Lieutenant Gilmore was firing his revolver. He decided to change and use one of the dead men’s rifles. As he picked it up he noticed the lock had been struck by a Remington ball and the clip had been jammed in. He handed it to an apprentice lad, named Venville, to be fixed.
The boy had scarcely begun to examine the gun, when a bullet struck him in the fleshy part of the neck. He had never been under fire before. Looking up calmly, he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit.”
In a moment another bullet struck him in the chest and came out of his arm pit. With his attention riveted on his task, he remarked, “I’m hit again, Mr. Gilmore.”
Only a moment later another ball grazed the side of his head and cut a painful wound in his scalp. “Mr. Gilmore, they’ve hit me again,” he muttered, while he kept on working at the gun, with blood running down all over him.
In a few minutes a fourth ball passed through the lad’s ankle, one of the most painful parts of the body in which to get shot. This time, with a slight tremble in his voice, he said, “Mr. Gilmore, I’m hit once more; but I’ve fixed your gun, Sir.”
Just at this moment the Filipinos saw that the Americans’ fire had practically ceased. Throwing back from off their trench the limbs and underbrush that had concealed them, the Filipinos, armed with guns, spears, bolos and clubs, made a bold dash for the boat and captured the entire crew.
End of the Boat Battle
(Courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)