Lukban gave Sydney the man’s words in Spanish:
“He says the gunboat can pass through the cañon, but you must keep close to the left hand shore to avoid the huge rocks which the insurgents will hurl from the top of the stronghold.”
Sydney’s heart beat faster. They had not as yet come in sight of the whirling maelstrom of water as it hurled itself through the narrow gorge, but the top of the cañon was in plain sight. One huge boulder dislodged from the heights, striking the deck of the “Mindinao,” could easily pierce her frail steel shell.
“Will you go through on the gunboat, sir?” Sydney asked the general eagerly as the “Mindinao” rounded a bend in the river, and the muddy racing water loomed ahead straight as if nature had laid a ruler along its path. About a mile away the other end of the cañon appeared, a white streak of light between the sombre rocks.
The general regarded him in surprise.
“How would you expect me to go?” he asked, a twinkle appearing in his eyes for a fraction of a second.
“I was thinking of the danger, sir,” the lad added hurriedly in apology. “They’ll probably throw rocks down on us.”
“The commanding general cannot always be three miles in the rear,” the veteran replied, now smiling broadly.
Sydney had sent word to the engine room that he desired all speed possible and despite the current against them, the wooded shores were passed quickly.
“To your guns,” he called in a clear voice without a note of excitement. “Major,” he added turning to the adjutant-general, “some of your best shots might take station to pick off the enemy on the cliffs. Those on this end I hope will be Phil and his friendly natives.” He turned suddenly pale as the possibility occurred to him of shelling his own people.