You arrive in time; the cannibals of the forest are still there; the wild beast hides in his lair (bravo); the hour has come to finish with the savages; wild beasts should be exterminated; weeds should be extirpated. (Great applause.) Destruction is the purport of war; its civilizing virtue acts like the hot iron on a cancer, destroying the corrupt tendons in order to arrive at perfect health. No pardon! (Very good, very good.) Destroy! Kill! Do not pardon, for this prerogative belongs to the monarch, not to the army. . . . From that historical, honoured, and old land Spain, which we all love with delirious joy, no words of peace come before this treason, but words of vigour and of justice, which, according to public opinion, is better in quality than in quantity. (Frantic applause, several times repeated, which drowned the voice of the orator.) Soldiers! you are the right arm of Spain. Execute; exterminate if it be necessary. Amputate the diseased member to save the body; cut off the dry branches which impede the circulation of the sap, in order that the tree may again bring forth leaves and flowers. (Señor Peñaranda interposed, shouting, “That is the way to speak!” Frantic applause.)
Thirty thousand pesos were subscribed at the Military Club for the benefit of General Primo de Rivera. Admiral Patricio Montojo, who had co-operated against the rebels by firing a few shots at them when they occupied the coast towns of Cavite Province and transporting troops to and from Manila, was the recipient of a sword of honour on March 17, 1898. It was presented to him, on behalf of the Military Club, by Señor Comenge (who escaped from Manila as soon as the Americans entered the port) as a “perpetual remembrance of the triumph of our ships off the coast of Cavite,” although no deed of glory on the part of the fleet, during the period of the rebellion, had come to the knowledge of the general public.
The reforms alluded to in the treaty made with the rebel chiefs were a subject of daily conversation; but when the Diario de Manila published an article on March 17, demanding autonomy for the Islands and urging the immediate application of those reforms, General Primo de Rivera suspended the publication of the newspaper. Some were inquisitive enough to ask, Has a treaty been signed or a trick been played upon the rebels? The treatment of the people was far from being in harmony with the spirit of a treaty of peace.
The expatriated ex-rebels became alarmed by the non-receipt of the indemnity instalment and the news from their homes. A committee of Filipinos, styled La Junta Patriótica, was formed in Hong-Kong. They were in frequent communication with their friends in the Islands. The seed of discontent was again germinating under the duplicity of the Spanish lay and clerical authorities. Thousands were ready to take the field again, but their chiefs were absent, their arms surrendered, and the rebellion disorganized. Here and there roving parties appeared, but having no recognized leaders, their existence did not invalidate the treaty. The Spaniards, indeed, feigned to regard them only as a remnant of the rebels who had joined the pre-existing brigand bands. The volunteers were committing outrages which might have driven the people again into open revolt, and General Primo de Rivera had, at least, the sagacity to recognize the evil which was apparent to everybody. The volunteers and guerilla battalions were consequently disbanded, not a day too soon for the tranquillity of the city. On March 25, the tragedy of the Calle de Camba took place. This street lies just off the Calle de San Fernando in Binondo, a few hundred yards from the river. In a house frequented by seafaring men a large number of Visayan sailors had assembled and were, naturally, discussing the topics of the day with the warmth of expression and phraseology peculiar to their race, when a passer-by, who overheard the talk, informed the police. The civil guard at once raided the premises, accused these sailors of conspiracy, and, without waiting for proof or refutation, shot down all who could not escape. The victims of this outrage numbered over 70. The news dismayed the native population. The fact could no longer be doubted that a reign of terrorism and revenge had been initiated with impunity, under the assumption that the rebellion was broken for many a year to come. How the particulars of this crime were related by the survivors to their fellow-islanders we cannot know, but it is a coincidental fact that only now the flame of rebellion spread to the southern Island of Cebú. For over a generation the Cebuános around Talisay, Minglanilla, and Talambau had sustained a dispute with the friars respecting land-tenure. From time to time procurators of the Law Court secretly took up the Cebuánosʼ cause, and one of them, Florencio Gonzalez, was cast into prison and slowly done to death. This event, which happened almost coincidentally with the Calle de Camba tragedy, excited the Cebuános to the utmost degree. Nine days after that unfortunate episode, on April 3, 1898, a party of about 5,000 disaffected natives made a raid on the city of Cebú. The leaders were armed with rifles, but the rank-and-file carried only bowie-knives. About 4 p.m. all the forces