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Updated: September 1, 2025
When Parrington appeared at the Club on the evening after his scouting expedition he was hailed as a hero, and the officers stayed together a long time discussing the naval engagement. In the early hours of the morning he accompanied his friend, Colonel Hawkins of the Twelfth Infantry Regiment, through the quiet streets of the northern suburbs of Manila to the latter's barracks.
"Can that be another of their devilish tricks?" asked Parrington of the German, drawing his attention to the rising cloud, the edges of which glistened white as snow in the bright sunshine. "Possibly," was the laconic answer. The wharf of Corregidor was in a state of confused hubbub. The artillerymen stood shoulder to shoulder, awaiting the arrival of the Mindoro.
Parrington ordered his gunboats to form in a line and to get up full steam, as it was just possible that they might be able to elude the enemy under cover of darkness, although there was still a whole hour to that time.
He was suddenly struck by a label affixed to the cask, which contained the words, "From Colonel Pemberton to his friend Colonel Hawkins." Parrington followed the colonel into the guard-room and drew his attention to the scrap of paper. Hawkins ordered some soldiers to take the barrel down from the car and break open one end of it.
The Mindoro stopped and threw a line, which was caught by many willing hands and made fast to the landing place. "Here's my witness," shouted Parrington across to Colonel Prettyman, "the commander of the German steamer Danzig." "I'll join you on board," answered Prettyman. "I've just despatched the news to Manila by wireless. Of course they won't believe it there."
Suddenly an officer forced his way through the crowd, and, standing on the very edge of the wharf, called out to the rapidly approaching Mindoro: "Parrington, what's all this about?" "It's true, every word of it," roared the latter through the megaphone. "The Japanese are attacking us, and the German steamer over there is the first to bring us news of it. War broke out six days ago."
An expression of fierce joy came over his features when, looking through his glass an hour later, he discovered the Kanga Maru holding a straight course for Corregidor. As calmly as if it were only a question of everyday maneuvers, Parrington gave his orders. The artillerymen stood on either side of the small guns, and everything was made ready for action.
Colonel McCabe had sat down again, and was studying the pamphlet, Parrington picked at the label on his whisky bottle, and the others remained silent, but buried in thought. In the next room a clock struck ten with a hurried, tinkling sound which seemed to break up the uneasy silence into so many small pieces. "And if it was not genuine?" began Colonel McCabe again, hoarsely.
The Filipinos had surprised the station of San José and slaughtered the whole garrison after a short battle. Pemberton's corpse his love for whisky was well known they had put into a cask and driven to the infantry barracks at Manila. Parrington, deeply touched, pressed his comrade's hand. The insurrection of the Filipinos!
Parrington stood in feverish expectation on the bridge, his hands clinched round the hot iron bars of the breastwork and his eyes measuring the rapidly diminishing distance between the Mindoro and the landing place of Corregidor.
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