The Story of a Philippine Crime

IMPROVEMENT ERA. Vol. II. MAY, 1899. No. 7.

THE STORY OF A PHILIPPINE CRIME. BY MAJOR RICHARD W. YOUNG, SUPERIOR PROVOST JUDGE OF MANILA.

Yung Che Sing may count himself a most fortunate Chinaman. Though bruised in body and showing the effect of recent mental strain, he now regards his injuries, physical and mental, as trifling. He, who today breathes the air of freedom and rejoices in the prospect of life, was yesterday the prisoner of merciless wretches, condemned to be buried alive in the grave which his captors had dug within his prison room. He is a man of delicate features, tall, slender, well dressed, and, I should say, handsome as judged by oriental standards. The story of this crime is one of the most sensational that has occurred during the American occupation of Manila. Our relations with the Filipinos have rapidly undergone a complete transformation. When we first landed, they were kind and deferential; on every hand did we hear the salutation, "Americanos, Filipinos, amigos siempre. Espanoles mueho mado" which translated means, "Americans, Filipinos, friends forever. Spaniards very wicked." Yesterday a party of Aguinaldo's soldiers informed one

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of our outpost sentries that the Americans used to be their amigos, but that in a few days the Filipinos would cut their amigos' throats, and in every issue of the revolutionary newspapers there are many bitter slurs against the Americans, many warlike utterances and suggestions, many statements that the Filipinos would either secure their independence or fill one immense grave, coupled with occasional references to the "noble Spaniards" and admissions that the natives and the Spaniards are now much in sympathy.

All this change, it may be explained, has been wrought by the American refusal to acknowledge the independence of the republic, and by the dread that America may yet decide to retain the islands as a territory or colony. Our troops are literally sleeping in their uniforms. We are in a state of siege. Five American soldiers who recently ventured beyond our lines have not been heard from. Our own line of outposts and theirs watch each other the city round with many a demonstration of hostility. Collisions, thus far bloodless, frequently occur between sentries. The prevailing sentiment is that it needs but a hasty action or word to embroil us in a war with

the thankless people who will owe whatever measure of freedom they may secure to our invincible naval and military forces. But, to the story of the crime, of which the foregoing is but a prelude. Thursday last one of the soldiers of the 13th Minnesota, while walking his post as a municipal guard, detected a Chinaman at the door of a blacksmith shop in the act of warning his companions within of the guard's approach. His suspicions aroused, the guard followed the retreating Chinaman to an inner room, where an attempt was made by one of the workmen to conceal a large knife, known in Cuba as a machete and here as a bolo. A search resulted in the discovery of nearly forty of these weapons of warfare. Arrests followed. Charges of offenses under the laws of war were made against the master and workmen of this shop and of other shops which were searched and found to contain a number of the contraband weapons. The prisoners were tried by the Superior Provost Court, and, all with one or two exceptions, found guilty. Sentence was deferred for twenty-four hours. At the afternoon session of the court on the same day there

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came before the court a gang of twelve as desperate appearing men as one could find in a day's journey, even in this country. They were a set of black-haired, beardless, high cheek boned, flatnosed, muscular, barefooted villains, wearing undershirts and short trousers. These men were all Filipinos, but had the following Spanish names: There was Pablo Delpin, Vincente Briel, Trankalina Dalita, Manano Pasomoate, Seferino Maninong and his brother Alberto, Catalmo Bonal and his brother, and uncle Anastasio and Manano, Diego Velasco, Donate Perenko and Francisco Suin. They were charged with abducting and torturing a Chinaman, Yung Che Sing. The latter, though suffering much, with the aid of a fellow-Chinaman was able to be present in court. He was called as a witness. He was able to speak some English, but not enough to make either good progress or himself clearly understood, so the services of the dapper court interpreter. Tan Chong, were had. Yung Che Sing told how the preceding day, between four and five of the afternoon, he had gone to a store not far from his place

of business on some errand, and there in a room adjoining the one he visited had overheard a Filipino woman tell Dee Sing and Ah Yng that the insurrectionists were going to kill him because he was friendly with the Americans. This intimation came too late to be of service to him, since upon stepping into the street on his return home he was seized by a part of the cut-throats above mentioned; his arms were tied behind him and he was roughly bundled into a closed hack and hurried away to a lonely spot near a neighboring canal. Here he was accused of the crime of speaking English, and, in co-operation with some other of his countrymen, of having informed the American police of the manufacture of bolos by the Chinamen previously referred to. He denied any complicity in the alleged offense, either on his own part or that of any companion of his, so far as he knew. As a matter of fact the illicit bolo manufacturies were discovered quite casually as described. On refusal to confess his own and his companions' participation, he was threatened with torture and death and taken northward to Torso, an outlying district of the city, built up with native huts thatched with nipa. Here he was conveyed to the house of Pedro Estrella, a major of the army of the "Filipino Re-

