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The Great white tribe in FiUpinia 



Paul Thomas Gilbert 



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FIUPINIA 



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THE iNKW YORK 
PI'PLICLIPRARY 



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315 %' 






Copyright, 1903, by 
Jennings and Pye 



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PREFACE 



THE legendary white tribe that Is said to wander in 
the mountains of Mlndoro is but distantly related to the 
Great White Tribe now scattered through the greater 
part of Filipinia. Extending from the Babuyanes off 
Luzon, to Tawi-Tawi and Sibutu off the coast of Borneo, 
the Great White Tribe has made its presence felt 
throughout the archipelago. 

The following pages are the record of my own im- 
pressions and experiences in the Philippines. The few 
historical and geographical allusions made have been 
r selected only as they were significant, explanatory, 

:- picturesque. A logical arrangement of the chapters will 

enable the reader to survey the islands as a great bird 
hovering above might do — ^will make the map of Filipinia 
"~" "look like a postage-stamp.** 

7 I promise that the reader shall be introduced to all 

the most important members of the Great White Tribe, 
as well as to the representatives of races brown and 
black. We will peep through the hedge together as the 

3 



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4 Preface. 

savages and pagans execute their grotesque dances or 
perform their sacrifices to the god of the volcano. 
Furthermore, the reader shall attend the Oroquieta Ball 
with Maraquita and Don Julian, or, if he likes, with 
" Foxy Grandpa" and "The Arizona Babe/* 

I ought to dedicate this book to many people, — to 
that wonderful brown baby Primitivo, who has written 
that he ** loves me the most best of all the world ;'* to 
" Fresno Bill," that charter member of the Great White 
Tribe, with whom I have knocked around from Zamboanga 
to Vigan ; or to that coterie of college men in old Manila 
who extended me so many courtesies while I was there. 
I send them all my compliments from the homeland, 
and ask the reader, if he will, to do likewise. 

Cincinnati. Ohio, 

December, 1903, 



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CONTENTS 



Chapter Aife 

I. In Old Manila, 9 

II. All About the Town, - - . - . 23 

III. The White Man's Life. ... 35 

IV. Around the Provinces, - - . 50 
V. On Summer Seas, - . _ . 67 

VI. Among the Pagan Tribes, - -^ - 80 

VII. A Lost Tribe and the Servants of 

Mohammed, 97 

VIII. In a Viscayan Village, - - - 121 

IX. The "Brownies" of the Philippines, - - 142 

X. Christmas in Filipinla, - - - 150 

XI. In a Viscayan Home, - - - - 163 

XII. Leaves from a Note-book, - - - 181 

1. Skim Organizes the Constabulary, - 181 

2. Last Days at Oroquieta, - - 195 

XIII. In Camp and Barracks with the Officers 

and Soldiers of the Philippines, - - 223 
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6 Contents. 

Chapter Pn^a 

XIV. Padre Pedro, Recoleto Priest.— The 

Routine of a Friar in the Philippines, - 236 

XV. General Rufino in the Moro Country, - 254 

XVI. On the Iligan-Marahui Road, - - 270 

XVII. The Filipino at Play, - - - 280 

XVIII. Viscayan Ethics and Philosophy, - - 292 



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ILLUSTRATIONS 



Map of Fillplnia. .... Frontispiece 

Facing 

In Old Manila. ---... '^^q 

All About the Town, - - - - . 26 

On Summer Seas, - - - . . ^ 

Negrito Pigmy Vagrants, - - - - 98 

Our Latest Citizens, - - - _ _ 120 

In a Viscayan Village, - - - - - 128 

A Carabao, I44 

The Oldest Cathedral of Manila, - - - 238 

General Rufino in Moro Country, 

Captain Isidro Rillas with the Datto, 

A Deserted Moro Shack, 

Moro. Weapons (Spear and Dirk), 



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256 



- 274 



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CHAPTER I. 

IN OI.D MANII^A. 

As THS big white transport comes to anchor 
three miles out in the green waters of Manila Bay, 
a fleet of launches races out to meet the messen- 
ger from the Far West. The customs officers in 
their blue uniforms, the medical inspectors, and 
the visitors in white duck suits and panama hats, 
taking their ease upon the launches without the 
slightest sign of curiosity, give one his first im- 
pressions of the Oriental life — the white man's 
easy-going life in the Far East. But the ideas 
of the newcomer are to undergo a change after his 
first few days on shore, when he takes up the 
grind, and realizes that his face is getting pasty 
— that the cool veranda and the drive on the 
Luneta do not constitute the entire program, even 
in Manila. 

Unwieldy lighters and strange-looking cos- 
cos now surround the transport, and the new ar- 
rival sees the Filipino for the first time. Under 

9 



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lo The Great White Tribe. 

the woven helmet of the nearest casco squats a 
shriveled woman, one of the witches from Mac- 
beth, stirring a blackened pot of rice. A game- 
cock struggles at his tether in the stern, while the 
deck amidships swarms with wiry brown men, 
with bristling pompadours and feet like rubber, 
with wide-spreading toes. With unintelligible 
cries they crowd the gunwale, spuming the iron 
hull of the transport with long billhooks, as the 
heavy swell sucks out the water, leaving the 
streaming sluices and the great red hull exposed, 
and threatening at the inrush of the sea to bump 
the casco soundly against the solid iron plates of 
the larger ship. A most disreputable-looking 
crew it is, the ragged trousers rolled up to the 
knee, the network shirts, or cotton blouses full 
of holes drawn down outside. Highly excitable, 
and yet good-natured as they work, they take pos- 
session and disgorge the ship, while Chinamen 
descend the hatchways after dirty clothes. 

Off in the hazy distance lies Cavite, or "the 
port," with its white mist of war ships lying at 
anchor where the stout Dutch galleons rode, in 
1647, to attack the Spanish caravels, retiring only 



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In O1.D MANI1.A. II 

after the Dutch admiral fell wounded mortally; 
where later, in the nineteenth century, the Spanish 
fleet put out to meet the white armada, the grim 
battleships of Admiral Dewey's line. Where now 
the lazy sailing vessels and the blackened tramps 
are anchored, lay, in 1593, the hostile Chinese 
junks, with the barbaric eye daubed on the bows, 
the gunwales bristling with iron cannon that had 
scorned the typhoons of the China Sea and gath- 
ered in Manila Bay. 

This bay has been the scene of history- 
making since the sixteenth century. Soon after 
the flotilla of Legaspi landed the first Spanish 
settlers on the crescent beach around Manila 
Bay, the little garrison was put to test by the in- 
vasion of the Chinese pirate, Li Ma Hong. The 
memory of that brave defense in which the Span- 
iards routed the Mongolian invader, even the dis- 
aster of that first of May can never drown. In 
1582 the little fleet put out against the Japanese 
corsair, Taifusa, and returned Victorious. In 
1610 the fleet of the Dutch pirates was destroyed 
off Mariveles. Those were stirring days when, 
but a few years later, the armada of Don Juan de 



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13 The Great White Tribe. 

Silva left Manila Bay again to test the mettle of 
the Dutch. Another naval encounter with the 
Dutch resulted in a victory for Spanish arms in 
1620 in San Bernardino Straits. And off Cone- 
gidor, whose blue peak marks the entrance ti 
Manila Bay, the Dutchmen were again defeated 
by the galleons of Don Geronimo de Silva. Now, 
near the Cavite shore, is seen the twisted wreck of 
one of the ill-fated men of tvar that went down 
under the intolerable fire from Dewey's broad- 
sides. And in 1899 the Spanish transports left 
Manila Bay forever under the command of Don 
Diego de los Rios, with the remnant of the Span- 
ish troops aboard. 

The city of Manila lies in a broad crescent, 
with its white walls and the domes of churches 
glowing in the sun. On landing at the Anda mon- 
ument, you find the gray walls and the moss- 
grown battlements of the old garrison — a, winding 
driveway leading across the swampy moat and 
disappearing through the mediaeval city gate. 
This portion of Manila, laid out in the sixteenth 
century by De Legaspi, occupies the territory on 
the south side of the Pasig River at the mouth. 



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In OIvD ManiIvA. ' 13 

the frowning walls of the Curatel de Santiago 
loom above the bustling river opposite the cus- 
totns-house. 

Here, where the young American army offi- 
cers look out expectantly for the arrival of the 
transport that is to bring them their promotions, 
or to take them home, Geronimo de Silva was 
confined for not pursuing the Dutch vessels after 
the sea fight off Corregidor. The crumbling walls 
still whisper of intrigue and secrecy. The fort 
was built in 1587, and became the base of opera- 
tions, not only against the pirate fleets of the 
Chinese, the Moros, and the Dutch, but also in 
the riots of the Chinese and the Japanese that 
broke out frequently in the old days. At one time 
twenty thousand Chinamen were beaten back by 
an alliance of the Spaniards, Japanese, and na- 
tives. On this historic ground the treaty was 
made in 1570 between the Spaniards and the rajas 
of Manila, Soliman and Lacandola. The walls 
survived the fire of 1603. The earthquake causing 
the evacuation of Manila could not shake them. 
Another prisoner of state, Corcuera, who had 
fought the Moros in the Jolo Archipelago, was 
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14 . The Great White Tribe. 

locked up in the Cuartel de Santiago at the in- 
stance of his Machiavellian successor. In 1642 
the fort was strengthened by additional artillery 
because of an expected visit from the Dutch. To- 
day a soldier in a khaki uniform mounts guard at 
the street entrance. The courtyard is adorned by 
pyramids of cannon-balls and tidy rows of bonga- 
trees. The soldiers' quarters line the avenue on 
either side, and bugle-calls resound where for- 
merly was heard the call of the night watchman, 
A number of elaborate but narrow passages 
— dim, gloomy archways, where the chain and 
windlass stand dust-covered from disuse — connect 
the walled town with the extra-muros sections. 
The Puerto del Parian^ on the Ermita side, is one 
of the most imposing of these gates. Near the 
botanical gardens on the boulevard, at the small 
booth where Juliana sells cigars and bottled soda, 
following the turnpike over the moat, you come 
to the Parian gate, crowned by the Spanish arms, 
in crumbling bas-relief. Beyond the drawbridge 
— lowered never to be raised again — where rum- 
bling pony-carts crowd the pedestrians to the wall, 
the passage opens into gloomy dungeons, with 



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In OivD Manii^a. 15 

barred windows looking out upon the stagnant 
waters of the moat. With an involuntary shud- 
der, you pass on. A native policeman, in an 
opera-bouffe uniform, stands at the further end 
in order to dispatch the vehicles that can not pass 
each other in the narrow gate. Windowless, yel- 
low walls, upon the corners of the streets, make 
reckless driving very dangerous, and collisions 
frequently occur. A vacant sentry-box stands 
just within the city walls, and, turning here into 
the long street, you immediately find yourself 
in an old Spanish town. 

Here the grand churches and the public build- 
ings are located ; the cathedral, after the Romano- 
Byzantine style of architecture; the Palacio, built 
after Spanish notions of magnificence, around a 
courtyard shaded by rare trees; and many other 
edifices, used for official and ecclesiastic pur- 
poses. The streets are paved with cobblestone 
and laid out regularly in squares, in accordance 
with the plan of De Legaspi, so that one side or 
the other will be always in the shade. Beautiful 
plazas, with their palms and statues, frequently 
relieve the glare of the white walls. The side- 



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i6 The Gre;at White Tribe. 

walks are narrow, and are sheltered by projecting 
balconies. 

The heavily-barred windows, ponderous doors, 
and quaint signboards give the streets an old- 
world aspect, while Calle Real is spanned by 
an arched gallery, like the Venetian Bridge of 
Sighs. Tailor-shops, laundries, restaurants, and 
barber-shops, where swinging punkas waft the 
odor of bay rum through open doors, suggest a 
scene from some forgotten story-book or the 
stage-setting for an Elizabethan play. In the 
commercial streets the absence of show-windows 
will be noticed. Bookstores display their wares 
on stands outside, while of the contents of the 
other shops, one can obtain no adequate idea until 
he enters through the open doors. The interest- 
ing signboards, whether they can be interpreted 
or not, tend to excite the curiosity. "Lo^ Dos 
Hertnano/' (The Two Brothers) is a tailor-shop, 
a Sastreria; and the shoestore a Zapateria. The 
family grocery-store, El Gloho, is advertised by 
a huge globe, battered from long years of service; 
and La Lira, or the music-store, may be known 
by the sign of the gold lyre. 



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In OiyD Manila. 17 

These streets have been the scene of many a 
drama in the past. Earthquakes in 1645, ^^ 1863, 
and 1880, caused great loss of life and property. 
The plague broke out in 1628, when Spaniards, 
Filipinos, and Chinese were swept off indiscrimi- 
nately. Later, epidemics of smallpox and cholera 
have made a prison and a pesthouse of Manila. 
Only in 1902 the city suffered from a run of chol- 
era, and the Americans, in spite of all precautions, 
could not stop the spread of the disease. The 
streets were flushed at night; districts of native 
houses were put to the torch, and the detention- 
camp was full of suffering humanity. The na- 
tives, in their ignorance, went through the streets 
in long processions, carrying the images of saints, 
chanting, and burning candles, and at night would 
throw the bodies of the dead into the river or the 
canal. The ships lay wearily at quarantine out in 
the bay, and the chorus of bells striking the hour 
at night was heard over the quiet waters. Officers 
patrolled the streets, inspected drains and cess- 
pools where the filth of ages had collected, giving 
the forgotten comers of Manila such a cleaning as 
they never had received before. 



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i8 Th^ Grejat White Tribe. 

But there were days of triumph and rejoicing 
— days such as had come to Greece and Rome ; days 
when the level of life was raised to heights of in- 
spiration. Not only have the streets re-echoed to 
the martial music of the victorious Americans 
when Governor Taft or the vice-governor were 
v/elcomed, but the town had rung with shouts of 
triumph when provincial troops had come back 
from the conquest of barbarians, or when the 
fleets returned from victories over the Dutch and 
English and the Moro pirates of the southern 
archipelago. And the streets reverberated to the 
sound of drum and trumpet when, in 1662, the 
special companies of guards were organized to 
put down the rebellion of the Chinese in the sub- 
urbs. But in 1762 the town capitulated to the 
English, and the occupation by Americans more 
than a century later, was a repetition of the scenes 
enacted then. 

Because of the volcanic condition of the island, 
the houses can not be built more than two stories 
high. The ground floor is of stone, and contains, 
besides the storehouse or a suite of living rooms, 



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In OivD Manila. 19 

the stables, arranged around a tiled courtyard, 
where the carriages are washed. A broad stair- 
way conducts to the main corridor above. The 
floor, of polished hardwood, is uncarpeted and 
scrupulously clean. Each morning the muchachos 
(house-boys) mop the floor with kerosene, skating 
around the room on rags tied to their feet, or 
pushing a piece of burlap on all fours across the 
floor. The walls are frescoed pink and blue; the 
ceiling is often of painted canvas. The windows, 
fitted with translucent shell in tiny squares, slide 
back and forth, so that the balcony can be thrown 
open to the light. Double walls, making an alcove 
on one side, keep out the heat of the ascending or 
descending sun. The balcony at evening is a 
favorite resort, and visitors are entertained in 
open air. In the interior arrangement of the 
houses, little originality is shown, the Spaniards 
having insisted upon merely formal principles 
of art. The stiff arrangement of the chairs, fac- 
ing each other in precise rows, as if a conclave 
were about to be held, does not invite conviviality. 
There are few pictures on the walls, — a faded 



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20 The; Gre;at Whit^ Tribe:. 

chromo, possibly, in a gilt frame, representing 
some old-fashioned prospect of Madrid, or the 
tinted portrait of the royal family. 

The Spanish residents and the mestizos en- 
tertain with great politeness and formality. Five 
o'clock is the fashionable hour for visiting, as 
earlier in the afternoon the family is liable to be 
in negligee. The Spanish women, in loose, morn- 
ing gowns, or blouses, and in flapping slippers, 
present a rather slovenly appearance during morn- 
ing hours; also the children, in their "union" 
suits, split up the back, impress the stranger as 
untidy. During the noon siesta everybody goes to 
sleep, to come to life late in the afternoon. At 
eight o'clock the chandelier is lighted and the 
evening meal is served. This is a very formal 
dinner, consisting of innumerable courses of the 
same thing cooked in different styles. A glass of 
tinto wine, a glass of water, and a toothpick whit- 
tled by the loving hands of the muchacho, 
finishes the meal. The kitchen is located in the 
rear, and generally overlooks the court, and near 
by are the bathroom and the laundry. 

In the walled city small hotels are numerous, 



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In O1.D Manila. 21 

their entry-ways well banked with potted palms. 
The usual stone courtyard, damp with water, is 
surrounded by the pony-stalls, where dirty stable- 
boys go through their work mechanically, smok- 
ing cigarettes. The dining-room and office occupy 
most of the second floor. This is the library, re- 
ception-room, and ladies' parlor, all in one; the 
guest-rooms open into this apartment. These are 
very small, containing a big Spanish tester-bed, 
with a cane bottom, and the other necessary fur- 
niture. The sliding windows open out into the 
street or the attractive courtyard, and the room 
reminds you somewhat of an opera-box. My own 
room looked out at the hospital of San Jose, where 
a big clock, rather weatherbeaten, tolled the hours. 
Manila to-day, however, is a contradiction. 
Striking anachronisms occur from the confusion 
of Malayan, Asiatic, European, and American 
traditions. Heavy escort-wagons, drawn by tow- 
ering army mules, crowd to the wall the fragile 
guiles and the carromata (two- wheeled gigs), 
with their tough native ponies. Tall East In- 
dians, in their red turbans ; Armenian merchants, 
soldiers in khaki uniforms, and Chinese coolies 



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23 The Great White Tribe. 

bending under heavy loads, jostle each other un- 
der the projecting balconies, while Filipinos shuf- 
fle peacefully along the curb. 

The new American saloons look rather out of 
place in such a curious environment, and telegraph 
wires concentrated at the city wall seem even more 
incongruous. 



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CHAPTER 11. 

AI,I, ABOUT THE TOWN. 

The wide streets radiating from the Bridge of 
Spain are lined with lemonade stands, where the 
cube of ice is sheltered from the sun by striped 
awnings. Leaving the walled town on the river 
side — the gate has been destroyed by earthquakes 
— you can take the ferry over to the Tondo side. 
The ferryboat is a round-bottomed, wobbly sam- 
pan, with a tiny cabin in the stem. You crouch 
clown, waiting for the boat to roll completely over, 
which at first it seems inclined to do, or try to plan 
some method of escape in case the pilot gets in 
front of one of the swift-moving tugs. You have 
good reason to congratulate yourself on being 
landed at a stone-quay in a tangle of small 
launches, ferryboats, and cascoes. The Tondo 
Canal may be crossed on a covered barge, poled 
by an ancient boatman, who collects the fares — 
a copper cent of Borneo, Straits Settlements, or 

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24 Th]^ Gr^at White Tribe. 

Hong Kong coinage — much in the same way as 
the pilot of the Styx collects the obolus. 

Under the long porch of the customs-house, 
a dummy engine noisily plies up and down among 
the long-horned carabaos and piles of merchan- 
dise. Types of all nations are encountered here. 
The immigration office swarms with Chinamen 
herded together, rounded up by some contractor. 
Every Chinaman must have his photograph, his 
number, and description in the immigration offi- 
cer's possession. Indian merchants, agents of the 
German, Spanish, and English business firms are 
looking after new invoices. A party of American 
tourists, just arrived from China, are awaiting 
the inspection of their baggage. 

The Bridge of Spain, that famous artery of 
commerce, over which a stream of carabao-carts, 
crowded tram-cars, pleasure vehicles, and army 
wagons flows continuously, spans the Pasig River 
at the head of the Escolta in Binondo. Here the 
bazaars and European business houses are located, 
while the avenues that branch off lead to other 
populous and swarming districts. La Extramena, 
a grocery and wine-store ; La Estrella del Norte — 



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Ali. About the Town. 25 

"The North Star" — diamond and jewelry-store; 
the Sombreria, hatstore, advertised by a huge 
wooden hat hung out above the street; and a 
tobacco booth, are situated on the corners where 
the bridge and the Escolta meet. The Metro- 
politan policeman — one of the tall Americanos uni- 
formed in khaki riding-breeches and stiff leggings 
— who, in former days, controlled the traffic of the 
street, is now supplanted by a Filipino comic-opera 
policeman. Very few of the old "Mets" are left. 
It was a body of picked men, the finest soldiers 
in the volunteer troops, and the most efficient po- 
lice force in the world. This officer on the Escolta 
used to be a genius in his line. When balky Fili- 
pino ponies blocked the traffic in the crowded 
thoroughfare, it was this officer that straightened 
out the tangle. If the tram-car happened to run off 
the track, it was the "Met" who showed the driver 
how to put it on again. 

The river above the bridge is lined with lat- 
ticed balconies ; but from the veranda of the Paris 
Restaurant, when that establishment was in its 
glory, one could sit for hours and watch the bust- 
ling river life below. The thatched tops of the 



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26 Th^ Gr^at Whit^ Tribe). 

huddled cascos formed a compact roof that ex- 
tended half across the stream. Upon these nonde- 
script craft hundreds of Filipinos dwelt, doing 
their washing and their cooking on the decks 
The scanty clothes are hanging out to dry on lines, 
while naked brats are splashing in the dirty water, 
clinging to the tightened hawser. 

Launches go scudding under the low bridge, 
rending the air with vicious toots. Unwieldly 
cascos are poled down the river, laden heavily with 
cocoanuts and hemp. Small floating islands whirl 
along in the swift current, and are carried out to 
sea. At the Muelle del Rey—iht "King's Dock" 
— lie the inter-island steamers, and the gangs of 
laborers are busy loading and unloading them. 
Carabao drays are hauling fragrant cargoes of to- 
bacco and Manila hemp, while over the gangplank 
runs a chain of men, gutting the warehouse of its 
merchandise. The captain of the Romulus stands 
on the bridge, daintily smoking a cigarette, and 
supervising the disposal of the demijohns of tinto 
wine. The derrick keeps up an incessant racket 
as the hold is gradually filled. Although the 
Romulus is advertised to sail to-day at noon, she is 



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Aix About thk Town. 27 

as liable to sail at ten o'clock, or possibly to-mor- 
row afternoon; and although bound for Iloilo or 
Cebu, you can not be at all sure what her destina- 
tion really is. She may return after a month 
from a long rambling cruise among the southern 
isles. The Spanish mariners, in rakish Tam o' 
Shanter caps, lounge at the entrance to the ware- 
house, or the office of the Compania Maritima, 
dreamily smoking cigarettes, sometimes imperi- 
ously ordering the laborers to "sigue, hombrer 
(get along!) a warning that the Filipino has 
grown too familiar with to heed. 

Armenian and Indian bazaars, where ivory 
and the rich fabrics of the Orient are sold ; cafes 
and drugstores, harness-shops, tobacco-shops, and 
drygoods-stores, emporiums of every kind, — ^are 
found on the Escolta, where the prices would as- 
tonish any one not yet accustomed to the manners 
of the Far East. During the morning hours the 
guiles and the carromata rattle along the bumpy 
cobblestones, the native driver, or cochero, in a 
white shirt, smoking a cigarette, and resting his 
bare feet upon the dashboard. Behind the curtain 
of a passing quilez you can catch a glimpse of 



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28 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

brown eyes, raven hair, and olive-tinted cheeks, 
displayed with all the coquetry of a Manila belle. 
A Filipino family in a rickety cart, tilted at an im- 
possible angle, are drawn by a moth-eaten pony, 
mostly bones. Public conveyances — if these are 
not indeed a myth — are most exasperating. You 
can never find one when you want it, even at the 
"Public Carriage Station." If by chance you come 
across one in the street, the driver will ignore your 
signal and drive on. Evidently he selects this 
walk in life merely to discharge the obligations 
of his conscience, for he never seems to want a 
passenger, nor will he take one till he finds his 
vehicle possessed by strategy. The gamins of the 
comer offer eagerly to find a carromata for you, 
but they frequently forget the object of their mis- 
sion in their search. Sometimes, when you have 
cea3ed to think about a carromata, one of these 
small ragamuffins will pursue you, with a sheep- 
ish-looking coachman and disreputable vehicle in 
tow. Then twenty boys crowd round and claim 
rewards for having found a rig for you ; as they 
all look alike, you toss a ten-cent piece among the 
crowd and let them fight it out among themselves. 



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Aix About the Town. 29 

The driver will begin by making some objec- 
tion. He will ask to be discharged at noon, or he 
will make you promise not to turn him over to an- 
other Americano. When the preliminary arrange- 
ments are completed, lighting his cigarette, he 
cramps himself up in the box, and, maintaining a 
continual clucking, larrups his skinny pony as the 
crazy gig goes rocking down the street. The 
driver never seems to know the town; even the 
post-office and the Bridge of Spain are terra in- 
cognita to him. And so you guide him, saying 
''silla/' left, or "mano" right, "direcho/' straight 
ahead, and " 'spera/' stop. You must be careful 
when you stop, however, as while you are busy with 
your purchases, your man is liable to run away. 
While, as a general rule, he shakes his head at the 
repeated inquires of "ocupatof (taken?) even 
though the carriage may not be engaged, if some 
one more unscrupulous or desperate should step 
in, you would find yourself without a rig. And 
the result would be the same if dinner-time came 
round, and he had not had ''sow sow" Even the 
fact that he had not collected any fare would not 
deter him from his resolution. 



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30 The Great White Tribe. 

Is it any wonder, then, that, after all these 
difficulties, no complaint is made against the 
rickety, slat-seated carts, with wheels that seem . 
to bar the entrance of the passenger; against 
the sorry-looking quilez, — that attenuated two- 
wheeled 'bus, where the four passengers must 
sit with interwoven legs, getting the more im- 
plicated as the cart goes bounding on? No; 
the Americans are glad enough to ride in al- 
most any kind of vehicle. But you must be good- 
natured, even though the cab is tilted at an angle 
of some thirty-odd degrees, and even though, in • 
getting out, which is accomplished from the quilez 
in the rear, you lift the tiny pony off his feet. 
It is enough to take the breath away to ride in one 
of these conveyances through the congested por- 
tions of Manila. Not only does the turning to the 
left seem strange, but taking the sharp corners 
— an accomplishment for which the two-wheeled 
gig is well adapted — frequently comes near pre- 
cipitating a collision ; and, in order to avoid this, 
the driver pulls the pony to his haunches. When 
the coast is clear, you will go rattling merrily 
away, the quilez door, unfastened, swinging back 



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Ai.1. About the Town. 31 

and forth abandonedly, regardless of appearances. 
It is impossible to satisfy the driver on discharg- 
ing him, unless by paying him three times the fee. 
The stranger in Manila, counting out the unfa- 
miliar media pesos and pesetas, never knows when 
he has paid enough. Whether to pay his fifteen 
cents, American or Mexican, for the first hour, 
and ten cents, or centavos, for the hour succeed- 
ing, and how many media pesetas make a quarter 
of a dollar in our currency, — these are the ques- 
tions that annoy and puzzle the newcomer, till he 
learns to disregard expense, and order his livery 
*from the hotels or private stables. 

At noon the corrugated iron blinds of the 
shops are pulled down ; all the carriages have dis- 
appeared; the only sign of life in the Escolta is 
the comical little tram-car, loaded down with lit- 
tle brown men dressed in white, the driver tooting 
a toy horn, and all the passengers dismounting to 
assist the car uphill. 

The banking center of Manila, built around a 
dusty plaza in the^ Tondo district, and consisting 
of low buildings occupied by offices of shipping 
and commercial companies, suggests a scene from 



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32 The Great White Tribe. 

"The Merchant of Venice" or "Othello." English 
firms — such as Warner, Barnes & Co.; Smith, 
Bell & Co.; the Hong Kong-Shanghai Banking 
Corporation, where the silver pesos jingle as the 
deft clerks stack them up or handle them with 
their small spades — are situated hereabouts. 

Near by, and on an emerald plaza, stand the 
buildings of the Insular Tobacco Company and of 
the Oriente Hotel. These buildings are the finest 
modern structures in Manila. Carriages are wait- 
ing in the street in front of the hotel, and at the 
entrance may be seen a group of army officers in 
khaki uniform, in white and gold, or — very much 
more modern — olive drab. The dining-room is 
entered through the rustling bead-work curtain. 
Here the Chinese waiters, in long gowns glide 
noiselessly around. 

But the Rosario, where opium-saturated China- 
men sit tailor-fashion at the entrance to their little 
stalls — where narrow galleries and alleys swarm 
with Chinese life — is one of the most interesting 
and complex of all Manila's thoroughfares. On 
one side of the street the drygoods-shops are 
shaded from the sun by curtains in broad stripes 



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Ai.!. About the Town. 33 

of blue and white. The dreamy merchant sits 
barelegged on the doorsill, and is not to be dis- 
turbed by the mere entrance of a purchaser. The 
opposite side is lined with Chino hardware stores, 
and in each one of them the stock is just the same. 
These shops supply the stock of merchandise to 
the provincial agents; for an intricate feudal sys- 
tem is maintained among the Chinese of the archi- 
pelago. The rich Manila merchants who have 
seen their fellow-countrymen safe through from 
China, and have furnished goods on credit, reap 
the profits like so many Oriental Shylocks. 

At four o'clock the shopping begins again in 
the Escolta. Apparently the whole town has 
turned out for a ride. Since the Americans have 
come, odd sights have been seen in Manila, — 
cavalry horses harnessed to pony vehicles^, phae- 
tons drawn by Filipino ponies, and victorias, in- 
tended for a pair of native horses, hastily con- 
verted into surreys. Not only do the Spanish 
women come out in their black mantillas^ but the 
Filipino belles and the mestiza girls, in their stiff 
dresses of jose and pina cloth. A carriage-load of 
painted cheeks and burnished pompadours of Jap- 



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34 The Great White Tribe. 

anese frail sisterhood drives by upon its way to 
the Luneta. Army officers in white dress uni- 
form, the wives and daughters of the officers, 
bareheaded and in dainty gowns, stop off at 
Clark's for lemonade, ice-cream, and candy. Sol- 
diers and sailors strolling along the street, or driv- 
ing rickety native carts, enjoy themselves after the 
manner of their kind. A brace of well-kept po- 
nies, tugging like game fish, trot briskly away 
with jingling harness, with the coachman and the 
footman dressed in white, a foreign consul loung- 
ing in the cushions of the neat victoria. A private 
carruaje, drawn by a sleek pony, hastens along, 
the tiny footman clinging on for dear life to the 
extension seat behind. 

After the whirl on the Luneta, where the mili- 
tary band plays as the oddly-assorted carriages go 
circling round like fixtures on a steam carousal, 
the pleasure-seekers leave the driveway on the sea 
deserted; soldiers and citizens vacate the green 
benches, and adjourn for dinner. The Spanish 
life is best seen at the Metropole, where senors, 
senoritas, and senoras, exquisitely gowned, sip 
cognac and coffee at the little tables, carrying on 



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ALh About the Town. 35 

an animated conversation, with expressive flashes 
of bright eyes or gestures with elaborately-jeweled 
hands. 

Below, in the Luzon cafe, the Rizal orchestra 
is playing the impassioned Spanish waltzes, ''So- 
bre las Olas/' ''La Paloma" to the click of billiard 
balls and the guffaws of soldiers. When the even- 
ing program ends with "DmV/' every soldier in a 
khaki uniform — ^bronzed, grizzled fellows, many 
of them back from some campaign out in the 
provinces — ^will rise immediately to his feet, re- 
spectfully remove his hat, and as the music that 
reminds him of the home-land swells and gathers 
volume, fill the corridors with cheer upon cheer as 
the lights are put out ; then the sleeping coachman 
rouses himself, and starts the reluctant pony on 
the journey home. 



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CHAPTER III. 

THE WHITE man's UFE. 

It happened that my first home in Manila was 
a temporary one, shared with a hundred others, 
at the nipa barracks at the Exposition grounds. 
Who of all those that were similarly situated will 
forget the long row of mimosa-trees that made, a 
leafy archway over the cool street; or the fruit 
merchants squatting beside the bunches of bananas 
and the tiny oranges spread out upon the ground ? 
There was the pink pavilion where that enterpris- 
ing Chinaman, Ah Gong, conducted his indifferent 
restaurant. After these many days I can still hear 
the clatter of the plates, the jingle of the knives 
and forks, placed on the tables by the Chinese 
waiters. There was the crowd on the veranda 
waiting for the second table, opening their corre- 
spondence as they waited. And what an inde- 
scribable sensation was imparted on receiving the 
first letter in a foreign land ! 

The long, cool barrack-rooms were swept by 
36 



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The White Man's Lii^E. 37 

the fresh breezes. Here, in the bungalow, the 
army cots had been arranged in rows and covered 
by mosquito-bars suspended from the wires 
stretched overhead. When tucked inside of the 
mosquito-bar, one felt as though he were a part 
of a menagerie. ''Muchacho" was the first new 
word you learned. It was advisable to call for a 
muchacho often, even though you did not need his 
services, in order to exploit your own experience 
and your superiority. And here you were first 
cheated by the wily Chinese peddlers — although 
you had cut them down to half their price — when 
they unrolled their packs of crepe pajamas, net- 
work underwear^ and other merchandise. 

And all one Sunday afternoon you listened to 
a lecture from the President of the Manila Board 
of Health, who told of the diseases that the flesh 
was heir to in the Philippines, and cheerfully as- 
sured you that within a month or two your weight 
would be reduced to the extent of twenty-five or 
fifty pounds. And after dinner — ^where you 
learned that chiquos though they looked a good 
deal like potatoes, were a kind of fruit — ^while you 
were strolling down the avenue beyond the market- 



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38 The Great White Tribe. 

house, you got a ducking from a sudden shower 
that ceased quite as unceremoniously as it had be- 
gun. There was excitement in the bungalow that 
night because of its invasion by a hostile monkey. 
An impromptu vigilance committee finally suc- 
ceeded in ejecting the unwelcome visitor, persuad- 
ing him of the superior advantages of "Barracks 
B." 

