combining the 1,500 owners in a syndicate where half a dozen have the full control of things, we can dictate terms. You can see the advantage of this. It is the modern way of doing business. You managed the seizure of the churches well; now you must organize the friars for purpose of selling their lands advantageously."

The two priests discussed the matter further, and though Lonzello was bitter against the Jesuit and in his heart resented the new order that was being installed, he saw the force of the arguments, and ere long started on a trip through Luzon for the purpose of organizing the syndicate. During his absence the Jesuit took occasion to tender the convento to Judge Daft and to point out its superiority for the private uses of the new officials. The argument was valid, because the convento was the best residence property in Manila. The Jesuit went further and offered not only the church property in Manila, but also in Malalos and throughout all the Philippines. Judge Daft argued with his conscience, against his inclination to have the use of the best, and ultimately accepted the offer. With the American governor housed in the convento where the Jesuit lived, meetings became informal and frequent. The two drove together in the evenings along the Plaza de Gotta. They played golf together of afternoons. They met and talked as friends; and the papal nuncio constantly and persistently employed the power of suggestion for developing his plan.

"I do not think we can elect you president short of eight to twelve years, but it will come some day," he told Daft while at golf. Small business is transacted in the shops, larger in offices, and the greatest business of the world is forwarded at social gatherings and in games.

"I supposed I was to be elected next week," suggested the governor, facetiously.

"No, the people of America will probably demand a military man first. There is such a one who begins to loom up as a possibility, and he understands the situation thoroughly. Besides, he is not so timid as the present president. The latter means well, but he will not act until he is pushed into action, while in adopting new policies, such as are coming up now, we need a bold man. You want to keep your eye on Colonel Rosefield. We have had our eyes on him and he understands it. We mean to see that he has a military record manufactured for him, so he can run for president. After him comes Judge Daft."

"You Jesuits are too deep politicians for me."

"You will at least admit we are not dreamers, Judge. I am in earnest in what I say. No man in the service in Cuba has received the advertising so far that this Colonel Rosefield has had, and there is a reason for it. He will emerge from the war the central hero of it all, even if we have to make him the winner of a battle where he was not present. More history is made by well circulated reports than there is by deeds."

The Judge laughed: "I wonder if you intend to circulate reports about me."

"That depends. If you do justice by us, we will see to the advertising, all right."

"What do you mean by justice?"

"Well, the Holy See is doing you inestimable service in withdrawing the Spanish friars from the Philippines, because it is thus removing the very source of the quarrel and enabling you to gain a world reputation by accomplishing within a few years that which the Spanish government failed to accomplish in three centuries. That is a good start toward the presidency."

"It seems you have tricked me into payment for that service, which I freely acknowledge, because you have used the order that those in possession of church property shall be maintained in possession of that property to your advantage, by seizing on all the property before the American troops arrived on the scene."

"A mere act of justice. That property belonged to the holy church before the schism took it away, and we have merely done to the schism what it first did to us. This is, therefore, a mere act of reparation; but we are not ungrateful to you that you have made it possible."

The judge was secretly troubled at the part he had played. It was not in accord with his conception of right. But he readily saw that it was good politics, played for him by a power he did not understand. He ventured to say:

"I wish to do exact justice by you, and no more."

"We shall ask no more. In a sense the church in general has had reparation; but what about the friars?"

"I do not understand."

"His holiness, the Pope, can not banish them and thus leave the field clear for you, unless they can be remunerated for the lands they hold--not the churches, which belong to Rome, but the lands, which belong to the friars. It is a matter of justice to pay them for their property, and it would be of inestimable benefit to the United States to get rid of this troublesome element."

"I understand the ground on which these churches were built belonged to the Spanish government, and that the government contributed considerable cash besides toward their erection. This being the case, the churches will belong to the United States after we shall have acquired the Philippines, and you would owe the federal government for them."

"If the Spanish government gave the lands and donations to the church they ceased to belong to Spain. You Americans would not claim again land that had been patented to settlers. The churches belong to Rome, where all titles to church property are vested. You will have to settle with Rome for them. The land belongs to the friars, who, as agents of Spain, developed the country and paid for the land. You will have to settle with the friars for them if you would banish that troublesome element."

