CHAPTER XXVI
THE PERSECUTED.
By the dim light which the moon diffused through the thick branches
of the trees, a man wandered along the forest trails slowly and
cautiously. From time to time, as if to find out where he was,
he whistled a particular melody, to which another in the distance
responded with the same air. The man listened attentively, and
afterward proceeded in the direction of the distant sound.
Finally, passing through the thousand difficulties which a virgin
forest offers in the night time, he came to a small clearing. High
rocks, crowned with trees, surrounded the place, forming a sort of
ruined amphitheatre. Recently cut trees, with their charred trunks
and enormous rocks, which Nature had covered with her mantle of green
foliage, filled the middle of the open space.
Scarcely had the unknown man arrived, when another figure quickly
appeared from behind one of the large rocks, advanced and drew
a revolver.
"Who are you?" he asked in Tagalog and, in an imperious voice, as he
cocked the hammer of his weapon.
"Is old Pablo among you?" asked the first calmly, without replying
to the question or becoming intimidated.
"Do you refer to the Captain? Yes, he is."
"Tell him, then, that Elias is looking for him here," said the man.
"Are you Elias?" asked the other with a certain respect, and
approaching him without lowering his revolver. "Then come."
Elias followed him.
They penetrated into a kind of cavern, which was hollowed out in the
depths of the earth. The guide, who knew the way, told the pilot when
he ought to get down, stoop or crawl. However, it was not long before
they came to a sala or room in the cave, miserably illuminated by pitch
torches, and occupied by twelve or fifteen armed men. The faces of
the men were dirty and their clothes ragged; some were sitting down,
others lying down, conversing among themselves in a low tone. Leaning
his elbows on a stone which served as a table and contemplating
thoughtfully the lamp, which was shedding very little light for the
amount of smoke it made, sat an old man. His countenance was sad,
and his head wrapped in a bloody rag. If we had not known that the
place was a cave of tulisanes, we would have said, on reading the
desperation on the face of the old man, that it was the Tower of
Hunger on the eve when Ugolino devoured his sons.
At the arrival of Elias and the guide, the men were about to arise,
but, at a signal from the guide, they were quieted and contented
themselves with examining the pilot, who was entirely unarmed.
The old man turned his head slowly and his eyes met the sturdy
figure of Elias. The latter, in turn, with his head uncovered, full
of sadness and interest, gazed upon the old man.
"Is it you?" asked the old man, his face brightening a little as he
recognized the youth.
"How badly off you are!" murmured Elias, in an half-intelligible tone
of voice.
The old man bowed in silence, made a sign to the men, who then arose
and left, not, however, without first directing glances at the pilot,
measuring his stature and muscles.
"Yes!" said the old man to Elias as soon as they found themselves
alone. "Six months ago, I gave you refuge in my house. Then, it was
I who sympathized with you; now, fortune has changed and it is you
who pity me. But sit down, and tell me how you came here."
"Some fifteen days ago they told me of your misfortune," replied the
young man slowly, and in a low voice, looking toward the light. "I
at once set out on the road and I have been searching for you from
mountain to mountain. I have travelled over the greater part of
two provinces.
"Rather than spill innocent blood," said Pablo, "I have had to flee. My
enemies are afraid to show themselves and shield themselves behind
some unhappy fellows who have never done me the slightest injury."
Then, after a short pause, of which Elias took advantage to read the
thoughts in that melancholy countenance, he replied:
"I have come to make a proposition. Having searched in vain for some
member of the family which has caused me my misfortunes, I have decided
to leave the province where I am living and to emigrate to the north
and live there among the heathen and independent tribes. Do you want
to leave this life and go with me? I will be your son, since you have
lost those whom you had, and I, who have no family, will take you as
my father."
The old man shook his head and said:
"At my age, when a person makes a desperate resolution it is because
there is no other course open. A man who, like me has passed his youth
and the best years of his life working for his own future and for the
future of his sons, a man who has been submissive to all the wishes
of his superiors, who has discharged conscientiously all his duties,
suffered everything in order to live in peace and in tranquillity;
when such a man, whose blood has been chilled by Time, renounces all
his past and all his future, on the very edge of his grave-when a
man does this, it is because he has decided with mature judgment that
peace does not exist, and that there is no Supreme Good. What use
is there in living a few miserable days in a foreign land? I had two
sons, a daughter, a fireside, a fortune. I enjoyed consideration and
esteem. Now I am like a tree that has been stripped of its branches;
a wandering fugitive, hunted like a wild beast in the forest, and
all-why? Because a man dishonored my daughter, because her brothers
wanted to make that man account for his infamous deed, and because that
man is placed above all others with a title of Minister of God. But
despite it all, I, a father, I, dishonored in my old age, pardoned the
injury, for I was indulgent with the passions of youth and the weakness
of the flesh, and, as the evil was irreparable, I wanted to save what
still remained to me. But the criminal, afraid that vengeance was near
at hand, sought the destruction of my sons. What did he do? You do
not know? Do you know how they feigned that there had been a robbery
in the convent and how one of my sons figured among the accused? The
other son they could not include because he was away. Do you know the
tortures to which they were submitted? You know them because they are
like those in other towns. I saw my son hung by the hair, I heard his
cries, I heard him call me, and, coward that I was, and, accustomed to
peace, I was not brave enough to kill or be killed. Do you know that
the robbery was not proved, that it was seen that it was a calumny,
that the curate was transferred to another town and that my son died
from the result of his tortures? The other boy, who was still left
for me, was not a coward like his father. The executioner was afraid
that this son would take revenge for the death of his brother and so,
under pretense of his not having a cedula, [19] which for the moment
had been forgotten, he was imprisoned by the Civil Guard, maltreated,
irritated and provoked by force and injuries until he was driven to
suicide. And I have survived after such a disgrace. But, if I had not
the courage of a father to defend his sons, I have left a heart to
take vengeance and I shall be revenged! The discontented are uniting
under my command, my enemies increase my camp, and on that day when
I consider myself strong enough I will go down into the plain and
extinguish in fire both my vengeance and my own existence. And that
day will come or there is no God!"