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public." On his further refusal to divulge the impossible, his feet — were placed in stocks this particular machine being made of two ponderous pieces of hard wood, pierced with eight holes for the accommodation of victims, and showing much previous service. Estrella kicked the prostrate man brutally in the sides of his body^ stamped upon his left hand with sufficient force to render it a discolored mass, requiring a surgeon's care, struck him with a bamboo stick which flayed the skin from the body with each blow, and pounded him on the knee with a club hard enough to render the victim a cripple for the time. These dastardly tortures were administered in the presence of laughing companions. Not being sufficient to elicit a confession, which was impossible, the chief inquisitor caused a hole to be dug in the earthen floor alongside the prostrate man, deep, long and wide enough to bury him in.

He was then told that at two o'clock in the morning he would be buried alive in the narrow cell beside him, should he still persist in his contumacy. Sing did not doubt their word for a moment, since he knew, as the whole city knows, that suspected spies have disappeared, that men have been found decapitated, and all man-

ner of outrages perpetrated in the name of Filipino independence. In the meantime the police had heard of his disappearance. A crowd of seven men running from the scene of the kidnapping were followed to a hiding place near a canal and arrested on suspicion. Each was recognized by Sing as a participant to a greater or less degree in the crime. The police then made haste to ascertain where the unfortunate Chinaman had been taken. With much shrewdness they quickly followed up a clue which led them to Estrella's house in Torso. Their demand for admission was followed by a scampering within, but the house was surrounded and a part of the culprits captured. Most unfortunately Estrella and three companions escaped. The capture was made in a room adjoining the one in which Sing, then partly unconscious, was imprisoned. The guards had tried for fifteen minutes to get the captives to divulge the details of the offense, when they heard the faint cries of the condemned Chinaman, "Americanos, I am here, I am here." Verily was this man rescued from the brink of his own grave. The party was landed in jail. The next afternoon they were

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tried by the Superior Provost Judge, and, with an exception or two, were convicted and sentenced to long terms of imprisonment. Within twenty-four hours from the commission of the offense they were on their way to Bilibid, the provincial penitentiary speedy — justice. The police are encouraged to believe that the arch conspirator, Estrella, will yet fall into their hands.

HAIL COLUMBIA.

[The following interesting details are published in an English contemporary in relation to our National anthem. Hail Columbia.]

"Hail, Columbia!" was written to help out a young singer and actor named Fox, who was to have a benefit at a Philadelphia theatre. He had been a school-friend of Joseph Hopkinson, LL.D., then a young lawyer of twenty-seven. The time was the summer of 1798. War with France seemed inevitable. Congress was in session in Philadelphia, and the people of the United States were divided into two parties, one favoring France and the other leaning towards England. It was not an auspicious occasion for a young actor to make a hit by singing a political song, especially if, as in this case, he wished to please everybody. The staff at the theatre composed verses until they dreamed in metre, but could hit upon nothing which would not offend one or the other party. It was

Saturday afternoon, and the benefit was to take place on the following Monday night. The theatrical corps ground out a final grist of verses, but were unsatisfactory. Then Mr. Fox went to his school-friend all

Hopkinson, told him his troubles, and asked for help. He wanted a patriotic song which could be sung to the tune of the "President's March," and would, so to speak, rub everybody the right way. Hopkinson promised to see what he could do, and the next afternoon "the song, such as it is," was ready. So says Mr. Hopkinson himself, in a letter about the affair. The song contained no reference to England or France, and was received with the greatest enthusiasm. Its enduringllsuccess surprised

no one so much as its author, who said that its only merit was "that of being truly and exclusively patriotic." Mr. Hopkinson became a prominent jurist. He died in Philadelphia, in 1842, at the age of seventy-one years.