Together with a few dissenters, I moved out 
next morning, finding better quarters in the first 
floor of a Spanish house in Magallanes. We 
made the best of an old ouin opposite, which we 
considered picturesque, and which was occupied 
by Filipino squatters, who conducted a hand laun- 
dry there. Our first muchacho, Valentine, sur- 
prised us by existing on the ten-cent dinners of 
the Chinese chophouse on the comer. But he as- 
sured us that it was a good place ; that the greasy 
Chinaman, who fried the sausages and boiled the 
rice back in the tiny den, was a great favorite. At 
our own restaurant, two Negro women made the 
best corn-fritters we had ever tasted ; a green par- 
rot and a monkey squawked and chattered on the 
balustrade; a Filipino boy played marches on a 
cracked piano-forte. 



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Th^ Whit^ Man's Life. 39 

And so we lived behind the heavily-barred 
windows, watching the shifting throng — the 
staggering coolies, girls with trays of oranges 
upon their heads, and men in curiously fash- 
ioned hats — driving around the city in the after- 
noon (for Valentine was at his best in getting 
carromatas under false pretenses) till the little 
family broke up. The first to go returned after a 
day or two, almost in tears with the alarming in- 
formation that the mayor of the town that he had 
been assigned to was a naked savage ; that what he 
supposed was pepper on the fried eggs he had had 
for breakfast, had turned out to be black ants — 
and would n't we please pay his carromata fare, 
because he was completely out of funds? 

The carabao carts gradually removed our bag- 
gage. Valentine was faithful to the last. Most of 
us met each other later, and exchanged notes. One 
had escaped the target practice of ladrones; one 
had been lost among the mountains of Benguet; 
another had been carried to Manila on a coasting 
steamer, reaching the Civil hospital in time to 
fight against the fevers that had wasted him ; and 
poor Fitz died of cholera in one of the most lonely 
villages among the Negros hills. 



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40 The Great White Tribe. 

"Won't those infernal bells stop ringing for 
a while and let a fellow go to sleep ?" said Howard 
as he got out of bed. "Look at those creatures, 
will you?" pointing to the fat mosquitoes at the 
top of the mosquito-bar. "The vampires ! How 
do you suppose they got in, an3rway?" 

"It beats me," said the Duke. "It is n't the 
mosquitoes or the bells : that ball of fire that 's 
shining through the window makes a perfect oven 
of the room." 

The merciless sun had risen over the low roofs 
of the walled city, and the heat was radiating from 
the white walls and the scorching streets. The 
Duke was sitting on the edge of the low army cot 
in his pajamas and his bedroom slippers, smoking 
a native cigarette. 

"It must be about ten o'clock," said Howard. 
"I wonder if the Chinaman left any breakfast for 
us." 

"Probably. A couple of cold fried eggs, or a 
clammy dish of oatmeal and condensed milk. 
Shall we get up and go somewhere?" 

"I can't find any clothes," said Howard ; "this 
place is turning into a regular chaos, anyway." 



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Th^ White Man's Life. 41 

It was indeed a chaos, — lines of clothes where the 
mosquitoes swarmed, papers and books scattered 
about the floor, pajamas, duck suits, towels on 
every chair, and muddy white shoes strewn 
around. "Doesn't the muchacho ever clean 
things up?" 

"That's nothing," said the Duke; "wait till 
the Chinaman runs off with all your washing. I 
can lend you a white suit; and, say, — tell the 
muchacho to come in and bianco a few shoes." 

As there are no apartment-houses in Manila, 
the young clerk on small salary will usually live in 
a furnished room in the walled city. For the first 
few months it is a rather dreary life. The cool 
veranda and the steamer chair, after the day's 
work, is a luxury denied the young Americans 
within the city walls. The list of amusements 
that Manila offers is an unattractive one. There 
is a baseball game between two companies of 
soldiers, or between the Government employees 
representing different departments. There is the 
cock-fight out at Santa Ana, Sunday mornings 
and fiesta days; but this is mostly patronized by 



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42 The Great White Tribe. 

natives, and is not especially agreeable to Amer- 
icans. The Country club— reached after a long 
drive out Malate way, past the Malate fort that 
bears the marks of Dewey's shells, past the old 
church once occupied by soldiers, through the rice- 
pads where the American troops first met the In- 
surrecto firing line — is little more than a mere 
gambling-house. It is now visited by those whose 
former resorts in the walled city have been broken 
up by the constabulary. 

The races of the Santa Mesa Jockey club are 
held on Sunday afternoons. It is a rather dusty 
drive out to the track. A number of noisy "road- 
houses" along the way, where drinking is going 
on ; the Paco cemetery, where the bleached bones 
have been piled around the cross, — these are the 
sole diversions that the road affords. The races 
are interesting only in the opportunity they offer 
to observe the native types. Here you will find 
the Filipino dandy in his polished boots, his low- 
crowned derby hat, and baggy trousers. He 
makes the boast that he has not walked fifty 
meters on Manila's streets in the past year. This 
dainty little fellow always travels in a carriage. 



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Th^ Whit^ Man's Life. 43 

He flicks the ashes off his cigarette with his long 
finger-nail as he stands by while the gay-colored 
jockeys are being weighed in. Up in the grand- 
stand, in a private box, a party of mestiza girls, 
elaborately gowned, are sipping lemonade, or eat- 
ing sherbet and vanilla cakes, while one of the 
jockeys leans admiringly upon the rail. The 
silver pesos stacked up on the table in the center of 
the box are given to a man in waiting to be 
wagered on the various events. The finishes are 
seldom very close, the Filipino ponies scampering 
around the turf like rats. A native band, however, 
adds to the excitement which the clamor at the 
booking office and the animated chatter of duenas. 
caballeros, jockeys, and senoritas in the galleries 
intensifies. 

Manila, the City of churches, celebrates its 
Sabbath in its own peculiar way. The Protestant 
churches suffer in comparison with the grand 
church of San Sebastian — set up from the iron 
plates made in Belgium — and the churches of the 
various religious orders. Magnificence and show 
appeal most strongly to the Filipino. He is 
taught to look down on the Protestant religion as 
4 



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44 The; Great White Tribe. 

plebeian; the priests regard the Protestant with 
condescending superciliousness. Until the trans- 
portation facilities can be extended there will be 
no general coming together of Americans even 
on Sunday morning, as the colony from the 
United States is scattered far and wide through- 
out the city. 

As his salary increases, the young Government 
employee looks around for better quarters. These 
he secures by organizing a small club and renting 
the upper floor of one of the large Spanish houses. 
As the young men in Manila are especially con- 
genial, there is little difficulty in conducting such 
an enterprise. The members of a lodging club 
thus formed will generally reserve a table for 
their use at one of the adjacent boarding-houses or 
hotels. 

The fashionable world — the heads of depart- 
ments, general army officers, and wealthy mer- 
chants — occupy grand residences in Ermita or in 
San Miguel. . These houses, set back in extensive 
gardens, are approached by driveways banked 
luxuriously with palms. A massive iron fence, 
mounted on stone posts, gives to the residence a 



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Th^ White Man's Life. 45 

certain tone of dignity as well as a suggestion of 
exclusiveness. Those situated in Calle Real (Er- 
mita) have verandas, balconies, and summer- 
houses looking out upon the sea. 

The prosperous bachelor has his stable, stable- 
boys, and Chinese cook. At eight o'clock A. M. 
the China ponies will be harnessed ready to drive 
him to the office, and at four o'clock the carriage 
calls for him to take him home. Most of the 
Americans thus situated seldom leave their homes. 
There is, of course, the Army and Navy club in 
the walled city, and the University club in Er- 
mita; but aside from an occasional visit to these 
organizations, he is satisfied with a short turn on 
the Luneta and the privacy of his own house. 

The afternoon teas at the University club, 
where you can see the sunset lighting up Cor- 
regidor and glorifying the white battleships, the 
monthly entertainments at the Oriente, and the 
governor's reception, are the social features of 
Manila life. The ladies do considerable enter- 
taining, wearing themselves out in the perform- 
ance of their social duties. As a relaxation, an 
informal picnic party will sometimes charter a 



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46 The Great White Tribe. 

small launch, and spend the day along the pictur- 
esque banks of the Pasig. The customs of Manila 
make an obligation of a frequent visit to the Civil 
hospital, if it so happen that a friend is sick there. 
Ic is a long ride along Calle Iris, with its rows of 
bamboo-trees, past the merry-go-round, Bilibid 
prison, and the railway station; but the patients 
at the hospital appreciate these visits quite suffi- 
ciently to compensate for any inconveniences that 
may have been caused. 

During the holiday season, certain attractions 
are offered at the theaters. While these are 
mostly given by cheap vaudeville companies that 
have drifted over from Australia or the China 
coast, when any deserving entertainment is an- 
nounced the "upper ten" turn out en masse. Dur- 
ing the memorable engagement of the Twenty- 
fourth Infantry minstrels, the boxes at the Zorilla 
theater were filled by all the pride and beauty of 
Manila. Captains and lieutenants from Fort San- 
tiago and Camp Wallace, naval officers from the 
Cavite colony, matrons and maidens from the 
civil and the military "sets," made a vivacious 
audience, while the Filipinos packed in the sur- 



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The White Man's Lii^E. 47 

rounding galleries, applauded with enthusiasm as 
the cake-walk and the Negro melody were intro- 
duced into the Orient. 

Where money circulates so freely and is spent 
so recklessly as in Manila, where the "East of 
Suez" moral standard is established, the young 
fellows who have come out to the Far East, in- 
spired by Kipling's poems and the spirit of the 
Orient, are tempted constantly to live beyond their 
means. It is a country "where there ain't no Ten 
Commandments, and a man can raise a thirst." 
Then the Sampoluc and Quiapo districts, where 
the carriage-lamps are weaving back and forth 
among pavilions softly lighted, where the tinkle 
of the samosen is heard, and where O Taki San, 
immodest but bewitching, stands behind the bead- 
work curtain, her kimono parted at the knee, — 
this is the world of the Far East, the cup of Circe. 

There was the pathetic case of the young man 
who "went to pieces" in Manila recently. He was 
a Harvard athlete, but was physically unsound. 
As a result of an unfortunate blow received upon 
the head a short time after his arrival in Manila, 
he became despondent and morose. After undue 



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48 The Great White Tribe. 

excitement he would fall into a dreamy trance. At 
such times he would fancy that his mother had 
died, and he would be convulsed with sorrow, 
breaking unexpectedly into a rousing college song. 
He meditated suicide, and was prevented several 
times from taking his own life. On coming to 
Manila from the provinces, he stoutly refused to 
be sent home, but lived at his friends' expense, 
trying to borrow money from everybody that he 
met. Other young fellows overwhelmed by debts 
have tried to break loose from the Islands, but 
have been brought back from Japanese ports to be 
placed in Bilibid. That is the saddest life of all — 
in Bilibid. Many a convict in that prison, far 
away, has been a gentleman, and there are mothers 
in America who wonder why their boys do not 
come home. 

Somebody once said that Manila life was a 
perpetual farewell. The days of the arrival and 
departure of the transports are the days that vary 
the monotony. As the procession of big mail- 
wagons rumbles down the Escolta to the post- 
office, as the letters from America are opened, 
as the last month's newspapers and magazines 



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Thk White Man's Life. 49 

appear in the shop-windows, comes a moment of 
regret and lonesomeness. But as the transport, 
with its tawny load of soldiers and of joyful 
officers, pulls out, the dweller in Manila, long ago 
resigned to fate, takes up the grind again. 

Sometimes, on Sunday morning, he will take 
the customs-house launch out to one of the 
Manila-Hong Kong boats, to see a friend off for 
the homeland and "God's country." Leaning 
over the taffrail, while the crowd below is cele- 
brating the departure by the opening of bottles, 
he will fancy that he, too, is going — ^till the warn- 
ing whistle sounds, and it is time to go ashore. 
The best view of Manila, it is said, is that obtained 
from the stern deck of an outgoing steamer, as 
the red lighthouse and the pier fade gradually 
away. But even after he has reached the "white 
man's country" some time he may "hear the East 
a-calling," and come back again. 



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CHAPTER IV. 

AROUND TH^ PROVINCES. 

A HAI.F century before die founding of 
Manila, Magellan had set up the cross upon a 
small hill on the site of Butuan, on the north 
coast of Midanao, celebrating the first mass in 
the new land, and taking possession of the island 
in the name of Spain. Three centuries have 
passed since then, and there are still tribes on that 
island who have never yielded to the influence of 
Christianity nor recognized the authority of Spain 
or the United States. Magellan's flotilla sailing 
north touched at Cebu, where the explorers made 
a treaty with King Hamabar. The king invited 
them to attend a banquet, where, on seeing that 
his visitors were off their guard, he slew a number 
of them mercilessly, while the rest escaped. On 
the same spot three hundred and fifty-odd years 
later, three American schoolteachers were as 
treacherously slain by the descendants of this 
Malay king. 

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Around the Provinces. 51 

Not till the expedition of Legaspi and the 
Augustine monks visited the shores of the Vis- 
cayan islands were the natives subjugated, and 
the finding of the Santo Nino (Holy Child) 
brought this about. Since then the monks and 
friars, playing on the superstition of the islanders, 
have managed to control them and to mold them 
to their purposes. In 1568 a permanent establish- 
ment was made at Cebu by the bestowal of muni- 
tions, troops, and arms, brought by the galleons 
of Don Juan de Salcedo. The conquest of the 
northern provinces began soon after the flotilla 
of Legaspi came to anchor in Manila Bay. 

The idea that Manila or the island of Luzon 
comprises most of our possessions in the East 
is one that I have found quite prevalent 
throughout America. The broken blue line of 
the coast of Luzon reaches away in a dim con- 
tour to the northward for two hundred miles, 
until the chain of the Zambales Mountains breaks 
into the flying, wave-lashed islands standing out 
against the trackless sea. Southern Luzon, the 
country of Batangas, and the Camarines, extends 
a hundred miles south of Manila Bay. 



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52 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

In the far north are the rich provinces of 
Cagayan, Ilocos Norte and Ilocos Sur, Abra, 
Benguet, and Nueva Viscaya. The land at the 
sea level produces hemp, tobacco, rice, and cocoa- 
nuts; the heavily-timbered mountain slopes con- 
tain rich woods, cedar, mahogany, molave, ebony, 
and ipil. A wonderful river rushes through the 
mountain canons, and the famous valley of the 
Cagayan is formed — ^the garden of Eden of the 
Philippines. The peaks of the Zambales are so 
high that frost will sometimes gather at the tops, 
while in the upper forests even the flora of the 
temperate zone is reproduced. Negritos, the 
primeval savages, run wild in the great wilder- 
ness, while cannibals, head-hunters, and other bar- 
baric peoples live but a short distance from the 
shore. 

The islands to the south of Luzon reach in a 
long chain toward Borneo, a distance of six hun- 
dred miles. During a journey to the southern 
islands a continuous procession of majestic moun- 
tains moves by like a panorama — ^first the misty 
peaks of the Mindoro coast ; and then the wooded 
group of islands in the Romblon Archipelago, that 



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Around the Provinces. 53 

rises abruptly out of the blue sea. Hundreds of 
smaller islands, like bouquets, dot the waters off 
Panay, while the bare ridges of Cebu of the Plu- 
tonic peaks of Negros loom up far beyond. Pass- 
ing the triple range of Mindanao, the scattered 
islands of the Jolo Archipelago, the Tapul and the 
Tawi-Tawi groups mark the extreme southern 
limits of the Philippines. 

In nearly all these islands the interior is taken 
up by various tribes of savages, sixty or seventy 
different tribes in all, speaking as many different 
dialects. There are the Igorrotes of the north, 
who make it their religion, when the fire-tree 
blooms, to go out on a still hunt after human 
heads. When one of their tribe dies, the number 
of fingers that he holds up as he breathes his last 
expresses the number of heads which his survivors 
must secure. An Igorrote suitor, too, must pay 
the price, if he would have his bride, in human 
heads. The head of his best friend or of his 
deadliest enemy is equally acceptable; and if his 
own pate fall in the attempt, he would not be alone 
among those who have "lost their heads" because 
of a fair woman. 



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54 The Great White Tribe. 

Although the island of Luzon was settled later 
than the southern islands, civilization has been 
more widely disseminated in the north. A rail- 
way line connects Manila with Dagupan and the 
other cities of the distant provinces. Aparri, on 
the Rio Grande, near its mouth, is the commercial 
port of Cagayan. The country around is rich in 
live stock, and is partly under cultivation. Dur- 
ing the rainy season, however, the pontoon bridges 
over the Rio Grande are swept away; the roads 
become impassable. The raging torrent of the 
river threatens the inland navigation, while the 
monsoons on the China Sea make transportation 
very difficult. 

The provinces of North and South Ilocos bris- 
tle with dense forests, where not only savages, but 
deer, wild hogs, and jungle-fowl abound, and 
where the white man's foot has never been. The 
natives bring the forest products, pitch, rattan, 
and the wild honey, to the coast towns, where 
they can exchange their goods for rice. While in 
the mountainous regions of the northern part, 
barbarians too timid to approach the coast are 
found, most of the pagan natives are of a mixed 



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Around the Provinces. 55 

type. The primitive Negritos, living in these 
parts, as those also living on the island of Negros 
and in Mindanao, are of unknown origin — ^unless 
they are allied with similar types of pigmies, such 
as the Sakais of the Malay Peninsula, or the Min- 
copies of the Andaman Islands in the Indian 
Ocean. Some anthropologists would even associ- 
ate them with the black dwarfs in the interior of 
Africa. These savages live a nomadic life, and 
seldom come down near the villages. But the 
mixed tribes, the Negrito-Malay, or the Malay- 
Japanese, are bolder and more enterprising. The 
presence of the Japanese and Chinese pirates in 
this country in the early days has been the cause of 
many of the eccentric types whose origin, entirely 
independent from the origin of the Negritos, was 
Malayan. Here the Ilocanes, or the natives of 
the better class, the Christians of these provinces, 
although of M^lay origin, belong to a more cul- 
tured class of Malay ancestry. They are amenable 
to Christian influences, and their manners are 
agreeable and pleasing. They cultivate abundant 
quantities of sugar, cotton, indigo, rice, and to- 
bacco, and the women weave the famous Ilocano 



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56 The Great White Tribe. 

blankets that are sold at such a premium in 
Manila. Vigan, the capital of South Ilocos, has 
the finest public buildings and the best-kept streets 
of any of the provincial cities. 

Another tribe of people, the Zambales, are to 
be found toward the center of Luzon. Few Igor- 
rotes, Ilocanes, and Negritos live in the province 
of Zambales or Pangasinan. Pampanga Province 
also has its own tribe and a different dialect. 
Tagalog is spoken around Manila, in Laguna 
Province, in Batangas, and the Camarines; Vis- 
cayan is the language of the southern islands. 

A monotonous sameness is the characteristic 
of most of the small Filipino towns. In seeing 
one you have seen all ; you wonder what good can 
come out of such a Nazareth, and there are very 
few of the provincial capitals, indeed, that merit 
a description. Rambling official buildings, made 
of white concrete and roofed with nipa or with 
corrugated iron ; a ragged plaza, with the church 
and convent, and the long streets lined with native 
houses ; pigs with heads like coal-scuttles ; chickens 
and yellow dogs and naked brats, scabby and pea- 



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Around the Provinces. 57 

nut-shaped, — such are the first and last impres- 
sions of the FiHpino town. 

We reached Cebu during the rainy season, 
and it was a little city of muddy streets and tiled 
roofs. As the transport came to anchor in the 
harbor, Filipino boys came out in long canoes, 
and dived for pennies till the last you saw of 
them was the white soles of their bare feet. And 
in another boat two little girls were dancing, while 
the boys went through the manual of arms. A 
number of tramp steamers, barkentines, and the 
big Hong Kong boat were lying in the harbor, 
while the coasting steamers of the Chinese mer- 
chants and the smaller hemp-boats lined the docks. 
As this was our first port in the Viscayan group, 
the difference between the natives here and those 
of the Far North was very noticeable. There, the 
volcanic, wiry Tagalog, or the athletic Igorrote 
savage; here, the easy-going, happy Viscayan, 
carabao-like in his movements, with a large head, 
enormous mouth and feet. 

Along the water front a line of low white build- 
ings ran, — ^the wholesale houses of the English, 
Chinese, Spanish, and American commercial firms. 



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58 The Great White Tribe. 

The street was full of carabao carts, yoked to their 
uncomfortable cattle. Agents and merchants, 
dressed in white, were hurrying to and fro with 
manifests. Around the corner was a long street 
blocked with merchandise, and shaded with the 
awnings of the Chinese stores. There was a lit- 
tle barber-shop in a kiosko, where an idle native, 
crossing his legs and tilting back his chair, aban- 
doned himself to the spirit of a big guitar. The 
avenue that branched off here would be thronged 
with shoppers during the busy hours. Here were 
the retail stores of every description — "The Nine- 
teenth-century Bazaar," the stock of which was 
every bit as modern as its name — clothing-stores, 
tailor-shops, restaurants, jewelry-stores, and curio 
bazaars. 

Numerous plazas were surrounded by old 
Spanish buildings and hotels. The public gar- 
dens — if the acre of dried palms and withered 
grass may so be called — were situated near the 
water front, and had a band stand for the use of 
the musicians on fiesta days. The racetrack was 
adjacent to the gardens, and the public buildings 
faced these reservations. The magnificent old 



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Around the Provinces. 59 

churches, with their picturesque bell towers; the 
white convent walls, with niches for the statuettes 
of saints ; the collies and convents, — give to the 
provincial capital an air of dignity. 

The boarding-house, kept by a crusty but 
good-hearted Englishman, stood opposite the row 
of porches roofed with heavy tiles, that made 
Calle Colon a colonnade. Across the street was a 
window in the wall, where the brown-eyed Lucre- 
tia used to sell ginger-ale and sarsaparilla to the 
soldiers. With her waving pompadour, her olive 
cheeks, and sultry eyes, Lucretia was the belle 
of all the town. There wasn't a soldier in the 
whole command who wouldn't have laid down 
his life for her. And in this land where nothing 
seemed to be worth while, Lucretia, with her 
pretty manners and her gentle ways, had a good 
influence upon the tawny musketeers who dropped 
in to play a game of dominos or drink a glass of 
soda with her; and she treated all of them alike. 

A monkey chattered on the balcony, sliding up ' 
and down the bamboo-pole, or reaching for pieces 
of bananas which the boarders passed him from 
the dinner-table. "Have you chowed yet?" asked 



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6o The Great White Tribe. 

a grating voice, which, on a negative reply, or- 
dered a place to be made ready for me at the table. 
Barefooted mtichachos placed the thumb-marked 
dishes on the dirty table-cloth. I might add that a 
napkin had been spread to cover the spot where 
the tomato catsup had been spilled, and that the 
chicken-soup, in which a slice of bread was soaked, 
slopped over the untidy thumb that carried .it. 
But I omitted this course, as the red ants floating 
on the surface of the broth rendered the dish a 
questionable delicacy. The boarders had ad- 
journed to the parlor, and were busy reading 
''Diamond Dick," "Nick Carter," and the other 
five and ten cent favorites. A heavy rain had set 
in, as I drew my chair up to the light and tried 
to lose myself in the adventures of the boy detec- 
tive. 

But the mosquitoes of Cebu ! The rainy sea- 
son had produced them by the wholesale, and full- 
blooded ones at that. These were the strange bed- 
fellows that made misery that night, as they dis- 
covered openings in the mosquito-bar that, I be- 
lieve, they actually made themselves! The par- 
lor (where the bed was situated) was a very in- 



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Around the Provinces. 6i 

teresting room. There was a rickety walnut cab- 
inet containing an assortment of cobwebby Ve- 
nus's fingers, which remind you of the mantel 
that you fit over the gas jet; seashells that had 
been washed up, appropriately branded "Souvenir 
of Cebu;" tortoise-shell curios from Nagasaki, 
and an album of pictures from Japan. The floor 
was polished every morning by the house-boys, 
and the furniture arranged in the most formal 
manner, vis-d-vis. 

The senorita Rosario, the sister-in-law of the 
proprietor, came in to entertain me presently, 
dressed in a bodice of blue pina, with the wide 
sleeves newly starched and ironed, and with her 
hair unbound. She sat down opposite me in a 
rocking-chair, shook off her slippers on the floor, 
and curling her toes around the rung, rocked vio- 
lently back and forth. She punctuated her re- 
marks by frequent clucks, which, I suppose, were 
meant to be coquettish. Her music-teacher was 
expected presently; so while I wrote a letter on 
her escritorio, the senorita smoked a cigarette 
upon the balcony. The maestro came at last; a 
little, pock-marked fellow, dapper, and neatly 



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62 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

dressed, his fingers stained with nicotine from 
cigarettes. Together they took places at the small 
piano, and I could see by their exchange of glances 
that the music-lesson was an incidental feature 
of the game. They sang together from a Spanish 
opera the song of Pepin, the great braggadocio, of 
whom 'tis said, when he goes walking in the 
streets, "the girls assemble just to see him pass." 

"Cuando me lanzo a calle 
Con el futsaque y el cla, 
Todas las ninas se asoman 
Solo por ver me pasar : 
Unas a otras se dicen 
Que chico mas resa lao! 
De la sal que va tirando 
Voy a coher un punao." 

When the music-teacher had departed, the 
senorita leaned out of the balcony, watching the 
crowd of beggars in the street below. Of all the 
beggars of the Orient, those of Cebu are the most 
clinging and persistent and repulsive. Covered 
with filthy rags and scabs, with emaciated bodies 
and pinched faces, they are allowed to come into 
the city every week and beg for alms. Their 
whining, ''Da mi dinero, senor, mucho pobre me" 



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Around the Provinces. 63 

("Give me some money, sir, for I am very poor"), 
sounds like a last wail from the lower world. 

It was at Iloilo that we took a local excursion 
steamer across to the pueblo of Salai, in N^;ros. 
It was a holiday excursion, and the boat. was 
packed with natives out for fun. There was a 
peddler with a stock of lemon soda-water, sarsa- 
parilla, sticks of boiled rice, cakes, and cigarettes. 
A game of monte was immediately started on the 
deck, the Filipinos squatting anxiously around the 
dealer, wagering their stica dticos (pennies) or 
their silver pieces on the turn of certain cards. 
It was a perfectly good-natured game, rendered 
absurd by the concentric circles of bare feet sur- 
rounding it. There seemed to be a personality 
about those feet ; there were the sleek extremities 
of some more prosperous councilman or insurrecto 
general ; there were the homy feet of the old wo- 
men, slim and bony, or a pair of great toes quiz- 
zically turned in ; and there were flat feet, speck- 
led, brown, or yellow, like a starfish cast up on the 
sand. They seemed to watch the game with in- 
terest, and to note every move the dealer made, 
smiling or frowning as they won or lost. There 



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64 The Great White Tribe. 

was a tramway at Salay, drawn by a bull, and 
driven by a fellow whose chief object seemed to be 
to linger with the senorita at the terminus. The 
town was hotter than the desert of Sahara, and 
as sandy; there was little prospect of relief save 
in the distant mountains rising to the clouds in 
the blue distance. 

Returning to our caravansary at Iloilo, we dis- 
covered that our beds had been assigned to others ; 
there was nothing left to do but take possession 
of the first unoccupied beds that we saw. One of 
our party evidently got into the "Spaniard's'' bed, 
the customary resting-place of the proprietor, for 
presently we were awakened by the anxious cries 
of the muchachoSy ^'Senor, senor, el Espanol vi- 
eneT (Sir, the Spaniard comes!) But he was 
not to be put out by any Spaniard, and expressed 
his sentiments by rolling over and emitting a loud 
snore. The Spaniard, easily excited, on his en- 
trance flew into an awful rage, while the usurper 
calmly snored, and the muchachos peeked in 
through the door at peril of their lives. 

Nothing especially of interest is to be found 
at Iloilo, — only a long avenue containing Spanish, 



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Around the Provinces. 65 

native, and Chinese stores ; a tiny plajsa, where the 
city band played and the people promenaded hand 
in hand; a harbor flecked with white, triangular 
sails of native velas; and the river, where the 
coasting boats and tugs are lying at the docks. 
Neat cattle take the place of carabaos here to a 
great extent. There is the usual stone fort that . 
seems to belong to some scene of a comic opera. 
America was represented here by a Young Men's 
Christian Association, a clubhouse, and a presi- 
dente. The troops then stationed in the town 
added a certain tone of liveliness. 

It was a week of carol-singing in the streets, 
of comedies performed by strolling bands of 
children, masses, and concerts in the plasa. On 
Christmas afternoon we went out to the track to 
see the bicycle races, which at that time were a 
fad among the Filipinos. The little band played 
in the grand-stand, and the people cheered the 
racers as they came laboriously around the turn. 
The meet was engineered by some American, but, 
from a standpoint of close finishes, left much to be 
desired. The market-place on Christmas eve was 
lighted by a thousand lanterns, and the little peo- 



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66 The Great White Tribe. 

pie wandered among, the booths, smoking their 
cigarettes and eating peanuts. Until early morn- 
ing the incessant shuffling in the streets kept up, 
for every one had gone to midnight mass. 
Throughout the town the strumming of guitars, 
the voices of children, and the blare of the brass 
band was heard, and the next morning Jack-pud- 
ding danced on the comer to the infinite amuse- 
ment of the crowd. As for our own celebration, 
that was held in the back room of a local restau- 
rant, the Christmas dinner consisting of canned 
turkey and canned cranberry-sauce, canned vege- 
tables, and ice-cream made of condensed milk. 



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CHAPTER V. 

ON SUMMER SEAS. 

The foolish little steamer Romulus never ex- 
actly knew when she was going, whither away, or 
where. The cargo being under hatches, all re- 
gardless of the advertised time of departure, 
whether the passengers were notified or not, she 
would stand clumsily down stream and out to sea. 
The captjiin, looking like a pirate in his Tam 
o'Shanter cap, or the pink little mate with the 
suggestion of a mustache on his upper lip, if they 
had been informed about sailing hour, were never 
willing to divulge the secret. If you tried to argue 
the matter with them or impress them with a 
sense of their responsibility; if you attempted to 
explain the obvious advantages of starting within, 
say, twenty-four hours of the stated time, they 
would turn wearily away, irreprehensible, with a 
protesting gesture. 

Not even excepting the Inland Sea, that 
dreamy waterway among the grottoes, pines, and 

67 



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68 The Great White Tribe. 

torii of picturesque Japan, there is no sea so beau- 
tiful as that around the Southern Phihppines. 
The stately mountains, that go sweeping by in 
changing shades of green or blue, appeal directly 
to the imagination. Unpopulated islands — islands 
of which some curious myths are told of wild 
white races far in the interior; of spirits haunt- 
ing mountain-side and vale; volcanoes, in a low- 
ering cloud of sulphurous smoke; narrows, and 
wave-lashed promontories, where the ships can not 
cross in the night; great mounds of foliage that 
tower in silence hardly a stone's throw from the 
ship, like some wild feature of a dream, — such are 
the characteristics of the archipelago. 

The grandeur of the scenery, the tempered 
winds, the sense of being alone in an untraveled 
wilderness, made up in part for the discomforts 
of the Romulus. The tropical sunsets, staining 
the sky until the whole west was a riot of color, 
fiery red and gold; the false dawn, and the sun- 
rise breaking the ramparts of dissolving cloud; 
the moonlight on the waters, where the weird 
beams make a shimmering path that leads away 
across the planet waste to terra incognita, or to 



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On Summer Seas. 69 

some dank sea-cave where the sirens sing, — ^this is 
a day and a night upon the summer seas. 

At night, as the black prow goes pushing 
through the phosphorescent waters, porpoises of 
solid silver, puffing desperately, tumble about the 
bows, or dive down underneath the rushing hull. 
The surging waves are billows of white fire. In 
the electric moonlight the blue mountains, more 
mysterious than ever, stand out in bold relief. 
What restless tribes of savages are wandering 
now through the trackless forests, sleeping in 
lofty trees, or in some scanty shelter amid the 
tangled underbrush! The light that flickers in 
the distant gorge, perchance illumines some re- 
ligious orgy — some impassioned dance of primi- 
tive and pagan men. What spirits are abroad to- 
night, invoked at savage altars by the incantations 
of the savage priests — spirits of trees and rivers 
emanating from the hidden shrines of an almighty 
one ! Or it may be that the light comes from an 
isolated leper settlement, where the unhappy mor- 
tals spend in loneliness their dreary lives. 

On the first trip of the Romulus I was as- 
signed to a small, mildewed, stuffy cabin, where 



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70 The Great White Tribe. 

the unsubstantial, watery roaches played at hide- 
and-seek around the wash-stand and the floor. It 
was a splendid night to sleep on deck ; and so, pro- 
tected from the stiff breeze by the flapping can- 
vas, on an army cot which the muchacho had 
stretched out, I went to sleep, my thoughts in- 
stinctively running into verse : 

"The wind was just as steady, and the vessel tumbled 
more, 
But the waves were not as boist'rous as they were the 
day before." 

It was the rhythm of the sea, the good ship rising 
on the waves, the cats'-paws flying into gusts of 
spray before the driving wind. 

