A MORO GRAVE.A MORO GRAVE.
The Moros are not supposed to eat meat or drink wine, although they have been known to drink whiskey and soda with Americans, as well as eat pork and beans on occasions. There are no mosques in this region or holy dancing-girls (who can do no wrong) but there are Moro priests orpanditaswho go from house to house. They have little education, but some of them have traveled. It is the custom for a relative of the deceased to watch and protect a Moro grave for many months. Such a mourner can sometimes be seen squatting near by under a yellow umbrella. The Moros have as many wives as they can afford, but not more than they can afford, for it is an insult to speak of a man's wife as "begging bread."
The Moros are smaller than the East Indian Mohammedans, but are strong and slight, and have fine features. They appear especially cruel and determined because their teeth are black frombuyo. In war time, many of the women fought beside the men, and it is supposed to be they who mutilated the Americans found dead on the field after battle. The people whom we met on the road with their ponies loaded with hemp seldom smiled and did not bow, but they looked us straight in the eye, and there was no touch of sulkiness about them.
It is very difficult to distinguish the men from the women, as they dress much alike. But you see few of the latter on the road, for being Mohammedans, most of them are kept at home. They are not veiled like other Moslem women, except when first married.
The costumes of the Moros differ to such a degree—and for no reason that I could discover—that it is difficult to describe them. Many wear tight trousers, which are something like those of the Spaniards—so tight that they are sewn on the men and never come off until worn out—and are often bright red or yellow in colour. On the other hand, some wear very loose, baggy trousers or skirts of different shades. Indeed, they are the most gaily dressed people I have ever seen, and their brown skins set off the vivid yellows and greens and reds and magentas and purples of which their trousers and jackets and turbans and handkerchiefs are made. The jackets have a Chinese appearance. The turbans might be old Aunt Dinah's of the South. The sashes, which are woven in the Moro houses, are of silk, brightgreen and dark red being the predominant colours. They are knotted on one side, generally a kriss or a bolo being held in the knot, and are tied about the waist so tightly that the men look almost laced, and perhaps that accounts for their womanish appearance.
When the American army first occupied this region they treated the Moros well and found them friendly. Take for instance Zamboanga in the south, an especially interesting region. When the American soldiers entered, the Spanish guard left the garrison, and the Spanish population and the priests followed. The Americans found outside the town gates a large barbed wire bird cage, where the Moros had been compelled to leave their arms before entering the town at night, to avoid an uprising. The government of Zamboanga at this time was reorganized by the American officers. A Filipino presidente was appointed, a dato to head the Moros, and a Captain Chinese, as he was called, to manage his people, who were mostly merchants and pearl fishers.
Mindanao was under a military-civil government that worked wonders, for in a few years many of the Moros were brought under control, and they became loyal Americans, although they had always been bitter enemies of the Filipinosand the Spaniards. They say they have found the Americans brave, and have not been lied to by them, and so they seek our protection. Although the Moro and the head-hunter are so different, they are alike in one respect—if they care for an official and have confidence in him they do not want him changed. It is the man they are willing to obey rather than the government. Of course, there are thousands of them, fierce as ever, back in the mountains, and they are still fanatic and wild. Even among those who are under control, the greatest care has to be exercised, for they have the hatred of the Christian deep in their hearts, and they may run amuck at any moment and kill till they are killed; but this is a part of their faith, they ask no quarter, and nothing stops them but death.
Besides the danger of their attack by religious mania they have a great desire for rifles, as I have said, and they are always "jumping" the constabulary, attacking small parties suddenly from ambush and cutting them down with their knives, or killing sentries; so that constant care has to be used, and the sentinels walk at night in twos, almost back to back, so as to have eyes on all sides. A few weeks before we arrived there had been several cases of "jumping."
An American army officer told me the fights with the Moros generally occurred on the trails among the hills; as the foliage is so thick, it is easy for the natives to conceal themselves on either side, sometimes in ditches, and give the Americans a surprise. For this reason, a drill was found necessary for single file fighting. Every other soldier was taught to respond to the order of one and two. When an attack was made, the "ones" shot to the right, the "twos" to the left. This proved successful. The same officer said the Moros would often use decoys to lead the troops astray. Seeing fresh tracks, they would hasten on in pursuit, and be led away from their supplies, while their enemy would be left behind to attack them in the rear. Walking on the mountain trails was very hard on the soldiers' shoes, and on one of these expeditions their boots gave out, so they were obliged to make soles for their shoes out of boxes and tie them on with leather straps.