"The Malalos convention declared them fortified to the Philippine republic."

"Can you recognize that republic? You know you dare not do it."

Daft understood that; after a pause he inquired.

"What are the lands worth?"

"They have not been appraised, but I would estimate their value at from twelve to fifteen millions of American money."

"It seems to me pretty high."

"On the contrary, it is reasonable, considering the cost it would be to America to settle the trouble with the friars still here."

"It seems to me you are faring pretty well, considering that you have restored to you the churches that were in revolt."

"You will win with the friars gone, but there are a number of things that will have to be settled by arbitration after the war is over. You must act as America's representative to the Pope."

Judge Daft started back in astonishment.

"It is impossible. It is against the policy of the United States to recognize the temporal power of the Pope by sending an ambassador to the Vatican."

"Nonsense. This war will make it necessary. You may disguise him under the name of agent, if you will, but a representative will become a necessity. It would be a big thing for you to be that representative. You must have your picture taken with the Pope."

The boldness of the declaration again startled Judge Daft.

"You do not know the temper of the American people. They would not stand for it."

"It would give you two million Catholic votes and make your election as president an assured thing. It is big politics we are playing these days, and you might as well be in on it as anyone."

"But can you make good?"

"Didn't your national chairman declare that the only power that could save America from Socialism was the Catholic church? Did not the Catholic vote go to your present national executive, for the first time in history that the republican party got that vote? You are asked only to follow the policy set by your party, and to reap the result in honors and power. Why do you suppose the head of the church deserted Spain in this war, when Spain is a Catholic country, and has been on the side of the Protestant United States, if he did not expect recognition of his services? Do you not suppose we understood from the time the Maine was blown up that the people might be aroused to start this war? The hierarchy is hereafter to be a dominating power in America, and you are to be president. It is a big thought, and you must think over it, Judge."

The Judge did think over it and the apostolic nuncio kept from his presence several days in order to give him opportunity to ponder the subject. When next the two men met the chastened attitude of Judge Daft and his evident desire to be agreeable was to the discerning Jesuit ample proof that the leaven was working.

"I do not know," he added to himself, "but that the fine, bold material we are getting on our side may necessitate the removal of the good-hearted old man who rules but fears to move. We dare not wait too long when plans are ripe and boldness is necessary."

XVI.

THE SCHISM BURIED.

A few mornings after this the apostolic nuncio was walking along the calzada by the coast, musing over his plans, when he chanced upon three American soldiers with a Filipino prisoner. He was inclined to pass on with only a cursory glance, but his ever-alert mind, always spurred to observation, prompted to closer scrutiny. Then he saw that the soldiers were drunk. This was not important in his eye, because, under the canteen system inaugurated by the American government, and the influence of the tropics working on the nerves of the boys so far from home, and of the Filipino beverage, vino, drinking was rather common with the soldiers. Indeed, the tropics were playing havoc with the morals of the youth in khaki.

Kipling has thus expressed the languorous feeling that gets into the bones in the tropics:

Ship me somewhere east of Suez where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments, an a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin' an' it's there that I would be--
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea--
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
Oh, the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the bay!
When the mist was on the rice fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an she' sing 'Kulla-lo-lo!'
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek,
We uster watch the steamers and the hathis pilin' teak.

Vino, that decoction from the cocoanut which in time crazes the drinker and makes him run amuck, had been getting in its work on the Americans, and they were more or less beside themselves even now. Besides, insidious fever, the mali-mali, which weakens the will, leaving the victim chiflado, ready to imitate the movements of any who pass; the almost constant vibration of the soil that tells so on American nerves; the absence from home and accountability to civilized restraints; the enervating tropics that seemed to tingle in their veins and vanish, make them devilish; and the daily sight of half-naked women, whose ideals of morality were tropical rather than American, were telling on the habits of many a homesick mother's boy. The Philippines became a hot-bed in which erotic passions developed into national scandals. The nuncio himself, with grim desire to strike at the Americans when it profited his cause to do so, had procured the licensing and inspection of bawds, under sanction of the American governor, the fees for inspection going to church charities. So the sights of drunken American soldiers did not even interest him.