which could be mustered in the city went out against the rebels, who overwhelmed the loyalists, cutting some to pieces, whilst the remainder hastened back to the city in great disorder. But, instead of following up their victory, the half-resolute rioters camped near Guadalupe for the night. At 5 a.m. on April 4 they marched upon the city. Peaceful inhabitants fled before the motley, yelling crowd of men, women and children who swarmed into the streets, armed with bowie-knives and sticks, demanding food and other trifles. The terrified Spanish volunteers, after their defeat, took refuge in the Cotta de San Pedro (the Fort), where the Governor, General Montero, joined them, and ordered all foreigners to do the same. Later on the foreigners were permitted to return to their residences. Amidst the confusion which prevailed, the flight of peaceful citizens, the street-fighting, and the moans of the dying, the rebels helped themselves freely to all they wanted. The mob of both sexes told the townspeople that they (the rioters) had nothing to fear, as anting-anting wafers (q.v.) had been served out to them. The rebels had cut the Cebú-Tuburan telegraph-wires (vide p. [267]), but in the meantime three small coasting steamers had been despatched to Yloilo, Ylígan, and another port to demand reinforcements. The next day, at sunrise, the rebels attempted to reach the Fort, but were fired upon from the Governorʼs house, which is situated in front of it, compelling them to withdraw along the shore road, where the gunboat Maria Cristina opened fire on them. The rebels then retreated to the Chinese quarter of Lutao, around the Cathedral and the Santo Nino Church. The Spaniards remained under cover whilst the mob held possession of the whole city except the Fort, Government House, the College, the churches, and the foreigners houses. During the whole day there was an incessant fusillade, the rebelsʼ chief stronghold being the Recoleto Convent. Groups of them were all over the place, plundering the shops and Spanish houses and offices. On April 5 a small force of Spanish regulars, volunteers, and sailors made a sortie and fired on the insurgents in Lutao from long range. They soon retired, however, as the Fort was in danger of being attacked from another side. The same afternoon the steamer sent to Ylígan for troops returned with 240 on board. During the night the Spanish troops ventured into the open and shots were exchanged. On April 6 the Venus arrived with 50 soldiers from Yloilo and was at once sent on to Bojol Island in search of rice and cattle, which were difficult to procure as that island was also in revolt. Native women were not interfered with by either party, nor were the foreigners, many of whom took refuge at the British Consulate. The rebels wished to advance from Lutao, but were kept back by the fire from the gunboat Maria Cristina. The Spanish troops did not care to venture past a block of buildings in which were the offices and stores of a British firm. On April 7 the merchant steamer Churruca arrived with troops, and in a couple of hours was followed by the cruiser Don Juan de Austria, also bringing reinforcements under the command of General Tejeiro (a former Governor of Cebú Is.). The total fresh troops amounted to about 500 men of the 73rd Native Regiment and Spanish cazadores. Whilst these troops were landing, many of the rebels hastened out of the city towards San Nicolás. General Montero and the Spanish refugees then emerged from the cotta. After General Tejeiro had strategically deployed his troops, a squad of them, crossing the General Loño Square (now called Plaza de Rizal) drove the rebels before them and dislodged them from the vicinity of the Recoleto Convent. At the same time the rebels were attacked at the mestizo quarter called the Parian and at Tiniago, whence they had to retreat, with severe loss, towards San Nicolás, which practically adjoins Cebú and is only separated therefrom by a narrow river. Simultaneously, the Don Juan de Austria threw a shell into the corner house of the (chiefly Chinese) shopping-quarter, Lutao, which killed several Chinese and set fire to the house. The flames, however, did not catch the adjoining property, so the troops burst open the doors, poured petroleum on the goods found therein, and caused the fire to extend until the whole quarter was, as I saw it, a mass of charred ruins with only the stone walls remaining. To complete the destruction of Lutao, once a busy bazaar, situated in that part of the city immediately facing the sea, another bomb was thrown into the centre. The troops then marched to San Nicolás, and a third shell fired at the retreating enemy entered and completely destroyed a large private residence. An attempt was made to procure supplies from the little Island of Magtan, which lies only half a mile off the coast of Cebú, but the expedition had to return without having been able to effect a landing at the capital town of Opon, which had risen in rebellion. On April 8 the loyal troops continued their pursuit of the rebels, who suffered severe losses at San Nicolás and Pili, on the road south of Cebú city. The corpses collected in the suburbs were carted into the city, where, together with those lying about the streets, they