Up, up we drove; the clatter of the cavalry could be heard in front and behind, and the dougherty, how it did rattle! It was a pretty sight to see the party traveling through the tropical forests and winding across the green uplands, with their pennons and the Secretary'sred flag (which made a great impression on the natives, we heard), and the wagons rumbling along, with a rearguard behind and the scouts in the distance. John, the coloured man, snapped his whip, and the mules trotted along, and the air became cooler, and we drove over a plain where real mountain rice was planted. Occasionally a Moro shack could be seen in the distance.
At an outpost, where we stopped to change mules, we saw a beautiful waterfall, perhaps the loveliest that I had ever seen, called Santa Maria Cristina. From a greater height than Niagara it plunged down into a deep valley of giant trees. It reminded me of a superb waterfall near Seattle.
At last we reached Camp Keithley, on the mountain plain, a forlorn lot of unpainted houses with tin roofs and piazzas, but beautifully situated, like some station in the Himalayas. There was splendid mountain scenery disappearing into the distances, and views of the ocean far away, and, on the other side, the great lake of Lanao, an inland sea more than two thousand feet above the ocean, with imposing ranges about. This lake, which has always been the center of Moro life, is surrounded by native villages, and the military post is important and much liked by the officers quartered there.
The Secretary, my husband and I were billeted on Major Beacom, the commanding officer—Mrs. Dickinson had not felt quite equal to the trip. The Major's house was very attractive, and his little German housekeeper gave us excellent food and made the orderlies fly about for our comfort.
We went almost at once to the market place, which was intensely interesting. The gorgeous colours and gold buttons of the costumes were magnificent. Brass bowls for chow were for sale, and betel-nut boxes inlaid with silver, and round silver ones with instruments attached to clean the ears and nose. There are four compartments in these betel-nut boxes—for lime, tobacco, the betel nut, and a leaf in which to wrap the mixture called buyo.
Here we saw the spear and shield dance. The dancer had a headdress that covered his forehead and ears, making him look quite ridiculous, absolutely as though he were on the comic opera stage. With shield and spear he danced as swiftly and silently as a cat, creeping and springing until your blood ran cold, especially as you knew he had killed many a man.
In the afternoon, after reviewing the troops and inspecting the quarters, we crossed a corner of the lake and landed at a Moro village. It was raining hard and the mud was deep. We waded through a street, followed by the people in their best clothes—one in a black velvet suit, another in a violet velvet jacket. I saw only two women in the streets; they were not veiled nor brilliantly dressed, but had red painted lips and henna on their nails. The Moro constabulary here wore red fezzes and khaki, and the officer in command at the time was of German birth.
A MORO DATO'S HOUSE.A MORODATO'SHOUSE.
After we had passed through a bamboo trail, we came into a little open place with three fine Moro houses about, set up above the ground on great posts made of tree trunks. Unlike Filipino houses, they had façades all carved in a rough and handsome sort of arabesque, painted in bright reds and blues, and with pointed roofs and coloured cloths fluttering out of the open spaces, they made fine effects. The long cracks in the walls served as peepholes, where the snapping black eyes of the many wives of the datos were peering out at us. In front, in the little green space, pennons were planted and there was a huge Chinese-looking sea serpent, or dragon, on wheels, with a body of gaily colouredstuffs, and a rearing movable head. This cavorted about in time to the endless noise of the tom-toms. A crowd of natives stood round in their fanciful raiment.
Into one of these houses we were invited. We mounted the ladder to the one large room in the front, into which the sliding panel shutters admitted the air freely, so that it was cool and shaded. Here sat the wives and the slaves in a corner, playing on a long wooden instrument with brass pans, which they struck, producing high and low sounds, with a little more tune than the Igorots. The big room was bare, except for a long shelf on which was some woven cloth and a fine collection of the native brass work, for this is the center of the brass-workers.
We moved on through the little town of nipa houses to visit old Dato Manilibang, whose house was not as fine as those we had seen before, but where we were admitted into two rooms. From the entrance we streaked muddy feet across the bamboo-slatted floor into his reception room, where a sort of divan occupied one side—on which the Secretary was asked to sit. Behind this cushioned seat were piled the boxes with the chief's possessions, and here he sits in state in the daytime and sleeps at night. The women, who were huddled together on oneside of the room, wore bracelets and rings, and one was rather pretty.
At dawn we were up and off again. What a day! We had two hours on a boat crossing a lovely lake, surrounded by mountains, on the shore of which some of the wildest Moros live. Our boat was a big launch, a sort of gunboat, which, strangely enough, the Spaniards had brought up here and sunk in the lake when the war came on, we were told, and which had been resurrected successfully. It was a steep climb up the opposite side of the lake, but most of us scrambled up on horses, till we topped the ridge and came to Camp Vickers, a station with fine air and outlook but rather small and pathetic.