I was awakened at four bells by the disturb- 
ance of the sailors swabbing down the deck — an 
exhibition performance, as the general condition 
of the ship led me to think. Breakfast was served 
down in the forward cabin, where, with deep-sea 
appetites, we eagerly attacked a tiny cup of choc- 
olate, very sweet and thick, a glass of coffee 
thinned with condensed milk, crackers, and lady- 
fingers. That was all. Some of our fellow-pas- 
sengers had been there early, as the dirty table- 



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On Summer Seas. 71 

cloth and dishes testified. A Filipino woman at 
the further end was engaged in dressing a baby, 
while the provincial treasurer, in his pink pajamas, 
tried to shave before the dingy looking-glass. An 
Indian merchant, a Viscayan belle with dirty fin- 
ger-nails and ankles, and a Filipino justice of the 
peace still occupied the table. Reaching a vacant 
place over the piles of rolled-up sleeping mats and 
camphorwood boxes — the inevitable baggage of 
the Filipino — I swept off the crumbs upon the 
floor, and, after much persuasion, finally secured 
a glass of lukewarm coffee and some broken cakes. 
The heavy-eyed muchacho, who, with such reluc- 
tance waited on the table, had the 'grimiest feet 
that I had ever seen. 

A second meal was served at ten o'clock, for 
which the tables were spread on deck. The plates 
were stacked up like Chinese pagodas, and 
counting them, you could determine accurately 
the number of courses on the bill of fare. There 
were about a dozen courses of fresh meat and 
chicken — or the same thing cooked in different 
styles. Garlic and peppers were used liberally in 
the cooking. Heaps of boiled rice, olives, and 



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72 The Great White Tribe. 

sausage that defied the teeth, wrapped up in tin- 
foil, "took the taste out of your mouth." Bananas, 
mangoes, cheese, and guava- jelly constituted the 
dessert. After the last plate had been removed, 
the grizzled captain at the head of the table 
lighted a coarse cigarette, which, in accordance 
with the Spanish custom, he then passed to the 
mate, so that the mate could light his cigarette. 
This is a more polite way than to make an offer 
of a match. Coffee and cognac was brought on 
after a considerable interval. Although this proc- 
ess was repeated course for course at eight o'clock, 
during the interim you found it was best to bribe 
the steward and eat an extra meal of crackers. 

Our next voyage in the Romulus was unpro- 
pitious from the start. We were detained five 
days in quarantine in Manila Bay. There was 
no breeze, and the hot sun beat down upon the 
boat all day. To add to our discomforts, there 
was nothing much to eat. The stock of lady-fin- 
gers soon became exhausted, and the stock of 
crackers, too, showed signs of running out. As 
an experiment I ordered eggs for breakfast once 
— but only once. The cook had evidently tried 



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On Summer Seas. 73 

to serve them in disguise, believing that a large 
amount of cold grease would in some way modify 
their taste. He did not seem to have the least re- 
spect for old age. It was the time of cholera ; the 
boat might have become a pesthouse any moment. 
But the steward assured us that the drinking wa- 
ter had been neither boiled nor filtered. There 
was no ice, and no more bottled soda, the remain- 
ing bottles being spoken for by the ship's officers. 
At the breakfast-table two caJves and a pig, that 
had been taken on for fresh meat, insisted upon 
eating from the plates. The sleepy-eyed muchacho 
was by this time grimier than ever. Even the 
passengers did not have any opportunity to take 
a bath. One glance at the ship's bathtub was 
sufficient. 

It was a happy moment when we finally set 
out for the long rambling voyage to the southern 
isles. The captain went barefooted as he paced the 
bridge. A stop at one place in the Camarines gave 
us a chance to go ashore and buy some bread and 
canned fruit from the military commissary. How 
the captain and the mate scowled as we supple- 
mented our elaborate meals with these purchases ! 



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74 The Great White Tribe. 

One of the passengers, a miner, finally exasperated 
at the cabin-boy, made an attack upon the luck- 
less fellow, when the steward, who had been want- 
ing an excuse to exploit his authority, came up 
the hatchway bristling. In his Spanish jargon 
he explained that he considered it as his preroga- 
tive to punish and abuse the luckless boy, which 
he did very capably at times; that he would tol- 
erate no interference from the passengers. But 
the big miner only looked him over like a cock-of- 
the-walk regarding a game bantam. Being a Cal- 
ifomian, the miner told the steward in English 
(which that officer unfortunately did not under- 
stand) that if the service did not presently im- 
prove, the steward and cabin-boy together would 
go overboard. 

Stopping at Dumaguete, Oriental Negros, 
where we landed several teachers, with their 
trunks and furniture, upon the hot sands, most 
of us went ashore in surf-boats, paddled by the 
kind of men that figure prominently in the school 
geographies. It was a chapter from "Swiss Fam- 
ily Robinson," — the white surf lashing the long 
yellqw beach; the rakish palm-trees bristling in 



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On Summer Seas. 75 

the wind ; a Stygian volcano rising above a slope 
of tropic foliage; the natives gathering around, 
all open-mouthed with curiosity. At Camaguin, 
where the boat stopped at the sultry little city 
of Mambajo, an accident befell our miner. When 
we found him, he was sleeping peacefully under 
a nipa shade, guarded by a municipal policeman, 
with the ring of Filipinos clustering around. He 
had been drinking native ''hino" (wine), and it 
had been too much even for him, a discharged sol- 
dier and a Calif ornian. 

It was almost a pleasant change, the transfer 
to the tiny launch Victoria, that smelled of engine 
oil and Filipinos, and was commanded by my old 
friend Dumalagon. The Victoria at that time had 
a most unpleasant habit of lying to all night, and 
sailing with the early dawn. When I had found 
an area of deck unoccupied by feet or Filipino 
babies. Chinamen or ants, I spread an army blan- 
ket out and went to sleep in spite of the incessant 
drizzle which the rotten canopy seemed not to in- 
terrupt. I was awakened in the small hours by 
the rattle of the winch. These little boats make 
more ado in getting under way than any ocean 



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76 The Great White Tribe. 

steamer I have ever known. Becoming conscious 
of a cloud of opium-smoke escaping from the 
cockpit, which was occupied by several Chinamen, 
I shifted to windward, stepping over the sprawl- 
ing forms of sleepers till I found another place, 
the only objection to which was the proximity 
of numerous brown feet and the hot engine-room. 
The squalling of an infant ushered in the rosy- 
fingered dawn. 

Most of the transportation of the southern 
islands is accomplished by such boats as the Vic- 
toria. I can remember well the nights spent on 
the launch Da-ling-ding, an impossible, absurd 
craft, that rolled from side to side in the most 
gentle sea. She would start out courageously to 
cross the bay along the strip of Moro coast in 
Northern Mindanao; but the throbbing of her 
engines growing weaker and weaker, she would 
presently turn back faint-hearted, unable to make 
headway, at the mercy of a sudden storm, and 
with the possibility of being swept up on a hostile 
shore among bloodthirsty and unreasonable Mo- 
ros. Another time, and we were caught in a ty- 
phoon off the north coast. We thought, of course, 



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On Summer Seas. 77 

our little ship was stanch, tintil we asked the cap- 
tain his opinion. "If the engines hold out," he re- 
plied, "we may come through all right. The en- 
gineer says that the old machine will probably 
blow up now any time, and that the Filipinos have 
quit working and begun their prayers." Generally 
a Filipino is the first to give up in a crisis ; but I 
have seen some that managed their canoes in a 
rough sea with as much skill and coolness as an 
expert yachtsman could have shown. I have to 
thank Madrono for the way in which he handled 
the small boat that put out in a sea like glass and 
ran into a squall fifteen miles out. All through 
the morning we had poled along over the crust of 
coral bottom, where, in the transparent water, 
indigo fishes swam, where purple starfish sprawled 
among the coral — coral of many colors and in 
many forms. But as the wind came up and lashed 
the choppy sea to whitecaps, as the huge waves 
swept along and seemed about to knock the little 
banca "off her feet," Madrono, standing on the 
bamboo outrigger — a framework lashed together 
with the native cane, the breaking of which would 
have immediately upset the boat — ^kept her bow 



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78 The Great White Tribe. 

pointed for the shore, although a counter storm 
threatened to blow us out to the deep sea. 

So, after knocking around in bancas, picnick- 
ing with natives on the chicken-bone and boiled 
rice; after a wild cruise in the Thomas, where the 
captain and the crew, as drunk as lords, let the old 
rotten vessel drift, while threatening with a gun 
the man that dared to meddle with the steering 
gear; after a dreary six months in a provincial 
town, — it seemed like coming into a new 
world to step aboard the clean white transport, 
with electric-lights and an upholstered smoking- 
room. 

A tourist party, mostly army officers, their 
wives and daughters, "doing'* the archipelago, 
made up the passenger list of the transport. The 
officers, now they had settled satisfactorily the 
question of superiority and "rank," made an 
agreeable company. There was the Miss Bo 
Peep, in pink and white, who wore a dozen differ- 
ent military pins, and would not look at any one 
unless he happened to be "in the service." Like 
many of the army girls, she had no use for the 
civilians or volunteers. Her mamma told with 



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On Summer Seas. 79 

pride how, at their last "at home," nobody under 
the rank of a major had been present. One of the 
young Heutenants down at Zamboanga, when he 
found she had not worn his pin, "retired to cry." 
But then, of course. Bo Peep was not respon- 
sible for young lieutenants' hearts. If he had 
been a captain— well, that is another thing. There 
was the English sugar-planter from the Tawi- 
Tawi group, who never lost sight of the ranking 
officer, who dressed in flannels, changed his 
clothes three times a day, and who expressed his 
only ideas to me by virtue of a confidential wink. 
For three whole days we were a part of the 
fresh winds, the tossing waves, the moon and 
stars. And as the ship plowed -through the sea 
at night, the phosphorescent surge retreated like 
a line of silver fire. 



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CHAPTER VI. 
Among the Pagan Tribes. 

With Padre Cipriano I had started out on 
horseback from the little trading station on Da- 
vao Bay. We were to strike along the east coast, 
in the territory of the fierce Mandayas, and to 
penetrate some distance into the interior in order' 
to convert the pagans with the long eyelashes 
who inhabited this unknown region. It was a 
clear day when we set out on our missionary 
enterprise, and we could see the black peak of 
Mount Apo, which, according to the legends of 
the wild Bagobos, is the throne of the great King 
of Devils, and the gate to hell. 

We struck a faint trr.il leading to the foot-hills 
where the barren ridges overlooked the sparkling 
sea — a vast cerulian expanse without a single 
fleck of a white sail. The trail led through the 
great fields of buffalo-grass, out of which gigantic 
solitary trees shot up a hundred feet into the 

air. There were no signs of life, only the vul- 

80 



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Among the Pagan Tribks. 8i 

tures in the topmost branches of the trees. Wild 
horses, taking flight at our approach, stampeded 
for the forest. Nothing could be seen in the tall 
grass. Even in our saddles it was higher than our 
heads. The trail became more rugged as we en- 
tered the big belt of forest on the foot-Kills. A 
wild hog bolted for the jungle with distressed 
grunts. It was a world of white vines falling 
from the lofty branches of the trees. The animal 
life in some of the great trees was wpnderful. 
The branches were divided into zones, wherein 
each class of bird or reptile had its habitat. 
Around the base were galleries of white ants. 
Flying lizards from the gnarled trunk skated 
through the air. Green reptiles crawled along the 
horizontal branches. Parrakeets, a colony of 
saucy green and red balls, screamed and protested 
from the lower zones. An agile monkey swung 
from one of the long sweeping vines, and scolded 
at us from another tree. Bats, owls, and crows 
inhabited the upper regions, while the buzzards 
perched like evil omens in the topmost boughs. 

Just when our throats were parched from lack 
of water, we discovered a small mountain torrent • 



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82 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

gushing over the rocks and bowlders of the rugged 
slope. Leaning across one of the large bowlders, 
from a dark pool where the sunlight never pene- 
trated, we scooped up refreshing hatfuls of the 
ice-cold water. Here was the world as God first 
found it, when he said that it was good. It was 
impressive and mysterious. It seemed to wrap us 
in a mystic spell. What wonder that the pagan 
tribes that roamed through the interior had peo- 
pled it with gods and spirits of the chase, and 
that the trees and rivers seemed to them the spirits 
of the good or evil deities? The note of the 
wood-pigeon sounded on the right. The padre 
smiled as he looked up. "That is a favorable 
omen," he declared. "In the religion of the river- 
dwellers, the Bagobos, when the wood-dove calls, 
it is the voice of God. Hark ! It is coming from 
the right. It is a favorable sign, and we can go 
upon our journey undisturbed. But had we heard 
it on the left, it would have been to us a warning 
to turn back. Our journey then would have been 
unpropitious, and we would have been afraid to 
go on farther." 

"Does it not seem like a grand cathedral," 



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Among th^ Pagan Tribes. 83 

said the padre, "this vast forest? In the days 
when Northern Europe was a wilderness and 
savage people hunted in the forests; in the 
days when the undaunted Norsemen braved the 
stormy ocean in their daring craft, — here, in these 
woods, the petty chiefs and head men held their 
courts of justice after the traditions of their tribes, 
just as they do to-day. Here they have set their 
traps — ^the arrows loosened from a bamboo spring 
— and while they waited, they have left the offer- 
ing of eggs and rice for the good deity. Here 
they have hunted their blood enemies, lying in 
ambush, or digging pitfalls where the sharpened 
stakes were planted. Tama, the god of venery, 
has lured the deer into their traps; Tumanghob, 
god of harvest, whom they have invited to their 
feasts, has made the corn and the camotes prosper ; 
Mansilitan, the great spirit, has descended from 
the mountain-tops and aided them against their 
enemies." 

We knew that it was growing late by the deep 
shadows of the woods. So, taking our bearings 
with a pocket compass, we turned east in the di- 
rection of the coast. There was no trail to fol- 



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84 Th« GRfiAt WhiW TribS. 

low, and we blundered on as best we could. We 
had now been in the saddle for ten hours. The 
ponies stumbled frequently, for they were almost 
spent. The moon rose, and the hoary mountain 
loomed up just ahead of us. "We seem to be lost," 
said the padre; "that is a strange peak to me." 
But nevertheless we kept on toward the east. 
Soon we had passed beyond the forest, which ap- 
peared behind us a great dusky belt. The numer- 
ous rocks and crags made progress difficult, al- 
most impossible. 

"Look!" said the padre, "do you see that 
light?" We tethered the ponies at a distance, 
crept up stealthily behind the rocks, and recon- 
noitered. And what we looked on was the strang- 
est sight that ever mortal eyes beheld. It was 
like living again in the Dark Ages — in the days 
before the sages and the sun-myth. It was like 
turning back the leaves of history — ^back to the 
legendary, prehistoric times. 

A lofty grove encircled a chaotic mass of rock. 
The clearing was illuminated by the flaring 
torches carried by a dusky band of men. Weird 
shadows leaped and played in the dense foliage, 



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Among the Pagan Tribes. 85 

where, high above the ground, rude shelters had 
been made in the thick branches of the trees. The 
form of a woman, flashing with silver trinkets 
when the rays of light fell on her, was descending 
from a tree by means of a long parasitic vine. 
Around the palm-leaf huts that occupied the cen- 
ter of the amphitheater, an altar of bamboo had 
been erected. We could see, in the dim light, rude 
images of idols standing in front of every hut 
and near the altar. 

As our eye's became accustomed to the gloom, 
we could make out the forms of men and women, 
dressed in brilliant colors and with silver bracelets 
on their arms. In silence we crept closer. The 
crowd was visibly excited. It was evident that 
something of a solemn and extraordinary nature 
was about to be performed. There were the chief 
assassins, so the padre whispered to me, who 
were decorated savagely, according to the num- 
ber of victims each had slain. The ordinary men 
wore open vests or jackets and loose pantaloons. 
The women, evidently decked out with a com- 
plement of finery in honor of the celebration, 
wore short aprons reaching to the knee. Some 



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86 Th^ Gr^at White Tribe. 

wore gold collars around their necks and silver- 
embroidered . slippers on their feet. Their bare 
arms sparkled with the coils of silver bands and 
bracelets that encircled them, while silver anklets 
jingled with the movement of their feet. They 
had red tassels in their hair, and earrings made of 
pieces of carved bone. A number of dancing- 
girls, as they appeared to be, had strings of red 
and yellow beads or animals' teeth fastened 
around their necks. Their breasts were covered 
with short bodices that fell so as to leave a por- 
tion of the waist exposed 

The chief assassins were completely clad in 
scarlet, indicating that the wearer had disposed 
of more than twenty enemies. The lesser assas- 
sins wore yellow handkerchiefs around their heads, 
and some were dignified with scarlet vests. A 
miserable naked slave was pinioned where he had 
been thrown upon the ground near by. Although 
of the inferior race of the Bilanes from Lake 
Buluan, his eyes flashed as he regarded the assem- 
bled people scornfully. They were to offer up a 
human sacrifice to Mansilitan, the all-powerful 
god. 



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Among th^ Pagan Tribes. 87 

The head men seemed to be engaged in a 
dispute. A wild hog, also lying near the altar, 
was the object of their serious attention. After 
they had chattered for a while, and having evi- 
dently decided on the pig, the drums and tam- 
bourines struck up a doleful melody, and those 
assembled joined in a solemn chant. The pig 
was carefully lifted to the altar, and the chant 
grew more intensified. A number of dancing- 
girls, describing mystic circles with their jeweled 
arms, were trembling violently, bending rhyth- 
mically, gracefully from side to side. The music 
seemed to hypnotize the people, who kept shuf- 
fling with their feet monotonously on the ground. 
The leader of the dance then stuck the living pig 
with a sharp dagger. As the red blood spurted 
out, she caught a mouthful of it, and applying 
her mouth quickly to the wound, she sucked the 
fluid till she reeled and fell away. Another fol- 
lowed her example, and another, till the pig was 
drained. 

It was not difficult to fancy a like orgy 
with the quivering slave upon the altar in the 
place of the wild hog. The spirit of Mansilitan 



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88 The Great White Tribe. 

then came down — the spirit was, of course, in-, 
visible — and talked with the head men about their 
enemies, the crops, and game. The chiefs were 
chewing cinnamon and betel till their mouths 
were red. The master of ceremonies then brought 
out enormous quantities of tuba, and his guests 
completed the religious ceremony with a whole- 
sale drunk. 

Under the cover of the darkness, Padre 
Cipriano and I slipped away. We shuddered at 
what we had just seen, and were silent. Leading 
the ponies a short distance into the brush, we slept 
upon the blankets which the ponies had com- 
pletely saturated with their persiration. All night 
we dreamed of human sacrifices and the warm 
blood spurting from the victim's breast. . . . 
They had the padre now upon the altar, and the 
chief had bidden me to take the knife and draw 
his blood. But the great god — a creature with 
the horns of a bull carabao — descended, crying 
that the enemy was now upon us and the crops 
had failed. From our uneasy sleep the crowing 
of the jungle-fowl awakened us, and for the first 
time we expressed ourselves in words. "Padre," 



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Among th^ Pagan Tribes. 89 

I said, "it's just like being in a book of Du 
Chaillu's or Rider Haggard's;" and the padre 
smiled. 

After the ponies, who were very stiff, were 
limbered up a bit, we traveled on in the direction 
of the sea. We stopped beside a mountain stream 
to bathe and eat a breakfast of canned sausages. 
That afternoon we rode into a small Mandaya 
settlement where the head man showed Padre 
Cipriano every courtesy at his command. They 
listened eagerly to Padre Cipriano, who could 
speak their language well, as he explained to them 
about another Mansilitan, greatest God of all. A 
number of them even consented to be baptized; 
but I am very much afraid that the conversion 
was at best a transient one. The head man or- 
dered that his runners bring into the village of 
Davao for the padre gifts of game, wild hog, deer, 
and jungle-fowl, and, after the padre had pre- 
sented him with several strings of green and yel- 
low beads — for the Mandayas have no use for 
black beads as their neighbors, the Manobos have 
— we took our departure, guided to the trail by a 
distinguished warrior. 
7 



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90 The Great White Tribe. 

During our sojourn in the settlement we 
picked up many curious and interesting facts. 
Like most of the wild tribes of Mindanao, that of 
the Mandayas is athletic and robust. The faces 
of the men are somewhat girlish and effeminate, 
while the expressions of the warriors are unique. 
Upon their countenances cunning, cruelty, and 
diabolical resource are stamped indelibly. In 
front of every house a wooden idol stands, while 
inside, on a little table, is a smaller image over- 
whelmed by gifts of fruit and rice, which mem- 
bers of the family continually leave upon the 
shrine. A tiny sack of rice hangs from the idol's 
neck, and betel-nuts for him to chew are placed 
where they are easily accessible. During the prep- 
aration of the evening meal, one of the family 
will play upon a native instrument, dancing 
meanwhile around the room, and lifting up his 
voice in supplication to the deity. 

The petty ruler or head man is chosen by a 
natural process of selection. He is invariably one 
who, by his prowess and intelligence, commands 
the respect and the obedience of all. Assisted by 
a local justice of the peace, a bailiff, and a secre- 



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Among the Pagan Tribes. 91 

tary, he conducts affairs according to the old tra- 
ditions handed down almost from the beginning 
of the world. The families live together, thus 
preserving clans, while blood feuds with the 
neighboring clans or tribes lead to a system of 
perpetual extermination, which will be continued 
till the tribe becomes extinct. And if the enemy 
himself can not be killed, the nearest relative or 
friend will satisfy the aggressor's hatred just as 
well. Cannibalism has been practiced in this tribe 
with fearful and disgusting rites. The human 
sacrifices that they make appease not only the 
great spirit, but the lesser ones, the man and wife, 
or evil spirits, and the father and son, good 
spirits. When they go to war, the fighting men 
use lances, swords, and bows and arrows. On 
their wooden shields, daubed over with red paint, 
arranged around the edges like a fringe, are tufts 
of hair — the souvenirs of men whom they have 
killed. Their coats of mail are made of carabao 
horn cut into small plates, or of pieces of rattan. 
The only use they have for money is to make 
it into decorations and embellishments for their 
most valued weapons, anklets and rings and col- 



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92 The Great White Tribe. 

lars, which they wear without discrimination. 
They are a very imaginative and a superstitious 
people. From their infancy they are familiar 
with the dwarfs, the giants, and the witches, 
which, according to the tales of the old women, 
haunt the woods. A crocodile that lives down in 
the center of the earth causes the earthquakes, 
and, to put a stop to these, the crocodiles must 
be persuaded by religious incantations to go back 
to bed. A solar eclipse threatens a great calamity 
to them, and they are sure that if they do not 
frighten away the serpent who is trying to devour 
the sun, their land will never see the morning 
light again. . To this end they unite in beating 
drums and making a loud noise with sticks. * 

They bury their dead in coffins made of hol- 
lowed logs. A pot of rice and the familiar wea- 
pons will be placed within the grave, so that the 
soul will have protection and a food supply for 
the long journey. And, like Jacob, the prospec- 
tive bridegroom has to serve the parents of the 
bride for five or seven years before the marriage 
ceremony can take place. The marriage-ties are 
sacred even with this savage rac^t The groom- 



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Among the Pagan Tribes. 93 

tobe, making from time to time, gifts of wild 
hogs, rice, and weapons to the parents of the 
bride-elect, is finally rewarded with the bride, and 
with a dowry as well ; perhaps a slave, a bucket of 
tuba, or a silver-mounted bolo. The average 
value of a bride is five or six slaves, which the 
bridegroom pays if he is able. At the marriage 
ceremony the contracting parties generally pre- 
sent each other with small cups of rice, to signify 
that they must now endeavor mutually to support 
each other. 

Among other tribes of the interior of Min- 
danao, in the river basins of the Salug and the 
Agusan, along the east coast, and Davao Bay, 
and on the mountain slopes, are the Manobos, 
possibly of Indonesian origin, kings of the wil- 
derness, inhabiting the river valleys ; the intrepid 
Attas, from the slopes of the volcano Apo; the 
Bagobos, with their interesting faces and bright 
clothes, living to the east of Apo ; the fierce Dula- 
ganes of the forests, whom the Moros fear ; Sam- 
ales, from the island in Davao Bay, strong, 
bearded people, with big hands and feet; Bi- 
lanes, from Lake Buluan, a wandering, nomadic 



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94 The Great White Tribe. 

race ; and the Monteses of the north, sun-worship- 
ers and petty traders. 

All of these tribes are probably of Indonesian 
origin, an independent origin from that of the 
Viscayans, the Tagalogs, the Negritos, or the 
Moros, but of the same social level with the Ma- 
lay-Chinese pagans of the northern isles. 

I used to see the Montese traders in the mar- 
ket-place of Cagayan (Misamis), their mobile 
mouths swimming with betel-juice, with rings 
and bracelets on their toes and arms, the girls 
with hair banged saucily, adorned with bells and 
tassels, and with bodices inadequately covering 
the breasts; and as they squatted down on the 
woven mats, around the honey or the wax they 
had for sale, they looked like gypsies from Rou- 
mania or Hungary. The rnen wore bright, tight- 
fitting pantaloons and dirty turbans. They re- 
semble the Moros somewhat in appearance, and 
have either intermingled with this tribe or else 
can trace their origin to Borneo. While they are 
not so wild or so exclusive as their fellow-tribes, 
they quickly resent intrusion into their towns 
or their society. 



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Among the Pagan Tribes. 95 

They carry on a slave trade with their neigh- 
bors, stealing or kidnaping from the other tribes, 
and being stolen from in turn. The women of 
some tribes brand their children, filling in the 
wound with a blue dye, that serves as an identi- 
fication if they happen to be snatched away. The 
various religious ideas of these pagans are intan- 
gible and indeterminate. The forest seems to be 
the abiding-place of gods. Some tribes will oflfer 
feasts to these divinities, either leaving the flesh 
and rice out in the woods to find that it has disap- 
peared next morning, or, in many cases, eating 
it themselves, provided that the god, who has been 
earnestly invited, fails to come. The god of dis- 
ease is also recognized, and natives living on the 
coast have been known, in the time of cholera, to 
fill canoes with rice and fruit in order to appease 
this deity, and leave the boats to drift out with 
the tide. 

Among the Bagobos, curious traditions and 
religious rites exist. Every Bagobo thinks he 
has two souls or spirits ; one a good one, and the 
other altogether to the bad. To them the summit 
of Mount Apo is the throne of the great Devil 



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96 The Great White Tribe. 

King, who watches over the crater with his wife. 
The crater is the entry-way to hell, and no one 
can ascend the mountain if he has not previously 
offered up a human sacrifice, so that the Devil 
King may have a taste of human flesh and blood, 
and being satiated, will desire no more. Canni- 
balism has existed in these regions more as a re- 
ligious orgy than a means of sustenance. A dish 
was made consisting of the quivering vitals of the 
victim, mixed with sweet potatoes, rice, or fruit. 
Upon the death of any member of the tribe 
the house in which he lived is burned. The body 
is placed within a hollow tree, and stands for sev- 
eral days, while a barbaric feast is held around it. 
The Samales bury their dead upon a coral island, 
placing them in grottoes, which they visit annu- 
ally with harvest offerings. 



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CHAPTER VII. 

A Lost Tribe and the Servants of 
Mohammed. 

Wandering, always wandering through the 
mountains and forests since the years began, — 
destined to wander till the forests fall. 

Throughout the archipelago, in the dense 
mountain woods, sleeping in trees or on the 
ground, straying away in search of game, without 
a fixed place of abode, live the Negritos, aborigi- 
nes, the pigmy vagrants of the Philippines. These 
little men, molesting no one, yet considering the 
rest of mankind as their enemy, and wishing only 
to be left alone, have hidden in the unexplored in- 
terior. Where they have come from is a mystery. 
It might have been that, in the ages past, the 
chain gf islands from Luzon to Borneo was a part 
of Asia, an extensive mountain system populated 
by the tiny men found there to-day. If so, then 
they were driven to the highlands by the cata- 
clysm that in prehistoric ages might have broken 

97 



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98 The Great White Tribe. 

up the mainland into islands, leaving only the 
summits of the moutains visible. 

Or otherwise, might not these wanderers, who 
have their prototypes among the pigmies of dark 
Africa, or in the dwarfs inhabiting New Guinea 
— might they not have set sail from Caffraria, 
New Guinea, or the country of the Papuans, long 
years before the Christian era, like the "J^mblies,'* 
in their frail canoes, perhaps escaping persecution, 
driven by the winds and currents, to land at last 
on the unpeopled shores of Filiphiia? 

In time came the Malayans of low culture, now 
the pagan tribes of the interior, and a conflict — 
primitive men fighting with rude weapons, clubs, 
and stones — ensued for the possession of the coast. 
In that event the smaller men were driven back 
into the territory that they occupy to-day. The 
races intermingled, and a medley of strange, mon- 
grel tribes resulted. They have wandered, scat- 
tering themselves abroad about the islands. In- 
fluenced by various environment, each tribe 
adopted different customs and built up from com- 
mon roots the different dialects. These tribes 
have always been, and always will be, mere bar- 



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NEGRITO PIGMY VAGRANTS 



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A Lost Tribe. 99 

barians and savages. In the pure type of Negri- 
tos, spindle legs, large tumed-in feet, weak bodies, 
and large heads are noticeable. Shifting eyes, 
flat noses, kinky hair, and teeth irregularly set, — 
these are Negrito characteristics, though they fre- 
quently occur in the mestizo types. The Igorrotes 
of Luzon, whose ancestors were possibly the abo- 
rigines and the worst element of the invaders, 
are to-day the cannibals and the head-hunters of 
the north. In Abra, province of Luzon, the Bu- 
ries and their neighbors, the Busaos, both of a 
Negrito-Malay origin, use poisoned darts, tattoo 
their bodies, and adorn themselves with copper 
rings and caps of rattan decorated with bright 
■feathers. The Manguianes, of the mountains of 
Mindoro, dress in rattan coils, supplemented with 
a scanty apron. 

These Malayan races were, in their turn, 
driven back by later Malays, who became the 
nucleus of the Tagalog, Bicol, Ilocano, and Vis- 
cayan races, taking possession of the coast and 
mouths of rivers, and governing themselves, or 
being governed by hereditary rajas, just as when, 
three centuries ago, Magellan and Legaspi found 



^ '. : .5. O f^ 

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loo Th^ Gr^at White Tribe/ 

them. The Moros, or Mohammedan invaders, 
were first heard from when, in 1597, Spain first 
tried to organize them into a dependent govern- 
ment. These treacherous pirates, the descendants 
of the fierce Dyacs of Borneo, had begun still 
earlier to terrorize the southern coasts, raiding 
the villages and carrying off the children into 
slavery. In 1599 a Moro fleet descended on the 
coast of Negros and Panay, and would, no doubt, 
have occupied this territory permanently had not 
the arms of Spain been there to interfere. Here- 
after Spanish galleons were to oppose the progress 
of these pirate fleets, while troops of infantry were 
to defeat the savages on land. The Spaniards 
early in the seventeenth century succeeded in es- 
tablishing a foothold on the island of Jolo and at 
Zamboanga. It was Father Malchior de Vera 
who designed the fort at Zamboanga, which was 
destined to become the scene of many an attack 
by Moro warriors, and to be the base of military 
operatipns against the surrounding tribes. A 
Jesuit mission was established in the sultan's ter- 
ritory after the defeat of the Mohammedans by 
Corcuera. In the interior, around the shores of 



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A Lost Trib^. ioi 

Lake Lanao, the fighting padre, Friar Pedro de 
San Augustin, backing the cross with Spanish 
infantry, carried the Christian war into the coun- 
try of the infidels, continuing the conflict that for 
many years had made a battleground of Spain. 
It was in memory of their old enemies, the Moors, 
that when the Spaniards met the infidels in east- 
ern lands, they named them Moros (Moors). 

The war between Spain and the Moros was 
relentless. Time and again the pirates had been 
punished by the Spanish admirals, until, in 1725, 
the sultan sent a Chinese envoy to Manila to 
negotiate a truce. A treaty was ratified, but 
broken, and again the Sulu Moros learned what 
Spanish hell was like. In spite of this continual 
warfare the Mohammedans grew stronger, and 
in 1754 the ocean was infested with the Moro 
vintas, till another friar, Father Ducos, in 
a sea-fight off the coast of Northern Min- 
danao, sunk one hundred and fifty of their 
boats and killed three thousand men. Ban- 
tilan, the usurper of the Sulu throne, was 
one of the foremost of the mischief-makers 
who, in 1767, sent a pirate fleet as far north as 



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I02 The Great White Tribe. 

Manila Bay. Although the Spaniards had re- 
peatedly won victories in Jolo, Zamboanga, and 
Davao, and by treaties had made all this country 
vassal to the crown of Spain, up to the time of 
the evacuation of the Philippines, when, as a 
last act, they had sent their own tiny gunboats to 
the bottom of Lanao, they never had become the 
undisputed masters of the territory. 

One of the pleasantest friends I had while I 
was in the Islands was Herr Altman, an orchid 
collector, who had risked his life a hundred times 
among the savages of the interior in the pursu- 
ance of the passion of his life. "One afternoon,'* 
he said, "when we were in the forests of Luzon, 
my native guides approached me with broad grins. 
I thought, perhaps, they had discovered some new 
orchid; so I followed them. But I was unpre- 
pared for what they were about to show me. 
Since then I have had much experience among the 
wild tribes, but at this time everything was new 
to me. They motioned silence as, with broaden- 
ing grins, they now approached what seemed to 
be a clearing in the woods. I could not think 
why they should be amused; but they are very 



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A Lost Tribe. 103 

easily delighted, just like children, and I thought 
that it would do no harm to humor them. Then 
I was startled by the howling of a dog and a 
strange sound coming through the woods. 

