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

CHAPTER XX
THE ADVANCE UPON MAASIN

Ben was much surprised and also delighted to learn that Barton Brownell had met Larry, and he lost no time in questioning the escaped soldier regarding his missing brother.

“Yes, your brother was with me about two weeks,” said Barton Brownell. “He came up with a detachment of rebels from the Laguna de Bay, after General Lawton left that territory.”

“And was he well, or had he been wounded?”

“He was suffering from a cut in the head. A Spaniard had kicked him – and, yes, he told me it was a Spaniard that you and he were after for having robbed a bank of some money.”

“Benedicto Lupez!” ejaculated Ben, more astonished than ever.

“That’s the name. Your brother had run across that man and his brother at Santa Cruz, and he was trying to make this Benedicto Lupez a prisoner, when the brother kicked him in the head, and then both of them ran away, and when your brother realized what was going on again he found himself a prisoner. He was taken to a camp near the north shore of the Laguna de Bay, and afterward transferred to the cave where I was held.”

“I am thankful that he is alive,” murmured the young captain, and breathed silent thanks to God for His mercy. “Do you know where they took Larry to?”

“I can’t say exactly, but I know that a great many of the rebels are retreating to the mountains back of San Isidro. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear of Aguinaldo making his final stand there.”

“I would give all I am worth to gain my brother his liberty.”

“And I reckon he would give all he is worth to escape,” rejoined Brownell. “The boys hate to be kept prisoners, and try all sorts of devices to get away. One fellow had some gold hidden on his person and tried to bribe a guard with it. But the guard only laughed at him and stole the money.”

“Of course you do not know what became of Benedicto Lupez and his brother.”

“No, your brother knew nothing further than that they ran off after the assault on him,” concluded Brownell.

The talking had somewhat exhausted the wounded man and Ben forbore to question him further just then. While Barton Brownell rested easily on some moss, the young captain turned to the commander of the first battalion.

“What shall we do next, major?”

“I think we had better be getting back,” was the ready answer. “The sooner we report to the colonel the better he will be pleased.”

“I feel like pushing right through to San Isidro, on a hunt for my brother.”

“It would be a foolish movement, captain, for, unless I am greatly mistaken, the insurgents have a large force in front of us, and to attempt breaking through would be taking a big risk. Be thankful that your brother is safe thus far. As long as he remains quiet I don’t think the rebels will harm him.”

Ben could not but believe that this was good advice, and he agreed to do as the major thought best. It was now three o’clock in the morning, and half an hour later they started, thinking to rejoin their command before daylight.

It was an exhausting tramp, the more so because Brownell had to be assisted by one or the other for the entire distance.

“I’m a great drag,” sighed the wounded soldier. “Perhaps you had better push on and let me shift for myself.” But the major and the captain would not hear of this.

They had one little brush with two of the Filipino pickets before getting into the American lines, but the rebels were young men and not very courageous and let them slip by without great trouble.

It was Major Morris who made the report to the colonel, taking Ben and Brownell with him. Colonel Darcy was greatly interested.

“It is, then, as I supposed,” he said. “This information will be of great value to us, Major Morris,” and he thanked the major and Ben for what they had done. Brownell’s report was also received with close consideration by General Lawton himself.

“If the prisoners have been taken to San Isidro, we must try our best to liberate them,” said the general. “I am so glad to learn, though, that the rebels are not ill-treating them, as I had supposed.”

It was Ben, assisted by Casey, who saw Brownell to the hospital and had the wounded soldier given every attention. When they parted, Brownell, although now so exhausted that he could scarcely speak, shook the young captain’s hand warmly.

“I hope you find your brother soon,” he said. “I can imagine how bad it makes you feel to know that he is a prisoner.”

The advance of General Lawton’s command was now directed at Maasin, a few miles beyond Baliuag. It was led by Colonel Summers, who took with him some Oregon, Dakota, and Third Infantry troops and a battery of the Utah Light Artillery, with other troops following, including Ben’s battalion with Major Morris at its head. As before, the advance was along the main road and through the rice-fields, cane-brakes, and the jungle, with the air so oppressive that it felt as though coming out of a steaming oven.