The picturesque Moros had gathered here to greet the Secretary, and their wail of welcome was something strange and weird. A dato would come swinging by, followed in single file by his betel-box carrier, chow bearer and slaves. Some of the chiefs rode scraggly ponies, on high saddles, with their big toes in stirrups of cord almost up under their chins, and with bells on the harness that rattled gaily. And, of course, the tom-toms kept up their endless music.
We had two more hours of horseback riding—we hoped to see a boar hunt, but owing tosome misunderstanding, it did not come off. Then, after a stand-up luncheon at Major Brown's, we started down the trail again in a dougherty.
BAGOBO MAN WITH POINTED TEETH.BAGOBO MAN WITH POINTED TEETH.
It was a beautiful drive through this forest on the island of Mindanao. We first crossed open grassy uplands, then dipped down through the great glades of the most tropical forest I have ever seen, with towering hard woods and tree ferns, with bamboos and clinging air plants and orchids, and there was mystery and wonder about the giant growths. The trees seemed taller than the elms of New England or the cedars of Oregon. They dripped with huge-leaved, clinging vines, which grew higgledy-piggledy, covering everything. The grass, too, with waving purple tassels, grew higher than a man's head, twice as high as the pigmy brown people who have their houses in these trees.
The tree-dwellers just referred to are the Manobos and the Bagobos with pointed teeth—for Mindanao is not entirely inhabited by Moros; there are supposed to be no less than twenty-four tribes on this island alone. They build in trees, to escape the spear thrusts of their neighbours through the bamboo floors. We were to make their acquaintance later.
A drenching rain came on that afternoon, through which the escort jogged along, while we clung in our dougherties, nearly shaken to pieces, and reached Malabang, on the other side of the island, as much fatigued as if we had been on horseback all the way. The military post here was most attractive, with the prettiest of nipa houses for the officers, and the parade lined with shading palms, and flower-bordered walks—a charming station. We were quartered with Lieutenant Barry and his wife, a delightful young couple, in their thatched house, and dined with Major Sargent, the commanding officer, who has written some good books on military topics.
The Celebes Sea was calm and lovely when we left Malabang. We passed along the coast of Mindanao toward a long lowland that lay between the high mountains of the island. This was the plain of the Cotobato, a great river which overflows its banks annually like the Nile and has formed a fertile valley that could be turned to good account. The mouth of the river is shallow, so that we were transferred to a stern-wheel boat that was waiting, and began to work our way up, against the rapid current, past low, uninteresting banks that were provingrather monotonous, when suddenly we turned a point and saw the town of Cotobato.
The Moros and the other tribes were in their full splendour here. Soon, down this tropical river, where crocodiles dozed and monkeys chattered and paroquets shrieked, there came a flotilla from the Arabian Nights, manned by galley slaves. On the masts and poles of one of the barges floated banners, and under the canopy of green sat a real Princess. Some of the boats were only dugouts with outriggers, but they were decorated, too, and all the tribes were dressed in silks and velvets of the brightest colours.
There was great excitement and much cheering as we approached the landing stage, and the troops stood at attention, while the rest of the shore was alive with the throng of natives in all the colours of the rainbow. The Secretary inspected the troops, and we saw for the first time the Moro constabulary, wearing turbans and sashes, but with bare legs; nevertheless, they looked very dashing. Indeed, the Moros were so different in character and appearance from any people we had seen before that they might as well have come down from the stars.
The Secretary was taken to meet the datos,as they stood in line beneath the great trees, with the motley crowds of retainers behind them, in such a medley of colours as I had never imagined before. The sunlight filtered through the trees upon the barbaric costumes, while the gaily dressed women stood behind the men and peered over them. The brown men looked dignified and very self-respecting, too, although the scene was like the setting of a comic opera, where the imagination had been allowed to run riot.
There we saw Dato Piang and Gimbungen, a very fat dato—what a delightful bug-a-boo name—also Ynock, whose ear had been cut off in a fight, we were told; but strange as it may seem, he said he had clapped it onto his face again and tied it on, and it had grown there. So it hung attached somewhere down on his cheek, and gave him a very peculiar appearance. When the Moros conquered the Filipinos, this dato had the captured women stripped and made to walk before him, and then took them off to the mountains. When he was taken prisoner later by the Filipinos, he was compelled to work in chains in the streets.
Under a canopy the Princess received us, a native woman whose descent was traced for many hundreds of years—said to be a pureMoro, although she looked rather Chinese—and who was recognized as of the highest social superiority, but had little political power. She herself was draped in varied colours, while her chamberlain wore a brocade coat of crimson and gold cloth. Behind her stood her maids bearing the gold betel-nut boxes and chow trays and umbrellas of her rank.