The old man rose to his feet deeply agitated. With his eyes sparkling
like fire and, in a hollow voice, he added, tearing his long hair:
"Curses upon me, curses upon me for having restrained the avenging
hand of my sons. I have assassinated them! Had I allowed them to kill
the criminal; had I had less faith in the justice of God and of men,
I would now have my sons; perhaps they would have been fugitives,
but I would have them and they would not have died in torture. I
was not born to be a father! For that reason, I haven't them with
me now! Curses upon me for not having learned, with all my years,
in what age we live! But in blood and fire, and in my own death,
I will know how to take vengeance for them!"
The unfortunate father, in the paroxysm of his grief, had taken off
the bandage from his head, opening up a wound which he had on the
forehead and from which the blood oozed out.
"I respect your grief," replied Elias, "and I understand your desire
for vengeance. I, too, am like you, but, for fear of harming an
innocent one, I prefer to forget my misfortunes."
"You can forget them because you are young, and because you have
not lost your son, have not lost your last hope! But, I assure you,
I will not harm an innocent person. Do you see that wound? I allowed
myself to receive that in order not to kill a poor cuaderillero who
was fulfilling his duty."
"But see!" said Elias, after a moment's silence. "See what frightful
destruction you will bring upon our unfortunate country. If you seek
revenge by your own hand your enemies will retaliate, not against
you, not against those who are armed, but against the people, who
are always accused, and then how many more injustices!"
"Let the people learn to defend themselves. Let each learn to defend
himself."
"You know that that is impossible. Senor, I have known you in other
times when you were happy, then you gave me wise advice. Will you
permit me...?"
The old man crossed his arms and seemed to meditate upon what he was
going to say.
"Senor," continued Elias, measuring his words well, "I have had the
fortune to be of service to a young man, rich, of good heart, noble,
and a lover of his country's welfare. They say that this young man
has friends in Madrid. I do not know it, but I can positively assure
you that he is a friend of the Governor General. What do you say if
we make him the bearer of the people's complaints, if we can interest
him in the cause of the unhappy?"
The old man shook his head.
"Do you say that he is a rich man? The rich think of nothing but to
increase their riches. Pride and pomp blind them, and, since they are
generally well off, especially if they have powerful friends, none
of them ever troubles himself about the unfortunates. I know it all,
for I was once rich myself."
"But the man of whom I am speaking does not seem to be like the
others. He is a son who would not allow the memory of his father to be
dishonored. He is a young man who thinks about the future-thinks of
a good future for his sons, for he may in a short time have a family
of his own."
"Then he is a man who is going to be happy. Our cause is not a cause
for happy men."
"But it is a cause for men of good hearts."
"That may be," replied the old man sitting down. "Suppose that he
consented to carry our complaints to the Governor General. Suppose
that he finds in the court those who will argue for us. Do you think
we will get justice?"
"Let us try it before resorting to bloody measures," replied
Elias. "It must seem strange to you that I, another unfortunate,
young, robust-that I should propose to you old and weak-peaceful
measures. But it is because I have seen so many miseries caused
by us similar to those caused by tyrants. The unarmed is the one
who suffers."
"And if we do not accomplish anything?"
"Something will be accomplished, believe me! Not all who govern are
unjust. And if we do not accomplish anything, if our voice is not
listened to, if the man turns a deaf ear to the grief of his fellow
men, then we will put ourselves under your orders."
The old man, full of enthusiasm, embraced the young man.
"I accept your proposition, Elias. I know that you will keep your
word. You come to me and I will help you take vengeance for your
father. You will help me to take vengeance for my sons-my sons who
were like you!"
"In the meantime, Senor, avoid all violent measures."
"You can expound the complaints of the people. You certainly know
them. When will we know the answer?"
"Within four days send a man to meet me on the beach at San Diego
and I will tell him what the person in whom I have hope says. If he
accepts, we will get justice, and if he does not accept, I will be
the first to fall in the fight which we will begin."
"Elias will not die. Elias will be chief, when Captain Pablo falls,
satisfied in his revenge," said the old man.