For the rebels well knew that a policy of extermination had been declared against them. Was it not at a banquet in Manila that the Spanish officers made a compact to kill the savages like wild beasts in their lairs, and to show quarter to none! We yet shudder when we think of the black hole of Manila, in which one hundred prisoners were thrust one night, of whom sixty were found dead the next morning—because the one door that admitted air into the dungeon had been shut. We remember with horror, too, the executions of the rebels in Manila.
The day of an execution was made a day of jubilee, when the élite of the city came out to grace the general rejoicing. It was eagerly looked forward to, and, in honor of the great event, all the prominent houses were decked in flags and bunting—the whole city, in fact, assumed a holiday aspect.
The execution usually took place in the cool of the morning, when the Luneta would be thronged with thousands of people, who came to witness this grand vindication of the honor of Spain. Nor was the fair sex lacking in these demonstrations of loyalty. Here come the victims, stolid and indifferent; behind them march the soldiers, with measured tread.
The condemned are then made to stand upon the old sea-wall, and, facing the sea, await their doom. The suspense becomes intense; a hush falls over the expectant multitude, and a succession of sharp commands falls upon the morning air. An answering click and a scattered volley of shots, and the grim figures standing mutely on the sea-wall fall headlong to the ground, many stark and stiff, others writhing in agony. Hardly have the echoes of the shots died away, when a jubilant cheer bursts from the assembled multitude. Men toss their hats into the air; and ladies, beautiful and fashionably dressed, are waving their handkerchiefs and clapping their hands in an ecstasy of enthusiasm. The band bursts into triumphal music, and there is great rejoicing. But ten thousand natives go back to their homes with murder in their hearts.
The Forbearance of the Natives.
And yet, notwithstanding this severe provocation, the rebels rarely attacked non-combatants, and seldom injured private property—an example of their self-restraint and their remarkable forbearance. This, too, is seen in their refraining from molesting the only railroad in the colony, whose traffic was, of course, an advantage to the Spaniards. This railroad is owned by an English company, and this fact alone saved it from destruction.
It is also said that when the insurgents had made their plans to attack Manila, a list of all the foreigners and non-combatants was carefully prepared by their leaders. This, as may be supposed, was done so that these might be guarded from the pillage and slaughter that was sure to follow a successful assault of the thousands of infuriated natives, thirsting for the blood of their Spanish oppressors. It would also be no exaggeration to say, that the great majority of all the foreigners in the islands—Germans, English, Dutch, and Americans—were secretly in sympathy with the cause of the insurgents. And this is no cause for wonder, when one thinks of the many and various impositions that the Spanish Government and its unscrupulous officials have at every shadow of an opportunity practised upon them. The rebellion began in the province of Cavité, and was made formidable by the thousands of refugees driven away from their rude bamboo huts and tiny rice-fields by the Spaniards, come to pacify the province.