But there was something about the prisoner that was striking. His very bearing, his mannerism, his cut of tie and clothing proclaimed him to be a priest. If he was a Roman priest, the nuncio felt he must rescue him; if he was an Aglipayan priest, then he might gratify on him the cruel desire to torment which is born in some and which he had fostered by feeding. He determined to put the matter to an instant test by a bold stroke. So he approached the prisoner, crossing himself and saying:

"As I live, if this is not Dr. Maximo Voliva, born Aglipay."

It was a venture, but it struck home.

"And you are that devil, Violeta, who has robbed us already of our churches. I am not pleased to form your acquaintance."

"Still reprobate and unregenerate, I see," returned the Jesuit. "At one time we might have made terms with you, but that day is past. We have the whip hand now and you are in our power. Man (speaking to a soldier), run to the nearest house and borrow a couple of spades or shovels, and be quick about it. Follow us down the beach."

The three men walked down the coast to a more secluded spot.

"What do you plan to do to me?" asked the erstwhile Maximo.

"It will be time to discuss that when we come to it. Do you wish to return to the true church and receive absolution?"

"I am in the true church," replied Aglipay, hardly above a whisper. "You will not murder me?"

"We do not murder snakes and vermin when we destroy them. And to think, you used to be a priest in the one true church. You see now what your ambition brought you to."

"Ambition!--I would talk about ambition if I were you. You, who have mastered the poor Filipinos; you, who are planning for control of America! Ambition--may God forgive you!"

"I am sorry I can not return the compliment of praying for your forgiveness, but you are so unrepentant. However, I will hear your confession if you wish."

"I will confess to God and not the devil."

"You might as well begin your confession then."

Aglipay paled. But he faced the nuncio and spoke in a calm voice: "How can you profess religion, you who are so cruel, so ambitious, so licentious? Do you really believe, or is it an open mockery with you?"

Violeta laughed.

"Yes," answered he, "there is a God, and truth, too, in religion. But it is moral to rise to your full height, though you may trample others as you rise; and though it seem a pity to devour the weaker creatures, no one thinks about it. It is a part of feeding, and is right. We eat a woman's flesh as 'twere a fowl's, and take a poor man's life as though a bird's; that is, the great do, those with authority. It is doing this that makes them great. Repression is but failure. Life and success came from expression and experience. I am friendly with you because we must part. Good-bye; Bishop."

He extended his hand, but the schismatist, pale and unable to more than move mechanically, stared at him without offering his hand. The nuncio laughed again, and carelessly said, "Oh, as you please."

By this time they were in a shady place, secure from observation by a clump of trees, and the other soldier approached with a couple of shovels.

"Scoop out a grave there, fellows," said the Jesuit. "You must not take your prisoners to headquarters if you would avoid trouble. We will have a bit of fun by and by."

The soldiers were sufficiently drunk to be irresponsible, and of a temperament to receive suggestions. They obeyed the Jesuit without demurring, while he taunted the renegade Romish priest, and then they came to him to inform him that all was ready.

"Tie the prisoner," said the Jesuit.

They proceeded to pinion his legs and arms, and when this was done the Jesuit continued:

"Now take him and throw him in the trench."

"Dios Mio! You surely will not bury me alive," plead the leader of the schism, as they lifted him and deposited him in the rude and shallow grave. For answer the Jesuit bade the soldiers seize the shovels and fill up the sand over the body, leaving the head uncovered. Aglipay begged and prayed, as shovelful after shovelful of sand fell upon him, first rendering him powerless to move, and then bearing upon him with a weight intolerable. His face was blanched, his eyes stood out, bloodshot in horror. For answer to his pleading the Jesuit produced a prayer book and began to read in mockery the service of the dead:

"From the pains of death, good Lord, deliver me." Aglipay gritted his teeth, but his soul responded in a sincerer prayer than the Jesuit uttered.

"From the pains of hell and the agony of the grave"--

"Good Lord, deliver me," plead the man in the grave.

"Silence the disturber of our devotions," commanded the Jesuit.

One of the soldiers lifted a shovelful of sand and threw it in the face of the man man in the grave. Some grains entered his eyes, but as he lay in agony, because gravel filled his mouth, he could only groan and sputter without speaking.

"His mouth shall be filled with gravel," quoted the Jesuit, with unfeeling sarcasm. "Fill in the grave, men."