Still following my guides, I brought up in a 
growth of underbrush on a small precipice that 
overlooked an open space among the trees. Look- 
ing in the direction in which they pointed, I be- 
held a group of tiny black men dancing in a circle 
around what seemed to be a section of a fallen tree. 
Off to the side, the women, slightly smaller than 
the men, were cooking a wild hog on a spit, over a 
smoking fire. Their hair was thick and AvooUy and 
uncombed. Their arms and ankles were adorned 
with copper bracelets. Some of the men wore 
leather thongs that dangled from their legs. 
There were a few rude shelters in the clearing, 
merely improvised affairs of branches. As the 
men danced they sent up a song in a high, piping 
voice, and several hungry dogs, who had been 
watching enviously the roasting meat, howled 
sympathetically and in unison. It finally occurred 
to me that we were the spectators of a funeral 
ceremony; that the section of a tree was nothing 



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I04 The Great White Tribe. 

less that the rough coffin of the dead Negrito. 
We continued to watch them for a time, while, 
having finished dancing, they began their feast. 
The only dishes that they had were cocoanut- 
shells, out of which they drank immoderate 
amounts of tuba. The funeral ceremony, as I 
understand it, lasts for several days — as long as 
the supply of meat and tuba lasts. The coffin, 
which appeared to me a hollowed log, is but a 
section of a certain bark sealed up at either end 
with wax. The burial is made under the house in 
the case of those tribes living near the coast; or 
in a stockade, which protects the body against 
desecration from the enemy." 

It was with feelings such as one might enter- 
tain when looking at a mermaid or an inhabitant 
of Mars, that I first saw a genuine Negrito in 
a prison at Manila. The wretched pigmy had. been 
brought in to the city from his inaccessible retreat 
in the great forest ; he was dazed and frightened 
at the white men and the things they did. He 
was a miserable little fellow, with distrustful eyes, 
and twisted legs, and pigeon toes. He died after 
a few days of captivity, during which time he had 



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A Lost Tribe. 105 

not spoken. A dumb obedience marked his rela- 
tions with the guard. The white man's civiliza- 
tion was as disagreeable and unnatural to him as 
his nomadic life would be to us. A fish could 
just as well live out of water as this pigmy in the 
white man's land. 

A few of the Negritos near the coast, how- 
ever, have been touched by civilizing influ- 
ences. They inhabit towns of small huts built 
on poles, which they abandon on the death of 
any one within. The house wherein a death 
occurs is generally burned. They plant a little 
com and rice, but often move away before the 
crop is harvested. They are too lazy to raise 
anything; too weak to capture slaves. During 
the heavy rains, when the great woods are satu- 
rated, they protect themselves against the cold 
by wrapping blankets around their bodies. At 
night they often share the tree with birds and 
monkeys, sheltered from rain and dampness by 
the canopy of foliage. They have a head man 
for their villages — sometimes a member of an- 
other tribe, who, on account of his superior at- 
tainments, holds the respect of all. They hunt 



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io6 The Great White Tribe. 

with bows and arrows ; weapons which, by means 
of constant use, they handle with dexterity. At 
night their villages are located through the inces- 
sant barking of the hungry dogs, which always 
follow them around. Sleeping in huts, in order 
to prevent mosquitoes from annoying them, they 
often build a fire beneath them, toasting them- 
selves until their flesh becomes a crust of scales. 
In the south Camarines, and in Negros, they 
will often come down to the coast towns, trading 
the wax and sweet potatoes of the mountains for 
sufficient rice to last them several days. They 
sometimes work a day or two in the adjacent hemp 
or rice fields, receiving for their labor a small 
measure of the rice. When they have eaten this, 
they fast until their hunger drives them down to 
work again. Their marriage relations are peculiar. 
While the father of the family has but one true 
wife, a number of women are dependent on him, 
widows or relatives who have attached themselves 
to him. The children receive their names from 
rivers, animals, or trees. If they were taken out 
of their environment when very young they might 
be educated, as experiments have shown that the 



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A Lq§T Tribe. 107 

Negrito children have the same impulses of gener- 
osity, the same attachment to their friends, the 
same joys, sorrows, and sensations, that belong 
to children everywhere. Only their little souls 
are lost forever in the wilderness. 

Neither the pagan tribes nor the Negritos read 
or write. The Moros, too, are very ignorant, only 
the priests and students being able to read pas- 
sages from the Koran and make the Arabic char- 
acters. The latest Malay immigrants, who had 
been influenced by Indian culture, introduced a 
style of writing that is very queer. Three vow- 
els were used, — ^a, e, and u. The consonants were 
represented by as many signs that look a good 
deal like our shorthand. Although there were 
three characters to represent the vowels when 
used alone, whenever a consonant would be pro- 
nounced with "a," only the sign of the consonant 
was used. In order to express a final consonant, 
or one without the vowel, a tiny cross was made 
below the character. If "e" was wanted, a dot 
would be placed over the letter that expressed the 
consonant, or if the vowel was to be "u," the dot 
was placed below. 



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io8 The Great White Tribe. 

Some rainy day, when you have nothing 
else to do, you can invent some characters 
to represent our consonants, and with the aid 
of dots and crosses, write a letter to yourself, 
and see how you would get along if you were 
forced to use that kind of alphabet at school. The 
natives use the Spanish alphabet to-day, which is 
much like our own. Their language, being full 
of particles, sounds very funny when they talk. 
All you would understand would be perhaps, pag, 
naga, naca, mag, tag, paga; and all this would 
probably convey but little meaning to you. It 
is a curious fact that while the dialects of all the 
tribes are different, many of the ordinary words 
are common, being slightly changed in the trans- 
ition. The language is of a Malayan origin, but 
has a number of Sanskrit words as well as Arabic. 
From studying these dialects, comparing the con- 
struction of the sentence as expressed by differ- 
ent tribes, and by comparing the inflections of ho- 
mogeneous verbs and nouns, one might arrive 
at the conclusion that these tribes and races, dif- 
fering so strikingly among each other, mutually 
antagonistic, all belong to one great family and 



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A Lost Tribe. 109 

have a common origin. But that is a question for 
the anthropologists to settle; one that will give 
even the professors all the trouble that they want, 
and make them wrinkle up their learned fore- 
heads, while among them they arrive at widely- 
varying decisions, which will be as mutually ex- 
clusive as the tribes themselves. 

It was a rainy day in the dense woods along 
the Iligan-Marahui road. The soft ground oozed 
beneath the feet, and a continual dripping was 
kept up from the low-hanging, saturated foliage. 
The Moro interpreter, in a red-striped suit and 
prominent gilt buttons, had come into camp with 
the report that one of the dattos at Malumbung 
wanted the military doctor to come up and treat 
his child, who was afflicted with a fever. The 
datto had offered protection for the "medico," 
and, as a fee, a bottle of pure gold. The guides 
and soldiers, who were waiting in the forest, 
would conduct the doctor to Malumbung if he 
cared to go. 

"This sounds like a pretty good adventure," 
said the commanding officer to me. "How would 



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no The Great White Tribe. 

you like to go along?" The doctor had accepted 
the offer of the Moros, and he now reiterated 
the commanding officer's invitation. "It 's going 
to be a rather long, stiff hike," he said. "We '11 
have to sleep to-night out in the woods, and 
there 's no telling whether the Moros mean good 
faith or not. Remember that, in case the child 
should die while I am there, the Moros will be- 
lieve that I have killed it, and will probably make 
matters more or less unpleasant for us both. I 
operated once upon a fellow over in Tagaloan 
who died under the knife. As soon as the spec- 
tators saw that he was hardly due to come to life 
again, they crowded around me with their bolos 
drawn, and if a friend of mine among them had 
not interfered, I would have followed my sub- 
ject very speedily." 

It was arranged that we take with us a small 
squad of regulars to carry the provisions and go 
armed, "in case there should be any game upon 
the way." As this arrangement seemed to satisfy 
the Moros, though it did not please theni much, 
we started, covering the first half mile along the 
clayey road through driving rain, and turning 



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A Lost Tribe. m 

off into the Moro trail around the summit of the 
hill. The Moros led the way with their peculiar 
lurching stride that covered a surprising distance 
in a very short time. Soon we were in the heart 
of the vast wilderness. We passed by colonies 
of monkeys, who severely reprimanded us from 
their secure retreat among the tree-tops. One of 
the soldiers killed a python with his Krag — a 
swollen creature, that could hardly be distin- 
guished from the overhanging vines — that meas- 
ured twenty feet from head to tail. The Moros 
silently unslipped their knives, and dextrously 
removed the skin. We camped that night in 
shelter tents, although the ground was soaked, 
and a cold breath penetrated the damp woods. 
All night the jungle-fowl and monkeys kept up 
an incessant obligato, and the forest seemed to 
re-echo with mysterious and far-off sounds. At 
daylight we pushed on, and late in the afternoon 
arrived at the small Moro settlement. The tiny 
nipa houses, set up on bamboo poles, were rather 
a poor substitute for shelter; but on reaching 
them after our two days in the forest, it was like 
arriving in a civilized community. The doctor 



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iia The Gr^at White Tribe. 

went immediately to the datto's house, a large one 
with a steep roof, where he dosed the infant with 
a little quinine. 

There were about five hundred Moros in the 
village under the datto, who ruled absolutely as 
by hereditary right. While he, of course, was 
feudal to the nearest sultan, in his own com- 
munity he was a lord and prince. Most of the 
people were his slaves and fighting men. His 
private warriors, or his bodyguard, were armed 
with krisses, campalans, and spears, with shields 
of carabao hide, and coats of mail of buffalo- 
horn, as defensive armor. The favorite weapons 
of the datto were elaborately inlaid with the 
ivory cut from the tusks of the wild boar. His 
dress was also distinctive, and when new must 
have been very brilliant. It was fastened with 
pearl buttons, while along the outside seams of 
his tight pantaloons a row of smaller buttons ran. 
A dirty silk handkerchief wound around his head, 
the corner overlapping on the side, made an ap- 
propriate and fitting headgear. He had several 
wives, for whom he had paid in all a sum amount- 
ing to a hundred sacks of rice and twenty cat- 



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A Lost Tribe. 113 

tie. He had lost considerably on his specula- 
tions, having divorced three wives and being un- 
able to secure a rebate on the price that he had 
paid for them. 

As soon as the doctor had completed his at- 
tentions to the patient, the pandit a (priest) ap- 
peared, and asked him to account for the strange 
happenings that had occurred in the community. 
The village was in a state of panic, and unless a 
stop were put to the proceedings soon, there was 
no telling what the end might be. It seemed that 
during the night a number of children had been 
murdered secretly. Their mutilated bodies had 
been left at morning at the gates of their respec- 
tive dwellings. These murders had been going 
on for several days, and though the houses had 
been guarded by a man armed with a campilan 
at night, the children would be mysteriously miss- 
ing in the morning. It was evidently, said the 
priest, the work of devils. A big hand had been 
seen to snatch one of the children from its parent's 
arms ; and under the houses of those afflicted could 
be seen a weird fire glowing in the dead of night. 

The people claimed the murderer was none else 



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114 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

than the big man of the woods, whose footprints, 
like the impressions of a cocoanut-shell, had been 
discovered in the soft ground near the border 
of the forest. There was a crazy prophet living 
in a tree, and he had seen the wife of the big 
man, half black, half white, wandering near the 
territory of the lake. The prophet had also seen 
a star fall from the sky, and he had followed it 
to see where it had struck the earth. He found 
there a huge stone, which, as he looked upon it, 
changed to a wild hog. Then the wild hog had 
vanished, and a flock of birds had risen from the 
ground. In place of the rock, a stone hand now 
appeared, and breaking off a finger of it, the 
prophet had discovered that, when burnt, its fumes 
had power to put the whole community to sleep. 
In this way had the big man of the woods been 
able to defy the guards and to assassinate the chil- 
dren at his will. 

The doctor, thinking that these deeds had been 
performed by somebody impelled by lust — the lust 
of seeing blood and quivering fleshy-determined 
to investigate. Suspicion pointed to the crazy 
prophet, and the guards directed us to his impos- 



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A Lost Tribe. 115 

sible abode. The prophet was accused directly of 
the crime, and, being convinced that he was 
found out by the white man's magic, he con- 
fessed. The datto sentenced him to be beheaded, 
and seemed disappointed when we would not stay 
to see this operation. He even offered to turn 
the victim loose among the crowd, and let them 
strike him down with krisses. Had we desired, 
we could have had the places of honor in the line, 
and used the datto's finest weapons. The people, 
he said, were puzzled at our lack of interest, for 
the occasion would have been a sort of festival 
for them. But seeing that we were obdurate, the 
datto served our farewell meal — ^baked jungle- 
fowl and rice — and, after offering to purchase our 
Krag-Jorgesens at an attractive price, he "bade us 
all good-bye. 

On the way back, our guides surprised us by 
their climbing and swimming. There was one 
place where the Agus River had been spanned 
by jointed bamboo poles; while we crossed like 
funambulists, depending for our balance on a 
slender rail, the Moros leaped into the rushing 
torrent, near the rapids, swimming like rats 



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ii6 The Great White Tribe. 

against the stream, and reaching the other side 
ahead of us. One of the guides went up a tall 
macao-tree, pulling himself up by the long para- 
sitic vines, and bracing himself against the tree- 
trunk with his feet, to get an orchid that was 
growing high among the foliage. Though we ex- 
pressed our admiration at these feats, the guides 
preserved their customary proud demeanor, and 
refused to be moved by applause. 

Their active life in the vast wilderness has 
given them athletic, supple bodies, which they 
handle to a nicety when fighting. Although the 
Moros build stone forts and mount them with 
old-fashioned cannon ; although their arsenals are 
fairly well supplied with Remingtons and Mau- 
sers, their warriors generally prefer to fight with 
bolos. These weapons never leave their side. 
They sleep with them, and they are buried with 
them. Their heavy campalans are fastened to 
their hands by thongs, so that, in case the hand 
should slip, the warrior would not fall without 
his knife. The Moros in a hand-to-hand fight are 
extremely agile. Holding the shield on the left 
arm, they flourish the bolo with their right, dodg- 



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A Lost Tribe. 117 

ing, leaping, and jeering at the antagonist in 
order to disconcert or frighten him. 

While their religion and fanaticism render 
them almost foolhardy in a battle, if a Moro sees 
that he is beaten and that escape is possible, he 
will avail himself of opportunities to fight an- 
other day. If brought to bay, however, he is 
desperate, and in his more religious moments he 
will throw himself on a superior enemy, expecting 
a sure death, but confident of riding the white 
horse to paradise if he succeeds in spilling the 
blood of infidels. 

Although distrustful, lazy, and malignant, 
the Moro is consistent in his hatred for the un- 
believer, and untiring on the war-path. Scorning 
all manner of work, he leads an active forest life, 
killing the wild pig, which religious scruples pre- 
vent his eating, and waging war against the 
neighboring tribes. He is a born slave-catcher 
and a pirate. He will drink sea-water when no 
other is available. He shows a diabolical cunning 
in the manufacture of his weapons. Nothing 
can be more terrible than the long, snaky blade 
of a Malay kriss. The harpoons, with which he 



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ii8 The Great White Tribe. 

spears the hogs, come apart at a slight pull. The 
point of the spear on catching in the flesh holds 
fast. The handle, however, becoming detached, 
though held to the barbed point by a thong, 
catches and holds the hog fast in the underbrush. 
The head-ax is a long blade turned at just the 
proper angle to decapitate the victirn scientifically. 
Ignorant and perfectly indifferent to the ob- 
servations that their creed prescribes, the Moros 
gather at the rude mosque to the beating of a 
monstrous drum. Seated around upon straw 
mats, they chatter and chew betel-nut while the 
pandita reads a passage from a manuscript copy 
of the Koran. These copies are guarded sacredly, 
and only the young men who are studying for 
the priesthood are instructed from them. The 
priests of the first class are able to read and write, 
and it is better to have made the pilgrimage to 
Mecca. The birth of Mohammed is celebrated 
by a feast at harvest-time. Another occasion for 
a feast is given by the marriage ceremony. Bride- 
grooms are encouraged to provide these banquets 
by the administration of a beating if delinquent, 
or in case the food provided fails to meet the ex- 



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A Lost Tribe. 119 

pectations of the guests. On the completion of 
this function, the bridegroom bathes his feet ; then 
chewing buya, seated on a mat beside the bride, 
his hand and hers are covered by a napkin while 
the priest goes through the proper gestures and 
recites a verse from the Koran. The wedding 
celebration then degenerates into a drunken dance. 

The bodies of the dead are wrapped in a white 
shroud, and buried in a crescent trench, together 
with enough meat, fruit, and water to sustain the 
spirit on its trip to paradise. The priest, before 
departing, eats a meal of buffalo-meat or other 
game above the grave. The grave is then turned 
over to a guard of soldiers, who remain there for 
a few days, or as long as they are paid. 

Though the Americans have tried to deal in 
good faith with these fanatics, little has been ac- 
complished either in the way of civilizing them 
or pacifying them. The Moro schools at Jolo 
and at Zamboanga have been failures. Teachers 
of manual training have been introduced to no 
avail. The Moro could be no more treacherous 
if his ancestors had sprung from tigers' wombs. 
A Moro boy, employed for years by one of my 



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I20 The; Great White Tribe. 

American acquaintances at Higan, rewarded his 
master recently by cutting his throat at night. 
As superstitious as he is fanatic and unciviHzed, 
the Moro is a failure as a member of the human 
race. Even the children are the incarnation of the 
fiend. There was that boy at Iligan who worked 
at the officer's club, and who hung over the 
roulette-wheel like a perfect devil, crowing with 
demoniac glee when he was lucky. These are our 
latest citizens — this batch of serpents' eggs 
hatched out in human form ; and those who have 
seen the Moro in his native home will tell you 
that, whatever his latent possibilities may be, he 
can not yet be dealt with as a man. 



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OUR LATEST CITIZENS 



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CAPTER VIII. 
In a Viscayan Vii,i,ag^. 

The fountain on the comer, where the brown, 
barefooted girls with bamboo water-tubes would 
gather at the noon hour and at supper-time, was 
shaded in the heat of the day by a mimosa-tree. 
The Calle de la Paz y Buen Viaje (Street 
of Peace and a Good Journey), flanked by sen- 
tinel-like bonga-trees and hedged in by a bamboo 
fence, stretches away through the banana-groves 
toward the fantastic mountains. A puffing car- 
abao comes down the long street, dragging the 
heavy stalks of newly-cut bamboo. The pig that 
has been rooting in the grass, looks up, and, see- 
ing what is coming, bolts with staccato grunts 
unceremoniously through the bamboo fence. 

In the little drygoods-store across the street, 
Felicidad, the dusky-eyed proprietress, has gone 
to sleep while waiting for a customer. She has 
discarded her chinelas and her pina yoke. Her 
brown arms resting on the table pillow her un- 

121 



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122 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

conscious head. Her listless fingers clasp a half- 
smoked cigarette. 

The stock of La Aurora is a comprehensive 
one, including printed cotton goods from China, 
red and green belts with nickel fastenings, un- 
comfortable-lool^ing Spanish shoes, a bottle of 
quinine sulphate tablets, an assortment of per- 
fumery and jewelry, rosaries and crucifixes, tow- 
els and handkerchiefs, and dainty pina fabrics. 
The arrival of the Americano is the signal for the 
neighbors and the neighbors' children, having 
nothing in particular to do, to flock around. The 
Filipino curiosity again ! 

On the next corner, where the wooden Atlas 
braces up the balcony, the Chino store is sheltered 
from the sun by curtains of alternate blue and 
white. Here Chino Santiago, in his cool pa- 
jama-s, audits the accounts with the assistance of 
the wooden counting frame, while Chino Jose, his 
partner, with his paintbrush stuck behind his ear, 
is following the ledger with his long, curved fin- 
ger-nail. Both Chinos, being Catholics, have ta- 
ken native wives, material considerations having 
influenced the choice; but Maestro Pepin says 



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In a Viscayan Viixage. 123 

that, nevertheless, they are unpopular because they 
work too hard and cause the fluctuations in the 
prices. By pursuing a consistent system of ab- 
stractions from the rice-bags, by an innocent adul- 
teration of the tinto wine, these two comerciantes 
have acquired considerable wealth. 

The bland proprietor will greet you with a 
smile, and offer you the customary cigarette. And 
'if the prices quoted are unsatisfactory, they are 
at least elastic and are easily adjusted for a per- 
sonal friend. Along the shelf the opium-scented 
line of drygoods is available, while portraits of 
the saints and Neustra Senorita del Rosario, 
whose conical skirt conceals the little children of 
the Church, hang from the wall. Suspended from 
the ceiling are innumerable hanging lamps with 
green tin shades. A line of fancy handkerchiefs, 
with Dewey's portrait and the Stars and Stripes 
embroidered in the comers, is displayed on wires 
stretched overhead across the store. Bolo blades, 
chocolate-boilers, rice-pots, water-jars, and crazy 
looking-glasses are disposed around, while in the 
glass case almost anything from a bone collar- 
button to a musical clock is likely to be found. 



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124 The Great White Tribe. 

Santiago would be glad to have you open an 
account here and, unlike the Filipino, he will 
never trouble you about your bill. 

The market street is lined with nipa booths, 
where senoritas play at keeping shop, presiding 
over the army of unattractive articles exposed for 
sale. Upon a rack the cans of salmon are drawn 
up in a battalion, a detachment of ex-whisky bot- 
tles filled with kerosene or tanduay, bringing up 
the rear. Certain stock articles may be invariably 
found at these tiendas, — boxes of matches, balls 
of cotton thread, bananas, huya, eggs and ciga- 
rettes, and the inevitable brimming glass of tuha, 
stained a dark-red color from the frequent ap- 
plications of the betel-chewing mouth. 

Although the stream of commerce flows in a 
small way where the almighty 'suca duco is the 
medium of exchange, gossip is circulated freely; 
for without the telegraph or telephone, news 
travels fast in Filipinia. The withered hag, her 
scanty raiment scarcely covering her bony limbs, 
squatting upon the counter in the midst of guini- 
mos, bananas, and dried fish, and spitting a red 
pool of betel-juice, will chatter the day long with 



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In a Viscayan Vii^lag^. 125 

the senora in the booth across the street. The 
purchaser should not feel delicate at seeing her 
bare feet in contact with the spiced bread that he 
means to buy, nor at the swarms of flies around 
the reeking mound of guinimos scraped up in 
dirty wooden bowls, and left in the direct rays 
of the sun. 

Dogs, pigs, chickens, and children tumble in 
the dust. Dejected Filipino ponies, tethered to 
the shacks, are waiting for their masters to ex- 
haust the tuba market. Down the lane a panting 
carabao, with a whole family clinging to its back, 
is slowly coming into town. Another, covered 
with the dust of travel, laden with bananas, hemp, 
and copra from a distant barrio, is being driven 
by a fellow in a nipa hat, straddling the heavy 
load. A mountain girl, bareheaded, carrying a 
parasol, comes loping in to the mercado on a 
skinny pony saddled with a red, upholstered silla, 
with a rattan back and foot-rest, cinched with 
twisted hemp. 

At night the market-place is lighted up by 
tiny rush lights, burning cocoatnut-oil or petrolia. 
Here, on a pleasant evening, to the lazy strum- 



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126 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

ming of guitars, the village population prome- 
nades, young men in white holding each other's 
hands, and blowing out a cloud of cigarette 
smoke ; senoritas, in their cheap red dresses, shuf- 
fling hopelessly along the road. One of the local 
characters is entertaining a street-comer audi- 
ence with a droll song, while the town-crier, with 
his escort of municipal police, announces by the 
beating of a drum that a bandilla from tlje presi- 
dente is about to be pronounced. 

Here you will find the Filipino in his natural 
and most playful mood, as easily delighted as a 
child. A crowd was always gathered round the 
tuba depot at the head of the mercado, where the 
agile climbers brought the beverage in wooden 
buckets from the tops of co/>ra-trees. A comical 
old fellow, Pedro Pocpotoc (a name derived from 
chicken language), used to live here, and on 
moonlight nights, planting his fat feet on the 
window-sill, like a droll caricature of Nero, he 
would sing Viscayan songs to the accompaniment 
of a cheap violin. A talkative old baker lived a 
short way down the street with his three daugh- 
ters. They were always busy ponding rice in 



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In a Viscayan Vii.i.ace. 127 

wooden mortars with long poles, thus making 
rice-flour, which they baked in clean banana- 
leaves and sweetened with brown sugar molded in 
the shells of cocoanuts. 

Sometimes a Moro boat would drop into the 
bay, and the strange-looking savages in their 
tight-fitting, gaudy clothes would file through 
town with spices, bark, and cloth for sale. From 
Bohol came the curious thatched buncos, with 
their grass sails and bamboo outriggers, with car- 
goes of pottery, woven hats, bohoka, and rattan. 
On the fiesta days, Subanos from the mountains 
brought in strips of dried tobacco, ready to be 
rolled up into long cigars, camotes, coffee-berries, 
chocolate, and eggs, and squatted at the entrance 
to the cockpit in an improvised mercado with the 
people from the shore, who offered clams and 
guinimos for sale. 

And once a month the town would be awak- 
ened by the siren whistle of the little hemp-boat 
from Cebu. This whistle was the signal for the 
small boys to extract the reluctant carabao from 
the cool, sticky wallow, and yoke him to the creak- 
ing bamboo cart. Then from the storehouses the 



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128 The Great White Tribe. 

fragrant picos of hemp would be piled on, and the 
longsuffering beast of burden, aided and abetted 
by a rope run through his nose, would haul the 
load down to the beach. While naked laborers 
were toiling with the cargo, carrying it upon their 
shoulders through the surf, the Spanish captain 
and the mate, with rakishly-tilted Tam o'Shanter 
caps, would light their cigarettes, stroll over to 
Ramon's warehouse where the hemp was being 
weighed, and, seated on sour-smelling sacks of 
copra, chat with old Ramon, partaking later of a 
dinner of balenciona, chicken and red-peppers, 
cheese and guava. 

Much of the village life centers around the 
river. Here in the early morning come the girls 
and women wrapped in robes of red and yellow 
stripes, and with their hair unbound. In family 
parties the whole village takes a morning bath, 
the young men poising their athletic bodies on 
an overhanging bank and plunging down into the 
cool depths below, the children splashing in the 
shallow water, and the women breast-deep in the 
stream, washing their long hair. 

Here also, during the morning hours, the wo- 



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In a Viscayan Vii.i.ach. 129 

men take their washing. Tying the chemise be- 
low the arms, they squat down near the shore and 
beat the wet mass with a wooden paddle on a 
rock. Meanwhile the children build extensive 
palaces of pebbles on the bank ; the carabaos, up 
to their noses in the river, dream in the refresh- 
ing shade of overhanging trees. The air is vocal 
with the liquid notes of birds, and fragrant with 
the heavy scent of flowers. A leaf-green lizard 
creeps down on a horizontal trunk. The broad 
leaves of abaca rustle in the breeze; the graceful 
stalks of bamboo crackle like tin tubes. Around 
the bend the water ripples at the ford. At even- 
ing you will see the tired men from the moun- 
tains, bending under heavy loads of hemp, wade 
through the shallows to the cavern shelter of the 
banyan-tree. Through the dense mango-grove 
comes the faint sound of bells. The puk-puk bird 
hoots from the jungle, and the black crows settle 
in the lofty trees. 

The covered bridge that spans the river near 
the mouth is a great thoroughfare. Neither the 
arch nor pier is used in its construction; it is 
anchored to the shore by cables. It is not a very 



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130 The Great White Tribe. 

rigid bridge, and sways considerably when one is 
crossing it. Even the surefooted ponies step a 
little gingerly over the loose beams that form the 
floor. A curious procession is continually pass- 
ing, — families moving their worldly goods on 
carabaos, the dogs and children following; horn- 
bres on ponies, grasping the stirrups with their 
toes ; a padre with his gown caught up above his 
knees, riding away to some confession ; mountain 
people traveling in single file, and girls with trays 
of merchandise upon their heads. 

Down where the nipa jungle thickens, fish- 
ing bancas are drawn up on the shore ; and near 
by in a cocoatnut-grove the old boatmaker lives. 
The hull of the outlandish boat that he is carv- 
ing is a solid log. When finished, with its black 
paint, nipa gunwale, bamboo outriggers, and rat- 
lines made of parasitic vines, it will put out from 
port with a big gamecock as a mascot, rowed 
with clumsy paddles to the rhythm of a drum, its 
helpless grass sails flopping while the sailors 
whistle for the wind. These boats, although they 
can not tack, have one advantage — they can never 
sink. They carry bamboo poles for poling over 



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In a Viscayan Vili^age. 131 

coral bottoms. In a fair breeze they attain con- 
siderable speed; but there is danger in a heavy 
sea of swamping. When drawn up on shore they 
look like big mosquitoes, as the body in propor- 
tion to the rigging seems quite insignificant. 

The little fishing village is composed of leaning 
shacks blown out of plumb by heavy winds. Along 
the beach on bamboo racks the nets are hanging 
out to dry. At night the little fleet puts out for 
Punta Gorda, where a ruined watch-tower — a pro- 
tection against Moro pirates — stands half hidden 
among creeping vines. The nets are floated upon 
husks of cocoanut, and set in the wild light 
of burning rushes. While the men are working 
in the tossing sea, or venturing almost beyond 
sight of land, the women, lighting torches, wade 
out to the coral reef and seine for smaller fish 
among the rocks. Early the following morning, 
while the sea is gray, the fishermen will toss their 
catch upon the sand. The devil-fish are the 
most popular at the impromptu market, where 
the prices vary according to the run of luck. 

The town was laid out by the Spaniards in 
the days when Padre Pedro was the autocrat and 
10 . 



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132 The Great White Tribe. 

representative of Spanish law. The ruins of the 
former mission and the public gardens are now 
overgrown with grass. Sea-breezes sweep the 
rambling convent w'lth its double walls, tiled 
courtyard, and its Spanish well. The new church, 
never to be finished, but with pompous front, 
illustrates the relaxing power of Rome. Goats, 
carabaos, and ponies graze on the neglected plaza 
shaded with widespreading camphor-trees. The 
two school buildings bearing the forgotten Span- 
ish arms are on the road to ruin and decay; no 
signs of life in the disreputable municipio; the 
presidente probably is deep in his siesta, and the 
solitary guard of the carcel is busily engaged 
in conversation with the single prisoner. 

The only remains of Spanish grandeur in the 
village are the two ramshackle coaches that are 
used for hearses at state funerals. Most of the 
larger houses are, however, in repair, although 
the canvas ceilings and the board partitions seem 
to be in need of paint. These houses occupy the 
center of the town. They are of frame construc- 
tion, painted blue and white. The floors are 
made of rosewood and mahogany; the windows 



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In a Viscayan VilIvAGe:. 133 

fitted with translucent shell. Storehouses occupy 
the first floor, while the living rooms are reached 
by a broad flight of stairs. A bridge connects 
the dining-room with the kitchen, where the 
greasy cook, often a Moro slave, works at a 
smoky fire of cocoanut-husks on an earth bottom, 
situated in an annex to the rear. 

A walk through the main street leads past a 
row of native houses, built on poles and shaded 
by banana-trees. You are continually stepping 
over mats spread out and covered with pounded 
com, while pigs and chickens are shooed off by 
the excitation of a piece of nipa, fastened to a 
string and operated from an upper window of 
the house. A small tienda opens from each house, 
with frequently no more than a few betel-nuts 
on sale. The front is decorated with the faded 
strips of cloth or paper lamps left over from the 
last fiesta, while the skeleton of a lamented mon- 
key fixed above the door acts as a charm to keep 
away bad luck. A parrakeet swings in the win- 
dow on a bamboo perch, and in another window 
hangs an orchid growing from the dried husk 
of a cocoanut. Under the house the loom is situ- 



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134 The: Gre:at White Tribe:. 

ated, where the women weave fine cloth from pina 
and banana fibers — ^and the wooden mortar used 
for pounding rice. After the harvest season it 
is one of the Viscayan customs to inaugurate rice- 
pounding bees. Relays of young men, stripped 
for work, surround the mortar, and, to the accom- 
paniment of guitars, deliver blows in quick suc- 
cession and with gradually increasing speed, ac- 
cording to the measure of the music. 

In the cool shade of the ylang-ylang tree a 
native barber is intent upon his customer. The 
customer sits on his haunches while the operation 
is performed. When it is finished, all the hair 
above the ears and neck will be shaved close, while 
that in front will be as long as ever. The beard 
will not need shaving, as the Filipino chin at best 
is hardly more aculeated than a strawberry. The 
hair, however, even of the smallest boys grows 
for some distance down the cheeks. The Filipino, 
when he does shave, takes it very seriously, and 
attacks the bristles individually rather than col- 
lectively. 

You will not remain long in a Filipino town 
without the chance of witnessing a native funeral. 



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In a Viscayan Village. 135 

A service of the first class costs about three hun- 
dred pesos; but for twenty pesos Padre Pedro will 
conduct a funeral of less magnificence. The padre, 
going to the house of mourning where the band, 
the singers, and the candle-bearers are assembled, 
engineers the pageant to the church. The dim 
interior will be illuminated by flickering candles 
burned in memory of the departed soul. Before 
the altar solemn mass is held, intensified by the 
deep tolling of a bell. Led by three acolytes in 
red and white, with silver crosses, the procession 
moves on to the cemetery on the outskirts of the 
town. The padre sheltered by a white umbrella, 
reads the Latin prayers aloud. A small boy 
swings the smoking censer, and the singers under- 
take a melancholy dirge. The withered body, 
with the hands crossed on the breast, clothed all 
in black, is borne aloft upon a bamboo litter, 
mounted with a black box painted with the skull 
and bones, and decked with candles. Women in 
black veils with candles follow, mumbling prayers, 
the words of which they do not understand. 

The cemetery is surrounded by a coral wall, 
commanded by a gate that bears a Latin epigram. 



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136 The Great White Tribe. 

The graves, as indicated by the mounds of dirt, 
are never very deep, and while a few are guarded 
by a wooden cross, forlornly decorated by a 
withered bunch of flowers, most of the graves re- 
ceive no care at all. There may be one or two 
vaults overgrown with g^ass and in a bad state 
of repair. Around the big cross in the center 
is a ghastly heap of human bones and grinning 
skulls — grinning because somebody else now oc- 
cupies their former grisly beds, the rent on which 
has long ago expired. 

