Rizal shook hands firmly with the priests and with his counsel. Father March held to him the cross for him to kiss.
He now turned his face to the east and stood with his back to the firing-squad. Eight native soldiers had been told off to slay their fellow-countryman. Behind them were eight Spanish soldiers with leveled rifles. They were to shoot the executioners if these failed to obey orders.
Rizal stood with his eyes open and turned toward the sky. In his face, it is said, was neither ecstasy nor fear, but only the calm of a perfect resignation. Often [[309]]he had said: “What is death to me? I have sown the seed; others are left to reap.”[16] The testing of that word had come. It found him ready and undismayed.
At that instant a military doctor, amazed by such a show of fortitude, ran out from the line of officers.
“Colleague,” he cried, “may I feel your pulse?”
Rizal said nothing but thrust his right hand as far as he could from the bands that held it.
The pulse was hardly a beat above normal.
“You are well, colleague,” said the doctor, “very well!” and stepped back to his place.
Rizal made no response and resumed his former attitude. He now twisted his right hand and indicated the spot in his back at which the soldiers should aim.
The captain gave the signal. The eight soldiers fired together.