El Filibusterismo. English

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  FATALITY

  _Matanglawin_ was the terror of Luzon. His band had as lief appearin one province where it was least expected as make a descent uponanother that was preparing to resist it. It burned a sugar-mill inBatangas and destroyed the crops, on the following day it murdered theJustice of the Peace of Tiani, and on the next took possession of thetown of Cavite, carrying off the arms from the town hall. The centralprovinces, from Tayabas to Pangasinan, suffered from his depredations,and his bloody name extended from Albay in the south to Kagayan inthe north. The towns, disarmed through mistrust on the part of aweak government, fell easy prey into his hands--at his approach thefields were abandoned by the farmers, the herds were scattered, whilea trail of blood and fire marked his passage. _Matanglawin_ laughed atthe severe measures ordered by the government against the tulisanes,since from them only the people in the outlying villages suffered,being captured and maltreated if they resisted the band, and if theymade peace with it being flogged and deported by the government,provided they completed the journey and did not meet with a fatalaccident on the way. Thanks to these terrible alternatives many ofthe country folk decided to enlist under his command.

  As a result of this reign of terror, trade among the towns, alreadylanguishing, died out completely. The rich dared not travel, andthe poor feared to be arrested by the Civil Guard, which, beingunder obligation to pursue the tulisanes, often seized the firstperson encountered and subjected him to unspeakable tortures. In itsimpotence, the government put on a show of energy toward the personswhom it suspected, in order that by force of cruelty the people shouldnot realize its weakness--the fear that prompted such measures.

  A string of these hapless suspects, some six or seven, with theirarms tied behind them, bound together like a bunch of human meat,was one afternoon marching through the excessive heat along a roadthat skirted a mountain, escorted by ten or twelve guards armed withrifles. Their bayonets gleamed in the sun, the barrels of their riflesbecame hot, and even the sage-leaves in their helmets scarcely servedto temper the effect of the deadly May sun.

  Deprived of the use of their arms and pressed close against oneanother to save rope, the prisoners moved along almost uncovered andunshod, he being the best off who had a handkerchief twisted aroundhis head. Panting, suffering, covered with dust which perspirationconverted into mud, they felt their brains melting, they saw lightsdancing before them, red spots floating in the air. Exhaustion anddejection were pictured in their faces, desperation, wrath, somethingindescribable, the look of one who dies cursing, of a man who isweary of life, who hates himself, who blasphemes against God. Thestrongest lowered their heads to rub their faces against the duskybacks of those in front of them and thus wipe away the sweat thatwas blinding them. Many were limping, but if any one of them happenedto fall and thus delay the march he would hear a curse as a soldierran up brandishing a branch torn from a tree and forced him to riseby striking about in all directions. The string then started to run,dragging, rolling in the dust, the fallen one, who howled and beggedto be killed; but perchance he succeeded in getting on his feet andthen went along crying like a child and cursing the hour he was born.

  The human cluster halted at times while the guards drank, and thenthe prisoners continued on their way with parched mouths, darkenedbrains, and hearts full of curses. Thirst was for these wretches theleast of their troubles.

  "Move on, you sons of ----!" cried a soldier, again refreshed,hurling the insult common among the lower classes of Filipinos.

  The branch whistled and fell on any shoulder whatsoever, the nearestone, or at times upon a face to leave a welt at first white, then red,and later dirty with the dust of the road.

  "Move on, you cowards!" at times a voice yelled in Spanish, deepeningits tone.

  "Cowards!" repeated the mountain echoes.

  Then the cowards quickened their pace under a sky of red-hot iron,over a burning road, lashed by the knotty branch which was worninto shreds on their livid skins. A Siberian winter would perhaps betenderer than the May sun of the Philippines.

  Yet, among the soldiers there was one who looked with disapprovingeyes upon so much wanton cruelty, as he marched along silentlywith his brows knit in disgust. At length, seeing that the guard,not satisfied with the branch, was kicking the prisoners that fell,he could no longer restrain himself but cried out impatiently, "Here,Mautang, let them alone!"

  Mautang turned toward him in surprise. "What's it to you, Carolino?" heasked.

  "To me, nothing, but it hurts me," replied Carolino. "They're menlike ourselves."