“I dink me I vos right in it from der start, alretty!” exclaimed Carl Stummer, as he plodded along. “Dis vos vorse as der march on Malolos, eh, Tan?”

“Sure, an’ it’s no picnic,” replied the Irish volunteer. “But thin, Carl, me b’y, ye must remimber, we didn’t come out here fer fun. We kem out fer to show thim haythins how to behave thimselves an’ grow up into useful an’ ornamental citizens av the greatest republic that iver brathed th’ breath av life.”

“Chust so,” returned the German volunteer. “But it vos uphill vork, ennahow,” and he sighed deeply. Carl could fight as well as any old-time trooper, but the long tramps through the jungle always disgusted him.

There was the river to cross upon which the mill-house was located, and Ben could not help but wonder if the Spanish woman was still at the structure, and how the American deserters had fared. But the mill-house was too far away to visit, and now the battalion was ordered into action on the upper side of the stream.

“Gangway for General Lawton!” was the cry that reached Ben’s ears a few minutes later, and then came a crashing of horses’ hoofs, and the tall general rode through their open ranks, followed by several members of his staff. As was usual, the general was bound for the firing line, to personally direct the movements of the men under him. Many were the times that the members of his staff urged him not to make a target of himself. He would not listen; and in the end this daring exposure cost the gallant leader his life.

But now all was excitement, for a large force of rebels had been uncovered and there was no telling but what the jungle ahead concealed even more. “We are up against it, fellows!” shouted one of the sergeants. “Let us rush ’em for keeps!” And on swept the battalion, until the steady pop-pop of Mausers and the crack of the Springfields could be heard upon every side.

Ben’s company was no longer as large as it had been, for death and disease had sadly depleted the ranks. Yet the forty-six men in the command were now thoroughly seasoned fighters, and all loved their young and dashing leader and would have followed him anywhere.

Presently an orderly dashed up to Major Morris.

“Major, Colonel Darcy wishes you to take your command up yonder hill. The rebels have a battery up there, as you can see. If you can rush the position, he will send another battalion to your support.”

“Tell Colonel Darcy I will obey the order,” answered Major Morris. Then he turned to the four companies. “Boys, we are ordered to take yonder hill and the two field-pieces perched on top of it. Come on, and I will lead you!”

He waved his sword and away went the first battalion on the double quick, two companies to the front. There was first a slight hollow to cross, and then came a thicket of brambles where many a uniform was reduced to rags. The battery at the top of the hill saw them coming and directed a heavy fire at their advance.

“Hot work!” cried the major, as he ranged up alongside of Ben. “I am afraid the carrying out of this order will cost us dear.”

“If you’ll allow me to make a suggestion, major – ” began Ben.

“Make a dozen, captain.”

“Why not take a course to the left then.”

“For what reason?”

“There is a big rock on that side, on the very top of the hill.”

“But we can’t climb that rock.”

“No, and neither can the rebels fire over it with their field-pieces. When we get up to the rock we can march around it.”

“Well spoken, Russell – you’re a born strategist,” cried the major, who was too generous to have any ill feeling because somebody offered him a suggestion. “We’ll go that way.” And he immediately gave necessary orders.

But the advance was by no means easy, and soon the battalion found itself under such a galling fire that the men were glad enough to seek the shelter of every rock and bush which came handy. The battery could not do everything, and afraid of having his pieces taken from him, the captain had called upon several companies of the Filipinos to assist him in maintaining his position.

“Down!” suddenly shouted Gilbert Pennington, and down went the men, and the next instant a shell burst directly over their heads.

“This is hot and no mistake,” murmured Ben. Then he turned to his command. “Forward, men, the sooner we take that position the better it will be for us.” And up the hill he dashed, with Casey, Stummer, and the rest following as best they could, for the way was steep and uncertain. At last the very edge of the big rock was gained, and Company D poured around its left side, to find themselves suddenly confronted by a body of Tagalos fully a hundred strong. In the meantime the other companies under Major Morris were coming up on the opposite side of the rock. Ben was on the point of shouting some additional words of encouragement to his men, when he found himself face to face with a mighty Igorrote warrior, who with his long lance seemed determined to pierce the young captain through and through.

CHAPTER XXI
CAMPING OVER A POWDER MAGAZINE

Bang!