were piled into heaps, partly covered with petroleum-bathed logs, and ignited. The stench was very offensive for some hours, especially from a huge burning pile topped with a dead white horse in the General Loño Square. Practically the whole of the east coast of the island had risen against the Spaniards, but the rebels were careful not to interfere with foreigners when they could distinguish them as such. A large force of insurgents made another stand at Labangan, where they were almost annihilated; it is estimated they left quite a thousand dead on the field. The loyal troops followed up the insurgents towards the mountain region, whilst the Don Juan de Austria cruised down the coast with the intention of bombarding any town which might be in rebel hands. The material losses in Cebú amounted to about ₱1,725,000 in Lutao, represented by house property of Chinese and half-castes and their cash and stock-in-trade. The “Compañia General de Tabacos” lost about ₱30,000 in cash in addition to the damage done to their offices and property. Rich natives and Chinese lost large sums of money, the total of which cannot be ascertained. From the Recoleto Convent ₱19,000 in cash were stolen, and there, as well as in many of the Spanish residences, everything valuable and easily removable was carried off; but whether all this pillage was committed by the rebels alone must ever remain a mystery. The only foreigner who lost his life was my late Italian friend Signor Stancampiano, who is supposed to have died of shock, for when I last saw him he was hopelessly ill. As usual, a considerable number of well-known residents of the city were arrested and charged with being the prime movers in these doleful events.
Upon the hills on the west coast of Cebú, near Toledo town, some American friends of mine experienced a series of thrilling adventures. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, mother and son, to whom I am indebted for their generous hospitality, resided on a large sugar-estate at Calumampao, of which Mr. Wilson was part owner. They were, naturally, in ignorance of what had taken place in Cebú City. The rebellion spread to their district, and many of the natives on and about the estate were eager to join in the movement. Mr. Wilson did his utmost to point out to them the futility of the attempt, but they indulged in all sorts of superstitions about the invulnerability of their chief, Claudio, and the charm attached to a red flag he carried, and they were determined to take their chance with him. On April 19 an insurgent force came on to the plantation, compelled the labourers to join their standard, and coolly quartered themselves in the out-buildings and warehouses. They did no harm to the Wilsons, but they kidnapped a Spanish gentleman who lived close by, and shot him, in spite of Mr. Wilsonʼs entreaties to spare his life. The insurgents moved off, taking with them the estate hands, and in a couple of days a company of Spanish soldiers, under the command of Captain Suarez, arrived at the estate-house. The officer was very affable, and Mr. and Mrs. Wilson treated him as hospitably as they did all their friends and European passers-by. Naturally the conversation fell on the all-absorbing topic of the day and the object of his mission. After he and his men had been well refreshed they started down the hill to meet some cavalry reinforcements, and, as the Wilsons watched their departure, to their astonishment they saw Claudio, at the head of 200 rebels, rushing down the hill with the red flag floating in the air. Simultaneously a body of Spanish horse approached through the valley; Claudio and his followers, caught between the Spanish cavalry and infantry, retreated to a storehouse in the valley. The result was that some 40 rebels were killed, others taken prisoners, and the remainder escaped into the planted fields. Every leader was killed, and every peaceful native whom the Spaniards met on their way was unmercifully treated. Mr. Wilson was then asked to go on board a Spanish vessel, and when he complied he was charged with being in league with the rebels. He was allowed to return to shore to fetch his mother—a highly-educated, genial old lady—and when they both went on board they found there two Englishmen as prisoners. Their guest of a few days previous treated them most shamefully. When they were well on the voyage to Cebú the prisoners were allowed to be on the upper deck, and Mrs. Wilson was permitted to use an armchair. The soldiers insulted them, and, leaning their backs against Mrs. Wilsonʼs chair, some sang ribald songs, whilst others debated whether their captives would be shot on the beach or at the Cotta in Cebú. Sometimes they would draw their swords and look viciously towards them. At last, after a series of intimidations, they reached Cebú, where, after being detained on board several hours, they were all taken before the Governor and the Chief Justice, and were only saved from further miseries through the intercession of the American Vice-Consul, who, by the way, was an Englishman. War had just been declared between America and Spain (April 23, 1898), and the estate had to be left to the mercy of the rebels, whilst my friends took passage to Singapore on the Gulf of Martaban.