Our luncheon with the commanding officer, Major Heiberg, and his wife, was eaten in delightful little kiosks of nipa and bamboo, which had been built in a small palm grove. The dancing girls of the Princess, who had long nails protected by silver covers, gave us a performance afterward. Curiously enough, their dance was very Japanese in character. Then some Manobos, picturesque in short, skin-tight trousers and bolero jackets, with bags and boxes beautifully worked in bright beads, danced a graceful, monotonous step. The women have a swaying, snake-like dance with waving arms and jingling of bracelets and "hiplets," if I may be allowed to coin the word.
At last, after so many adventures, we found ourselves again on board theRizal. An enchanting spot on this boat was a projection over the bow, on which one could sit curled up high above the water. On this perch we feltlike the red-winged sea gulls that circled far above us. We passed over a sea of polished jade, which at night shone with phosphorescence like gleaming silver.
Next morning, August 23d, we approached Zamboanga. Five American ships, all decorated, came steaming out to meet us and fell in behind in order, making a lovely sight on the bright, smooth seas. As we neared the town, we suddenly saw a large flotilla of native boats, with tom-toms beating and thousands of flags fluttering—such a gay sight! Banners of all shapes, streaming and flapping and waving, and such colours and combinations of colours—stripes of green and purple and orange in designs of lemon and red and magenta, serpentine flags and square ones, hung in all sorts of ways, and brightly coloured canopies under which sat the sultans, and green umbrellas and yellow and—bang! off went their small lantankas, tiny native-made cannon—a most exciting reception!
We landed under triumphal arches and were driven in state carriages through lines of school children, who sang and threw us flowers from old Spanish gardens. The post was really beautiful, for it had much left from old Spanish times, and what had been done over had beendone with taste. The green parade had a terraced canal passing through it, and avenues of palm; the officers' quarters, smothered in flowering plants and fronting out over the glittering blue sea, were large and airy and finer than any we had seen before. It is considered one of the best posts in the Philippines, and seemed cool and pleasant.
BAGOBOS WITH MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.BAGOBOS WITH MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.
There was the usual procession—first, the troops of the garrison and the constabulary, then thousands of visiting Moros, Bagobos and Manobos, of every colour of skin and clothes, many of them whooping and leaping, and then a tiresome following of hundreds of Filipinos, who had joined in to make a political demonstration. It is said the Filipinos did not wish the Moros to take part in the procession.
Exciting times followed at the meeting after this parade, where both Filipino and Moro speakers were heard. Said a Filipino, addressing the Secretary:
"You have just visited our province and have just learned its conditions; at such places in it through which you have passed you must have seen quite a number of Moros, but I believe that a separation ... could very well be established, to the end that both people, the Christian Filipino and the Filipino Moro, mighthave the government that corresponds respectively to each of them, for it is a very regrettable thing that on account of the presence of the latter we Christians should be unable to enjoy the liberties that reason and right would grant us....
"I think it is my duty to advise you that the Moros who filed past the grandstand were brought from remote and distant places with the exclusive purpose of giving greater éclat to your reception. Moreover, it must be borne in mind always, in dealing with the affairs of this province, that the Moros have no political influence, possess no property, nor help pay the expense of the government."
Then Dato Mandi spoke:
"I am here, El Raja Mura Mandi, representing the Moros. As I look about, I see far more Moros than the Filipino contingent, and if that is so, that is the reason it is called the Moro Province. (Tremendous applause from the Moros.)
"When first the Americans came here, from the very beginning, whatever they asked me to do I did. I was loyal to them ever. Now I have heard a rumour that we Moros are in the hands of the Filipinos....
"If the American Government does not wantthe Moro Province any more they should give it back to us. It is a Moro province. It belongs to us." (Tremendous applause by the Moros.)
Dato Sacaluran threw down the Moro challenge:
"I am an old man. I do not want any more trouble. But if it should come to that, that we shall be given over to the Filipinos, I still would fight." (Applause.)
But Hadji Nangnui, who spoke of himself as "a Samal," made the clearest statement of the Moro position:
"The Secretary of War must look the matter in the face. We are a different race; we have a different religion; we are Mohammedans. And if we should be given over to the Filipinos, how much more would they treat us badly, than they treated even the Spanish badly who were their own mothers and their own fathers in generations? How did they treat them? Think about it! Think twice! We far prefer to be in the hands of the Americans, who are father and mother to us now, than to be turned over to another people." (Applause.)