It was the report of Ben’s pistol, and the weapon was aimed directly for the Igorrote’s head, for the young captain had learned the value of aiming and firing quickly.

But the Filipino “had been there before,” and as the trigger went down he dropped to the ground with the rapidity of lightning, and the bullet intended for him struck a man some distance in the rear. Then up leaped the Igorrote once more and bounded onward, the lance point aimed directly for Ben’s throat!

The young captain’s pistol was now empty, the other shots having been discharged during the climb up the hill. His sword was out, but the lance was three times the length of the blade, so he was still at a disadvantage. Yet he aimed a blow at the barbed point and thus turned it aside.

“Ha!” hissed the Filipino, and drew back. Then he struck again at Ben, and instantly both slipped on the moist grass and fell directly into each other’s clutches. The Igorrote was a powerful warrior, and grasped Ben’s throat with the tightness of a steel band.

Ben tried to cry out, but not a sound could he make. His eyes bulged from their sockets, and he felt his breath leaving him. A second Igorrote leaped forward to hit him on the head with a war club, such as some of the Igorrote still insisted upon carrying. Of the use of rifles this tribe of the Filipinos knew little or nothing.

“Back, ye nager!” came in Dan Casey’s voice, and there followed a sickening thud, and down went the enemy with the club, his head split open by a blow from the Irish volunteer’s gun-stock. Casey then aimed a second blow at the rebel who had hold of Ben, but not wishing to receive such a dose as had been meted out to his companion, the other Igorrote sprang up, butted Casey in the stomach with his head, thus landing the Irishman on his back, and then ran for his life toward the nearest shelter of brush.

“Oh, be gracious! To look at that now!” spluttered the Irishman as he arose. “But I got wan av thim, anyhow, captain,” he added, with a jerk of his thumb toward the Igorrote, who lay with a broken head.

“Yes, Casey; and you saved me, too,” returned Ben, earnestly. “You are worth two ordinary men;” and then captain and private drifted apart, as the tide of battle rolled forward.

The top of the hill was gained, but for once the insurgents did not know when they were whipped, and held to their guns until more than half of their number were either killed or wounded. The contest raged to the right and the left of the battery, and this was fortunate, for seeing they could not hold the pieces, some of the rebels overcharged one of the guns and set it off, blowing it into a thousand pieces. Then the main body retreated into the jungle, carrying a few of their wounded with them.

By this time it was raining again, and the downpour on the top of the hill was so great that little could be seen of the condition of affairs at a distance. Sending word that the hill was taken and one old-fashioned Spanish field-piece captured, Major Morris rallied his battalion around him and stood on the defensive. But the rebels had had enough of fighting for the present, and once again took up the retreat in the direction of San Isidro.

“I reckon that was hot enough for anybody,” said the major, as he stalked up to Ben and the other captains under him. “I wonder if anybody was killed by the explosion of that old cannon?”

“Nobody was killed, but several were wounded,” answered one of the captains. “The rebel who charged her up and then fired her had lots of nerve,” he added.

Word soon came back from General Lawton that the battalion should hold the hill until further orders. The situation was not a pleasant one, but orders must be obeyed, and the various companies proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible, which was not saying much, since the top of the hill afforded little or no shelter. One company was detailed to do picket duty, but a little scouting soon proved that the rebels were a mile or more distant.

When the main body of the troops under General Lawton marched into Maasin, they found the pretty little town all but deserted. In a few of the huts the inhabitants remained, having hung out dirty white rags to show that they were amigos. Here were also numerous “Chinos” or Chinese, some of mixed blood, and all ready to do anything for the American soldiers, provided they were paid for it. Natives and “Chinos” went about bared to the waist, casting fearful eyes at those who had so suddenly disturbed the peace of their homesteads, for the inhabitants of Maasin were peaceably inclined, and took but little interest in the war Aguinaldo and his followers had instituted.

“Well, we are one step nearer to San Isidro,” remarked Gilbert, when he got the chance to talk to Ben. “I suppose we can’t get there any too quick for you.”

“I don’t know, Gilbert. You must remember that while Larry may be near San Isidro now, he may be miles off when we reach there. These Filipinos change their capital and their prisons as quickly as a flea jumps.”