To the Viscayan mind, death is a matter of 
bad luck. It is advisable to hinder it with anting- 
antings and medallions; but when it comes, the 
Filipino fatalist will take it philosophically. To 
the boys and girls a family death is the sensation 
of the year. It means to them nine days of cele- 
bration, when old women gather at the house, and, 
beating on the floor with hai ds and feet, put up a 
hopeless wail, while dogs without howl dismally 
and sympathetically. And at the end of the nine 
days, the soul then being out of purgatory, they 
will have a feast. A pig and a goat will be killed, 
not to speak of chickens — and the meat will be 



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In a Viscayan VilIvAGE. 137 

served up with calabash and rice ; and visitors will 
come and look on while the people eat at the first 
table; and the second table and the third are fin- 
ished, and the viands still hold out. But these are 
placed upon the table down below, where hoi polloi 
and the lame, blind, and halt sit down and eat. 
And back of all this superficiality lies the great 
superstitious dread by means of which the Church 
of Rome holds such authority. 

I got to know the little village very well — 
to join the people in their foolish celebrations 
and their wedding feasts. I was among them 
when the town was swept by cholera; when, in 
their ignorance, they built a dozen little shrines — 
just nipa shelters for the Holy Virgin, decorated 
with red cloth and colored grass — and held pro- 
cessions carrying the wooden saints and burning 
candles. 

Then the locusts came, and settled on the rice- 
fields — a great cloud of them, with whirring 
wings. They rattled on the nipa roofs like rain. 
The children took tin pans and drums and gave 
the enemy a noisy welcome. But the rains fell 
in the night, and the next morning all the ground 



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138 The Great White Tribe. 

was strewn with locusts trying heavily to fly. 
The ancient drum of the town-crier ushered 
in the day of work, and those who took this 
opportunity to pay their taxes gathered at the 
municipio — about a hundred ugly-looking men. 
They were equipped with working bolos, with 
their blades as sharp as sc)rthes for cutting grass, 
and, looking at them, you were forcibly reminded 
of another day, another army with a similar ac- 
couterment. Even the presidente went bare- 
footed as he gave directions for the work. Some 
were dispatched for nipa and bamboo, while oth- 
ers mowed the, grass around the church. Another 
squad hauled heavy timbers, singing as they pulled 
in unison. 

On Sunday mornings a young carabao was 
killed. The meat hacked off with little reference 
to anatomy was hung up in the public stall among 
the swarms of flies. Old women came and han- 
dled every piece, and haggled a good deal about 
the price. Each finally selected one, and swing- 
ing it from a short piece of cane, carried it home 
in triumph. Morning mass was held at the big 



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In a Viscayan Village. 139 

simbahan, where the doleful music of the band 
suggested lost souls wailing on the borders of 
Cocytus or the Stygian creek. Young cdballeros 
dressed in white, the concijales with their silver- 
headed canes and baggy trousers, and the "taos" 
in diaphanous and flimsy shirts that they had not 
yet learned to tuck inside, stood by to watch the 
senoritas on their way to church. The girls 
walked rather stiffly in their tight shoes; but as 
soon as mass was over, shoes and stockings came 
off, and the villagers relaxed into the bliss of in- 
formality. 

I learned, when I last went to La Aurora, that 
Felicidad was going to be married; that the 
banns had been announced last Sunday in the 
church. The groom to be, Benito, — or Bonito as 
we called him on account of his good looks, — 
had recently returned from college in Cebu, bring- 
ing a string of fighting cocks, a fonografo, and 
a piebald racing pony. "When he sent me the 
white ribbon," said Felicidad, "I was surprised, 
but mamma said that I was old enough to marry 
him — I was fourteen — ^and that the matter had 



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140 The Great White Tribe. 

been all arranged. And so I wore the ribbon in 
my hair, and also wrote my name Felicidad be- 
neath his on the card that he had sent. And after 
that, when we went walking, the duena was un- 
necessary." 

She confessed naively to a serenade under her 
balcony, of which I seem to have retained a hazy 
memory. And so the usual pig and goat were 
roasted, and the neighbors' boys came in to help. 
The bride, with orange-blossoms in her hair, the 
daintiest kid slippers on her feet, and dressed in a 
white mist of pina, rode away in the new pony 
cart, the only one in town. The groom was 
dressed in baggy trousers, with a pink shirt and 
an azure tie. Most of the presents came from 
Chino Santiago's store; but the best one was a 
beautiful piano from Cebu. 

After the service in the church, a feast was 
held upstairs in the bride's house. Ramon, the 
justice of the peace, the padre. Maestro Pepin, 
all the concijales, and the presidente were invited, 
and the groom owned up that he had spent his 
last cent on the refreshments that were passed 
around. It is the custom in the poorer families 



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In a Viscayan ViIvI^age. 141 

for the prospective groom to bond himself out 
for a certain length of time to the bride's father, 
or even to purchase her with articles of merchan- 
dise. A combination of commercial interests was 
the result, however, of the marriage of Bonito 
and Felicidad. 



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CHAPTER IX. 

THE "brownies" of the phiuppines. 

How WOUI.D you like it, not to have a Fourth 
of July celebration, or a Christmas stocking, or a 
turkey on Thanksgiving-day? The little children 
of the Philippines would be afraid of one of our 
firecrackers — they would think it was another 
kind of "boom-boom" that killed men. A life- 
sized turkey in the Philippines would be a curi- 
osity, the chickens and the horses and the people 
are so small. The little boys and girls do not 
wear stockings, even around Christmas-time, and 
" Santa Claus would look in vain for any chimneys 
over there. The candy, if the ants did not get 
at it first, would melt and run down to the toes 
and heels of Christmas stockings long before the 
little claimants were awake. Of course, they do 
not have plum-puddings, pumpkin-pies, and ap- 
ples. All the season round, bananas take the place 
of apples, cherries, strawberries, and peaches ; and 
boiled rice is the only kind of pumpkin-pie they 
have. ^42 



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Philippine "Brownies/" 143 

The fathers and mothers of the Httle Brownie 
boys and girls are very ignorant. Most of them 
can not even write their names, and if you asked 
them when the family birthdays came they would 
have to go and ask the padre. Once, when I was 
living at the convent, a girl-mother, who had 
walked in from a town ten miles away, came up 
to register the birth of a new baby in the padre's 
book. She stood before the priest embarrassed, 
digging her brown toes into a big crack in the 
floor. "At what time was the baby born?" was 
asked. "I do not know," she answered, "but it 
was about the time the chickens were awake." 

It is a lucky baby that can get goat's milk to 
drink. Their mothers, living for the most part 
on dried fish and rice, are never strong enough 
to give them a good start in life. It is a com- 
mon sight to see the tiny litter decorated with 
bright bits of paper and a half-dozen lighted can- 
dles, with its little, waxen image of a child, wait- 
ing without the church door till the padre comes 
to say the funeral services. 

In that far-distant country but a small num- 
ber of children ever have worn pretty clothes — 



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144 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

only a tiny shirt ; and they are perfectly contented, 
as the weather never gets uncomfortably cold. 
Their mothers or their older sisters carry them 
by placing them astride the hip, where they must 
cling tight with their little, fat, bare legs. They 
are soon old enough to run around and play ; not 
on the grass among the trees, but in the dust out 
in the street. Their houses, built of nipa and 
bamboo, do not set back on a green lawn, but 
stand as near to the hot, dusty street as possible. 
To get inside the houses, which are built on posts, 
the babies have to scramble up a bamboo ladder, 
where they might fall off and break their necks. 
At this age they have learned to stuff themselves 
with rice until their little bodies look as though 
they were about to burst. A stick of sugar-cane 
will taste as good to them as our best peppermint 
or lemon candy. All the boys learn to ride as 
soon as they learn how to walk. Saddles and 
bridles are unnecessary, as they ride bareback, and 
guide the wiry Filipino ponies with a halter made 
of rope. The carabao is a great friend of Filipino 
boys and girls. He lets them pull themselves up 
by his tail, and ride him into town — as many as 



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Phiuppin^ "Brownies/' 145 

can make room on his back, allowing them to 
guide him by a rope run through his nose. 

I do not think that many of the children can 
remember ever having learned to swim. The 
mothers, when they take their washing to the 
river, do not leave the little ones behind ; and you 
can see their glistening brown bodies almost any 
morning at the riverside among the nipa, the 
young mothers beating clothes upon a rock, the 
carabaos up to their noses in the water, chewing 
their cuds and dreaming happy dreams. The 
boys can swim and dive like water-rats, and often 
remain in the river all day long. 

The girls, when about five years old look very 
bright. Their hair is trimmed only in front (a 
good deal like a pony's), and their laughing eyes 
are very brown and mischievous. Most of them 
only wear a single ornament for a dress — a 
"Mother Hubbard'' of cheap cotton print which 
they can buy for two pesetas at the Chino store. 
The boys all wear long trousers, and, at church 
or school, white linen coats, with military collars, 
which they call ''Americanasf' The girls do not 
wear hats. They save their "Dutchy" little bon- 
11 



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146 The Great White Tribe. 

nets, with the red and yellow paper flowers, for 
the fiesta days. They wear white veils on Sun- 
days when they go to mass. The boys' hats often 
have long brims like those that we wear on the 
farm. They also have felt Tam o'Shanter caps, 
which they affect with quite a rakish tilt. 

Playthings are scarce in Filipinia. The boys 
and girls would be delighted with a cheap toy cart 
or drum. The dolls are made of cotton cloth, 
with painted cheeks, and beads for eyes, dressed 
up in scraps of colored pina cloth in imitation of 
fine senoritas. Kite-time and the peg-top season 
come as in America. The Filipino kites are built 
like butterflies or birds, and sometimes carry a 
long beak which is of use in case of war. Kite- 
fighting is a favorite amusement in the islands, 
where the native boys are expert in the art of 
making and manipulating kites. Among the 
other games they play is one that an American 
would recognize as "tip-cat," and another which 
would be morfe difficult to recognize as football. 
This is played with a light ball or woven frame- 
work of rattan. The ball is batted from one 
player to another by the heel. The national pet 



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Phiuppine "Brownies/' 147 

is neither dog nor cat; it is a chicken and the 
grown-up people think almost as much of this 
unique pet as the children do. 

Music comes natural to the Filipinos. Their 
instruments are violins, guitars, and flutes. The 
boys make flutes of young bamboo-stalks which 
are very accurate, and give out a peculiar mellow 
tone. 

Fiesta-ddiys and Sundays are the great events 
in Filipinia. On Sunday morning the young girls, 
in their white veils and clean dresses, go to mass, 
and, making the sign of the cross before the 
church, kneel down upon the bare tiles while the 
service is performed. The church to them is the 
magnificent abode of saints and angels. The wax 
images and altar paintings are the only things 
they have in art except the cheap prints of the 
saints and Virgin, which they hang conspicuously 
in their homes. Pascua, or Christmas week, is a 
great holiday, but it is very different from the 
Christmas that. we know. The children going to 
the convent school are taught to sing the Spanish 
Christmas carols, and on Christmas eve they go 
outdoors and sing them on the streets in the bright 



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148 The Great White Tribe. 

starlight. Their voices, although untrained, are 
very delicate and sweet. The native music, which 
they often sing, like all the music of the southern 
isles, is very melancholy, often rising to a hope- 
less wail. On the last day of school the padre will 
distribute raisins, nuts, and figs, which are the 
only Christmas presents that the boys and girls 
receive. At the parochial schools they are taught 
to do their studying aloud, and always to commit 
the text to memory. If memory should fail them 
in a crisis, they would be extremely liable to have 
their ears pulled by the priest, or to be made to 
kneel upon the floor with outstretched arms, thus 
making the recitation somewhat of a tragedy; 
but there are also prizes for the meritorious. One 
book includes the whole curriculum — religion, 
table manners, grammar, "numbers," and geogra- 
phy — arranged in catechisms of convenient length. 
The boys are separated from the girls in school 
and church, and I have very seldom seen them 
play together in their homes. During the long 
vacation they must spend most of their time at 
work out in the rice-fields under the hot sun. So 
they would rather go to school than have va- 
cation. 



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Phiuppine "Brownies/' 149 

With the new schools and the American 
schoolteachers a great opportunity has come to the 
young people of the Philippines. New books 
with beautiful illustrations have been introduced, 
new songs, and a new way of studying. It would 
amuse you if you were to hear them read. "I do 
not see the pretty bird" they would pronounce, 
"Ee doa noat say day freety brud." The roll- 
call also sounds a good deal different from that in 
our own schools, where we have our Williams, 
Johns, and Henrys; but the Filipino names are 
very pretty (mostly names of Spanish saints), 
Juan, Mariano, Maximo, Benito, and Torribio 
for boys ; Carnation, Bemarda, and Adela for the 
girls. The boys especially are very bright, and 
they are learning rapidly, not only grammar and 
arithmetic, but how to play baseball and tag and 
other games that make the child-life of America 
so pleasant. 



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CHAPTER X. 

CHRISTMAS IN FIWPINIA. 

While you are in a land of starlight, frost, 
and sleighbells, here the cool wind brushes through 
the palms and the blue sea sparkles in the sun. "In 
every Christian kind of place" it is the time of 
Christmas bells and Christmas masses. Even at 
the Aloran convent — about the last outpost of 
civilization (only a little way beyond live the wild 
mountain folk — sun-worshipers and the Moham- 
medans) the padre has prepared a treat of nuts 
and raisins for the boys and girls — somewhat of 
a Christmas cheer even so far across the sea. They 
have been practicing their Christmas songs, Ave 
Maria and the "Oratorio," which they will sing 
around the streets on Christmas eve. The school- 
boys have received their presents — dictionaries, 
sugared crackers, and perfumed soap — and now 
that their vacation has begun, their little brown 
heads can be seen bobbing up and down in the blue 
sea. Their Christmas-tree will be the royal palm ; 
and nipa boughs their mistletoe. 

150 



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Christmas in Fiupinia. 151 

Last Christmas in the provinces I spent in 
lloilo at a hostel kept by a barefooted Spanish 
landlady, slovenly in a loose morning-gown and 
with disheveled hair, who stored the eggs in her 
own bedroom and presided over the untidy staff, 
of house-boys. As she usually slept late, we break- 
fasted without eggs, being limited to chocolate and 
cakes. The only option was a glass of lukewarm 
coffee thinned to rather sickening proportions with 
condensed milk. Dinner, however, was a more 
elaborate affair, consisting of a dozen courses, 
which began with soup and ended with bananas 
or the customary cheese and guava. The several 
meat and chicken courses, the ''balenciona" — 
boiled rice mixed with chicken giblets and red pep- 
"pers — and the bread, baked hard and eaten with- 
out butter, was washed down with a generous 
glass of tinto wine. A pile of rather moist plates 
stood in front of you, and as you finished one 
course an untidy thumb removed the topmost 
plate, thus gradually diminishing the pile. 

The dining-room was very interesting. A 
pretentious mirror in a tarnished gilt frame was 
the piece de resistance. The faded chromos of the 



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152 The Great White Tribe. 

royal family, the Saints, and the Enfanta were re- 
lieved by the brilliant lithographs presenting 
brewers' advertisements. A majestic chandelier, 
considerably fly-specked, but elaborately orna- 
. men ted with glass prisms, dropped from the fres- 
coed ceiling, and a cabinet containing miscella- 
neous seashells, family photographs, and starfish 
occupied one comer of the room. 

There was a Christmas eve reception at the 
home of the "Dramatic Club," where the refresh- 
ments of cigars and anisette and bock beer were 
distributed with liberal hand. The Filipino always 
does things lavishly. The evening was devoted 
to band concerts — the municipal band in the pa- 
vilion rendering the Mexican waltzes, "Over the 
Waves," "The Dove," and other favorites, while 
the "upper ten" paraded in the moonlight under 
the mimosa-trees — serenades under the Spanish 
balconies, and carol-singing to the strumming of 
guitars. The houses were illumined with square 
tissue paper lanterns of soft colors. The public 
market was a fairyland of light. The girls at the 
tobacco booths offered a special cigarette tied with 
blue ribbon as a souvenir of the December holi- 



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Christmas in Fiupinia. 153 

days. A mass at midnight was conducted in the 
venerable church. As the big bronze bells up in 
the belfry tolled the hour the auditorium was filled 
with worshipers — women in flapping slippers and 
black veils ; girls smelling of cheap perfumery and 
cocoanut-oil, in their stiff gauze dresses with the 
butterfly sleeves ; barefooted boys and young men 
redolent of cigarettes and musk. A burst of music 
from the organ in the loft commenced the serv- 
ices, which were concluded with the passing of the 
Host and a selection by the band. The priest on 
this occasion wore his gold-embroidered chasuble ; 
the acolytes, red surplices and lace. 

The streets next morning — Christmas-day — 
were thronged with merry-makers. Strangers 
from the mountain tribes, wild, hungry-looking 
creatures, had strayed into town, not only for the 
excitement of the cockpit, but to do their trading 
and receive their share of alms, which are disr 
tributed by all good Catholics at this season of 
the year. 

Here on the comer was a great wag in an ass's 
head, accomplishing a clumsy dance for the amuse- 
ment of the crowd. Around the cockpit chaos 



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154 The Great White Tribe. 

was the order of the day. The eager fighting- 
cocks, in expectation of the combat, straining at 
their tethers, published to the world their lusty 
challenges. The "talent," with delicious thrills, 
were hefting favorite champions, and hastening 
to register their wagers with the bank. 

The cock-fights lasted the entire week ; at the 
end of that time the erratic "wheel of fortune" 
had involved in ruin many an enthusiast who had 
unfortunately played too heavily the losing bird. 

A strolling troop of actors came to visit us 
that night. They carried their own scenery and 
wardrobe with them, and the children who were 
to present the comedy were dressed already for the 
first act. As they filed in, followed by a mob of 
ragamuffins who had seen the show a dozen times 
or more without apparent diminution of enjoy- 
n?ent, the stage manager arranged the scenery and 
green-room, which consisted of a folding screen. 
The orchestra, with bamboo flutes, guitars, and 
mandolins, took places on a bench, where they be- 
gan the overture, beating the measure with bare 
feet ancf with as much delight as though they were 
about to witness the performance for the first time. 



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Christmas in Filipinia. 155 

The proprietor informed us that the entertainment 
Vvas to be a comedy of old Toledo. It was some- 
what of a Cyrano de Bergerac affair ; one of the 
principals, concealed behind the "leading man," 
using his own arms for gestures, sang his repre- 
sentative love for the sefiorita in the Spanish 
dancer's costume. The castanet dance was re- 
peatedly encored, especially by those familiar with 
the program, who desired that we appreciate it to 
its full extent. The actors in this dance were 
dressed as Spanish buccaneers are popularly sup- 
posed to dress, in purple breeches buttoned at the 
knee, red sashes, and gold lace. . . . 

Last night at our own church three paper lan- 
terns, shaped like stars and representing the "three 
wise men," at the climax of the mass were worked 
on wires so that they floated overhead along the 
auditorium, and finally came to rest above the 
altar, which had been transformed into a manger, 
the more realistic on account of the pigs, ducks, 
and chickens manufactured out of paper that had 
been disposed around. 

To-day three men in red are traveling from 
house to house with candles followed by an at- 



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t$6 The Great White Tribe. 

tendant with a bell, ringing away the evil spirits 
for a year. The councilmen in snowy blouses and 
blue pantaloons, with their official canes, are mak- 
ing their official calls, and Padre Pedro in his pony 
cart has been around to visit his parishioners. The 
band, equipped with brand new uniforms and in- 
struments, is playing underneath the convent bal- 
cony. Their duties during the festivities are stren- 
uous; for they must serenade the residence of 
every magnate in the town, receiving contributions 
of pesetas, cigarettes, and gin. 

This afternoon we made our round of calls, 
for every family keeps open house. A number of 
matinee balls were in session, where the natives 
danced "clack-clack" around the floor to the mo- 
notonous drone of home-made instruments. Our 
friends all wished us a '^ Ma-ay on Pascua" or 
''Peliz Pascua/' for which "Merry Christmas" 
they expected some remembrance of the day. Our 
efforts were rewarded by innumerable gifts of 
cigarettes and many offers of tanduay and gin. 
At one place we experimented with a piece of 
^'bud'bud/' which is (as its name implies) a sweet- 
meat made of rice paste mixed with sugar. The 
hams with sugar frosting, and the cakes flavored 



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Christmas in Filipinia. 157 

with native limes, and cut in the shape of the "En- 
sanguined Heart," were more acceptable. At one 
house we received a cake made in the image of a 
lamb, with sugar ringlets representing fleece. At 
our departure, "many thanks, sir, for the visits" 
and a final attempt to get rid of another cigarette. 
It is in bad taste to refuse. A Filipino host would 
feel offended at your not accepting what he of^ 
fered. He would feel as though discrimination 
were implied. 

At night after the cock-fight one droll fellow 
brought around a miniature marionette theater, of 
which he was the proud proprietor. While his as- 
sistant blew a bamboo flute behind the scenes, the 
puppets danced fandangoes and played football in 
a very lifelike manner. Seated on an empty 
cracker-box in front, surrounded by the ragged 
picaninnies, sat Dolores, with her sparkling eyes, 
lips parted, and her black hair hanging loose, — 
oblivious to everything except the marionettes. 

The star attraction was preceded by applause. 
The number was announced by those familiar with 
the exhibition as a "Moro combat," and as the 
assistant struck a harrowing obligato on an old 
oil-can, the Moros appeared with fighting campa- 



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158 The Great White Tribe. 

Ions and barbarous-looking shields. The crowd 
expressed its approbation in wild howls. The first 
two rounds were rather tame. "Afraid ! Afraid !" 
exclaimed the crowd, but presently the combatants 
began to warm up to their work and to make 
frantic lunges at each other at the vital spot. This 
was the time of breathless and instinctive pressing 
forward from the back rows. Somebody cried 
out, ''Cebu!-' or "Down in front!" and then again, 
"Patair which means "dead." One of the war- 
riors at this cue flopped supine on the stage, and 
the suppressed excitement broke. The victor, not 
content with mere manslaughter, plied his sword 
so energetically as quickly to reduce his victim to 
a state of hash. At this point his Satanic majesty, 
the curtain manager, saw fit to intervene, and with 
a long spear he successfully probed the limp re- 
mains, completing the assassination. I had not 
known until then what a young barbarian Dolores 
was. 

The last attraction of our Christmas week was 
a genuine Mystery play, the Virgin Mary being 
represented by a girl in soiled white stockings and 
a confirmation dress. The Christ Child was a 
Spanish doll in a glass case. There were the three 



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Christmas in Fiupinia. 159 

wise men — one in a long beard and a pink mask, 
and the others in gold braid and knickerbockers — 
more like dandies than philosophers. "Joseph" 
was splendid, with a shepherd's crook and a som- 
brero. Adoration before the manger was the 
theme that was developed in a series of ballets 
danced by the children to a tambourine and Cast- 
anet accompaniment. At the conclusion of the 
play, the little actors in their starry costumes, 
Joseph and the Virgin (carrying the Babe), the 
three philosophers, and the musicians and the 
army of admiring followers, filed out into the 
moonlight, and as the sweet music of the "Shep- 
herds' Song" diminished gradually, they disap- 
peared within a shadowy grove of palms. 

A CHRISTMAS ^EAST. 

When Sefior Pedro gave his Christmas feast, 
he went about it in the orthodox way. That is, 
he began at midnight Christmas eve. The Christ- 
mas pig we were to have had, however, disap- 
pointed us — and thereby hangs a tale. 

Came Senor Pedro early in the morning of 
the twenty-fourth, and "In the mountains," Seiior 
Pedro said, "runs a fat pig." Usa ca babui uga 



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i6o The Great White Tribe. 

dacu! A regular feast of a pig running at large 
near the macao woods on the slope beyond Mer- 
cario's hemp-fields ! 

Nothing would do but that I buckle on my 
Colt's — a weapon that I had done much destruc- 
tion with among the lesser anthropoids in the 
vicinity. Then we set out radiantly for the hills, 
with Senor Pedro leading and a municipal police- 
man with us to take home the pig. We soon ar- 
rived at the pig's stamping grounds. We had not 
long to wait. There was a snapping of the under- 
brush, and "Mr. Babui" appeared upon the scene. 
His great plank side and sagging belly was as fair 
a mark as any sportsman could have wished. His 
greedy little eyes were fixed upon the ground 
where he was rooting for his Christmas dinner. 

Bang! The bullet from the army Colt's sped 
true. Our pig, flat on his back, was squealing des- 
perately, and his feet were pawing the air as fast 
as though he had been run by clockwork and had 
been suddenly released from contact with the 
ground. Then the municipal policeman went to 
pick him up. But lo, a miracle ! Our Christmas 
pig, inspired by supersusine terror on the approach 
of the dire representative of law, regained his 



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Christmas in Fiupinia. i6i 

legs, and before we could recover from our aston- 
ishment, had scudded away with an expiring 
squeak like that emitted from a musical bal- 
loon on its collapse. We never found the pig. 
He was just mean enough to die in privaty. 

But there was to be some compensation. 
What, though our Christmas dinner had escaped ? 
1 managed to bring down a monkey that for some 
time had been chattering and scolding at us from 
a tree, and with this substitute — a delicacy rare 
to native palates — marched triumphantly back to 
the town. 

Exactly at midnight the senores took their 
seats around the board. The orchestra was sta- 
tioned in an elevated alcove in the next room. On 
the benches sat the women, from the dainty Juliana 
in her pink cotton hosiery and white kid slippers 
to the old witch Paola, the town scold. We 
plunged in without ceremony, for there were no 
knives or forks. Heaping platefuls of rice were 
served with the stewed meat — cut in small pieces 
that "just fit the hand," and cooked with vege- 
tables. At my request the monkey had been 
roasted whole. "All la same bata" (baby) cried 
my host, and sure, I never felt more like a canni- 

12 



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i62 Th^ Gr^at Whit^ Trib^ 

bal in all my life. I shuddered later when, the 
ladies at the table, Juliana gnawed the thigh-bone 
of the little beast with relish. 

Senor Pedro kept the orchestra supplied with 
gin, with the result that what they lacked in accu- 
racy they made up for in enthusiasm. In the dim 
room, lighted only by the smoky "kinkes," we 
could see the hungry eyes of those awaiting the 
third table — the retainers and the poor relations. 
On the boards below was spread a banquet of rice 
and tuba for the multitude. 

The party broke up with a dance, and as the 
pointers of the Southern Cross faded from the 
pale sky, the happy merrymakers filed off to their 
beds. They had so little in this far-off comer of 
the world, and yet they were content. Had not 
the stars looked down upon them through the 
tropic night? Had not the blue sea broken in 
phosphorescent ridges at their feet ? And did n't 
they have the Holy Virgin on the walls to smile 
a blessing on their little scene of revelry? O, it 
was Christmas over all the world ! And on this 
day at least the white man and the "little brown 
brother" could shake hands over mutual interests. 



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CHAPTER XL 

IN A VISCAYAN HOM^. 

The shutters of the house across the street 
were closed. Under the balcony, near where the 
road was strewn with scarlet blossoms from the 
fire-tree, carpenters were hammering and sawing 
busily. Shaped by the antiquated handsaw and 
the bolos, a rude coffin gradually assumed its grim 
proportions. A group of schoolboys, drawn by 
curiosity, looked on indifferently while keeping 
up a desultory game of tag. Upstairs, the wo- 
men, dressed in the black veils of mourning, shuf- 
fling noiselessly around, were burning candles at 
the "Queen of Heaven's" shrine. They murmured 
prayers mechanically — not without a certain rev- 
erence and awe — to usher the departing soul into 
the land beyond. A smoky wall-lamp, glimmer- 
ing near the door, illuminated the black crucifix 
above the bed. In the dim candle-light vague 
shadows danced on the white walls. 

163 



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164 The Great White Tribe. 

The priest had heard the last confession 
of Jose Pilar. Not that Jose had been one of 
the padre's friends. In fact, he was suspected 
during the past year of having been a secret agent 
of Aglipay, the self-consecrated Bishop of Manila, 
and the target of the accusation and invective that 
the Church of Rome is so proficient in. The re- 
cent rulings of the order had abolished the con- 
fession fee; but the long road was uncertain and 
the dangers great. The padre rubbed his hands 
as he went out. He had received a "voluntary" 
contribution for his services, with the assurance 
that a series of masses would be ordered by the 
widow of Jose Pilar. Through the stiflf palms, 
the cold sea, gray as steel, washed the far-distant 
shores of lonely islands, and the red glow of the 
setting sun had died away. 

The padre thought about the plump goats and 
the chickens in the new stockade. The simple 
people brought their chickens to the convent, de- 
nying themselves all but the fish and rice. The 
mothers weaned their puny brats on rice; they 
stuflfed them with it till their swollen paunches 
made a grotesque contrast with their skinny legs. 



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In a Viscayan Home. 165 

Childbirth is one of the minor incidents of FiH- 
pinia. Where is the house that doesn't swarm 
with babies, like the celebrated residence of the 
old woman in the shoe? When one of these spar- 
rows falls, the little song that dies is never 
missed. 

How many times had Father Cipriano climbed 
the rickety ladder to the nipa dwellings, entering 
the closed room where the patient lay upon the 
floor! A gaping crowd of yokels stood around, 
while the old woman faithfully kneaded the ab- 
domen. The native medicaster, having placed the 
green leaves on the patient's temples, would be 
brewing a concoction of emollient simples. The 
open shirt disclosed upon the patient's breast the 
amulet which had been blessed by Padre Cipriano, 
and was stamped with a small figure of a saint. 
The holy father smiled as he reflected how they 
spent their last cent for the funeral ceremonies, 
while the doctor's fee would be about a dozen 
eggs. And even now that death had come to one 
not quite so ignorant and simple as the rest, the 
funeral celebrations would be but the more elab- 
orate. Not every one who could aflford a coffin 



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i66 The Great White Tribe. 

in Malingasag! And as the padre crossed the 
plaza he lighted a cigarette. 

It was with feelings of annoyance that he saw 
before the side door of the church a tiny Htter 
cheaply decorated with bright paper and red cloth. 
The yellow candles threw a fitful light over the 
little image on the bier. It was the image of a 
child, a thing of wax, clothed in a white dress, 
with a tinsel crown upon its head. One of the 
sacristans was drumming a tattoo upon the bells. 
The padre motioned him to discontinue. He 
would have his gin-and-water first, and then devo- 
tions, lasting twenty minutes. After devo- 
tions he could easily dispose of the small child. 
So the two humble women waited in patience at 
the door, and the cheap candles sputtered and went 
out before the good priest could find time to hurry 
through the unimportant funeral services that 
meant to him only a dollar or two at best in the 
depreciated silver currency. Already night was 
overshadowing the palm-groves as the pathetic 
little group filed out and trudged across the rice- 
pads toward the cemetery. 

The Filipinos regard the American doctors 



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In a Viscayan Home. 167 

with suspicion. When a snakebite can be cured 
by a burnt piece of carabao horn, or when the 
leaves or bits of paper stuck upon the temple will 
relieve the fever or the dysentery, what is the use 
of drugs and medicines and things that people do 
not understand ? Once, out of the kindness of his 
heart, an army doctor that I knew, prescribed a 
valuable ointment for a child afflicted by a running 
sore. The child was in a terrible condition, as the 
sore had eaten away the flesh and bone, leaving 
a large hole under the lower lip through which 
the roots of the teeth were all exposed. The par- 
ents had not washed the child for weeks. They 
actually believed that bathing was injurious when 
one was sick. The doctor, giving them directions 
how to use the medicine, asked them, as an ex- 
periment, what fee he might expect. He knew 
well that if the priest had asked this question, 
they would eagerly have offered everjrthing they 
had. So he was not surprised when they replied 
that they were very poor, and that they did not 
think the service was worth anything. The doc- 
tor turned them away good naturedly, but they 
returned the next day with the medicine, report- 



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i68 Th^ Gr^at White Tribe. 

ing that undoubtedly it was no good, because, for- 
sooth, the child had cried when they applied it! 
As a peace-offering they brought a dozen miser- 
able bananas. 

Slinging a tablet around his neck, a "valuable 
remedy against the pest," the Filipino thinks that 
he is reasonably secure against disease, and that 
if he becomes afflicted, it is the result of some 
transgression against heaven. I happened to re- 
ceive a startling proof, however, of its efficacy 
when the padre's house-boy, rather a bright young 
fellow, made me a present of his "remedy" and 
died the next day of cholera. Still I have seen the 
"anting-anting," which is supposed to render the 
wearer bullet-proof, pierced with the balls of the 
Krag-Jorgensen and staine4 with blood. Al- 
though the Viscayans show considerable sympa- 
thy toward one when he is sick, the native dentist 
cutting out the tooth with a dull knife, we would 
consider almost too barbarous to practice in Amer- 
ica. The Igorrotes have a way of driving out the 
fever with a slow fire; but between this Spartan 
method and Viscayan ignorance the choice is diffi- 
cult. No wonder that the people drop off with 



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In a Viscayan Homk. 169 

surprising suddenness. Your laundryman or 
baker fails to come around some morning, and 
you ask one of your neighbors where he is. The 
neighbor, shifting his wad of buya to the other 
cheek, will gradually wake up and answer some- 
think ending in "amhut," ''Ambut" is a con- 
venient word for the Viscayan, as it means "do n't 
know," and even if he is informed, the Filipino 
often is too lazy or indifferent to explain. You 
finally discover some one more accommodating 
who replies : "Why, have n't you heard ? He died 
the other day." 