The soldiers shoveled for a moment and the remains of Aglipay were buried from sight, literally buried alive.

XVII.

"HE AIN'T NO FRIEND."

Of course, the death of Aglipay became noised abroad. Indeed, the Jesuit took no pains to keep it from being known, because he felt that the death of the leader would have an important effect in ending the schism. The death was a matter susceptible of proof from the fact that the body was found, but that he was buried alive could not be proven save from the participants in the tragedy, who were not required to testify against themselves. Rumors as to the horrors of the fate of Dr. Obispo Maximo spread through Manila and Luzon, and aroused the people to a high pitch of indignation. In a sense, it was for the time beneficial to the revolt, because hundreds now flocked to Saguanaldo, bringing their own weapons and ammunition, and every region through which he passed was eager to feed the soldiery, so that opposition to the friars gained strong headway again. It became impossible for the Americans to ignore the matter. In order to appease the inhabitants of Manila, the three soldiers were arrested and placed on trial, before a court martial, for killing a prisoner. They were found guilty and ordered shot.

It was then that Violeta appeared before Judge Daft.

"You must pardon these men," he said.

"Must is a strong word," returned the Judge, flushing.

"The reasons behind it are strong," continued the Jesuit. "The deed they did, while irregular, has simplified matters amazingly, by removing the head and cause of the schism, so that they did you an inestimable service. You can not afford to show ingratitude toward what they did."

"But it was murder."

"Manslaughter, perhaps. America is at war, not only with Spain, but also with this schisms, and all war is manslaughter. Rainey's victory was manslaughter. Manslaughter among soldiers is not a crime."

"It seems to me you assume a great deal in saying that we are at war with this schism."

"You will be, which is the same thing. The Aglipayans over all the archipelago are in arms."

"Yes, and this deed precipitated it."

"Precipitated it, perhaps; that does not mean that was the cause of the revolt. It was bound to come anyhow, and the sooner it comes the cheaper it will be for America; the quicker you win, the greater your reputation will be. The United States could not occupy the archipelago and leave the Philippine republic intact, you know that."

Judge Daft thought in silence, pacing the floor. Then, seating himself at his desk, he wrote:

"Commander of American Forces:

"Sir: Manslaughter in war is not a crime, though, if irregular,
may be an offense. You will place the slayers of Aglipay in the
guard house until you judge they have learned the lesson and until
discipline is conserved, then release them for service.--Benjamin
Daft, Governor."

News of this transaction did not set well with the people of Manila. There was an old song sung in the island, and that night clumps of stragglers paraded the streets, noisily singing to that tune the improvised words:

He may be a brother of Governor Daft,
But he ain't no friend of mine. [18]

XVIII.

THE WOMAN OF IT.

When news of the death of Aglipay reached her, near Manila, Hilario Agonoy was awakened to sufficient interest to plan something for herself. She straightway thought that if she could appear before Judge Daft and plead against the Jesuit, even going so far as to sacrifice herself by telling the whole story of Ambrosia Lonzello, she might change the attitude of the United States and thus save the day for the insurrectionists.

Within a few days, therefore, Hilario Agonoy disappeared. Ambrosia Lonzello again appeared before her mother at the grass hut--her mother, who has mourned the mysterious disappearance of Ambrosia--and made herself known--telling the terrible story without concealment. The mother was stricken with horror, and convinced her daughter that she was in no way culpable. Woman's garments were again donned and Ambrosia Lonzello prepared to appear, with her mother's consent, before Governor Daft to tell her story.

It was somewhat discouraging to Ambrosia to find the Governor's headquarters in the convento, and to be compelled to again visit the scene of her agony and ruin. But she nerved herself for the ordeal. It was her fortune to be admitted to Judge Daft's office, to find the Jesuit with him. To her it was a surprise and shock. But perhaps it was as well. Had he been there, had he seen her before she reached the governor, she might have been locked up again, both to safeguard himself and satisfy anew his lust. And, after the first shock of it had passed, the sight of her despoiler revived all the strength within her into anger and hatred, rendering her doubly powerful. Judge Daft kindly asked:

"What can I do for you, my child?"

