“It’s not strictly orthodox,” Captain Blynn whispered as he saw the horror in Sydney’s eyes, “but it’s effective.”
“A little more,” Major Lukban ordered in a cold voice, after nodding a welcome to the newcomers.
Sydney saw the native at the prisoner’s head slowly pour the water which he held in a bamboo cup between the prisoner’s teeth. The unfortunate man choked, while the veins in his neck stood out like whip-cords. His eyes turned glassy and staring, while his colorless face became a sickly blue.
“You’ll kill him,” Sydney cried aghast. “It shouldn’t be allowed, captain,” he appealed, turning to the army man.
“Don’t you worry, Monroe,” the captain answered calmly, “he knows within a few drops of how much the man can stand—watch!” he added quietly, as the natives raised the prone captive to a sitting position and struck him smartly on the back with their open hands. The native coughed and sputtered; gradually his color returned and he drew great gasping breaths.
After the prisoner had returned to a comparatively normal condition, the inquisitor reached out his hand and struck him smartly across the cheek. Where his hand had fallen, a white imprint was left, dying out gradually, as the sluggish blood flowed back again.
“This is the ‘water cure,’” Captain Blynn observed as Major Lukban fired question after question at the thoroughly cowed and now tractable prisoner. “He will exact a confession from him which will give us all the information we need. If you or I did this we would be court-martialed and maybe dismissed but——” He ended with an expressive shrug.
Sydney turned sick at the sight of a human being tortured beyond endurance and a fear rose in his mind as he thought of poor Phil in Espinosa’s hands. As he watched, the native appeared to hesitate in answering a question, but a wave of Lukban’s hand, bringing the attending natives and the water cup nearer, caused him to answer the question immediately. Once the native refused to answer and then despite his cries of fear and struggles almost superhuman, he was forced back upon his back, and his jaws pried rudely open with a stick, while the bamboo cup was poised menacingly above his open mouth.
The next moment the cup was sent spinning from the native’s hand and Sydney had jerked the captive to his feet, and stood flushed with anger and excitement between him and his torturer.
“I shan’t stand by and see any more of this torture,” he exclaimed forcefully. “It’s a disgrace for us to allow it.”