Friars and Filipinos Part 44

At a signal from the alferez a guard, armed with a whip, began his cruel task. The whole body of Tarsilo shrank. A groan, suppressed and prolonged, could be heard in spite of the rag which stopped up his mouth. He lowered his head. His clothes were being stained with blood.

Father Salvi, pale and with a wild look, rose to his feet laboriously, made a sign with his hand and left the sala with vacillating steps. In the street, he saw a girl, leaning her back against the wall, rigid, immovable, listening attentively, looking into s.p.a.ce, her marble-like hands extended along the old wall. The sun was s.h.i.+ning full upon her. She was counting, it seemed without breathing, the sharp blows and listening to that heart-rending groan. She was Tarsilo's sister.

In the meantime, the scene was continuing in the sala. The unfortunate fellow, overcome with pain, had become silent and waited for his punishers to tire. At last, the soldier breathless, let fall his arm. The alferez, pale with wrath and astonishment, made a signal for them to unloose him.

Dona Consolacion then arose and whispered something into her husband's ear. He nodded his head, signifying that he understood.

"To the well with him!" said he.

The Filipinos know what that means. In Tagalog they call it timbain. We do not know who could have been the inventor of this method of punishment, but we are of the opinion that he must have lived long ago. In the middle of the tribunal yard there was a picturesque stone-wall, roughly made out of cobble stones, around a well. A rustic apparatus of bamboo in the form of a lever serves to draw out the vile, dirty and bad smelling water. Broken dishes, refuse and all sorts of filth collected there, since the well was a common receptacle for everything that the people threw away or found useless. An object which fell into the place, no matter how good it may have been, was thereafter surely lost. However, the well was never closed up. At times, prisoners were condemned to go down and make it deeper, not because it was thought that the work would be useful in any way, but because the work was so difficult. If a prisoner went down in the well once, he invariably contracted a fever, from which he died.

Tarsilo contemplated all the preparations of the soldiers with a firm look. He was very pale and his lips were trembling or murmuring a prayer. The haughtiness of his desperation seemed to have disappeared, or at least to have weakened. A number of times he bent his head, fixed his eyes on the ground, resigned to his suffering.

They took him to one side of the stone wall. Dona Consolacion followed smiling. The unfortunate wretch glanced enviously toward the pile of dead bodies, and a sigh escaped from his breast.

"Speak now!" said the directorcillo again. "They will certainly drown you. At least, die without having suffered so much."

"When you come out of this, you will die," said a cuaderillero.

They took the gag out of his mouth and hung him by his feet. He had to go down head first and remain under the water some time just like a bucket, except that a man is left under the water a longer time.

The alferez went to look for a watch that he might count the minutes.

In the meantime, Tarsilo was hanging, his long hair waving in the air and his eyes half closed.

"If you are Christians, if you have hearts," he begged, in a low voice, "let me down rapidly and make my head strike against the wall that I may die. G.o.d would reward such a good deed.... Perhaps some day you will be in the same straits as I am now."

The alferez returned and with watch in hand witnessed the descent.

"Slowly, slowly!" cried Dona Consolacion following the poor fellow with her eyes. "Be careful!"

The pole was being lowered slowly. Tarsilo rubbed against the projecting stones and the dirty plants which grew in the crevices. Then, the pole ceased to move. The alferez was counting the seconds.

"Up!" he ordered dryly, at the end of a half minute.

The silvery harmony of the drops of water falling back into the well, announced the return of the unfortunate man to the light. As the weight on the end of the lever was heavy, he came up quickly. The rough pieces of stone and pebbles, torn loose from the walls, fell with splashes to the bottom.

His face and hair full of filthy mud, his body wet and dripping, he appeared again in the sight of the silent crowd. The wind made him s.h.i.+ver with cold.

"Do you want to make a declaration?" they asked him.

"Take care of my sister!" the unhappy one murmured, looking at the cuaderillero, with supplication.

The bamboo pole creaked again, and again the condemned man disappeared. Dona Consolacion observed that the water remained still. The alferez counted a minute.

When Tarsilo came up again, his face was livid and his features contracted. He glanced at those standing around and kept open his bloodshot eyes.

"Will you make a declaration?" asked the alferez again, with vexation.

Tarsilo shook his head and again they let him down. His eyelids were almost closed and his eyes were gazing at the white clouds floating in the heavens. He bent his neck to keep sight of the light of day, but he was soon submerged in the water. That filthy curtain closed from him the sight of the world.

A minute pa.s.sed. The Muse saw large bubbles of air come up to the surface of the water.

"He is thirsty," said she, laughing.

The water was again smooth.

This time a minute and a half had pa.s.sed when the alferez gave the signal.

Tarsilo's features were no longer contracted. The half opened lids showed the white of his eyes. Muddy water, clotted with blood, ran out of his mouth. The cool wind was blowing, but his body no longer s.h.i.+vered.

Those present, pale and terrified, looked at each other in silence. The alferez made a signal for them to take him down from where he was hanging, and stepped aside for a few moments. Dona Consolacion a number of times applied the lighted end of her cigar to the bare legs of Tarsilo, but his body did not quiver. It put out the light.

"He has asphyxiated himself," murmured a cuaderillero. "See how his tongue is turned, as if he wanted to swallow it."

The other prisoner, trembling and perspiring, contemplated the scene. Like a madman he looked about him.

The alferez ordered the directorcillo to question him.

"Senor, Senor," he groaned. "I will tell you all that you wish."

"Good. Let us see! What is your name?"

"Andong, Senor!"

"Bernardo ... Leonardo ... Ricardo ... Educardo. Gerardo ... or what?"

"Andong, Senor," repeated the imbecile.

"Call it Bernardo or whatever you please," said the alferez, decided not to bother more about it.

"What family name?"

The man looked at him frightened.

"What's your name? What do you add to the name Andong?"

"Ah, Senor! Andong Medio-tonto (half-fool), Senor."

Those standing around could not resist a laugh. The alferez himself stopped short.

"What is your business?"

"Cocoanut tree pruner, Senor, and servant for my mother-in-law."

"Who ordered you to attack the cuartel?"

"n.o.body, Senor."