"Hear me," replied the girl, trembling from the intensity of her feeling. "I come to ask for justice. That man (pointing to the Jesuit) has wronged me. I came to the church to confess, and he by force took me to the convento, where he locked and kept me all night, using me as I can not tell, and making me, who trusted him as a man of God, an outcast by his devil-deeds. I come to call justice and God's vengeance upon him. But this is not all. He it is who persuaded drunken soldiers to bury Bishop Aglipay alive--alive, mind you; and as the poor man stifled in the sand, this fiend who poses as a representative of God, mocked him by saying the burial service over him. I come to call God's vengeance on him, and to ask for justice, from you toward this enemy of mankind."

The girl was half hysterical, speaking in loud, impassioned tones. Judge Daft sought to quiet her.

"Be seated, my dear young lady," he said. "These are grave charges you make, and I shall look into them. But be calm, I fear in your excitement you are exaggerating."

"Exaggerating! I could not if I had a thousand tongues, all eloquent, tell half the wrongs I feel. I could not, even though educated as you are and as he is, reveal a tenth of what I have suffered at his hands. I beg of you, for humanity's sake, for the sake of your daughter, if you have one, hear me and give me vengeance."

She fell on her knees before Judge Daft, who gently lifted her and sat her in the chair. The Jesuit stood smiling and serene. The girl, scarce knowing what she did, arose and screamed:

"You will not aid me. It is because you are as wax in the hands of that devil, who by the hope of power and position for yourself moulds you to his will. He induced you to pardon the murderers of Aglipay. He persuaded you to have the army seize on our churches. He has you in his house, directing you by flattery and making you a tyrant from your very kindness. My curses on you both! How hard and bitter this fierce world can be! It was my father, my own father, Judge Daft, who delivered his daughter to this fiend. And this man, my father, Bishop Lonzello, betrayed my mother when she was young, so that I came into the world foredoomed to ruin and disgrace. And you, you, Judge Daft, uphold this Jesuit in his villainy and plots and will not hear my prayer."

The over-wrought girl sank in a heap on the floor, sobbing bitterly. The noise of her last speech had brought several servants on the scene. To them Judge Daft turned and compassionately said:

"Take her to a room, where she may rest."

"What! A room in this convento?" screamed the girl arising. "Back to the scene of horror? I did not think this of you."

She was now attacking the servants with nails and fists, pressing her way toward the door. She fought her way to the street, and then ran at her fullest speed, away, anywhere, but away from the convento.

"Poor creature!" cried the Jesuit in tones of the deepest commiseration. "I think there is nothing in all the world sadder than the hallucinations of the insane."

XIX.

"WHEN DO YOU THINK OF LEAVING?"

"It was a most fortunate turn of affairs that led her to the extremes she went," said the Jesuit, in reporting Ambrosia's visit to her father. "Had she stopped short of where she did, an investigation would have been ordered, I feel sure of that."

"I wish it had been," commented Lonzello. "You deserve punishment for the wrong you did her."

"Don't be unreasonable," gently expostulated the Jesuit. "Her accusation was against you also, and the same drag net that caught me would have caught you, too."

The passionate Lonzello walked the floor nervously, cursing under his breath.

"When do you think of leaving?" persisted the Jesuit, quietly.

"When you leave, beast," hissed the priest.

"No, you will have to leave soon. The people demand it, and your successor is in the harbor. But I have other work to do."

"The mob will have you, too," returned the bishop.

"Oh, no. I am under the protection of my good humor, but you have no such guardian. Have you much money?"

"You know I haven't anything."

"Would you like to know how you can get away full-handed, feared and honored by all?"

"It wouldn't be bad."

"Well, I will tell you. That daughter of yours will tell her story through town and she will be believed by hundreds there. The way to silence these rumors, and to turn the tide toward us is to perform a miracle."

"A miracle?"

"Yes, think of the honor of being Saint Lonzello, the miracle worker, and having hundreds come to your shrine seeking the efficacy of your sanctimonious bones! You may go from the archipelago honored and rich and feared, or you may go from the end of a rope. Which shall it be?"

The two men drew chairs close together and talked earnestly in low tones.

XX.

THE JUDGMENT.