  "It's plain that you're new to the business!" retorted Mautang witha compassionate smile. "How did you treat the prisoners in the war?"

  "With more consideration, surely!" answered Carolino.

  Mautang remained silent for a moment and then, apparently havingdiscovered the reason, calmly rejoined, "Ah, it's because they areenemies and fight us, while these--these are our own countrymen."

  Then drawing nearer to Carolino he whispered, "How stupid youare! They're treated so in order that they may attempt to resist orto escape, and then--bang!"

  Carolino made no reply.

  One of the prisoners then begged that they let him stop for a moment.

  "This is a dangerous place," answered the corporal, gazing uneasilytoward the mountain. "Move on!"

  "Move on!" echoed Mautang and his lash whistled.

  The prisoner twisted himself around to stare at him with reproachfuleyes. "You are more cruel than the Spaniard himself," he said.

  Mautang replied with more blows, when suddenly a bullet whistled,followed by a loud report. Mautang dropped his rifle, uttered anoath, and clutching at his breast with both hands fell spinning intoa heap. The prisoner saw him writhing in the dust with blood spurtingfrom his mouth.

  "Halt!" called the corporal, suddenly turning pale.

  The soldiers stopped and stared about them. A wisp of smoke rose froma thicket on the height above. Another bullet sang to its accompanyingreport and the corporal, wounded in the thigh, doubled over vomitingcurses. The column was attacked by men hidden among the rocks above.

  Sullen with rage the corporal motioned toward the string of prisonersand laconically ordered, "Fire!"

  The wretches fell upon their knees, filled with consternation. Asthey could not lift their hands, they begged for mercy by kissingthe dust or bowing their heads--one talked of his children, anotherof his mother who would be left unprotected, one promised money,another called upon God--but the muzzles were quickly lowered and ahideous volley silenced them all.

  Then began the sharpshooting against those who were behind the rocksabove, over which a light cloud of smoke began to hover. To judge fromthe scarcity of their shots, the invisible enemies could not havemore than three rifles. As they advanced firing, the guards soughtcover behind tree-trunks or crouched down as they attempted to scalethe height. Splintered rocks leaped up, broken twigs fell from trees,patches of earth were torn up, and the first guard who attempted theascent rolled back with a bullet through his shoulder.

  The hidden enemy had the advantage of position, but the valiantguards, who did not know how to flee, were on the point of retiring,for they had paused, unwilling to advance; that fight against theinvisible unnerved them. Smoke and rocks alone could be seen--not avoice was heard, not a shadow appeared; they seemed to be fightingwith the mountain.

  "Shoot, Carolino! What are you aiming at?" called the corporal.

  At that instant a man appeared upon a rock, making signs with hisrifle.

  "Shoot him!" ordered the corporal with a foul oath.

  Three guards obeyed the order, but the man continued standing there,calling out at the top of his voice something unintelligible.

  Carolino paused, thinking that he recognized something familiar aboutthat figure, which stood out plainly in the sunlight. But the corporalthreatened to tie him up if he did not fire, so Carolino took aim andthe report of his rifle was heard. The man on th
e rock spun aroundand disappeared with a cry that left Carolino horror-stricken.

  Then followed a rustling in the bushes, indicating that those withinwere scattering in all directions, so the soldiers boldly advanced,now that there was no more resistance. Another man appeared upon therock, waving a spear, and they fired at him. He sank down slowly,catching at the branch of a tree, but with another volley fell facedownwards on the rock.

  The guards climbed on nimbly, with bayonets fixed ready for ahand-to-hand fight. Carolino alone moved forward reluctantly, witha wandering, gloomy look, the cry of the man struck by his bulletstill ringing in his ears. The first to reach the spot found an oldman dying, stretched out on the rock. He plunged his bayonet intothe body, but the old man did not even wink, his eyes being fixedon Carolino with an indescribable gaze, while with his bony hand hepointed to something behind the rock.

  The soldiers turned to see Caroline frightfully pale, his mouthhanging open, with a look in which glimmered the last spark of reason,for Carolino, who was no other than Tano, Cabesang Tales' son, andwho had just returned from the Carolines, recognized in the dyingman his grandfather, Tandang Selo. No longer able to speak, the oldman's dying eyes uttered a whole poem of grief--and then a corpse,he still continued to point to something behind the rock.