All immediate danger having now been dispelled, the Spaniards solaced themselves with the sweets of revenge. A Spanish functionary (who with his wife and brotherʼs family were well known to me for several years) caused the soldiers to raid private houses, and bring out native families by force into the public square, or conduct them to the cemetery on the Guadalupe road, where they were shot in batches without inquiry and cremated. The heartrending scenes and wailing of the people failed to turn their persecutor from his purpose, save in one case—that of a colleague, who, wearing his chain of office, stepped forward and successfully begged for his life. A low estimate of this officialʼs victims is 200. The motive for his awful crime was greed, for he formally confiscated his victimsʼ goods and shipped them off daily in schooners to Yloilo. His ill-gotten gains would have been greater but for the action of the Governor, who, fearing that retribution might fall on his own head as the highest authority, ordered his guilty subordinate to appear before him, and in the presence of Filipinos he reprimanded him, boxed his ears, and commanded him to quit the island within a given period under pain of death. The Governorʼs indignation was evidently feigned, for he very shortly availed himself of an altogether novel means of terrorism. Sedition was smouldering throughout the island, but after the events of April the Spaniards seemed too daunted to take the field against the Cebuános. The Christian Governor, therefore, took into his service a Mindanao Mahometan, Rajahmudah Datto Mandi, and his band of about 100 Sámal Moros to overrun the island and punish the natives. This chief, with his warriors, had been called from Zamboanga (Mindanao Is.) to Yloilo by General Rios, who immediately commissioned him to Cebú in the month of July, 1898. On his arrival there he at once started his campaign under the auspices of the Governor, who granted him full liberty to dispose of the lives and property of the Cebuános to his heartʼs content, and as proof of the accomplishment of his gory mission he brought in and presented to his patron the ears which he had cut off the Cebuános. North of Cebú City he and his retainers made a fresh start, slaying the people, burning villages, and devastating the standing crops. Having accomplished his task within three months Datto Mandi withdrew with all his men, except two who wished to settle at Pardo. He could not persuade them to leave, and after his departure they were cut to pieces by the Cebuános. Pending positive corroboration I was very sceptical about this strange narrative; but, being in Mindanao Island six years afterwards, I went to visit Datto Mandi, who most readily confirmed all the above particulars, and presented me with his portrait. Prior to the American advent, Datto Mandi, protégé as well as protector of the Spaniards, exercised a sort of feudal dominion over the services and the sundry cherished belongings of his people. Speaking of him as I myself found him, he was extremely affable and hospitable. The invitation to Datto Mandi was perhaps the most singular event of this period, and goes to show with what desperate fear the Spaniards retained their hold on the island up to the evacuation, which took place on December 26, 1898.