A throng of the devout were gathered in Manila cathedral. To a pillar near the pulpit Ambrosia Lonzello was chained. Neither she or the audience knew, but wires connecting with the chains ran under the floor to the pulpit, connecting them with a key on the floor. Underneath it all was a powerful battery. It had all been arranged secretly, at night, by the Jesuit, who was himself an expert electrician. Bishop Lonzello occupied the pulpit.

"We have come to the test by ordeal," he told the people. "It grieves me that any one of the flock should have gone astray, but when the one who leaves the true fold is my own daughter I am doubly grieved. And, as though it were not enough that she should desert the true church and become a friend and companion of the enemy of the church and state, she brings accusation against the priests of the Lord, against her own father, and the apostolic nuncio. You have heard these charges, for the unbelievers in the city take pleasure in rolling the scandal under their tongues. It is beneath my dignity to deny, it is beneath the dignity of the Pope's messenger to deny, such preposterous things. We will call on the Almighty to decide between us. But first, my daughter, let me beg of you, before we reach this supreme test, recant and save yourself."

He turned toward the girl, who was chained to the stake. There were tears in his eyes, and feeling was in his voice. It was evident he sincerely hoped she would clear the situation by recanting.

"Ambrosia, save your father," he plead. "Say I did not do the awful thing you charge."

"A father should not ask his daughter to perjure herself in the house of the Lord. This is nearly as wicked as to send me to confession in order I might in that holy place be made the victim of another's lust. Priest--for you have been so unfatherly, I will not call you father--you are guilty, and you know it."

As she spoke the people arose and stood, eager to catch each word. Now that she was through they caught their breaths with a gasp that was audible through all the edifice. The face of the man in the pulpit grew white as his own surplice. His nails dug into the wood of the pulpit.

"Apply the test," said the Jesuit, arising and standing by the other. Lonzello assayed to speak, but he could not articulate.

"Shall we call on God to decide between us?" asked the Jesuit of the congregation.

"The test, the test," came from over all the house. Lonzello's face grew haggard. Many of the congregation were surprised to see the man before them was old, with face deeply wrinkled. But the Jesuit was placid, fully in command of himself and of the situation. He raised his hands toward heaven, and remained silent until the people grew tense, waiting for what might come.

"Thou who didst destroy the guilty Jannes and Jambres in the wilderness," he began impressively, "thou who didst reveal of old the stealer of the golden wedge, judge now, oh, God, the truth between us here. If thy servants are guilty of the things charged against us"--

He paused, not only that he might the more impress the people, but also to place one arm about Lonzello that he might support him in case his nerve should fail him and his limbs grow weak; then, with the other hand spread upward, he continued, impressively:

"Strike us dead, oh, God, cause us to die at once."

Every person in the house was standing; every neck was craned; every sound, even to the rustle of breathing, was stilled. A moment passed in tense silence. Then the low voice of the Jesuit continued:

"The Almighty has spoken. We live."

The people breathed again, audibly. Lonzello, his strength partly returned and his anxiety burning into his very bones, rushed from the pulpit to the post where his daughter was chained, and, falling on his knees, begged piteously:

"Confess, confess, Ambrosia, and end this horrible thing. The father is on his knees to the daughter, begging you to recant."

"Confess!" cried the girl with scorn. "That is the word you used to send me to slaughter, to be devoured by that beast. Sweet father, you are, to ask a daughter to swear to a lie in order to shield the man who wronged her. I know not what foul plot you have framed here, but I do know in my soul of souls I am as white as dawn and that your soul is black as night from which the dawn is born. As for that creature in the robes of God, neighbors and friends, I say he is a devil. His place is hell--however, not to rule, but to find torment, now and everlasting."

The Jesuit flushed slightly, but his voice was unruffled as he asked:

"Friends, shall we call the test of God on her?"

"No, no!" Lonzello plead, rushing back to the pulpit, "not on her."

"A father may be pitied in pleading for a child," the Jesuit said, quietly and without passion. "I would, if I could, spare him, and her as well. Let me, for his sake, girl, ask you to speak the word that shall save both. Recant, recant."

"Repent, repent," returned Ambrosia, facing him fiercely. "The crime is on your head; the crime on me, the crime upon my father, the crime which now I feel you mean to do, are all upon your head. Repent, repent."