Sulkiness, one of the characteristics of the 
girls and boys, develops into surliness in men and 
billingsgate in women. And I have no doubt that 
little Diega, the sulkiest and prettiest of the Vis- 
cayan beauties, in a few years will be gambling 
at the cock-fights, smoking cigars, and losing her 
money every Sunday afternoon at Mariana's 
monte game. Vulgarity with them goes down 
as wit, and the Viscayan women make a fine art of 
profanity. It is always the woman in a family 
quarrel who is most in evidence. And even the 
delicate Adela when the infant Richard fell down- 



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170 The Great White Tribe. 

stairs the other day, cried, "Mother of God!" 
which she considered to be more appropriate than 
''Jesus, Marie, Josep!" 

On entering one of the common houses, you 
would be astonished at the pitiable lack of fur- 
nishings. The floor is made of slats of split 
bamboo, tied down with strips of cane. The walls 
are simply the dried nipa branches, fastened down 
with bamboo laths. The only pictures on the 
walls are the cheap prints of saints, the "Lady of 
the Rosary," or illustrations clipped together with 
the reading matter from some stray American 
magazine. The picture of a certain popular shoe 
manufacturer is sometimes given the place of 
honor near the crucifix. If any attempt at decora- 
tion has been made, the lack of taste of 'the Vis- 
cayans is at once apparent. For the ancient fly- 
specked chromo of the "Prospect of Madrid" is as 
artistic in their eyes as though the advertisement 
of a certain cracker factory did not adorn the 
margin. The undressed pillars that support the 
house, run through the floor. The nipa shutters 
that protect the windows are propped open, mak- 
ing heavy awnings, and permitting a free circu- 



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In a Viscayan Home. 171 

lation of the breeze. There are no ceilings in these 
houses, and the entire framework of the roof is 
visible. A cheap red curtain, trimmed with lace, 
is draped before the entrance to the sleeping-room. 
While in the better frame-constructed residences 
an old Spanish tester bed with a cane bottom may 
be seen in this apartment, here only the straw 
mats and the cotton bolsters are to be found. A 
basket hanging from a bamboo spring serves as 
a cradle for the baby, but it is a pretty lucky baby 
that indulges in this luxury, as most of the chil- 
dren, spreading the mats upon the floor at night, 
pillow their heads upon the bolsters, ten in a row, 
and go to sleep. A marble-topped table and a few 
chairs, formally arranged as though in prepara- 
tion for a conclave, are the features of the larger 
homes; but generally the furniture consists of a 
long bench, a wooden table, and a camphorwood 
box, which contains the family treasures, and the 
key to which the woman of the house wears in her 
belt — a symbol of authority. 

On climbing the outside stairway to the 
living-rooms you find your passage blocked by 
a small fence. In trying to step over this 



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172 The Great White Tribe. 

you nearly crush a naked baby, and a yellow 
dog snaps venomously at your heels. You enter 
the main room, where the pony-saddle and the 
hemp-scales may be stored. The Filipinos are 
great visitors, and you will find a ring of old men 
squatting upon the benches like so many hens, 
chewing the betel-nut and nursing their enormous 
feet. Some fellow in the corner, with a chin like 
a sea-urchin, strums a tune monotonously on an 
old guitar. Your host arises, oflfers you a glass 
of gin and a cigar or cigarette, and asks you to 
^'lincoot dinhi." So, at his invitation, you sit 
down, and are expected to begin the conversation. 
Such conversation is enlightening and runs some- 
what like this: 

"Yes, thank you, I am very well; Yes, we 
are all well. Everything is well. . . . 
The beer of the Americans is very good. . . . 
Whisky is very strong. . . . The Filipino 
whisky is not good for anything. ... It is 
very dull here. It is not our custom to have pretty 
girls. . . . What is your salary? All the 
Americans are very rich. We are all very poor. 
. . . The horses in America are very large. 



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In a Viscayan Home. 173 

Why ? ... If the people want me, I will be 
elected mayor. But let them decide. . . . 
After a while will you not let me have some medi- 
cine? The wife has beri-beri very bad." 

The family arises with the chickens. For the 
Filipino boy no chores are waiting to be done. 
The ponies and the dogs are never fed. Nobody 
seems to care much for the animals. With the 
exception of the fighting-cock, chickens, dogs, 
pigs, and carabaos are left to forage for them- 
selves. The pigs and dogs are public scavengers, 
and the poor curs that howl the night long, till 
you wish that they were only allowed to bay the 
moon in daytime, stalk the barren shores or rice- 
pads in the hope of preying upon carrion. A 
Filipino dog, though pinched and starved, has 
not the courage even to catch a young kid by the 
ear, and much less to say "boo" to a goose. It 
is surprising how the ponies, feeding upon the 
coarse grass, ever become as wiry as they do. Evi- 
dently, to the Filipino, animals do not have feel- 
ings; for they often ride their ponies furiously, 
though the creature's back may be a running sore. 
In using wooden saddles they forget to place a 



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174 The Great White Tribe. 

pad beneath them, and the saddle thus becomes 
an instrument of torture. 

After the morning bath in the cool river, a 
cup of chocolate or a little bowl of rice will serve 
for breakfast. Then the women attend morning 
mass and kneel for half an hour on the hard tiles. 
It is still early in the day, and the fantastic moun- 
tains, with their wonderful lights and shadows, 
are just throwing oflf the veil of mist. Now, in 
the clear light, the huge, swelling bosom of the 
hills, the densely-timbered slopes beyond, stand 
out distinctly, like a picture in a stereoscope. The 
heavy forests, crowded with gigantic trees, seem 
like a mound of bushes thickly bunched. Off to 
the left rises a barren ridge, that might have been 
the spine of some old reptile of the mezozoic age ; 
and in the center a Plutonic ampitheater — the 
council-chamber of the gods — is swept by shadows 
from the passing clouds, or glorified for a brief 
moment by a flood of light. 

The boys are then sent out to catch one of the 
ponies for their father, who is going to inspect his 
hemp plantation on the foot-hills. His progress 
will at first be rather slow ; for he is a great chat- 



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In a Viscayan Home. 175 

terbox, and if he finds some crony along the road, 
he will dismount and drink a glass of tuba with 
him, or dicker with him over an exchange of 
fighting cocks. The birds are then brought out, 
and the two men squat down, with the birds in 
hand, and set them pecking at each other to dis- 
play their fine points. But the string of hombres, 
with their bolos slung about their waists, making 
for the mountains, reminds the planter that he 
must be getting on. His fields are let out to 
these fellows, who will pay him a proportion of 
the hemp which they can strip. Although the 
process of preparing hemp is primitive and slow, 
the green stalk being stripped by an iron comb, 
the laboring man can prepare enough in one day 
to supply his family with "sow sow" for an en- 
tire week. If he would work with any regularity, 
especially in the wild hemp-fields, he would soon 
be "independent," and could buy the hemp from 
others, which could be sold at a profit to the oc- 
casional hemp-boats that come into port. The 
only capital required is one or two bull-carts and 
carabaos, a storehouse, and sufficient rice or 
money to secure his first invoice of hemp. The 



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176 The Great White Tribe. 

men who carry it in from the mountains, either 
on their own backs or on carabaos, sell it for cash 
or its equivalent ip rice at the first store. 

On Saturdays, the boys go to the mountains 
to buy eggs. Their first stop is the hacienda on 
the outskirts of the town — a large, cool nipa 
house, with broad verandas, situated in a grove 
of pahns. Around the veranda are the nests of 
woven baskets where the chickens are encouraged 
to lay eggs. Sucking a juicy mango, they proceed 
upon their journey through a field of sugar-cane. 
They stop perhaps at the rude mill where the 
brown sugar is prepared and molded in the shells 
of cocoanuts. They quench their thirst here with 
a stick of sugar-cane, and, peeling the sweet stalk 
with their teeth, they disappear beyond the hill. 
Now they have reached a wonderful country, 
where the monkeys and the parrots chatter in the 
trees. They can set traps for little parrots with a 
net of fine thread fastened to the branches. Only 
a little further on is a small mountain barrio^ 
where naked, lazy men lie in the sun all day, and 
the women weave bright-colored blankets on their 
looms. Returning with their handkerchiefs tied 



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In a Viscayan Home. 177 

full of eggs, the boys reach home about sundown. 
The thought of being late to supper never worries 
them; the Filipino is notoriously unpunctual 
at meals. The boys will cook their own rice, and 
spread out the sleeping-mat wherever the sunset 
finds them. One shelter is as good as another, 
and they just as often sleep away from home as 
in their own beds. Their parents never worry 
about the children, for they know that, like Bo- 
peep's sheep, they will come back some time, and 
it doesn't make much difference when. 

Early in April the rice-fields are flooded by the 
irrigation ditches that the river or the mountain 
streams have filled with water. A plow made of 
the notch of a tree is used to break the soil. A 
carabao is used for this work, as it is impossible to 
mire him even in the deepest mud. The boys and 
girls, together with the men and women, wearing 
enormous sun-hats — in the crown of which there 
is a place for cigarettes and matches — and with 
bared legs, work in the steaming fields throughout 
the planting season. As the rice grows taller, the 
crows are frightened away by strings of flags 
manipulated from a station in the center of the 
18 



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178 The Great White Tribe. 

paddy. Scarecrows are built whenever there are 
any clothes to spare ; but as the Filipino even util- 
izes rags, the scarecrow often has to go in shock- 
ing negligee. After the harvest season, when the 
entire village reaps the rice with bolos, the dry 
field is given over to the ponies, and the carabaos, 
and the white storks, who never desert their burly 
friend, the carabao, but often are seen perching 
on his back. The work of husking and pounding 
the crop then occupies the village. 

If you should be invited in to dinner by a Fili- 
pino family, you would expect to eat boiled rice 
and chicken. They would place a cuspidor on one 
side of your chair to catch the chicken bones, 
which you would spit out from your mouth. The 
food would be cooked in dishes placed on stones 
over an open fire. The cook and the muchachos 
never wash their hands. They wash the dishes 
only by pouring some cold water on them and 
letting them dry gradually. The cook will rinse 
the glasses with his hand. How would you like 
to eat a chicken boiled with its pin-feathers on, or 
find a colony of red ants in your soup? The 
poorer families seldom go through the formality 



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In a Viscayan Home. 179 

of serving meals. As soon as the rice and guin- 
imos are cooked, the children and their parents 
squat around the bowl and help themselves, hold- 
ing a lump of salt in one hand, and using the 
other for a fork or spoon. The women do what 
little marketing needs to be done, and though the 
Filipino acts in most things lavishly, the women 
can drive close bargains, and will scold like ale- 
wives if they find the measure short even by so 
much as a single guinimo. 

The guinimo is probably the smallest creature 
with a vertebra known to the world of science — 
a small fish — and it strikes one as amusing when 
the people count them out so jealously. But all 
their marketing is done on retail lines. Potatoes, 
eggs, and fruit sell for so much apiece. A single 
fish will be chopped up so as to go around among 
the customers, while the measures used in selling 
rice and salt are so small that you can not take 
them seriously. The transaction reminds you of 
your childhood days when you were playing "keep 
store" with a nickel's worth of candy on the iron- 
ing-board. 

At Easter-time, or during the celebration of 



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i8o The Great White Tribe. 

the "Santa Cruz," an enterprising family will get 
up a singing bee. Perhaps a wheezy organ will 
be brought to light, and the musician then offi- 
ciates behind the instrument. His bare feet work 
the pedals vigorously, and his body sways in 
rhythm with the strains. As the performance is 
continuous, arriving or departing guests do not 
disturb the ceremony. There seems to' be a spe- 
cial song for this occasion, the words of which 
must be repeated over and over as the music falls 
and rises in a dismal wail. Refreshments of Hol- 
land gin and tuba keep the party going until long 
after midnight. 

As you walk down the long dusty street at 
evening, you will be half suffocated by the smoke 
and the rank odor of the burning cocoanut-husks 
over which the supper is being cooked. Then you 
remember how the broiling beefsteak used to 
smell "back home,'' and even dream about grand- 
mother's kitchen on a baking day. And as you 
pass by the poor nipa shacks, you hear the mur- 
mur of the evening prayer pronounced by those 
within. It is a prayer from those who have but 
little and desire no more. 



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CHAPTER XII. 

I.EAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 

I. 

SKIM ORGANIZES THE CONSTABULARY. 

The soldiers had gone, bag and baggage, dog, 
parrot, and monkey, blanket-roll and cook. I 
stood by the deserted convent under the lime-tree, 
watching the little transport disappear beyond the 
promontory. The house that formerly had been 
headquarters seemed abandoned. There was the 
list of calls still pasted on the door. Reveille, 
guard-mount, mess-call, taps, — the village would 
seem strange without these bugle-notes. The 
sturdy sentry who had paced his beat was gone. 
When would I ever see again my old friend the 
ex-circus clown, and hear him tinkle the "potato- 
bug" and sing "Ma Filipino Babe?" Walking 
along the lonely shore, now lashed by breakers, 
I looked out on the blue wilderness beyond. It 
was with feelings such as Robinson Crusoe must 

iSi 



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i8a The Great White Tribe. 

have had that I went back then to the empty 
house. 

Ramon, convinced that something would break 
loose, now that the troops were gone, had left for 
Cagayan. His wife, Maria, slept at night with a 
big bolo underneath her pillow. There was a 
"bad" town only a few miles away — a village 
settled by Tagalog convicts, who had been con- 
spicuous in the revolt a few years previous. The 
people feared these neighbors, the assassins, and 
they double-barred their doors at night. I was 
awakened as the clock struck twelve by un- 
familiar noises, — nothing but the lizard croaking 
in the bonga-tree. Again, at one, I started up. 
It was the rats, and from the rattling sound above 
I judged that the house-snake was pursuing them. 
At early morning came the chorus of the chan- 
ticleers. Through the transparent Japanese blinds 
I could see the huge green mountains shouldering 
the overhanging clouds. Ah! the mysterious, 
silent mountains, with their wonderful, deep 
shadows ! The work of man seemed insignificant 
beside them, and Balingasag the lonesomest place 
in all the world. 



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Leaves i^rom a Note-Book. 183 

One morning the sharp whistle of the launch 
aroused the town. Proceeding to the shore, 1 saw 
a boat put out from the Victoria, sculled by a 
native deck-hand. As the sun had not yet risen, 
all the sea was gray, and sea and sky blended into 
one vast planetary sphere. Two natives carrying 
the ample form of the constabulary captain stag- 
gered through the surf. Behind them came the 
captain's life-long partner and lieutenant, a slight 
man, with cold, steely eyes, dressed in gray crash 
uniform, with riding leggings. They had been 
through one campaign together as rough riders; 
for the captain had once been "sheriff of Gallup 
County," in the great Southwest. 

The house no longer seemed deserted with this 
company, and as they had brought supplies for 
two months — which included bread ! — we made an 
early attack upon these commissaries. Since the 
troops had left I had been existing on canned sal- 
mon and sardines. Now there were cheese, guava, 
artichokes, mushrooms, ham, bacon, blackberry- 
jam, and fruits. The captain, natural detective 
that he was, caught one of the muchachos stealing 
'<x bottle of cherries, which he had thrown out the 



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i84 The Great White Tribe. 

window during the unpacking, with the purpose 
of securing it next day. Qn being accused, 
he made a vigorous protest of his innocence, but 
after a few minutes he returned triumphantly 
with the intelHgence that he had "found" that 
which was lost. 

A heavy rain and the tail-end of a monsoon 
kept my two guests prisoners for a week. The 
presidente of the town had issued a bandilla that 
all able-bodied rnen were wanted to enlist in the 
constabulary. Accordingly came awkward na- 
tives to the house, where the interpreter examined 
them; for all the Spanish that the genial captain 
knew — and he had lived already two years in the 
Philippines — was "bueno," "malo," "saca este," 
and "sabe that?" The candidates were measured, 
and, if not found wanting, were turned over to the 
native tailor to be fitted with new uniforms. Some 
of the applicants confessed that they had once 
been Insurrectos; but so much the better, — they 
knew how to fight. They said that they were 
not afraid of Moros — though I think that they 
would rather have encountered tigers — ^and when 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 185 

finally dressed, a few days later, they appeared 
upon the streets self-conscious, objects of adora- 
tion in the eyes of all the local belles. 

The time came when the mists dissolved upon 
the mountains, and the little clouds scudded along 
overhead as though to get in from the rain. The 
sun had struggled out for a few minutes, and the 
wind abated. But the sea had not forgotten re- 
cent injuries, and all night we could hear the 
booming of the surf. The launch, drowned in 
a nebula of spray, dashed by, and sought an an- 
chorage in safer waters. So it was decided that 
we go to Cagayan in a big banco. But it was a 
most unwieldly craft to launch. We got the arms 
and ammunition safe aboard, and then, assisted 
by the sturdy corporals and miscellaneous natives, 
we pushed out. A rushing comber swept the boat 
and nearly swamped it. But we bore up till about 
a hundred yards from shore, when a gigantic 
breaker bearing down upon the banca — which had 
been deflected so as to present a boadside — filled 
her completely, and she went down in the swirling 
spume. Up to our necks in surf, we labored for 



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i86 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

an hour, together with the population of the fish- 
ing village, finally to save the wretched boat and 
most of the constabulary ordnance. 

But, alas for the lieutenant ! He had lost one 
of his riding-leggings, and for half a day he paced 
the shore in search of it. He offered rewards to 
any native who should rescue it. Lacking a sav- 
ing sense of humor, he bemoaned his fate, and 
when he did give up the search, he discontinued 
it reluctantly. And two years afterwards, when 
I next met him, he inquired if I had seen his leg- 
ging washed up on the beach. "Some native must 
be sporting around in it," he said. "It set me 
back five dollars, Mex." 



It was a sleepy day at Cagayan. The tropical 
river flowed in silence through the jungle like a 
serpent. In Capitan A-Bey's house opposite, a 
senorita droned the Stepanie Gavotte on the piano. 
Capitan A-Bey's pigs rooted industriously in the 
compound. The teacher who had hiked in from 
El Salvador, unconscious that his canvas leggings 
were transposed, was engaged in a deep game of 
solitaire. 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 187 

Upon the settee in the new constabulary resi- 
dence, his long legs doubled up ridiculously, still 
in khaki breeches and blue flannel army shirt, lay 
**Skim," with a week's growth of beard upon his 
face, sleeping after a night-ride over country 
roads. After an hour or two of rest he would 
again be in the saddle for two days. 

Late in the afternoon we started on constabu- 
lary ponies for Balingasag — a ride of thirty miles 
through quagmires, over swollen streams and 
mountain trails. Our ponies were the unaccepted 
present from a quack who thus had tried to buy 
his way out of the calaboose, where he was "doing 
time" for trying to pass himself off as a prophet. 

The first few miles of the journey led through 
the cloistered archways of bamboo. We crossed 
the KauflFman River, swimming the horses down 
stream. Then the muddy roads began. The con- 
stant rains had long ago reduced them to a state 
of paste, and although some attempt had been 
made to stiflFen them with a filling of dried cocoa- 
nut-husks, the sucking sound made by the ponies' 
hoofs was but a prelude to our final floundering 
in the mud. There was a narrow ridge on one 



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i88 The Great White Tribe. 

side near a thorny hedge, and, balancing our- 
selves on this, we made slow progress, meanwhile 
tearing our clothes to shreds. Skim had consid- 
erable difficulty with his long legs, for he could 
have touched the ground on either side, but he 
could use them to advantage, when it came to 
wading through the slosh ourselves, and dragging 
the tired ponies after us. At night we "came to 
anchor" in a village, where we purchased a canned 
dinner in a Spanish store. The natives gathered 
around us as we sat, all splashed with mud, on 
wicker chairs in front of the provincial almacen. 
Skim talked with the Spaniard, alternating every 
word with "estie," while the Don kept swallowing 
his eyes and gesturing appropriately. Skim was 
convinced that his Castilian was fine art. 

We slept in a deserted schoolhouse, lizards and 
mosquitoes being our bed-fellows. Skim, the 
rough cowboy that he was, pillowed his head upon 
the horse's flank, and kept his boots on. At the 
break of day, restless as ever, he was off again. 
Crossing the Jimenez River in a native ferry while 
the horses swam, we passed through tiny villages 
that had not seen a white man for a year. Our 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 189 

journey now lay through the woods, and Skim, 
dismounting, stalked along the narrow trail as 
though he had been shod in seven-league boots. 
I heard a pistol shot ring out, and, coming up, 
found Skim in mortal combat with an ape. Then 
one more plunge into a river, and another stream 
spanned by a bamboo pole, which we negotiated 
like funambulists, dragging the steeds below us 
by their halters, — then Balingasag. 

In town the big vaquero was a schoolboy on a 
holiday. He was a perfect panther for prowl- 
ing around the streets at night, and in the market- 
place, where we now missed the scattering of 
khaki, he became acquainted with the natives, and 
drank tuha with them. He came back with re- 
ports about the resources of the town. There was 
an Indian merchant stranded at Ramon's, who 
had a lot of watches for sale cheap. He purchased 
some lace curtains at the Chino store, and yellow 
pina cloth for a mosquito bar, and with this stuff 
he had transformed his bed into a perfect bower. 
It was almost a contradiction that this wild fel- 
low, who was more accustomed to his boots and 
spurs at night than to pajamas, should have 



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190 The Great White Tribe. | 

taken so much pains to make his sleeping-quarters ! 

dainty. Streamers of baby-ribbon fell in graceful ] 

lines about the curtains, while the gauze mosquito- 
bar was decorated with the medals he had won 
for bravery. 

A photograph of his divorced wife occu- 
pied the place of honor near the looking-glass. 
In reminiscent moods Skim used to tell how 
Chita, of old Mexico, had left him after stab- 
bing him three times with the jeweled knife 
that he had given her. "I did n't interfere with 
her," he said, "but told her, when she pricked me 
with the little knife, it was my heart that she 
was jabbing at." Skim also told me of his expedi- 
tion into "Dead Man's Gulch," "Death Valley," 
and the suddenly-abandoned mining-camps among 
the hills of California. And he had met the 
daughter of a millionaire in Frisco, and had seen 
her home. "And when I saw the big shack loom- 
ing up there in the woods," he said, "I thought 
sure that I 'd struck the wrong farmhouse." 

Skim rented a small place surrounded by a 
hedge of bonga palms, and here he entertained 
the village royally. He was a favorite among the 



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Leaves is'rom a Note-Book. 191 

girls, and lavished gifts upon them, mostly the 
latest illustrated magazines that belonged to me. 
He ruled his awkward soldiers with an iron hand, 
and they were more afraid of him that of the Evil 
One. Of course, they could not understand his 
Spanish, and would often answer, ''Si, sefior/^ 
when they had not the least idea of what the or- 
ders were. Then they would come to grief for 
disobedience, or receive Skim's favorite repri- 
mand of "Blooming idiot! No sabe your own 
language?*' When his cook displeased him, he 
(the cook) would generaly come bumping down 
the stairs. The voice of Skim was as the roaring 
lion in a storm. Desertions were many in those 
strenuous days ; for the constabulary guards were 
not the heroes of the hour. 

Always insisting on strict discipline. Skim, on 
the day we made our trial hike, marshaled his 
forces in a rigid line, and, after roll-call, marched 
them off in order to the hills. The soldiers took 
about three steps to his one, and, trying to keep up 
with him through the dense hemp-fields, they 
broke ranks and ran. We followed a mountain 
stream to its headwaters, scrambling over bowl- 



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192 The Great White Tribe. 

ders, wading waist-deep in the ice-cold stream, 
and by the time we broke the underbrush and 
pushed up hill, big Skim had literally hiked the 
soldiers off their feet. They were unspeakably 
relieved when we sat down at noon in the cool 
shade, upon the brink of a deep, crystal pool, and 
ate our luncheon. Skim, insisting that the canned 
quail — which retained its gamy flavor — was be- 
yond redemption, turned it over to the soldiers 
to their great delight. 

In spite of his severity, Skim had a soft heart, 
and when all dressed in white and gold, he would 
go up to visit Senor Roa and his daughters ; while 
the girls would play duets on the piano. Skim, 
with a little chocolate baby under either arm, 
would sing in an insinuating voice one of his good 
old cowboy songs, regardless of the fact that he 
was not in tune with his accompaniment. He 
always appeared on Sundays cleanly shaven and 
immaculate in white, and when the girls went by 
his house to church, their dusky arms glowing 
among the gauze, appealed to him and made him 
sad. 

No one could ever contradict Skim, though 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 193 

he could n't even write his own name legibly. 
His monthly reports were actually works of art. 
"Seenyor Inspekter of constabulery," he wovild 
write, "i hav the honner to indite the following re- 
port, i hav bin having trubel with the moros. They 
was too boats of them and they had a canon in 
the bow. i faired three shots and too of them 
fell down but they al paddeled aeway so fast i 
coodnt catch them." And again: "On wensday 
the first instant i went on a hike of seven miles, 
i captured three ladrones four bolos, one old gun 
and too durks." Then after practicing his signa- 
ture for half an hour on margins of books or any 
kind of paper he could find, he used to sign his 
document vrith a tremendous flourish. 

I rather miss the rock thrown at my blinds 
at 4 o'clock A. M. A little catlike sergeant, 
a mestizo, is in charge of the constabulary, and 
the men are glad. No longer does the huge six- 
footer, with his army Colt's, stalk through the vil- 
lage streets. The other day I got a note from 
Skim : "i dont think 1 ain't never going to come 
back there eny moar," he wrote above the most 

14 



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194 The Great White Tribe. 

successful signature that I had ever seen. A few 
months later Skim was badly crippled in a fight 
with robbers. He was sent to Manila to the civil 
hospital. On his discharge he was promoted, and 
he now wears three bars on his shoulder-straps. 
He has been shot three times since then, and he 
has written, "If i dont get kilt no more, i dont 
think that i wont come back." 

To-day the constabulary is well organized. 
They have distinguished themselves time and 
again in battle-line. They have put down the lin- 
gering sparks of the rebellion. They look smart 
in their brand-new uniforms and russet boots. But 
it was only a year or two ago that Skim had 
crowded their uncivilized feet into the clumsy 
army shoe, and knocked them around like pup- 
pets in a Noah's ark. Skim, if you ever get hold 
of these few pages written in your honor, here 's 
my compliments and my best wishes for another 
bar upon your shoulder-straps, and — yes, here 's 
hoping that you "won't get killed no more." 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 195 

IL 

I.AST DAYS AT OROQUIETA. 

I HAD been visiting the teachers at El Salva- 
dor, who occupied a Spanish convent, with a 
broad veranda looking out upon the blue sea and 
a grove of palms. It was a country of bare hills, 
which reminded one somewhat of Colorado. Nipa 
jungles bristled at the mouths of rivers, and the 
valleys were verdant with dense mango copses. 
We made our first stop on the way from Cagayan 
on Sunday morning at a village situated in a 
prairie, where a drove of native ponies had been 
tethered near the nipa church. The roads were 
alive with people who had been attending services 
or who were on the way to the next cock-fight. 
Falling in with a loquacious native, who supplied 
us with a store of mangoes, we rode on, and 
reached Tag-nipa or El Salvador late in the after- 
noon. 

One of the teachers, "Teddy," might have 
actually stepped from out the pages of Kate 
Greenaway. He had a large, broad forehead, and 



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196 The Great White Tribe. 

a long, straight nose. He conducted a school of 
miserable little girls, and in the evening, like a 
village preacher, he would make his pastoral calls 
with a "Hello, girlie!" for each child he met. 
When he was pleased at anything, he used to clap 
his hands, exclaiming, "Goodie!" "Teddy" en- 
vied me "my baccalaureate enthusiasm," and, en- 
couraged evidently by this quality, he would read 
Chaucer in a sing-song voice, or, when this recre- 
ation failed, would make up limericks to a guitar 
accompaniment. His partner was the one who 
wore the transposed leggings, and who walked as 
though continually following a plow. 

Leaving for Oroquieta, in a Moro sailboat 
stocked with Chinese pigs and commissaries that 
belonged to one called "Jac-cook" by the natives, 
or "The Great White Father"— a New Zealander 
who could have posed as an Apollo or a Hercules 
— the sailors whistled for wind, and finally suc- 
ceeded in obtaining it. The moon rose early over 
the dark waters, and the boat, behaving ad- 
mirably, rode the huge waves like a cockle. We 
had nearly gone to pieces on a coral reef that night 
if "Jac-cook," suddenly aroused by the unusual 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 197 

sound of breakers, had not lowered sail in time 
to save the ship from running on the sharp rock 
half a mile from land. The sailors, perfectly in- 
competent, and panic-stricken at the course the 
boat was taking, blundered frightfully as the New 
Zealander assumed command. 

No doubt the best mess in the town at that 
time was the one conducted by the members of the 
hospital detachment. "Shorty," who did the cook- 
ing, was a local druggist in his way; that is, he 
sold the natives talcum powder, which they bought 
at quinine rates. The acting steward, whom all 
the Filipinos called "Francisco," though his name 
was Louis, was a butcher, and a doctor too. 
Catching the Spaniard's goat out late at night, 
he knocked it in the head. The carcass was then 
taken into the dissecting-room, where it was 
skinned and dressed for the fresh-meat supply. 
He had acquired a local reputation as a medico, to 
the disgust of the real army doctor, who, for a 
long time, could not imagine why his medicines 
had disappeared so fast. Then there was "Red,*' 
who had the art of laziness down fine, and who 
could usually be found playing monte with the 



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igS The Great White Tribe. 

natives. With the money he had won at monte 
games and chicken-fights, he intended to set up 
a drugstore in America. 

In a downpour of rain I left one morning for 
Aloran, down the coast and up the winding river. 
Prisoners furnished by the presidente manned the 
banca. They were guarded by a barefooted mu- 
nicipal policeman, who, on falling presently to 
sleep, would probably have lost his Mauser over- 
board had not one of the convicts rescued it and 
courteously returned it to him. It was a wet and 
lonesome pull up the Aloran River, walled in on 
both sides by nipa jungles, and forever winding 
in and out. After an hour or so, while I was 
wondering what we were coming to, we met a 
raft poled down the stream with "Red" and a 
young Austrian constabulary officer aboard. 

Finding a little teacup of a house, I moved in, 
and, before an interested throng of natives, started 
to unpack my trunks and boxes with a sense of 
genuine relief; for I had had four months of trav- 
eling and living out of steamer-trunks. But I re- 
turned to Oroquieta all in good time for the doc- 
tor's birthday and the annual Oroquieta ball. I 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 199 

found the doctor wandering about Aloran late 
one afternoon; for he had been attending a sick 
Chinaman. We started back together through 
the night, and, in the darkness, voices greeted us, 
or snarled a "Buenas noches" at us as we passed. 
Bridges that carabaos had fallen through were 
crossed successfully, and we arrived at Oroquieta 
during the band concert. 

v/ The foreign colony at Oroquieta was more in- 
teresting than the personce dramatis of the "Can- 
terbury Tales." Where to begin I do not know. 
But, anyway, there was my old friend the con- 
stabulary captain, "Foxy Grandpa," as we called 
him then, because when he was not engaged in 
telling how he had arrested somebody in Arizona, 
he was playing practical jokes or doing tricks with 
cards and handkerchiefs. And then there was 
the "Arizona Babe," a blonde of the Southwestern 
type, affianced to the commissary sergeant. The 
wife of the commanding officer, a veritable 
O'Dowd, and little Flora, daughter of O'Dowd, 
who rode around town in a pony cart, were lead- 
ers of society for the subpost. 

Then you could take a stool in front of 



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200 The Great White Tribe. 

Paradies's general store, and almost at any 
time engage the local teacher in an argument. 
You would expect, of course, that he would 
wander from his topic till you found your- 
self discussing something entirely foreign to the 
subject, but so long as he was talking, everything 
was satisfactory. There were the two Greek 
traders who had "poisoned the wells" out Lobuc 
way, — so people said. And I must not forget 
"Jac-cook," whose grandfather, according to his 
own report, had been a cannibal, a king of canni- 
bals, and eaten a roast baby every morning for 
his breakfast. Jack was a soldier of fortune if 
there ever was one. He could give you a recipe 
for making poi from ripe bananas and the milk 
of cocoanuts, or for distilling whisky from fer- 
mented oranges, — both of which formulas I have 
unfortunately lost. He recommended an exclu- 
sive diet of raw fish, and in his youth he had had 
many a hard battle with the shark and octopus. 
His one regret was that there were no sharks in 
the Oroquieta Bay, that, diving under, he could 
rip with a sharp knife. "To catch the devil-fish," 
he used to say, "you whirl them rapidly around 



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Leaves i^rom a Note-Book. 201 

your arm until they get all tangled up and supine- 
like." And once, like Ursus, in "Quo Vadis," 
he had taken a young bull by the horns and bro- 
ken its neck. 

All members of good standing in the colony 
received their invitations to the birthday party. 
Old Vivan, the ex-horse-doctor of the Insurrectos, 
went out early in the morning to cut palms. The 
floor was waxed and the walls banked with green. 
The first to arrive was "Fresno Bill," the Cotto- 
bato trader, in a borrowed white suit and a pair of 
soiled shoes. Then came the bronzed Norwegian 
captain of the Delapaon, hearty and hale from 
twenty years of deep-sea sailing from the Java 
coast to Heligoland. Came Paradies, the little 
German trader, in his finest blacks, and chose a 
seat oflf in one corner of the room. Then "Foxy 
Grandpa" and the "Arizona Babe" arrived, and 
the old maid from Zamboanga, who, when ex- 
pression failed her, would usurp the conversation 
with a "blab, blab, blab!" And as the serpent 
made for old Laocoon, so she now made for 
"Fresno Bill." 