In the evening we dined delightfully at the Pershings'. After dinner, the Moros danced in the garden the spear and shield dance, and theBagobo women gave the scarf dance. The Bagobos still offer human sacrifices. Their caps, if tied in a certain way, show how many men they have killed. Their dress is made of cloth which they weave from carefully selected and dyed fibers of Manila hemp, and it is treated with wax in such a way as to make it very smooth and durable. In the glow of the red light from Chino Charlie's famous lanterns, their picturesque costumes, gleaming with bead work, added much to the brilliancy of the scene. They love music and make some large stringed instruments. They also play the flute from the nose, with one nostril stopped up, like the Hawaiians.
BAGOBO WITH NOSE FLUTE.BAGOBO WITH NOSE FLUTE.
The dancing under the palms in the garden, by the rippling seas, where the moonlight flooded down radiantly, was quite like a strange dream.
At this dinner I was told the story given by Dean Worcester by which the Moros explain why they do not eat pork:
"Mahamoud had a grandson and a granddaughter.... As he was king of the world, Christ came to his house to visit him. Mahamoud, jealous of him, told him to prove his power by 'divining' what he had in a certain room, where, in fact, were his grandchildren. Christreplied that he had no wish to prove his power, and would not 'divine.' Mahamoud then vowed that if he did not answer correctly, he should pay for it with his life. Christ responded, 'You have two animals in there, different from anything else in the world.' Mahamoud replied, 'No, you are wrong, and I will now kill you.' Christ said, 'Look first, and see for yourself.' Mahamoud opened the door, and out rushed two hogs, into which Christ had changed his grandchildren."
Some verses recited at General Pershing's dinner showed the feeling of army officers about their life in the Philippines. A stanza runs:
"What is it makes us fret so hardIn this benighted land?It isn't lack of courageAnd it isn't lack of 'sand.'It isn't fear of MorosOr Bagobos from the hills—It's the many great discomfortsAnd the many, many ills."
It is interesting to read in a recent number of the ManilaTimesthat Zamboanga, which seemed so like a picture handed down from Spanish days, has absorbed a good share of American progressiveness and is said to stand in a class by itself among Philippine towns.Waterworks and a hydro-electric plant are under construction, the water for which is to be brought along the mountainside, a part of the way through tunnels. To dig these, "experienced Igorot tunnel makers from Benguet were imported," who are getting along amicably with the Moros.
At Jolo, or Sulu, we were again greeted by a Moro fleet and some diving girls and boys.
This seemed the culmination of the picturesque in our trip. The mountains of the island are not high but rather cone-shaped, and as we approached the town we could see behind it the forested slopes of steep Bud Dajo, where the great fight took place in 1906 and many Moros were killed in the crater top of the volcano, to which they had retreated, and from which they challenged and threatened the American forces. It is an island of fierce, piratical Moros, and even the Americans had not tried to do much there. It was dangerous to go outside the little walled town at all, and all the natives coming in were searched for their weapons, which were taken away at the gates. Only a few months before, a fanatic Moro tried to attack the gate guard, but fortunately was killed before fatally injuring any one.
MORO BOATS.MORO BOATS.
The walled town is a most artistic little Spanishplace, built once upon a time by the exiled Spanish Governor Asturia, who made it a gem of a town, with small balustraded plazas and a hanging-garden sea wall, and a miniature wall with battlements and gates, and streets set out with shading trees. The pretty Officers' Club and quarters overhung the wall. The gates of the town are closed at night, and all the natives must leave for their houses outside before the "retreat," but there is a native market and a town built out on piles over the water, which we visited. We drove out to a plain, palm-fringed and backed by mountains, that overlooked the sea, where there was a review of the cavalry and a large company of mounted Moros, who carried many American flags among their waving banners. Within the walls, in a grandstand in the little plaza, where the natives thronged, there was a meeting between the Secretary and the chief datos; and the Hadji, who had been Vizier of the Sultan, made a wise speech, full of promise of loyalty. Our Governor had won the good will of the people about him and the Hadji said that when his people were certain of our good intentions they would come in willingly and be loyal—but, for so many years, they had been misled by previous rulers.
We amused ourselves by going to ChinoCharlie's and buying lanterns, and lunched at the Officers' Club. Afterward we went out on the pier inhabited by the Chinese and looked for pearls—Jolo pearls are famous—but we saw none of real value. We watched the Chinamen drying copra, and went through their market, where water slugs were for sale. Finally, we sailed across the bay. Our visit to the Moros was full of colour to the end, for the sun was setting gorgeously as we put out to sea.
T
he little coral island of Bancoran lies in the middle of the Sulu Sea, quite outside the usual routes of travel. It is inhabited only by birds, and people seldom or never go there. But we wanted to obtain, if we could, some new species of gulls or terns for the Bureau of Science at Manila, and also to enjoy the mysterious sea gardens which are found among the southern reefs. Just after tiffin the island was sighted, lying quite alone by itself in milky green water. The ship stopped and launches were dropped overboard, and a glass-bottomed boat which had been brought along for our use.