In the provinces north of Manila the rebellion was again in full vigour, and, all trust in Spanish good faith was irrevocably lost. The Spanish quarters at Subig (Zambales) and Apalit (Pampanga) were attacked and looted in the first week of March. The new movement bore a more serious aspect than that under Aguinaldo and his colleagues, who, at least, were men of certain intelligence, inspired by a wish to secure reforms, whereas their successors in revolt were of far less mental capacity, seeking, apparently, only retaliation for the cruelties inflicted on the people. It is possible, too, that the premium of ₱800,000 per 35 rebel chiefs inflamed the imaginations of the new leaders, who were too ignorant to appreciate the promised reforms linked with the same bargain. During the month of February the permanent-way of the Manila-Dagúpan Railway had been three times torn up to prevent the transport of loyal troops. At the same time the villages around were looted and burnt. Early in March the rebels, under the chief leadership of Yocson, of Malolos, attacked and killed the garrisons and the priests in the north of Pangasinán and Zambales, excepting six soldiers who managed to escape.[15] Some of the garrison troops were murdered after surrender. The telegraph-line between Lingayen (Pangasinán) and a place a few miles from Bolinao (Zambales) was cut down and removed. A lineman was sent out to repair it under escort of civil guards, who were forced by the rebels to retire. On March 7, about 2 a.m., the Eastern Extension Telegraph Companyʼs cable-station at Bolinao was besieged by rebels. The village was held by about 400 armed natives, who had killed one native and two European soldiers on the way. The lighthouse-keeper and the Inspector of Forests safely reached Santa Cruz, 40 miles south, in a boat. The other civilian Spaniards and priests escaped in another boat, but were pursued and captured by the insurgents, who killed two of the civilians and brought the European women and friars into the village as prisoners at 4.30 the same afternoon. Eight soldiers had taken refuge in the cable-station, and at 6 a.m. a message was sent to the British staff requiring them to turn out the soldiers or quit the premises themselves. They refused to take either course, and declared their neutrality. A similar message was sent several times, with the same result. By 4 p.m. the soldiers had fortified the station as well as they could, and the rebels attacked, but were repulsed with a few shots. Nothing happened during the night, but the next day (March 8) another message was sent to the British staff urging them to withdraw as the rebels would renew the assault at 10 a.m. The staff again refused to comply. Then it appears that the rebels delayed their attack until the arrival of their chief, hourly expected. An ultimatum was at length received at the station, to the effect that if all arms were given up they would spare the soldiersʼ lives. They also demanded the surrender of the two rebels held prisoners by these soldiers. At this stage one of the companyʼs staff, who were allowed to go and come as they pleased, volunteered to interview the rebels; but matters could not be arranged, as the Spanish corporal (a plucky youth of twenty years of age) in the station refused to surrender anything at any price. Still parleying was continued, and on March 11 one of the companyʼs staff again visited the rebel camp to state that if the regular bi-monthly steamer failed to arrive on the morrow the corporal would surrender arms. Then the rebel chief proposed that the corporal should meet him half-way between the companyʼs office and the rebel camp, the rebel pledging his word of honour that no harm should befall the corporal. The corporal, however, could not do this, as it would have been contrary to the Spanish military code to capitulate on his own authority, but he confirmed his willingness to surrender arms if no steamer arrived the next day, and the companyʼs employee returned to the camp to notify this resolution. But in a few minutes he observed a commotion among the insurgents; some one had descried a warship approaching, and the native canoes were very busy making ready for escape or attack. The British delegate, therefore, hastened back to the station, and at 3 p.m. a Spanish gunboat arrived, to their immense relief, and landed 107 marines. Heavy firing continued all that afternoon, inflicting great loss on the rebels, whilst the Spaniards lost one soldier. On March 12 a Spanish cruiser anchored off the Bay of Bolinao; also a merchant steamer put into port bringing the Companyʼs Manila Superintendent with apparatus for communicating with Hong-Kong in case the station were demolished. The next day H.M.S. Edgar entered, and Bolinao was again perfectly safe.
In consequence of this threatened attack on the cable-station the cable was detached from Bolinao and carried on to Manila in the following month (vide p. [267]).
As soon as the news reached Manila that Bolinao was menaced, General Monet proceeded north with 1,000 men, whilst 3,000 more followed by railway as far as they could reach. On the way the General had five engagements with the enemy, between Lingayen (Pangasinán) and Bolinao, where he arrived on the night of March 14, having routed the insurgents everywhere with great loss to them. On the Spanish side one lieutenant and one soldier were killed. After leaving a garrison of 300 men in Bolinao, General Monet returned to Manila in the Spanish cruiser the next day.
On March 31 Father Moïses Santos, who had caused all the members of the Town Council of Malolos to be banished in 1895, was assassinated. He had been appointed Vicar of the Augustine Order and was returning to Malolos station, en route for Manila, in a buggy which stuck fast in a mud-pool (the same in which I have found myself several times), where he was stabbed to death. His body was recovered and taken by special train to Manila, where it was interred with great pomp in the Church of St. Augustine. He was 44 years of age, and had been 19 years in the Colony (vide p. [364]).