Half an hour more and the party was in full 



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202 The Great White Tribe. 

swing. Native musicians, stationed on the land- 
ing, furnished the music, and Vivan, the FiHpino 
Chesterfield, with sweeping bows to every one, 
was serving the refreshments. Padre Pastor, in 
his black gown, with his face all wreathed in 
smiles, was trying to explain to the schoolteacher's 
wife that "stars were the forget-me-nots of 
heaven." The young commissary sergeant had 
secured an alcove for the "Arizona babe," and 
"Foxy grandpa," taking a nip of something when 
his good wife's back was turned, was telling 
his best anecdote of the southwest, "Ichabod 
Crane," the big-boned Kansan — who had got the 
better of us all that afternoon in argument — 
swinging his arms, and with his head thrown 
back, was trying to herd the people into an old- 
fashioned reel. Grabbing the little daughter of 
the regiment together with the French constabu- 
lary officer — they loved each other like two cats 
— he shouted, "Salamander, there! Why don't 
you salamander?" Entering into the fun more 
than the rest, the genial army doctor "kept the 
ball a-rolling." 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 303 

For the doctor was a southerner, as many of 
the army people are. In his dual function of phy- 
sician-soldier, he could boast that he had killed 
more men, had more deaths to his credit, than his 
fellow officers. He was undoubtedly the best 
leech in the world. When off duty he assumed 
a Japanese kimona, which became him like the 
robes of Nero. Placing his sandaled feet upon 
the window-sill, he used to read the Army and 
Navy Journal by the hour. Although he had a 
taste for other literature, his studies were con- 
siderably hampered by a tendency to fall asleep 
after the first few paragraphs. He spent about 
four weeks on "Majorie Daw." When he was 
happy — and he generally was happy — he would 
sing that favorite song of his, "O, Ca'line." It 
went: 

"O, Ca'line! O, Ca'line! 
Can't you dance da pea-vine? 
O, my Jemima, O-hi-o." 

But he could never explain satisfactorily what the 
"pea-vine" was. His "Ring around and shake a 
leg, ma lady," was a triumph in the lyric line. 



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204 Th^ Great White Tribe, 

We used to walk to Lobuc every afternoon 
to purchase eggs. The doctor's "Duna ha icao 
it long dinhi?" always amused the natives, who, 
when they had any eggs, took pleasure in produc- 
ing them. It was with difficulty that I taught him 
to say ^'itlog" (egg) instead of "eclogue," which 
he had been using heretofore. He made one er- 
ror, though, which never could be rectified, — ^he 
always called a Chinaman a "hen chick," much 
to the disgust of the offended Oriental, whose 
denomination was expressed in the Viscayan by 
the word "inchic." 

I pause before attempting a description of the 
Oroquieta ball, and, like the poets, pray to some 
kind muse to guide my pen. To-night I feel again 
the same thrill that I felt the night of the grand 
Oroquieta ball. The memories of Oroquieta 
music seem as though they might express them- 
selves in words : 

" The stars so brightly shine, 
But ah, those stars of thine ! 

Are none like yours, Bonita^ 
Beyond the ocean brine." 



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LEAVES FROM A Note-Book. 205 

And then I seem to see the big captain — "Foxy 
grandpa" — beating the bass drum like that ex- 
traordinary man that Mark Twain tells about, 
"who had n't a tooth in his whole head." I can 
remember how Don Julian, the crusty Spaniard, 
animated with the spirit of old Capulet, stood on 
the chair and shouted, ''Viva los Americanosr — 
and the palm-grove, like a room of many pillars, 
lighted by Chinese lanterns. 

It was a time of magic moonlight, when the 
sea broke on the sands in phosphorescent lines in 
front of the kiosko. Far out on the horizon lights 
of fishing-boats would glimmer, and the dusky 
shores of Siquijor or the volcanic isle of Cama- 
guin loomed in the distance. Here there were lit- 
tle cities as completely isolated though they were 
parts of another planet, where the "other" people 
worked and played, and promenaded to the strum- 
ming of guitars. And in the background rose the 
triple range of mountains, cold, mysterious, and 
blue in the transfiguring moonlight. 

The little army girl, like some fair goddess 
of the night, monopolized the masculine attention 



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2o6 The Grejat White: Tribe;. 

at the ball. When she appeared upon the floor, 
all others, as by mutual consent, retired, and left 
the field to her alone. The "Pearls of Lobuc," 
who refused to come until a carriage was sent 
after them, appeared in delicate gauze dresses, 
creamy stockings, and white slippers. And "The 
Princess of the Philippines," Diega, with her 
saucy pompadour, forgot that it was time to drop 
your hand at the conclusion of the dance. Our 
noble Ichabod was there in a tight-fitting suit of 
blacks and narrow trousers, fervently discussing 
with the French constabulary man whether a frock 
was a Prince Albert. Paradies capered mincingly 
to the quick music of the walz, and the old maid, 
unable to restrain herself, kept begging the doc- 
tor — who did not know how to dance — only to try 
a two-step with her, please. And the poor doctor, 
in his agony, had sweated out another clean white 
uniform. I had almost forgotten Maraquita and 
the zapatillas with the pearl rosettes. She was a 
little queen in pink-and-white, and ere the night 
was over she had given me her ''sing sing" (ring) 
and fan, and told me that I could "ask papa" if I 
wanted to. The next day she was just as pretty 



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LEAVES i^ROM A Note-Book. 307 

in light-blue and green, and with her hair un- 
bound. She poked her toes into a pair of gold- 
embroidered sandals, and seemed very much em- 
barrassed at my presence. This was explained 
when, later in the day, her uncle asked me for 
Miss Maraquita's ring. 

Although the cook and the muchachos ate the 
greater part of the refreshments, and a heart or 
two was broken incidentally, the Oroquieta ball 
passed into history as being the most brilliant 
function of its kind that ever had been witnessed 
at the post. 

The winter passed with an occasional plunge 
in the cool river, and the surf-bath every morning 
before breakfast. In the evening we would ride to 
Lobuc, racing the ponies back to town in a white 
cloud of dust. Dinner was always served for any 
number, for we frequently had visitors, — afield 
officers on hunting leave, commercial drummers 
from Cebu, the circuit judge, the captain of the 
Delapaon. The doctor had been threatening for 
some time, now, to give Vivan a necessary whip- 
ping, which he did one morning to that Chester- 
field's astonishment. Calling the servant "Usted/' 



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2o8 The Great White Tribe. 

or "Your honor," he appHed the strap, and old 
Vivan was shaking so with laughter that he 
hardly felt the blows. But after that, he tum- 
bled over himself with eagerness to fill our orders. 
We had found the coolest places in the town, — 
the beach at Lobuc, under a wide-spreading tree, 
and the thatched bridge where the wind swept 
up and down the river, where the women beat 
their washing on the rounded stones, and carabaos 
dreamed in the shade of the bamboo. The cable 
used to steady the bridge connected with the shore, 
the doctor explained to the old maid, was the 
Manila cable over which the messages were sent. 
The clamor of bells one morning reminded 
us that the iiesta week was on, and old Vivan 
came running in excitedly with the intelligence 
that seven bancas were already anchored at the 
river's mouth, and there were twenty more in 
sight. Then he went breathlessly around the town 
to circulate the news. We rode about in Flora's 
pony cart, and sometimes went to visit "Foxy 
Grandpa," wife, and "Arizona Babe." "Old 
Tom," the convict on parole for murder, waited 
on the table, serving the pies that Mrs. G. had 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 209 

taught the cook to make, and the canned peaches 
with evaporated cream. Then, on adjourning to 
the parlor, with its pillars and white walls, the 
"Babe" would play "Old Kentucky Home" on the 
piano till the china shepherdesses danced with 
the vibrations, and the genial captain, growing 
reminiscent, would recall the story of the man he 
had arrested in old Mexico, or even condescend to 
do a new trick with a handkerchief. There was a 
curious picture from Japan in a gilt frame that 
had the place of honor over the piano. It was 
painted on a plaque of china, robin's-egg blue, in- 
laid with bits of pearl, — which represented boats 
or something on the Inland Sea, while figures of 
men and small boys, enthusiastically waving Jap- 
anese flags, all cut out of paper, had been pasted 
on. There was an arched bridge over the blue 
water, and a sampan sculled by a boatman in a 
brown kimono. There was a house with paper 
windows and a thatched roof. 

. . '. Chino Jose died, and was given a 
military funeral. The bier was covered with the 
Stars and Stripes. A company of native scouts 
16 



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2IO The Great White Tribe. 

was detailed as an escort, and the local band led 
the procession to the church. Old "Ichabod," 
with a long face, and in a dress suit, with a pur- 
ple four-in-hand tie, followed among the candle- 
bearers with long strides. The tapers burning 
in the nave resembled a small bonfire, and ex- 
haustive masses finally resulted, so I judge, in get- 
ting the old heathen's spirit out of purgatory. 
Good old Chino Jose! He had left his widow 
fifty thousand "Mex," of which the priest received 
his share; also the doctor, for the hypodermic in- 
jections of the past three months. 

Then came the wedding of Bazon, whose 
bride, for her rebellious love, had recently been 
driven from her mother's home. Bazon, touched 
by this act of loyalty, cut his engagement with an- 
other girl and made the preparations for the wed- 
ding feast. I met the little Maraquita at Bazon's 
reception, and conversed with her through an in- 
terpreter. "The senorita says," so the interpreter 
informed me, "she appreciates your conversation 
very much, and thinks you play the piano very 
well. She has a new piano in her house that came 
from Paris. In a little while the senorita will de- 



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Lejaves from a Note:-Book. 211 

part for Spain, where she intends to study in a 
convent for a year." Ah, Maraquita! She had 
had an Insurrecto general for a suitor, and had 
turned him down. And she had jilted Joe, the 
French constabulary officer, and had rejected a 
neighboring merchant's offer for her hand of fifty 
carabaos. I have to-day a small reminder of her 
dainty needlework — a family of Viscayan dolls 
which she had dressed according to the native 
mode. 

One day the undertaker's boat dropped in 
with a detachment of the burial corps aboard. The 
bodies of the soldiers that had slept for so long 
in the convent garden were removed, and taken 
in brass caskets back across the sea. . . . 

We started out one morning on constabulary 
ponies, brilliantly caparisoned in scarlet blankets 
and new saddles. "Ichabod," the Kansas maestro, 
had proposed to guide us to Misamis over the 
mountain trail. It was not long, however, before 
one spoke of trails in the past tense. The last place 
that was on the map — a town of questionable loy- 
alty, that we had gladly left late in the afternoon 
— now seemed, as we remembered it, in contrast 



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212 The Great White Tribe. 

with the wilderness, a small metropolis. The 
Kansan still insisted that he was not lost. "Do 
you know where we are?" I asked. "Wa-al," he 
replied, "those mountains ought to be 'way over 
on the other side of us, and the flat side of the 
moon ought to be turned the other way." We 
wandered for ten hours through prairies of tall 
buffalo-grass, at last discovering a trail that led 
down to the sea. The ponies were as stiff as 
though they had been made of wood instead of 
flesh and blood. 

We had Thanksgiving dinner at the doctor's. 
Old Tom did the cooking, and Vivan, all smiles, 
waited upon the guests. Stuffed chicken and 
roast sucking pig, and a young kid that the 
muchachos had tortured to death that morning, 
sawing its throat with a dull knife, were the main 
courses. Padre Pastor, who had held a special 
mass that morning for Americans, "returned 
thanks," rolling his eyes, and saying something 
about the flowers not being plentiful or fragrant, 
but the stars, exceptional in brilliance, compen- 
sating for the floral scantiness. The doctor sang 
^'0, Ca'line," and the captain did tricks with the 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. :2i3 

napkins. Everybody voted this Thanksgiving a 
success. 

The weary days that followed at Aloran were 
relieved late in December by a visit from the doc- 
tor, and a new constabulary officer named John- 
son,* who had ridden out on muddy roads, through 
swimming rice-pads, across swollen rivers. When 
the store of commissaries was exhausted, we rode 
back, and Johnson came to grief by falling 
through an open bridge into a rice-swamp, so that 
all that we could see of him was a square inch of 
his poor horse's nose. We pulled him out, and 
named the place "Johnson's Despair." 



*Johnson, the runaway constabulary officer, was killed Oc- 
tober last by the crew of the native boat which he had captured 
after the Steamship "Victoria," which he had seized, had 
Igrrounded off the coast of Negros. Four of the crew were killed 
during the fight. In true brigand style he had taken the boat at 
the revolver's point, and headed for the coast of Borneo. He had 
ten thousand dollars of government money, and his Intention was 
to land at various ports and make the local merchants "stand 
and deliver." I gave the following Interview to the reporter of 
the Princeton (Indiana) "Clarion-News," October 16, 1903: 

" 'Johnson, the pirate,' is dead, and burled In the loftely Isle 
of Negros. Many a worse man occupies a better grave. The 
worst that you can say of Johnson Is, that he was young and that 
he liked to drink too much. 

"I shall always remember him in his red shoulder straps, 
his khaki riding suit and leather leggings. Before I had ever 
seen him I had heard the old constabulary captain say: 'That 
feller looks like a born fighter. Bet he ain't afraid of anything.' 
• . . The padre gave us a Christmas dinner, and Johnson at 



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214 The Great White Tribe. 

Our Christmas Eve was an eventful one. The 
transport Trenton went to pieces on our coral reef. 
We were expecting company, and when the boat 
pulled in, we went down to the beach to tell them 
where the landing was. "We thought that you 
were trying to tell us we were on a rock," the little 
cavalry lieutenant, who had been at work all 
night upon the pumps, said, when we saw him in 
the morning. It was like a shipwreck in a comic 
opera, so easily the vessel grounded ; and at noon 
the next day we were invited out on shipboard for 
a farewell luncheon. The boat was listed dan- 



thls function took too much of the communion wine. On the 
way back he reeled continually In his saddle, vomiting. a stream 
of red wine. . . . 

"We often used to race our ponies into Oroquleta neck and 
neck, scattering natives, chickens, and pigs to right and left. 
The last I saw of him was as he put out on a stormy sea in a 
frail Moro sailboat bound for Cagayan, which at that time was 
infested with ladrones. 

"Johnson was only a boy, but he, had been a sailor and a 
soldier, and had seen adventures In the Canary Islands, in Cuba, 
and the Philippines. The boat that he held up and started ofT 
to Borneo was one employed in questionable trade. She was a 
smuggler, and had formerly been in the service of the 'Insurrecto* 
Government. She used to drop in at a port at night and pull out 
in the morning with neither a bill of lading nor a manifest. 

"Johnson should not be blamed too much for the wild es- 
capade. The climate had undoubtedly affected him; moreover 
the constabulary has no business putting heavy responsibilities 
upon young boys." 



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LEAVES FROM A Note-Book. 215 

gerously to port, and, as the waves rolled in, kept 
bumping heavily upon the coral floor. The hull 
under the engines was staved in, and, as the tide 
increased, the vessel twisted as though flexible. 
Broken amidships, finally, she twisted like some 
tortured creature of the deep. The masts and 
smokestacks branched off at divergent angles, giv- 
ing the ship a rather drunken aspect. At high tide 
the masts and deck-house were swept off ; the bow 
went, and the boat collapsed and bent. By even- 
ing nothing was left except the bowsprit rocking 
defiantly among the breakers, a broken skeleton, 
the keel and ribs, and the big boiler tumbling and 
squirting in the surf. 

There were three shipwrecked mariners to care 
for, — the bluff captain, one of nature's noblemen, 
who had spent his life before the mast and on the 
bridge, and who had been tossed upon many a 
strange and hostile coast. He had a deep scar 
on his head, received when he was shanghaied 
twenty years before. He told strange stories of 
barbaric women dressed in sea-shells; of the Pit- 
cairn islanders, who formerly wore clothes of 



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'2 1 6 The Great White Tribe. 

papyrus, but now dressed in the latest English 
fashion, trading the native fruits and melons for 
the merchandise of passing ships. 

Then there was Mac, the chief, a stunted, 
sandy little man, covered with freckles, and tat- 
tooed with various marine designs. He loved his 
engine better than himself, and in his sorrow at 
its break-up, he was driven to the bottle, and when 
last seen — after asking "ever' one" to take a 
drink — was wandering off, his arms around two 
Filipino sailors. Coming to life a few days later, 
"Mac ain't sayin' much," he said, "but Mac, 'e 
knows." Yielding to our persuasion, he wrote 
down a song "what 'e 'ad learned once at a sail- 
ors' boardin' 'ouse in Frisco." It was called "The 
Lodger," and he rendered it thus, in a deep-sea 
voice : 

" The other night I chanced to meet a charmer of a girl, 
An', nothin' else to do, I saw 'er *ome ; 
We *ad a little bottle of the very finest brand. 

An* drank each other's 'ealth in crystal foam. 
I lent the dear a sover'ign ; she thanked me for the same 

An' laid 'er golden 'ead upon me breast ; 
But soon I finds myself thrown out the passage like a 
shot, — 
A six-foot man confronts me, an' 'e says: 

Chorus— 
I 'm sorry to disturb you, but the lodger 'as come," etc. 



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Leaves i^rom a Note-Book. 217 

The feature of the song, however, was Mac's 
leer, which, in a public hall, would have brought 
down the house, and which I feel unable to de- 
scribe. 

The mate, aroused by the example of the chief, 
rendered a "Tops'l halliard shanty," "Blow, Bul- 
lies, Blow." It was almost as though a character 
had stepped from Pinafore, when the athletic, gal- 
lant little mate, giving a hitch to his trousers, thus 
began : "Strike up a light there. Bullies ; who 's 
the last man sober?" 

Song. 

" O, a Yankee ship came down the river — 

Blow, Bullies, blow ! 
Her sails were silk and her yards were silver — 

Blow, my Bully boys, blow ! 
Now, who do you think was the cap*n of *er ? 

Blow, Bullies, blow! 
Old Black Ben, the down-east bucko — 

Blow, my Bully boys, blow !" 

"'Ere is a shanty what the packeteers sings 
when, with 'full an' plenty,' we are 'omeward 
bound. It is a 'windlass shanty,' an' we sings 
it to the music of the winch. The order comes 
'hup anchor^,' and the A one packeteer starts hup : 



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2i8 The Great White Tribe. 

" * We *re hom'ard bound; we're bound away; 

Good-bye, fare y' well. 
We 're home'ard bound ; we leave to-day ; 

Hooray, my boys! we're home'ard bound. 
We 're home'ard bound from Liverpool town ; 

Hooray, my boys, hooray ! 
A bully ship and a bully crew; 

Good-bye, fare y' well. 
A bucko mate an' a skipper too ; 

Hooray, my boys, we're home'ard bound!* *' 



For the old maid this was the time the ages 
had been waiting for. What anxious nights she 
spent upon her pillow or before the looking-glass ; 
what former triumphs she reviewed; and what 
plans for the conquest she had made, shall still 
remain unwritten history. When she was ready 
to appear, we used to hear her nervous call, "Doc- 
tor! Can I come over?" Poor old maid! She 
could n't even wait till she was asked. How pa- 
tiently she stirred the hot tomato soy the eaptain 
made ; O yes ! She could be useful and domestic. 
How tenderly she leaned upon the arm of the 
captain's chair, caressing the scar upon his head 
"where he was shanghaied !" Then, like Othello, 
he would entertain her with his story about the 
ladies in the sea-shell clothes, or of the time when 



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LEAVES i^ROM A Note-Book. 219 

he had "weathered the Horn" in a "sou'wester." 
She was flurried and excited all the week. The 
dimax came after the captain left for IHgan. The 
old maid learned somehow that he was going to 
Manila on a transport which would pass by Oro- 
quieta but a few miles out. Sending a telegram 
to the chief quartermaster whom she called a 
"dear," she said that if the ship would stop to 
let her on, she could go out to meet it in a banca. 
Though the schoolmaster and his wife had also 
requested transportation on the same boat, the old 
maid, evidently thinking that "three made a 
crowd," wired to her friend the quartermaster 
not to take them on. 

We met the old maid almost in hysterics on 
the road to Lobuc. "O, for the love of God !" she 
cried, "get me a boat, and get my trunk down to 
the shore. I have about ten minutes left to catch 
that ship." It was old Ichabod who rowed her 
out in the canoe — the old maid, with the sun now 
broken out behind the clouds, her striped parasol, 
and a small steamer trunk. It was a mad race 
for old Ichabod, and they were pretty well 
drenched when the old maid climbed aboard the 



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220 The Great White Tribe. 

transport, breathless but triumpHant. I have since 
learned that Dido won her wandering ^neas in 
Manila, and that the captain finally has found his 
"bucko mate." 

It was old Ichabod's delight to teach a class 
of sorry-looking senoritas, with their dusty toes 
stuck into carpet slippers, and their hair combed 
back severely on their heads. The afternoons he 
spent in visiting his flock; we could descry him 
from afar, chin in the air, arms swinging, hiking 
along with five-foot strides. If he could "doctor 
up" the natives he was satisfied. He knew them 
all by name down to the smallest girl, and he ap- 
plied his healing lotions with the greatest sense 
of duty, much to the amusement of the regular 
M. D. But Ichabod was qualified, for he had once 
confided to me that at one time he had learned 
the names of all the bones in th'e left hand ! 

The colony showed signs of breaking up. The 
native scouts had gone, leaving their weeping 
''hindais" on the shore. "Major O'Dowd," his 
wife, and Flora had also departed to a station sin 
Americanos up in the interior. At this, the doc- 



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Leaves from a Note-Book. 221 

tor, for the first time in his life, broke into song, 
after the style and meter of immortal Omar : 

" Hiram, indeed is gone ; his little Rose 
Vamosed to I/intogoup with all her clothes ; 

But still the Pearls are with us down the line, 
And many a hindai to the tubig goes." 

"Tubig," he said, "did not mean 'water.' It 
was more poetical, expressing the idea of fountain, 
watering-place, or spa." 

It was my last day at Aloran. In the morning 
I ascended a near elevation, and looked down upon 
the sleepy valley spread below. There was the 
river winding in and out ; there was the convent, 
like a doll-house in a field of green. Vivan had 
gone^on with the trunks and boxes packed upon a 
carabao. The ponies were waiting in the com- 
pound. Valedictories were quickly said ; but there 
was little Peter with his silken cheeks, the bright- 
est little fellow I have ever known. It seemed 
a shame to leave him there in darkest Mindanao. 
Turning the horses into the Aloran River at the 
ford we struck the high road near the barrio of 
Feliz. Galloping on, past "Columbine" bridge, 



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223 The Great White Tribe. 

"Skeleton" bridge, "Johnson's Despair," and 
Fenis, we arrived at Oroquieta in good time. 

But what a change from the old place as >ve 
had known it! Hiram, indeed was gone. The 
doctor had set out for pastures new. The "Ari- 
zona Babe" and "Foxy Grandpa" had departed 
for fresh fields. Like one who, falling asleep in 
a theater, awakes to find the curtain down and the 
spectators gone, so I now looked about the vacant 
town. The actors had departed, and "the play- 
was played out." 



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CHAPTER XIII. 

IN CAMP AND BARRACKS WITH THE OFlPlCERS AND 
SOI.DIERS 01? THE PHIUPPINES. 

BuGi.E-CAi.i.s^ loud, Strident bugle-calls, leap- 
ing in unison from the brass throats of bugles; 
tawny soldiers lining up for guard-mount before 
the officer of the day, as spick and span as a toy 
soldier; troopers in blue shirts, with their mess- 
kits in their hands, running across the street for 
rations; men in khaki everywhere, raising a 
racket on pay-day, fraternizing with the Filipinos 
when off duty ; poker games in the barracks, with 
the army cot and blanket for a table; taps, and 
the measured tread of sentries, and anon a startled 
challenge, "Halt! Who's there?" — such were 
the days in Cagayan in 1901. 

. The blue sea, stretching out into the hazy dis- 
tance, sparkled around the little wi/^a-covered dock 
where commissary stores and sacks of rice were 
piled. The native women, squatting on the 
223 



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224 The Great White Tribe. 

ground, were selling mangoes and bananas to the 
boys. "Cagayan Mag," who vended the hot bot- 
tled beer for "jawbone," digging her toes into the 
dust, was entertaining the surrounding crowd 
with her coarse witticisms. The corporal of the 
guard, reclining in an easy steamer-chair, under 
his tent extension, was perusing the news columns 
from the States, by this time three months old. A 
sunburnt soldier, with his Krag upon his shoulder, 
paced the dock, wearily doing the last hour of his 
guard. 

"Do you-all like hawg-jowl and black-eyed 
peas?" drawled "Tennessee Bill," shifting his 
bony form to a more comfortable position on the 
rice-sack. 

"Reckon I ort ter ; I wuz bo'n in Geo'gy," said 
his comrade, as he rolled a rice-straw paper ciga- 
rette. 

After an interval of several minutes the same 
conversation was repeated. Suddenly a sharp toot 
sent the echoes scudding back and forth among 
the hills. A moment later the small transport, 
with the usual blur of khaki in her bows, came 
swinging around the promontory. 



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In Camp and Barracks. 225 

"Pshaw! I thought it wuz the pay boat 
comin' " grumbled Bill. 

Then, as the Trenton pulled up to the dock, 
signs of activity began to animate that place. The 
guard, with leveled bayonet, began to shoo the 
"Gugus'' off the landing. Down the hot road, 
invested in a cloud of dust, an ambulance was 
coming, drawn by a team of army mules and 
bringing the lieutenant quartermaster and his 
sergeants. 

"Why, hello!" said Bill; "if here ain't little 
Wantz a-comin'. Got his discharge an' gone mar- 
ried a babay/^ 

The soldiers crowded around the ex-hospital 
corps man, who, still in his khaki suit, was stand- 
ing on the shore with a sad-looking Filipino girl 
in tow. Her feet were bare and dusty, and she 
wore a turkey-red skirt caught up on one side, 
and a gauze camisa with a pina yoke, and the stiff, 
flaring sleeves. Her head was bare, and her black 
hair was combed uncompromisingly back on her 
head. Her worldly goods were done up in a straw 
mat and a soiled bandana handkerchief, and were 
deposited before her on the ground. 
16 



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226 The Great White Tribe. 

"This is the gal," said Wantz; "old Justice de 
Laguna's daughter, and the same what uster sell 
beer to the Twenty-eighth over at Tagaloan. She 
ain't no beauty, but she 's a good steady trotter ; 
ain't you, Dell?" The girl looked stupid and 
embarrassed, and did not reply. 

A "rooky," who had joined the company, 
stood on the dock disconsolately. His blanket roll 
and locker had been put off the boat. This was 
his first appearance in the provinces. He was a 
stranger in a strange land, a fish out of water, 
and a raw recruit. 

The men were set to work immediately land- 
ing the commissary stores. They stripped their 
shoes and socks off, rolled up their trousers to the 
knee, and waded through the shallow water, car- 
rying the bales and boxes on their shoulders to the 
shore. 

The road up to the town was lined with nipa 
houses, shaded with banana-trees and bonga 
palms. This was the road that was almost im- 
passable during the rainy season. As the ambu- 
lance rolled heavily along, scores of half-naked 
babies, shaped like peanuts, shouted after you a 



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In Camp and Barracks. 227 

"Hello, baby !" and the pigs, with snouts like coal- 
scuttles, scattered on either side the thoroughfare. 
This was the famous "Bolo alley," down which, 
only a few months before, the Insurrecto army 
had come shouting, ''A la! a lal" firing as they 
ran. 

You passed the market-place, an open hall 
filled with the native stalls, where soldiers loafed 
around, chatting with the Viscayan girls — for a 
freemasonry exists between the Filipino and the 
soldier — dickering with one for a few dhobie 
cigarettes, sold "jawbone," to be paid for when 
the pay-boat comes. 

The troops were quartered in old Spanish 
buildings, where the sliding windows of the up- 
per floors disclosed the lanes of white mosquito- 
bar. Back in the courtyard, where the cook was 
busily preparing mess, a mangy and round-shoul- 
dered monkey from the bamboo fence was look- 
ing on approvingly. The cook was not in a good 
humor. All that the mess had had for three 
weeks was the regulation beans and bacon, with- 
out a taste of fresh meat or fresh vegetables. 

Things were as bad, however, at the officers' 



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228 The Great White Tribe. 

mess, where the rule was that the first complaint 
should sentence its author to conduct the mess him- 
self until relieved in a like manner. As might be 
imagined, such a system naturally discouraged an 
improvement of affairs. Exasperated, finally, be- 
yond his limit. Lieutenant Breck came out with — 
"If this isn't the rottenest apology of an old 
mess" — saving himself by quickly adding, "But I 
like it; O, I like it; nobody can tell how much I 
like this mess!" 

There was an officer's club in a frame building 
near the headquarters. Here, in the afternoon, the 
clan would gather for a round of "whisky poker" 
for the drinks. There was a strapping young 
Kentuckian whose ancestors had all been army 
men. "The profession of arms," said he, "is the 
noblest profession in the world. And that is the 
profession that we follow." It was a rather sad 
sight, though, a few weeks later, after his wife, a 
little Southern girl, had gone back to the "States," 
to see this giant soldier playing cards and drink- 
ing whisky with the teamsters, bar-keeps, and 
camp-followers, threatening to shoot the man who 



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In Camp and Barracks. 229 

tried to interfere, and finally being taken down in 
irons for a court-martial. 

The only one of all his friends who did not 
fall away from him was one, a little, catlike cav- 
alry lieutenant, booted and spurred, and always 
dressed in khaki riding-breeches, never saying 
much, but generally considered the most popular 
young officer in all the service. And there was 
one other faithful one, but not an officer. The 
"striker," who had followed him in many a hard 
hike, and had learned to admire his courage and 
to consider him infallible, tried for the sake of the 
young Southern girl, to keep his master from the 
wretched drink. 

The post of Cagayan that winter was a busy 
one. On Sunday mornings the stern-visaged offi- 
cers would go the round of all the barracks on in- 
spection duty. There was still a remnant of the 
Insurrecto army operating in the hills, and an at- 
tack upon the town was threatened nightly. Once 
a month, when pay-day came around, a reign of 
terror, which began with early afternoon, lasted 
until almost a company of miscellaneous maraud- 



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230 Thk Great White Tribe. 

ers could have been recruited from the guard- 
house. A dozen saloons and poker games were 
running the night long, and in those days little 
money was deposited in the paymaster's bank. 

A number of detachments had been left in dif- 
ferent towns around the bay in charge of second 
lieutenants or first sergeants. Here, while the 
discipline was more relaxed, the pandemonium of 
pay-day was avoided. But the two best poker- 
players in the company corraling all the money, 
either would proceed to narrow the financial dis- 
tribution further, or would shake hands and agree 
to make deposits on the next disbursing-day. 
Some of the men on their discharge would have a 
thousand dollars, or enough to set them up in 
business in the States. 

These "outfits" differ greatly in their charac- 
ter. Some are composed of sociable, kind-hearted 
fellows, while others may contain a large percent- 
age of professional "bad men" and rowdies. Each 
company will have its own traditions and a repu- 
tation which is guarded jealously. There was 
the "fighting Twenty-eighth," the regiment in- 
vincible. The soldiers grow attached to their out- 



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In Camp and Barracks. 231 

fit. On their discharge, which they have eagerly 
looked forward to, after a day or two of Frisco, 
when the money has been spent to the last dollar 
of the "finals," more than one chop-fallen soldier, 
looking up the first recruiting sergeant, will "take 
on" again. 

The "company fund" is a great institu- 
tion, and an "outfit" with a good fund is consid- 
ered prosperous. This money goes for extras at 
the table, for baseball equipments, or for company 
mascots. The sergeant-major usually has charge 
of this disbursement, and the soldiers, though they 
grumble at his orders, can not help respecting 
him. The sergeant-major has been seasoned in 
the service. He is a ripe old fellow, and a war- 
rior to the core. The company cook is also an 
important personage. It was the old cook at 
Balingasag — I think that he had served for twenty 
years — who fed me in the convent courtyard on 
camotes, egg-plant, and a chicken which he had 
stolen from a native. According to his theory, a 
soldier was a licensed robber, and the chicken 
should be classed as forage — not as plunder. He 
was a favorite among the officers, who used to 



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233 Thk Great White Tribe. 

get him started on his favorite grievance, — the 
condemnation by a board of survey of a certain 
army mule. "I liked that mule/' he used to say. 
"He was the best mule that the service ever had." 

The nightly "argument," or "chewing the 
rag," is a favorite pastime in an isolated camp. 
Sitting around upon the army cots or chests, the 
soldiers will discuss some unimportant topic until 
"taps" sounds. 

I will admit that "Company M" was a disrep- 
utable lot. They never dressed up; frequently 
they went without their footgear ; and they drank 
much tuba with the natives. They took delight 
in teaching the small boys profanity, and they 
would shock the Filipinos by omitting bathing- 
suits when in the surf. They used to frighten the 
poor "niggers" half to death by trying to break 
through their houses on a dark night. Yet I be- 
lieve that every Filipino was the soldier's friend, 
and I am sure I noticed not a few heart-broken 
senoritas gathered at the shore when they de- 
parted. For my own part, I have always found 
the soldier generous, respectful, and polite. 

There was a great wag in the company, who. 



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In Camp and Barracks. 233 

in some former walk of life, had figured as a cir- 
cus clown. He also claimed to have been upon 
the stage in vaudeville. He had enlisted in the 
regimental band, but, through some change, had 
come to be bugler of M Company. He owned a 
mandolin, called the "potato bug" — a name sug- 
gested by the inlaid bowl. He had brought back 
to life a cracked guitar, which he had stmng with 
copper wire obtained by "jawbone" at the Chino 
store. It was an inspiration when he sang to the 
guitar accompaniment, "Ma Filipino Babe," or 
in a rich and melancholy voice, with the profes- 
sional innuendo, "just to jolly the game along," 
a song entitled "Little Rosewood Casket." 

It is a sorry company that doesn't number 
in its roll a poet. Company M had a good poet. 
Local customs and the local atmosphere appealed 
to him, and he has thus recorded his impression 
of the Philippines : 

" There once was a Philippine hombre ; 
At^ guinimoSy rice, and legombre ; 

His pants they were wide, 

And his shirt hung outside ; 
But this, you must know, is costombre. 



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234 Thk Grkat White: Tribk. 

He lived in a nipa balay 
That served as a stable and sty. 