“Never mind, we’ll keep them on the jump until they drop,” answered the young Southerner. “They can’t stand up before us forever.”

“To my way of thinking, I don’t believe this war will come to definite end, Gilbert.”

“What do you mean, Ben? They have got to stop sometime – or else we have got to stop.”

“These Filipinos are not pulling together – on the contrary, they are split up into half a dozen factions. If we defeat one faction, the others will still keep on, and, besides that, the worst of the rebels are of Malayan blood, pirates and bandits. I believe after we have whipped them as an army they will still keep on fighting in small bodies, somewhat after the order of the brigands in Mexico and northern Africa. With the mountains to fly to, such brigands could keep on worrying an American army for years.”

“Possibly; but when the main body of the natives see what we want to do for them, they’ll be as anxious as we to wipe out such brigands, and with their own people after them, life will be pretty uncomfortable, I’ll wager. To be sure, there will always be robbers, just as there are outlaws and train-wreckers in the western states of our own country.”

Some of the men had found a small opening between the rocks, and over this had hung their tents, making a rude shelter which Ben and Gilbert were glad to share with them. In the crowd were Casey and Stummer, and the latter busied himself in trying to make a cup of hot chocolate over a handful of dry twigs found in the shelter. The attempt was hardly a success, yet the drink was better for the convalescent than either water or liquor would have been.

“Sure, an’ if this shtorm kapes up, we’ll all be dhrowned out,” was Casey’s comment, as he shifted his feet to keep them out of a rising puddle. “Now who would think the water would rise on the top av a hill. Things do be mighty peculiar in Luzon, an’ that’s a fact.”

“Never mind, Casey, you’ll get back home some day,” put in another soldier. “And in years to come you’ll be telling your grandchildren what a mighty fighter you were out in the state of Luzon, recently annexed to the United States, along with the state of Hawaii.” And a laugh went up over the conceit.

“Sure an’ you ton’t haf nodding to grumble ofer of you ton’t git shot,” said Stummer.

“Or don’t get taken down with disease,” put in another. “My, but I pity the fellows with fever and chills and malaria, and the other things that are just as bad. I believe about one-fifth of the army is now on the sick list.”

“Some of the boys are going to send a petition to General Otis for relief. They say they can’t stand it much longer.”

So the talk went on, both Ben and Gilbert saying but little. Presently Major Morris poked his nose into the opening.

“I think you boys had better come out of there,” he said shortly.

“Why, major – ” began several.

“Are we to advance?” asked others.

“No, we are not going to advance, unless it’s skyward,” continued the major. “Either come out of that, or else put out that fire, and be mighty careful about it.”

“The fire ain’t doing no harm,” grumbled a private, under his breath.

“I don’t believe the enemy can see the smoke in this rain,” suggested another, thinking that this was the cause of their being disturbed.

“I’m not thinking of the enemy, boys, I’m thinking of you. Better come out, and then we’ll put out that fire as carefully as we can.”

Seeing that something unusual was in the wind, one after another of the officers and privates came forth from the hollow, Stummer giving the fire a kick as he passed. As soon as they were outside they surrounded the commander of the first battalion.

“Now, boys, do you know why I called you out?” asked Major Morris, with just the suspicion of a twinkle in his clear eyes.

“No, why was it?” came from a dozen voices.

“Because I wanted to save your lives,” was the quiet response.

“Save our lives, major? You must be joking.”

“No, I am not joking. We have just captured one of the rebel gunners, who was in command of the piece that was blown to atoms. He says that this hollow, where you had your camp-fire, was their powder magazine, and that they left all of a hundred and fifty pounds of powder stored there, hidden under the moss and dead leaves.”

CHAPTER XXII
THE RESULT OF AN AMBUSH

“Good gracious, do you mean to say we have been camping over a powder magazine?” gasped Gilbert, as soon as he could speak.

“Sure, an’ it’s a wondher we wasn’t all blowed to hivin!” came from Dan Casey.

“Und I boil mine chocolate so calmly as you blease,” put in Carl Stummer, with a shudder. “Py chiminy, I ton’t vos build no fire no more bis I vos sure of mine ground.”