The afternoon was ideal—the sky blue and fleeced with snowy clouds piled high, while the intense sun shining on the water flashed back a hundred shades of blue and green and mauve. On one side of the island, which floated like an emerald among sapphires, outstanding rocks chafed the seas into foaming surf, while on theother a long, narrow beach lay shimmering, pale yellow in the sunlight. The island itself was covered with a thick jungle of trees, which were dotted with thousands of resting birds. As we drew nearer they saw us and were afraid, rising and soaring and circling in the clear, pure air, and crying out at us. Flock after flock of sea fowl flew wonderingly over our small craft, their white breasts tinted green with the light reflected from the water.
It was like a Robinson Crusoe island, lost out there in the lonely sea. But there were shells of huge turtles, and bones of birds, which suggested that sometime a feast must have been held there, so it was not wholly undiscovered and unexplored. Among the great roots of the trees the birds had built their nests from leaves. The eggs in some of them were white and about the size of hens' eggs. Several varieties of boobies and terns were found, some brown with green-blue eyes, others ivory-white. A few specimens were shot, and one or two were taken back alive to theRizalfor the museum. Previous to this visit the ornithologists had never known to what islands the boobies and frigate birds came to nest, although the scientists had long been searching for the place, so the expedition was well worth while.
But the sea gardens interested me more than the birds or even the island. If Alice could have had her choice in entering Wonderland, she would surely have selected a doorway leading through a glass-bottomed boat, instead of dropping down a rabbit's hole. Beneath the water, which was crystal clear, we could see a strange country with new flowers and peculiar creatures. Where it was sandy and shallow we saw below us fields of green sea grass, on which the fairies must surely have used lawn-mowers, it was so neatly kept.
Interspersed among the fields were beds of feathery, lace-like vegetation unnamed in the language of our party. Passing one expanse after another of this submarine pasturage, we saw depressions in the coral, where tiny fishes played or unknown water creatures had established a little world for themselves and were living in its narrow confines quite unconscious of what went on in the surrounding vastness.
Drifting on into deeper water, we came to a ghost-like gray world of curls and feathers, trembling with life, a forest of pale trees and swaying brown ones, of high hills and dark valleys, made by coral reefs. Pretty rock gardens came into view, where there were cabbages with blue edges, sea anemones and purple fans, a huge toadstool, a giant fungus, and a cactus plant—at least, that is what they looked like to us. There were rainbow shells, too, half hidden, and great blue starfish clinging to the rocks. In and out among the sponges and the brown coral branches, which were so much like antlers, swam curious fishes. Such gorgeous colours—so vivid and in such brilliant combinations! Some were big green fellows, with needle noses; others were electric blue and silver; there were black and yellow ones, too,and striped fishes that looked like sly prisoners dodging their keepers.[27]
ONE DAY'S CATCH OF FISH.ONE DAY'S CATCH OF FISH.
We passed the greater part of the afternoon marooned on this far-away island, some of us going bathing off the shallow, sandy beaches in the clear water. As evening came on we regretfully left the fairy island of Bancoran, and sailed away by the rising moon.
The Penal Colony on Palawan, which I have described in another chapter, was our next point of interest. We left there behind schedule and met a stronger current than we had expected, sweeping down the coast of Panay, so that it was no wonder that we were late in approaching Iloilo. This was especially unfortunate, for very generous preparations had been made there for the Secretary's reception and an interesting series of events arranged, all of which was upset by the delay.
It was sunset when we finally sighted the town. As we cruised up the steeply palisaded coast, with the low-lying foreground of Panay on the other side, backed by its fine ranges of mountains, the effects were most beautiful. The old Spanish fort on its point looked mysterious in the afterglow, and the skies were magnificently alight. A fleet of much beflagged launches and steamers came out to meet the Secretary, whistling a welcome, and turning, escorted theRizal.
Next to Manila, Iloilo is the most important port in the Islands, and has a better climate than its rival. The people here are supposed to be wealthier and more aristocratic than elsewhere. The Payne bill, which had been in operation only a short time, had brought such a return of prosperity to the land, and especially to the planters of this fertile province, that they were all very enthusiastic about Americans, and did all they could to express their gratitude.
VIEW IN ILOILO, ILOILO, SHOWING HIGH SCHOOL GROUNDS.VIEW IN ILOILO, ILOILO, SHOWING HIGH SCHOOL GROUNDS.
