A United States Midshipman in the Philippines — John Shaqi
A United States Midshipman in the PhilippinesStirling, Yates
General
A United States Midshipman in the Philippines
Stirling, Yates
Philippines -- Juvenile fiction; United States. Navy -- Juvenile fiction
“Colonel Martinez has secured enough horses for you and your companions
to ride,” the girl told them as a half dozen small Filipino ponies were
led down to the end of the wharf. “Your belongings will be carried
by natives whom he has secured, so I hope you will not be put to too
great hardships. The soldiers are used to marching, but for those
unaccustomed to the country it is very tedious.”
Phil thanked her not ungraciously. He had during many hours of a
sleepless night brooded over the situation and had awakened with much
kindlier thoughts for this girl than he had held the night before.
The Americans, with Colonel Martinez, the girl and her brother
rode at the head of the long file of armed insurgent soldiers. As
the procession passed through the streets of the town the natives
gathered and gave excited and enthusiastic yells of pleasure. Great
curiosity was shown as to the white captives, but Colonel Martinez took
precautions that they should not be disturbed by the evident dislike
of the people. Phil read hatred in many eyes as they wended their
way through the curious crowds, and he quite believed the insurgent
colonel’s words that they would not be safe among them.
The trail which they were following led steadily inland, and constantly
climbed above the level of the sea. After a few miles had been covered
all signs of habitation disappeared, the country was bleak and barren
of cultivation. At first they had passed through groves of cocoanut,
banana and many varieties of tropical fruit trees and afterward the
velvety green of rice fields lay on either hand, but now the earth
was scorched and brown, the high jungle bush lay thick on either side
of the trail. The Americans realized the hardships of a campaign in
such a country against a wild and determined foe. They had marched for
about four hours without a rest when a signal of warning was given from
scouts in front. The leader stopped, giving a low order to a soldier at
his elbow.
“What is it?” Phil breathed, forcing his pony forward eagerly.
“They’ve seen something,” O’Neil whispered; “probably a company of our
soldiers on a ‘hike.’”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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