For several minutes the excitement was intense, and all of the soldiers retreated to a considerable distance from the hollow which had proved such a comfortable shelter.

Presently, however, Ben, Gilbert, and several others mustered up courage enough to go back and haul down the coverings put up. Then came another heavy downpour of rain, which speedily extinguished the fire; and the danger of an explosion was past.

An examination under the rocks proved that the Filipino gunner had told the truth. The powder was there, in big cans bearing the old Spanish stamp. Some was marked 1876, and was so old as to be practically worthless.

“They ought to have shot that off in honor of our centennial,” remarked the young captain. “I don’t wonder the rebels can’t hit anything. This powder has no carrying power left to it.”

Nevertheless the powder was carted off and added to the American stock. Then General Lawton rode up and Major Morris told in detail what had been accomplished.

With the fall of Maasin came another day of much-needed rest for the majority of the troops under General Lawton. In the meantime, while these soldiers were advancing from Angat upon San Isidro, the command under General MacArthur was far from idle. The Filipino commissioners wanted a three months’ armistice, in order that the terms of a peace might be discussed, but to this the Americans would not listen, as they felt the enemy wished mainly to gain time in which to reorganize their shattered forces.

MacArthur’s command was now in possession of Calumpit on the railroad, and Apalit, just above, on the Rio Grande; while the rebels in this territory began to mass at St. Tomas and at San Fernando, still further northward on the railroad. On May the 4th MacArthur’s division set out from Apalit, with Hale’s command on the right wing and Wheaton’s on the left.

It was not supposed that the rebels would make a serious stand short of San Fernando, but at St. Tomas they were developed in force, and a running fight ensued, lasting several hours, but without great loss to the Americans. Finding they could not hold St. Tomas, the Filipinos set fire to the town and fled. They were pursued with vigor, and attempted to burn San Fernando late that night, but failed to do so.

Early in the morning the fighting was renewed, and near San Fernando another battle took place. But the rebels were disheartened by the defeat at St. Tomas, and were soon on the run, and General Hale drove them a mile beyond San Fernando. In taking possession of the town it was found that several of the public buildings were in ruins. The defensive works here were very strong, and had the Filipinos stood up to their work like real fighters, they might have held the position for a long time.

On Saturday, May the 6th, Ben’s command moved forward again, down the hill into Maasin, now patrolled by Americans, and then to the main road beyond.

“I don’t believe we are in for much of a fight to-day,” remarked the young captain to Gilmore, who had now been appointed first lieutenant.

“I reckon you are right,” answered Gilmore. “The scouts haven’t found any rebels within a mile.”

“It would almost seem as if we could march straight through to San Isidro,” went on Ben, thoughtfully. “I must say I never heard of such a campaign.”

“They say General Lawton puts it down as a regular Indian campaign. But then the rebels don’t do much fighting in the dark.”

“They are sick of it, Gilmore. I believe they would give up in a minute if the leaders were only assured that they would come out whole, as the saying goes.”

“Well, they’ve gone too far to come out whole, captain. General Aguinaldo may mean well, but he never went at this thing right. He ought to know that he isn’t dealing with some third-rate power.”

On went the regiment, about four hundred and fifty strong now, for men were dropping out every day on account of fever and other tropical troubles. Ben had had a little fever himself, but had dosed himself with quinine before it had a chance to permeate his system and bring him down on his back.

The advance led the regiment along a small stream lined with fading flowers and wild plantains and the ever present thorns and trailing vines. Birds were numerous, and here and there a sporting soldier could not resist the temptation to bring one of the feathered tribe down, to be cooked at the next resting place. Once the regiment stirred up a flock of wild turkeys, and a charge was made to capture the prizes, a charge that was as enthusing as one on the rebels. Soldiers are but human and must have their fun, no matter under what difficulties.

“It’s a fine turkey dinner we’ll be afther havin’ to-day,” remarked Dan Casey, as he hung one of the birds over his shoulder. He had scarcely spoken, when pop-pop went several Mausers in a thicket beyond, the bullets singing their strange tune in the leaves over the advancers’ heads.

“Forward!” shouted Major Morris, who was in temporary command of the regiment, and away they went once more, to suddenly find themselves on spongy soil which speedily let them down to their ankles. In the meantime the insurgents’ fire became thicker than ever, and it looked as if they were caught in an ambush.