We were invited for dinner at half after seven, but it was an hour later before we sat down to the long table in the large and rather empty room, with its handsome Venetian mirrors at either end, and its sliding shutters wide open to the night. There were no ladies present except those of our party. We could never tell how things would be arranged,—sometimes there would be Filipina ladies, and sometimes there would not; sometimes the ladies would all be placed together at one side of the table, and again they would be seated next to the men. While waiting for dinner to be announced, we sat about in an airy room, with half-dressedservants peeping in at us, and a phonograph playing Caruso records.
After dinner we had a long drive out through the town, which seemed quite business-like and prosperous. They had rebuilt some of the fine, large, wide-open houses, most of which had been destroyed by the insurrectos. (On the nearby island of Negros, we were told, there were many finehaciendaswith great houses full of carved work which I was sorry not to see.) Passing through suburbs of nipa houses standing up on their stilts in the moonlight, we came to a plaza gaily illuminated, and to our destination, a mansion approached by a triumphal arch. In the best houses the living rooms are on the second floor, just as in the poorer ones they are raised above the ground on stilts. So here we went upstairs to a great room hung with festoons of flags, where the little women in their bright and varied dresses passing and repassing made a gay scene. It was here, indeed, that we saw some of the prettiest and best dressed women whom we met on our trip.
Most of the following day was spent cruising along the coast of Panay, passing between its fine outlying islands, which reminded us of the Inland Sea of Japan. In the afternoon we cameto the entrance of the river on which Capiz is located. The Secretary crossed overland on the first train to run on the new railway, in order to drive in the silver spikes that completed the line.
No dinners had been planned there for those of us who had come by ship, so we did not start up river until half after eight. Capiz is only four miles from the mouth, but they were the longest miles we had ever experienced, for by some mistake the pilot did not arrive, so we went in aRizallaunch without one. We just struggled along as well as we could in the dark till the moon came up, which only mystified us the more with its deceptive shadows. Half a dozen times we ran deep into mud banks, and the sailormen were forced to jump overboard and shove us off. They did not appear to enjoy doing this, and no wonder, for it was a crocodile river.
Swarms of fireflies, which gathered on favourite trees, made a very Christmas-like effect with their throbbing lights. They were lovely, too, in the dark shore shadows, and made sparkling reflections in the black river stream. Watching them we could almost forget our troubles.
Finally, after much winding round and backing off, we turned a bend and saw a line of littletwinkling lights strung along the shore and on floating barges, giving quite a Venetian effect and showing us the town by their reflection. Landing, we walked across the grassy square to the provincial building, with its open courtyards, where there was to be a ball. We danced a rigodon as usual, and stopped late with the Governor General, who liked to show his interest in these functions, of which the Filipinos think so much. There were three bands, which vied with each other for applause.
THE OLD AUGUSTINIAN CHURCH, MANILA.THE OLD AUGUSTINIAN CHURCH, MANILA.
Next morning we got away early on our last leg for Manila and the end of our never-to-be-forgotten journey in the Land of Pine and Palm—that far-away, unfamiliar country where your head gets full of strange thoughts, your body of queer feelings, and your heart has great longings.
We crowded everything we could into those few last days in Manila, for we were loath to think of leaving anything undone. Besides packing and shopping, there were teas and dinners, and the army and navy reception. This was lovely, for it was held in the courtyard filled with trees which were hung with dim lanterns. The good looking officers with their white duck uniforms and brass buttons added to the attractiveness of the scene. The men of our partywere even busier than we, for they had several banquets to which we were not invited. In my husband's journal I find the chronicle of a typical day. After describing the events of a busy morning, he says: "In the afternoon, there was a reception to meet the constabulary, at four; the opening of the new hospital, a most complete and wonderful one, at half after four; the laying of the corner stone at five for the new hotel, which is a very ambitious project and will make all the difference in the world as far as touring in the Philippines is concerned; in the evening, a dinner, and after that a reception, and a dance."
Manila seemed more picturesque, and to have even more atmosphere, as I came to know it better. The old walls and churches and plazas and corners and quarters; the Pasig with its cascos and bancas plying about; the narrow streets winding through the suburbs, with old moss-covered walls, and peeps of tangled gardens within, and balustraded terraces, and the bowers of the pink blossoming "chain of love." It is indeed well-named the Pearl of the Orient.