"The girl is obdurate," said the Jesuit, turning again to the people. "In spite of vindication heaven sent, she has reiterated accusations. Therefore, we shall be forced to call on heaven again to choose between us. Shall we do so?"

"The test, the test!" cried the people in one voice.

Again the right hand of the Jesuit was raised, again the left stole round Lonzello, gripping him as with a vice. His toe sought the hidden key under the pulpit as he intoned:

"Choose now between us, which of us is right. If we are guilty, send from heaven the fires and take our lives. If we have been maligned, then let the fiery vengeance seize on the woman who has said the word and prove to all the people that thou art a jealous God, watching above thine own."

Even as he spoke, even as his hand was outstretched to heaven, Ambrosia Lonzello straightened, then lunged forward, her hands and limbs trembling and shaking; again and again, as the friar's toe moved, the horrible contortions were repeated. As he completed his prayer the girl hung limp and heavy on her chains, lifeless.

An instant more the audience was in a turmoil.

"A miracle, a miracle!" it cried.

Men and women rushed to the altar, crowding and kneeling, fumbling their rosaries and praying. Lonzello sank into the chair at the side of the altar. The Jesuit alone was calm and commanding.

"Yes," said he, "it is a miracle. The Lord has spoken. Strip your fingers and ears and pockets of jewelry and money, and lay it before him who doeth wonders in your sight. Woe to the man or woman who refuses, woe upon the head of such!"

Men were groaning, women praying aloud. Money and jewelry were thrown before the altar in profusion, until hundreds of dollars in value were piled there. Then the audience was dismissed.

"Now," said the Jesuit, turning to Lonzello, "take this stuff and get from the country at once. Your successor from America has arrived and is in the harbor even now."

XXI.

"THE INSURRECTION IS OVER."

When Saguanaldo heard of the fate that had befallen Ambrosia he was almost beside himself with rage and horror. He determined to be revenged on the Jesuit and Lonzello, and issued orders for the force to at once prepare for active service. Mrs. Rizal's singing and speaking began to bear fruit. The story of Ambrosia spread rapidly through the island, rousing the people to something like frenzy. They came out in force. Not until now had that feeling which makes a religious war been stirred, but it was rampant at this time. Even some of the Spanish friars, who rebelled at being banished from the islands, joined the revolt. The war had turned, so that it was no longer Spaniard and native, but the native against both Spain and America.

They gathered in great numbers before Manila, coming in pairs and squads. Some were captured, but the United States troops, appalled at the demonstration that seemed to be even larger than it really was, fell back into the city, while the insurgents formed on the hills occupying the rifle pits without. It was raining and the mud was so deep that all movements were slow and disagreeable. But the forboding appearance of nature did not discourage the malcontents. Women and children were there. Some of them were unarmed, but they gathered stones for throwing and carried them. Others had nothing but clubs or bolos. But they were all mad for slaughter, ready to die.

Contrary to expectations of the Americans, they did not attack by night. Neither did they make any demonstration against the Spanish fortress of Cavite. In the early morning women and children, ragged and showing the poverty that had provoked the war, drenched by rain, muddy and miserable, marched down the streets, in irregular lines, shrieking and singing. As they marched, others came from the houses of Manila and joined them. Again there was the song:

He may be a brother of Governor Daft,
But he ain't no friend of mine.

Instead of an army, it was a mob, something far harder to handle than an army, especially if it is composed of women and children. They broke into shops and took things to eat, munching and screaming as they marched.

Then, while the American troops were besieged with the mob, Saguanaldo attacked from the rear. As his troops charged on the American works, women from the rear threw stones at the American soldiers. The first line of defense was taken. Cavite was silent, having no part in this battle, and it was well for America it was so; for had the attack been more complicated, the issue might have been in doubt. Some said it had been arranged so in advance. As it was, the American army lay in the mud in its redoubts, with the rain drizzling on them, and the little pools of water that formed were stained with blood.

Somehow Saguanaldo and an aide penetrated to the convento and appeared unannounced before Judge Daft, dripping from the rain and sprinkled with mud.

"Have a seat, General," said Judge Daft, affably. "You must be very cold. I will order hot coffee brought."

"Thank you, but you need not," Saguanaldo replied. "I am here on a mission of war, not of hospitality. You have wronged me, Governor, grievously wronged me."