“Fire at will!” came the order. “To the left, boys, and make every shot tell!”

A roar of musketry drowned out the words, and immediately Ben’s company found itself all but surrounded. To go into this quagmire had certainly been a grave error, but all leaders make mistakes sometimes; and Major Morris was suffering as greatly as his men.

The next half hour was one Ben never forgot. The rebels evidently thought they had the Americans at their mercy and pushed in closer and closer, until more than half of the contestants were fighting hand to hand. Many had exhausted their ammunition, and were using their bayonets or else handling their guns as clubs.

“Die!” cried one tall Tagal, as he flashed up before Ben with a bloody bolo. “Die!” he repeated in bad English, and made a lunge at the young captain. But Gilmore had his eye on the man, and the lieutenant’s sword cut the bolo from the rebel’s grasp.

“Good for you!” cried Ben. Then he drew a long breath, to think of the narrow escape he had had. The native, his hand flowing with blood, retreated as suddenly as he had approached.

The tide of the battle was now taking Americans and insurgents toward a cane-brake. The rebels still fought desperately, but they were beginning to lose confidence, for the Americans were pushing them hard.

But now came a cheer from the rear, and Company B rushed up to the aid of Ben’s command. To the young captain’s astonishment, Gilbert was in command, all the upper officers being either killed or wounded.

“Gilbert!” he called, but had no time to say more. But the young Southerner heard and waved the sword he had picked up. Soon the two companies were fighting shoulder to shoulder, and the enemy were driven out into the cane-field, and then into a meadow. Here they tried to make a stand, around an old rice-house, and it took another half hour to dislodge them. But when they did retreat at last, they went in great haste, many leaving their weapons and outfits behind them.

The fighting over, Ben started to find the major. Gilbert accompanied him. Their first hunt for the commander, however, was unsuccessful.

“It’s queer,” was Ben’s comment. “I trust he isn’t dead in the bushes.”

The hunt gradually brought them to a trail through the jungle, and presently Gilbert heard a faint moan for help. Running in the direction, they found a soldier of Company C lying on some moss, his knee shattered from a Mauser bullet.

“Oh, the pain!” groaned the poor fellow. “Help me, won’t you?”

“We’ll do all we can for you,” answered Ben, and while he went to work, Gilbert ran back to bring up the hospital corps with a stretcher.

“You want to go after Major Morris,” said the wounded soldier, as soon as he felt comfortable enough to talk.

“We are looking for Major Morris,” replied Ben, much astonished. “Where is he?”

“He was knocked over by one of the Dagos, and then three of ’em carried him away.”

This was certainly news, and Ben waited impatiently for Gilbert to get back. As soon as the young Southerner returned, both asked the wounded soldier in what direction the captured major had been taken.

“They went through the cane-brake,” was the answer. “You’ll find the trail easily enough, I think, if you look for it. One of the rebs wore boots with high heels, so you can’t miss ’em.”

The wounded man did his best to point out the right direction, and was then taken back to the hospital tent. Without delay Ben called Ralph Sorrel and half a dozen others to his aid.

“We must go after Major Morris, and at once,” he said. “Are you ready to undertake the work? It may be a dangerous proceeding.”

“We’re with yer, cap’n,” answered Sorrel, and his sentiment was that of all of the others.

The trail into the cane-brake was followed without much difficulty, and the party of eight advanced as rapidly as the nature of the ground permitted. The storm had cleared off the night before, and the sun shone down hotly, making the air in the brake suffocating.

“This yere is a putty big cane-brake, an’ no error,” remarked Sorrel, after a quarter of a mile had been covered. “Cap’n, it won’t do fer us to turn ourselves about an’ git lost.”

“We’ll stick to the one trail,” answered Ben. “As yet I’ve seen no side trails, although I’ve been watching every foot of the ground that we crossed.”

“Nor I, cap’n, – an’ don’t wan’t to, neither,” added the tall mountaineer.

A little further on was a clearing, in the centre of which stood a small cane-house. Halting on the edge of the opening, they beheld several Filipinos on guard outside the house. In the doorway, with his back to the opening, stood Major Morris, his hands bound behind him.