Atkinson, F. W.: The Philippine IslandsAlexander, Mary C.: The Story of HawaiiAlexander, W. D.: Brief History of the Hawaiian PeopleAmerican Girl, An: Seven Weeks in HawaiiBancroft, Hubert H.: The New PacificBriggs, Charles W.: Progressive PhilippinesBlair, Emma H.: The Philippine IslandsBarron, David: History of the PhilippinesBishop, Isabella L.: The Hawaiian ArchipelagoBlackman, William F.: The Making of HawaiiCoan, Titus: Life in HawaiiCoan, T. M.: Climate of Hawaii—— Hawaiian EthnographyCastle, William R., Jr.: Hawaii Past and PresentChambers, H. E.: Constitutional History of HawaiiCrow, Carl: America and the PhilippinesChamberlin, Frederick: The Philippine ProblemDauncey, Mrs. Campbell: The PhilippinesDevens, John B.: An Observer in the PhilippinesDay, Mrs. E. F.: Princess of ManoaEmerson, N. B.: Unwritten Literature of HawaiiFee, Mary H.: A Woman's Impressions of the PhilippinesForeman, J.: The Philippine IslandsFornander, Abraham: The Polynesian RaceHawaiian Annualfor 1915Hawaiian Islands, Report of Commission of Agriculture and ForestryHawaii, a Primer—answers to queriesHitchcock, C. H.: Hawaii and its VolcanoesJernegan, Prescott F.: A Short History of the PhilippinesJordan and Edermann: Aquatic Resources of HawaiiLibrary of Congress: List of books on HawaiiLindsey, Forbes: The PhilippinesLe Roy, James A.: Philippine Life in Town and Country—— Americans in the PhilippinesLawrence, Mary S.: Old Time Hawaiians and their WokLyman, H. M.: Hawaiian YesterdaysMoses, Mrs. M. E. B.: Unofficial Letters of an Official's WifeMaus, L. M.: An Army Officer on Leave in JapanMusick, John R.: Hawaii: our New PossessionMather, Helen: One Summer in HawaiiRobinson, Albert G.: The War and the PeopleStoddard, C. W.: South-sea IdylsSawyer, Frederick H.: The Inhabitants of the PhilippinesStevens, J. E.: Yesterdays in the PhilippinesTaft, Mrs. William H.: Recollections of Full YearsWestervelt, W. E.: Legends of Old HonoluluWorcester, Dean C.: The Philippines, Past and PresentWilliams, D. R.: The Odyssey of the Philippine CommissionYoung, Lucien: The Real Hawaii
Atkinson, F. W.: The Philippine Islands
Alexander, Mary C.: The Story of Hawaii
Alexander, W. D.: Brief History of the Hawaiian People
American Girl, An: Seven Weeks in Hawaii
Bancroft, Hubert H.: The New Pacific
Briggs, Charles W.: Progressive Philippines
Blair, Emma H.: The Philippine Islands
Barron, David: History of the Philippines
Bishop, Isabella L.: The Hawaiian Archipelago
Blackman, William F.: The Making of Hawaii
Coan, Titus: Life in Hawaii
Coan, T. M.: Climate of Hawaii
—— Hawaiian Ethnography
Castle, William R., Jr.: Hawaii Past and Present
Chambers, H. E.: Constitutional History of Hawaii
Crow, Carl: America and the Philippines
Chamberlin, Frederick: The Philippine Problem
Dauncey, Mrs. Campbell: The Philippines
Devens, John B.: An Observer in the Philippines
Day, Mrs. E. F.: Princess of Manoa
Emerson, N. B.: Unwritten Literature of Hawaii
Fee, Mary H.: A Woman's Impressions of the Philippines
Foreman, J.: The Philippine Islands
Fornander, Abraham: The Polynesian Race
Hawaiian Annualfor 1915
Hawaiian Islands, Report of Commission of Agriculture and Forestry
Hawaii, a Primer—answers to queries
Hitchcock, C. H.: Hawaii and its Volcanoes
Jernegan, Prescott F.: A Short History of the Philippines
Jordan and Edermann: Aquatic Resources of Hawaii
Library of Congress: List of books on Hawaii
Lindsey, Forbes: The Philippines
Le Roy, James A.: Philippine Life in Town and Country
—— Americans in the Philippines
Lawrence, Mary S.: Old Time Hawaiians and their Wok
Lyman, H. M.: Hawaiian Yesterdays
Moses, Mrs. M. E. B.: Unofficial Letters of an Official's Wife
Maus, L. M.: An Army Officer on Leave in Japan
Musick, John R.: Hawaii: our New Possession
Mather, Helen: One Summer in Hawaii
Robinson, Albert G.: The War and the People
Stoddard, C. W.: South-sea Idyls
Sawyer, Frederick H.: The Inhabitants of the Philippines
Stevens, J. E.: Yesterdays in the Philippines
Taft, Mrs. William H.: Recollections of Full Years
Westervelt, W. E.: Legends of Old Honolulu
Worcester, Dean C.: The Philippines, Past and Present
Williams, D. R.: The Odyssey of the Philippine Commission
Young, Lucien: The Real Hawaii