He slept on a mat 

With the dog and the cat, 
And the rest of the family near by. 

He once owned a hueno tnanoCy 
With a haughty and valorous look, 

Who lost him amain 

And mil pesos iambien, 
And now he plays monti for luck. 

This poem was received so favorably that the 
following effort of the realistic school escaped : 

" In this land of dhobie dreams, 

Happy, smiling Philippines, 
Where the bolo man is hiking all day long-* 

Where the natives steal and lie, 

And Americanos die, 
The soldier sings his evening song. 

Social wants are small and few ; 

All the ladies smoke and chew, 
And do other things they ought to know are wrong. 

Prestdentes cut no ice. 

For they live on fish and rice, 
And the soldier sings his evening song." 

There is another stanza, but the song about the 
"Brown Tagalog Girl" demands attention : 

" I Ve a babayy in a balay ^ 

Down in the province of Rizal. 
She 's nice and neat, dainty and sweet ; 
She 's ma little brown Tagalog gal." 



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In Camp and Barracks. 235 

The army officers and their families still form 
the aristocracy of the Philippines. While army 
life is not all like Camp Wallace and the gay 
Luneta, in the larger posts throughout the prov- 
inces, both the officers and soldiers are housed 
very comfortably. The clubhouse down at Zam- 
boanga has a pavilion running out over the water, 
where the ladies sit at night, or where refresh- 
ments are served after the concert by the band. 
Although their ways are not the ways of the civil- 
ian; although to them the possibilities of Jones's 
promotion from the bottom of the list seems of 
a paramount importance, you will not find any- 
where so loyal and hospitable a class of people as 
the army officers. Whatever little jealousies they 
entertain among themselves are overshadowed by 
the fact that "he" or "she" is of the "service." 
And the soldiers, rough as they are, and slov- 
enly compared to the red-coated soldiers of Great 
Britain, or the gray-coated troopers of the German 
army, are beyond doubt the finest fighting men 
in all the world. 



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CHAPTER XIV. 

PADR^ PEDRO^ RECOI.ETO PRIEST. — THE ROUTINE 
OF A FRIAR IN THE PHIUPPINES. 

It might have been the dawn of the first day 
in Eden. I was awakened by the music of the 
birds and sunlight streaming through the convent 
window. Heavily the broad leaves of abaca 
drooped with the morning dew. Only the roofs 
of a few nipa houses could be seen. The tolo- 
trees, like Japanese pagodas, stretched their hori- 
zontal arms against the sky. The mountains were 
as fresh and green as though a storm had swept 
them and cleared off again. They now seemed 
magnified in the transparent air. 

All in the silence of the morning I went down 
to where the tropical river glided between pri- 
meval banks and under the thick-plated overhang- 
ing foliage. The water was as placid as a sheet 
of glass. A spirit of mystery seemed brooding 
near. As yet the sun's rays had not penetrated 
through the canopy of leaves. A lonely fisherman 
236 



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Padr^ Pedro. 237 

sat on the bank above, lost in his dreams. Down 
by the ford a native woman came to draw water 
in a bamboo tube. I half expected her to place 
a lighted taper on a tiny float, and send it spinning 
down the stream, as is the custom of the mgtidens 
on the sacred river Ganges. In the silence of the 
morning, in the heart of nature, thousands of 
miles away from telegraphs and railroads, where 
the brilliant-feathered birds dipped lightly into the 
unruffled stream, the place seemed like a sanc- 
tuary, a holy of holies, pure, immaculate, and un- 
defiled. 

The padre had arisen at six. At his command 
the sacristans ascended the bell-tower and pro- 
ceeded to arouse the town. The padre moved 
about his dark, bare room. Rare Latin books 
were scattered around the floor. His richly em- 
broidered vestments hung on a long line. The 
room was cluttered with the lumber of old cru- 
cifixes, broken images of saints, and gilded floats, 
considerably battered, with the candlesticks awry. 
The floor and the walls were bare. There was a 
large box of provisions in the corner, filled with 
imported sausages done up in tinfoil, bottles of 



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238 The Great White Tribe. 

sugar, tightly sealed to keep the ants from getting 
in, small cakes of Spanish chocolate, bottles of 
olives and of rich communion wine. Donning 
his white robe, he went out to the ante-room, 
where, on the table spread with a white napkin, 
stood a cup of chocolate and a package of La 
Hebra cigarettes. 

There was a scamper of bare feet as the 
whole force of dirty house-boys, sacristans, 
and cooks rushed in to kneel and kiss the 
padre's hand and to receive his blessing. When 
he had finished the thick chocolate, one of the 
boys brought in a glass of water, fresh and spark- 
ling from a near-by mountain stream. Then Pa- 
dre Pedro lighted his cigarette, and read in pri- 
vate for a little while before the morning mass 
began. Along the narrow pathway (for there 
were no streets) a string of women in black veils 
was slowly coming to the church. Stopping be- 
fore the door, they bowed and made the sign of 
the cross. Then they went in and knelt down on 
the hard tiles. The padre's full voice, rising and 
falling with the chant, flooded the gloomy interior, 
where pencils of sunlight slanted through the 



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X 

m 
o 



X 

m 

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11 

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Padre Pkdro. 239 

apertures of the unfinished wall, and fell upon 
the drowsy wilderness outside. 

Returning from the mass, the padre refreshed 
himself with a small glass of gin-and-water, as 
his custom was ; nor could the appeal of any one 
persuade him to take more than a single glass or 
to take that at an earlier or later hour. The 
ancient maestra had arrived — a wrinkled old body 
in a black dress and black carpet-slippers — and 
she knelt down to touch the padre's outstretched 
hand with her thin, withered lips. The little 
children, who were waiting for their classes to 
be called, all followed her example, and before 
long, the monotonous drone of the recitations left 
no doubt that school had actually begun. Benches 
had filled up, and the dusky feet were swinging 
under them as the small backs bent over knotty 
problems on the slates. 

• The padre, passing among the pupils, made 
the necessary erasures and corrections, and oc- 
casionally gave unasked to some recalcitrant 
a smart snap on the head. The morning ses- 
sion ended by the pupils lining up in a half 
circle around the battered figure of a saint — 
17 



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240 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

the altar decorated with red paper flowers, or 
.colored grasses in a number of empty beer-bot- 
tles — and, while the padre played the wheezy har- 
monium, singing their repertoire of sacred songs. 
Then, as the children departed with the ''Buenos 
dias, senor" visitors, who had been waiting on 
the stairway with their presents of eggs, chick- 
ens, and bananas, were received. 

"Thees man," the padre explained to me, as a 
grotesque old fellow humbled himself before us, 
"leeves in one house near from ze shore. He 
has presented me with some goud rope to tie my 
horses with (huen piece, homhre), and he says 
that there are no more fishes in ze sea." 

"See, they have brought so many breads and 
fruits ! They know well that eet ees my fast-day, 
and that my custom ees to eat no meat. I can eat 
fish or cheecken, but not fish and cheecken ; eet ees 
difficult here to find enough food to sustain ze 
life on days of fast." 

"Thees girl," he said, "loves me too much. 
She is my orphan, she and her two brothers. I 
have bought one house for them near from ze 
^hurch, and, for the girl, one sewing-machine. 



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Padre Pedro. 241 

Their mother had been stealed [robbed] of every- 
thing, and she had died a month ago. Ze cheel- 
dren now have nobody but me." 

She was a bright young girl, well-dressed and 
plump, although, when Padre Pedro had received 
her, she was wasted by the fever, and near starved 
to death. But this was only one of his many 
charities. He used to loan out money to the 
people, knowing well that they would never be 
able to return it. He had cured the sick, and had 
distributed quinine among families that could not 
have secured it otherwise. He went to visit his 
parishioners, although they had no means of en- 
tertaining him. Most of them even had no chairs 
for him to sit on when he came, and they would 
stand around in such embarrassed silence that 
the padre could not have derived much pleasure 
from their company. 

At the padre's ''aver, hatal" after the last 
visitor has gone, the house-boys run in with the 
noon meal. The padre had a good cook, who 
understood the art of fixing the provisions in 
the Spanish style. I was surprised at the re- 
sources of the parish ; for a meal of ten or fifteen 
16 



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242 Th^ Gr^at Whit^ Tribe. 

courses was the usual thing. A phalanx of bare- 
footed waiters stood in line to take the plates 
when we had finished the respective courses, 
broth, mutton stew, and chicken, and bananas for 
dessert. The padre, I am sorry to say, ate with 
his knife, and was inclined to gobble. Two yel- 
low dogs and a lean cat stood by to gulp the mor- 
sels that were thrown them from the table. When 
the dinner was completed, a large tumbler of 
water and a toothpick were brought on. After 
a smoke the padre took his customary nap, re- 
tiring to the low, cane-bottomed bed, where he 
intrenched himself behind mosquito-bars. 

The convent was a rambling building, with 
adobe walls. It was raised up on pillars as long 
as telegraph poles, and the ground floor was di- 
vided into various apartments. There was the 
''calaboos/' where Padre Pedro's chickens were 
encouraged to "put" eggs. There were the stables 
for the padre's ponies, and a large bamboo stock- 
ade for pigs and chickens. The little friar took 
a lively interest in this corral, and he would feed 
his stock with his own hand from the convent 
window. "Ze leetle goat," he said, "eet ees my 



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Padr^ Pedro. 243 

mind to send to Father Cipriano for a geeft" 
The sucking pig was being saved for Easter-time, 
when it should be well roasted on a spit, with a 
banana in its mouth. There were just sixty-seven 
chickens, and the padre used to count them every 
day and notice their peculiarities. 

During the afternoon the padre's time was 
taken up by various religious duties, and the 
school was left in charge of the old maestra. 
There would be a funeral service at the church, 
or a baptism, or confession. Some days he would 
be called away to other barrios to hear a last 
confession ; but the distance or the weather never 
daunted him, and he would tuck his gown well 
up, and, followed by a sacristan, ride merrily 
away. On his return a cup of pasty chocolate 
would await him. Padre Pedro used to make 
a certain egg-fizz which was a refreshing drink 
of a long afternoon. The eggs were lashed into 
a froth by means of a bamboo brush twisted or 
rolled between the palms. The beauty of this bev- 
erage was that you could drain the cup, and, 
like the miracle of loaves and fishes, stir the 
batter up again, and have another drink of the 



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244 The Great White Tribe. 

same quality. "When Padre Cipriano comes 
here/' said the friar, "eet ees very gay. Ah ! Cip- 
riano, he can make the foam come up three times. 
He knows well how to make thees drink." 

When he would take his ebony cane and go 
out walking about sunset, followed by his yellow 
dog, the village people, young and old, would 
tumble over each other in their eagerness to kiss 
the father's hand. He would mischievously tweak 
the noses of the little ones, or pat the tiny girls 
upon the head. The friend of the lowly, he had 
somehow incensed the upper ten. But he had 
shown his nerve one Sunday morning when he 
had talked down one of these braggadocios who 
had leveled a revolver at him in the church. 

The little padre was as brave as he was 
"game." He was a fearless rider, and there were 
few afternoons when we were not astride the 
ponies, leaping the streams and ditches in the 
rice-pads, swimming the fords, and racing along 
the beach, and it was always the little priest that 
set the pace. One evening he received a message 
from the father superior of that vicinity, old 
Padre Jose, living ten or fifteen miles up the 



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Padre Pedro. 245 

road in an unpacified community. The notice 
was imperative, and only said to "come immedi- 
ately, and as soon as possible." 

Padre Jose was eighty years old, and he 
had been in Mindanao nearly all his life. He 
spoke Viscayan better than the natives, and 
he understood the Filipinos just as though 
each one of them had been his child. He 
had been all around the island and among the 
I^agan tribes who saw their spirits in the trees 
and streams. He had been back to Spain just 
once, and he had frozen his fingers over there. 
As I remember him, he was a dear, grand- 
motherly old fellow, in a long black gown, who 
bustled around so for us (we had stopped there 
on a certain expedition), cooking the eggs him- 
self, and cutting the tough bologna, holding the 
glass of moscatel so lovingly up to the light before 
he offered it, that I almost expected him to bring 
forth crullers, tea, and elderberry pie. His con- 
vent was at that time occupied by the municipal 
authorities ; and so he lived in a small nipa house 
with his two dogs, his Latin library, and the 
sacristans who at night slept scattered about the 



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246 Th^ OrKat Whitj5 Trib^. 

floor. The local conditions were unsettled at this 
time. The garrison at Surigao had been attacked 
by the so-called ladrones. Night messages were 
flying to and fro. Padre Jose's summons 
seemed a harbinger of trouble. But, in spite of 
the fact that Padre Pedro had been sick for sev- 
eral days, he obeyed the command of his superior 
like any soldier, and at midnight saddled the 
ponies, tucked a revolver undei^ his gown, and 
started at a gallop down the road. When he 
arrived at Father Jose's house, nothing serious 
was found to be the matter. Only the dear old 
soul was lonesome and had wanted company. 

Often at evening we would sit on the veranda 
till the evening star appeared — "the star that the 
shepherds know well ; the precurser oi the moon" 
— and then the angelus would ring, and Padre 
Pedro would stand up and doflf his cap, and, after 
a moment spent in silent prayer, "That is *good- 
night,' " he used to say, and then we would go 
in for dinner. Dinner was served at eight o'clock, 
and was as formal an affair as the noon meal. 
The evening would be spent at study, for the 
padre was a scholar of no mean ability. He had 



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Padre Pedro. ^47 

translated some of Stockton's stories into the Vis- 
cayan language. Speaking of Stockton, Padre 
Pedro said that he "knew well the spirit of your 
countrymen." His work was frequently disturbed 
by the muchachos running in with sums that they 
had finished on their slates; but the padre never 
showed the least impatience at these interruptions. 
Sometimes the "musickers" would come, and, 
crowding around the little organ, practice the 
chants for some fiesta day. The principal 
"musicker" was a grotesque old fellow, with enor- 
mous feet, and glasses rimmed with tortoise-shell. 
He looked so wise when he was poring over the 
manuscript in the dim candle-light that he re- 
minded one of an intelligent gorilla. One of his 
assistants, meanwhile, would be making artificial 
flowers, which were to decorate the battered floats 
to be used in the festival procession on the mor- 
row, carried aloft upon the shoulders of the men, 
sparkling with lighted tapers, while the bells up in 
the tower would jangle furiously. Or there would 
be a conference with his secretary in regard to the 
town records, which that functionary kept in the 
big book. 



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548 The Great White Tribe. 

One night the padre was called out to attend 
one who, as was explained to me, was bitten by 
a "fool" dog. On entering the poorly-lighted 
shack, we found, surrounded by a gaping crowd, 
the victim foaming at the mouth. He had in- 
deed been bitten by a "fool'' dog, and he died a 
few hours afterwards, as we could do but little to 
relieve his suffering. 

We spent the remainder of the evening looking 
over the long mass for Easter Sunday. And the 
padre said naively, "Will it not be necessary that 
I take one beer when I have reached this place, 
and then I can continue with the mass?" He 
looked back fondly to the days when he had sung 
his part in the antiphony in the magnificent 
cathedral at Manila. 

The town was always at the friar's service. 
And no wonder ! Had he not sent all the way to 
Manila for a Christmas box of goodies for the 
schoolboys, — figs, and raisins, and preserves? I 
caught him gloating over them one evening — 
when he gave his famous supper of roast kid and 
frosted cake for his American guests from the 
army post — and he had offered us a taste of these 



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Padre Pedro. 24^ 

almost forgotten luxuries. How he anticipated 
the delight he had in store for all the boys ! Then 
in the time of cholera, when the disease invaded 
even the convent, although a young man. Padre 
Pedro never left his post. 

The only time I ever knew him to complain 
was when the people came in hundreds to con- 
fession. The confession-box was too hot, and 
the breath of the penitents offensive. "Eet ees 
a work of charity," he said ; "they pay me nothing 
— nothing." The priest was only human when he 
feigned the toothache in order to secure a transfer 
to Cebu. The little station in the wilderness was 
too monotonous. He packed his effects in secret, 
fearing that the people would discover his inten- 
tion and detain him. The father superior had 
granted him a leave of absence. His suspicions 
had not been aroused. When he had reached 
Cebu the freile would be under different au- 
thority, and it was even possible that he be 
stationed in Manila or returned to Spain. He 
had not seen his parents for ten years, but his 
education had prepared him for a life of sacrifice. 
For the first time he felt neglected and forgotten. 



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aso The Great White Tribe. 

On arriving at the trading port, he learned that 
his parishioners had found him out. They sent 
a delegation to entreat him to remain. The little 
padre's heart was touched. "They love me too 
much," he said, "and they have nobody but me." 

My friend the padre might have been an ex- 
ception to the general rule. He was a "Friar in 
the Philippines," a member of a much-maligned 
religious order. Still I have met a number of 
their priests and bishops, and have found them 
charming and delightful men. They are such 
hospitable entertainers that they have been fre- 
quently imposed upon by traveling Americans, 
who take the convents for hotels, regardless of 
the public sentiment. It was the friars of San 
Augustin who, in 1565, subdued and pacified the 
Cebuanos when the arms of Spain availed but 
little. It was the Freile Pedro de San Augustin, 
the "fighting padre," who, in 1639, defeated the 
lake Moros. And, in 1754, a Spanish freile. 
Father Ducos, commanding the fleet of Iligan, 
defeated the armada of the Moro pirates, killing 
about a thousand of these buccaneers. 

Of course there have been friars good and 



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Padr^ Pedro. 251 

bad. But "Father Peter," though he might have 
had good cause to dislike the Americans, had 
always expressed the greatest admiration for 
them. They were "political" (diplomatic) men. 
His mastering the English language was a com- 
pliment to us such as few Spaniards have seen fit 
to pay. He might have been narrow in religious 
matters, but, above all, he was conscientious. 
While he could bathe his hands or face in the 
Aloran River, he could not go in. His education 
was a Spartan one, and narrowing in its influ- 
ences. All the society that he had ever had was 
that of a hundred students with the same ideals 
and inclinations as his own. The reputation of 
the friars in the Philippines has been depreciated 
by the conduct of the native priests. There was 
a padre named Pastor, an arrant coward, and 
wholly ignorant and superstitioiis. Sly old fox, 
he used to bet his last cent on the cock-fights, 
hiding up in the back window of Don Julian's. 
Once, on a drunken spree, he let a lajonan wear 
his gown and rosary. The natives, showing more 
respect for the sacred vestments than the priest 
had shown, went out to kiss the hand of him who 



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252 The Great White Tribe. 

wore the robe. The work of the friars can be 
more appreciated by comparing the civilization of 
the Christian natives with the state of the bar- 
barians and pagans. Whatever its defects may be, 
instead of the head-hunters and the idol-wor- 
shipers, the Filipino who has come within the 
influence of Spanish priests, though often lavish 
and improvident, is neat, polite, and sociable. 
But the friars can do better still. If they would 
use their influence to abolish the cock-fights Sun- 
day afternoon, and try to co-operate more with the 
civil government in the matter of public education, 
they would find that there is plenty of work to be 
done yet. But some of the accusations against the 
friars are unfair. Extortion is a favorite charge 
against them; but it must be kept in mind that 
there are no pew-rents or voluntary contributions, 
and that Spain has now withdrawn the financial 
support that she once gave. The Church must 
be maintained through fees derived from wed- 
dings, funerals, and christenings. And if the, 
Filipino, in his passion for display and splendor, 
orders a too expensive funeral, he has only him- 
self, and not the priest, to blame. Indeed, the 



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Padre Pedro. 253 

friars. can derive but little benefit from a rich 
treasury, because, when absent from their par- 
ishes, they are allowed to have no money of their 
own. All of the funds remaining after the ex- 
penses of the Church are paid must be sent to the 
general treasury. The padre in his convent has 
the use of the Church money for his personal 
needs and charities, but nevertheless he is ex- 
pected to make large returns each year. Perhaps, 
then, after all, the friars-Padre Pedro, anyway 
—are not so black as they are painted. 



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CHAPTER XV. 

GENERAL RUFINO IN THE MORO COUNTRY. 
INTRODUCTION. 

The story of Rufino's expedition to the Moro 
country in the summer of 190 1 reads like a chap- 
ter from Anabasis. It has to do with Capitan 
Isidro's curious experiences as a hostage in the 
home of Datto Amay Bancurong, at Lake Lanao. 
It deals with the last chapter in the history of 
two American deserters, Morgan and Miller, 
of the Fortieth United States volunteers, who, 
under General Rufino, served as officers — soldiers 
of fortune in a lost campaign — and who, as a last 
tribute of the treachery and faithlessness of those 
they served, received their death-blows at the 
hands of Filipinos who had caught them off their 
guard. 

The information published by Rufino shortly 
after his surrender has been valuable to the officers 
of our own army wrho are now exploring the mys- 
254 



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Generai. Rui^ino. 255 

terious interior of Mindanao. Capitan Isidro's 
intimacy with the Moros during the long period 
of his captivity should render his interpretation 
of the character, the life, and customs of this 
savage tribe authoritative. General Rufino, being 
one of the last Insurrectos to surrender, has not 
been as yet rewarded by the Government. This 
fact will be of consequence in case of any further 
outbreak on the northern coast of Mindanao. 
General Rufino lingers still about the scene of his 
exploit, and may be met with almost any time in 
Oroquieta, or, still better, in the sullen and re- 
vengeful village of Palilan, near the border of the 
Moro territory. 

RU^INO'S NARRATIVE. 

We left Mount Liberdad on June i, 1901, 
with eighteen officers, and privates to the number 
of four hundred and forty-two. Our destination 
was the town of Uato, on the shore of Lake 
Lanao, where, in obedience to our instructions 
from the Filipino junta at Hong Kong, we were 
to arrange a conference with the leading dattos 
in regard to an alliance of the Filipino and the 
18 



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256 The Great White Tribe. 

Moro forces to conduct a joint campaign against 
the American army of invasion. 

Among our officers were two deserters from 
I company of the Fortieth United States volun- 
teers, Morgan and Miller, who were mere ad- 
venturers, and who desired to clear the country 
and embark for Africa. Morgan was supposed 
to have been wanted for some criminal offense 
in the United States. He claimed to have de- 
serted as a consequence of punishments received 
by him which he considered to be undeserved. 
His comrade Miller followed him; but I have 
heard that Morgan took it hard because his friend 
had followed such a questionable lead. An under- 
standing had been previously arranged between 
our officers and Morgan, so that when the latter 
left the lines at Oroquieta we received him and 
his comrade at Aloran, six miles north. 

Our first stop was to be at Lintogout, a sta- 
tion on the river by the same name, that flows 
into the long estuary that divides bur country 
from the Moro territory. As you can see, our 
march was very rough. The mountain chain, of 
which Mount Liberdad, Mount Rico, and Mount 



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GENERAL RUFINO IN MORO COUNTRY 



CAPTAIN ISIDRO RILLA3 WITH THE DATTO 



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t^^ 



•^ J 



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GENERAL Ruling. 257 

Esperenza are the most important peaks, is very 
wild and hazardous. A few miles from the coast 
the country breaks into ravines and hills. There 
are no villages; no depots for supplies. The 
trails are almost imperceptible, and can be fol- 
lowed only by the most experienced Montesco 
guides. Back in the mountains there are many 
natural strongholds, which are practically inac- 
cessible. The mountain wall, with its Plutonic 
canons and precipitous descents, wrapped in a 
chilly fog, continually towered above us on the 
west. 

To add to our embarrassments, we were 
harassed by a detachment of United States troops 
that had been pursuing us. Their plan was to 
close in upon us in two sections, from the front 
and rear. Near Lintogout we came to an en- 
gagement with Lieutenant Patterson's command. 
My army was by this time seriously crippled. 
We had lost one hundred and forty men the 
previous day by desertion. The deserting men, 
however, did not take their arms. Lieutenant 
Patterson's command must have been quite ex- 
hausted, for they camped at night on a plateau 



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258 The Great White Tribe. • 

along the precipice, where an attack by us would 
have been inadvisable. The troops were new and 
untried; the experience for them was something 
they had not anticipated. Yet they kept at it 
stubbornly, slinging their carbines on their 
backs, and climbing up hand over hand in 
places where they had lost the trail. Their 
guides were evidently somewhat of a puzzle 
to them, as the Montese idea of distance is in- 
definite. "When I have finished this cigar we 
will be there," they say; and ''poco distancia" ^ 
with them means often many miles. 

We were not inconvenienced much by the en- 
gagement. Our American lieutenants superin- 
tended the construction of intrenchments, back 
of which we lay, and fired a volley at the enemy. 
At their advance our army scattered, and a num- 
ber of our soldiers, taking inexcusable advantage 
of the opportunity, deserted. On the next day* 
we set out, reduced in numbers to two hundred 
and fifty-two. None of our men were killed or 
wounded in the fight. 

We then proceeded overland to Lake Lanao, 



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Genhrai. Ruling. 259 

the journey occupying sixteen days, during which 
time the army had no rice, but had to exist en- 
tirely on the native fruits. Our tardiness in reach- 
ing Lake Lanao was caused by two attacks by 
Moros, June isth. In order to avoid this enemy 
we made a detour, coming dangerously near the 
coast at Tucuran. At Tucuran three men de- 
serted. Thence our march led inland to Bacayan, 
following the south shore of the lake. Before we 
reached Bacayan we were met (June 29th and 
30th) by Dattos Casiang and Pindalonan, with 
their combined forces. Our side lost two killed, 
three wounded (who were taken captive) ; and 
the Moros, thirteen killed, three wounded. Ar- 
riving at Bacayan July ist, we waited there twelve 
days. 

Then we set out along the south shore to Uato 
on the lake, which place we reached without en- 
gagement on the nineteenth of July. We stopped 
at Uato ten days, there borrowing $500 "Mex" 
from Datto Bancurong. We were obliged to 
leave Captain Isidro Rillas with the datto for se- 
curity. The very money that we now were bor- 



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26o The Great White Tribe. 

rowing the Moros had received from us for their 
protection during our campaign, and for their 
promising not to molest us all the time that we 
were in their territory. Having loaned us money, 
they now sold us rice, in which negotiation, just 
as in the former one, they took advantage of our 
helplessness. The deal, however, was a necessary 
one, because the army had been for a long time 
without funds or rations. Leaving Uato we pro- 
ceeded to Liangan, on the north coast, opposite 
Tudela (on the Jolo Sea). We left the Moro 
country on the recommendation of the two Amer- 
ican deserters, who had been dissatisfied for some 
time at the turn affairs were taking. 

We were attacked the first day out of Uato 
by the combined forces of three powerful dattos, 
who had previously borrowed rifles from us on 
the pretext of desiring to kill game. The engage- 
ment lasted until sunset. Of the Moros, ten were 
killed and many wounded. Night coming on, 
the enemy withdrew for re-enforcements. They 
returned the next day several thousand strong, 
and would have utterly annihilated us (for we 
were worn by fever and starvation) had it not 



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ISIDRO RlLIvAS. 261 

been for Datto Bandia's advice, which finally dis- 
couraged the attack. 

We reached Liangan July 31st with two hun- 
dred and thirty-nine men. Here we purchased 
rifles from the Moros, crossed the bay at night, 
and reached Tudela August 5th. Procrastination 
on the part of the conferring dattos made a fail- 
ure of the expedition. We had spent about 
$10,000 gold for rations, good will, and pro- 
tection. 

Morgan and Miller, when the army was dis- 
banded, lived around Langaran for a while. One 
day while they were bathing in the sea, they were 
cut down by natives — I do not know why. Mor- 
gan was killed while arguing with his assailants. 
"We have done a lot for you," he said ; but those 
were his last words. Miller, attempting to escape 
by running through the shallow water, was pur- 
sued by bancas and dispatched. The bodies were 
found later in a marsh. 

CAPITAN ISIDRO RII^LAS'S NARRATIVE. 

I WAS to have been educated for the Church ; 
but after studying for some time in Cebu pre- 



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262 The Great White Tribe. 

paratory to a course at Rome, I set aside the 
wishes of my parents, who desired that I become 
a Jesuit, and took unto myself a wife. 

You wonder, probably, why we Viscayans, 
who are very peaceable, should have assumed a 
hostile attitude toward the Americans. Of course, 
we do not really like the game of war. But what 
positions would we hold among our own com- 
munities if we were to be easily imposed upon? 
You would have thought it a queer army that as- 
sembled at Mount Liberdad in 1901, — ^barefooted 
homhres, ignorantes from the rice-pads and the 
hemp-fields, armed with cutlasses and bolos — for 
we had no more than fifty guns — undisciplined 
and without military knowledge. But the ap- 
pearance of your army iil the war of In- 
dependence caused amusement to the British 
soldiers — for awhile? The Government gen- 
erously recognized a number of the leaders of 
the insurrection, and in doing so has not done 
wrong. Our leaders are to-day, among our peo- 
ple, what your patriots are in your own land. 
And even you have no respect for those who hid 
themselves among the women during the affair 



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ISIDRO R1I.I.AS. 263 

at Oroquieta. Left alone, we could soon organize 
our government, our schools, and army. But, 
of course, conditions render this impossible, and 
so we think American protection is the best. 

You ask for some account of my experiences 
with the Moros during our excursion to their 
territory. Our army was at first about five hun- 
dred strong, but nearly half the men deserted on 
the way. We had not counted on so much hos- 
tility among the Moros, although they are ancient 
enemies of ours, and until very recently have 
raided our coast villages and carried off our people 
into slavery. But when we wanted slaves, we 
purchased them — young Moros — from their par- 
ents at Misamis. 

Though our mission was an altogether 
friendly one, our hosts did not let any opportunity 
go by of taking an unfair advantage of us. Gen- 
eral Rufino was obliged to leave me as a hostage 
at Uato at the home of Datto Bancurong. 

If we could have effected an alliance with the 
Moros, it would no doubt have been a formidable 
one. The Moros are well armed and expert fight- 
ing men. Most of our weapons have been pur- 



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264 The Great White Tribe. 

chased from them, as they had formerly acquired 
a stock of stolen Spanish guns. Those living in 
the Lake Lanao vicinity must have about two 
thousand Remington and Mauser guns, besides a 
number of old-fashioned cannon, which are 
mounted in their forts. They manufacture their 
own ammunition, which is necessarily of an in- 
different quality. 

We told the Moros that they would all have to 
work if the Americans should come. We knew 
that they were all slaveholders and ladrones; we 
knew that while they kept their slaves they would 
not need to work; and so we thought our argu- 
ment ought to appeal to them. 

When I was left with Datto Bancurong, se- 
curity for the five hundred pesos that Rufino had 
been forced to borrow, I was treated with con- 
siderable hospitality. At one time when I had 
the fever, he secured some chickens for me, — 
they were very scarce. The datto had three wives, 
but one of them was rather old. I did not 
notice any ornaments of gold upon them. They 
wore silver rings and bracelets, which the native 
jewelers had made. The women are industrious. 



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ISIDRO RlLLAS. 265 

and consequently do most of the work. They are 
quite skillful with the loom, and manufacture 
from the native fabric, ampic (sashes) which their 
husbands wear. But for themselves they buy a 
cheaper fabric from the Chinos, which they dye 
in brilliant colors and make into blankets. You 
would probably mistake the men for women at 
first sight because of their peculiar cast of fea- 
tures. They are dressed much better and more 
picturesquely than the women, wearing bright 
silk turbans, sashes with gay fringe, and blouses 
often fancifully colored and secured by brass or 
mother-of-pearl buttons. 

The Moro tribes, because they recognize no 
ruler but the local datto, are unable to accom- 
plish an)rthing of national significance. Con- 
certed action is with them impossible. Thirty or 
forty villages are built around the lake. They are 
so thickly grouped, however, that one might as 
well regard them all as one metropolis. The 
mountains form a background for the lake, which 
is located on a high plateau. The climate here 
is more suggestive of a temperate zone than of 
a place within four hundred miles of the equator. 



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266 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

and the nights are often disagreeably cold. To 
become a datto it is only necessary to possess a 
few slaves, wives, and carabao. A minor datto 
averages about four slaves, a dozen head of cat- 
tle, and two wives. He wears silk clothes, and 
occupies the largest nipa house. 

The Moro weapons are of several kinds, — 
the puital (a wedge-bladed knife), the campalon 
(a long broadsword), and the sundang (a Malay 
kriss). They also use head-axes, spears, and 
dirks. Being Mohammedans, they show a fatal- 
istic bravery in battle. It is a disgrace to lose the 
weapon when in action; consequently it is tied to 
the hand. Many of their knives were made by 
splitting up the steel rails laid at Iligan. The 
brass work of the Spanish locomotives, also, was 
a great convenience in the manufacture of their 
cutlery. 

Although they have schools for the boys, the 
Moro people do not make a speciality of educa- 
tion. The young men are taught from the Koran 
by priests, who also teach the art of making 
characters in Arabic. Their music is for the most 
part religious, inharmonious, and unmelodious. 



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ISIDRO R1I.I.AS. 267 

The coluctang, their most important instrument, 
resembles our guitar. They seem to recognize 
three grades of priests — the emam, the pandita, 
and the sarip, named in order of superiority. 
Their churches are great, circular inclosures, 
made of nipa and bamboo, with no attempt at 
decoration. Sacred instrumental music is sup- 
plied by bells and drums. The drum at Uato, 
where I was, being of extraordinary size, required 
two men to operate it. Each town contains a 
large percentage of ladrones, whose influence is 
offset by the pandita (or elders), three or five 
for every barrio. These are the secondary priests, 
and it is necessary that they go into the church 
three times a day to pray. At sunrise, at midday, 
and at sunset they will cry repeatedly, "Aldh! 
Aldh! Bocamad soro-lar (Allah is god; Mo- 
hammed, prophet.) All the priests wear bright 
robes like the dattos, but the clergy is distin- 
guished by a special hangcala, or turban, which is 
ornamented by a string of silver rings. 

There are about five hundred Filipinos living 
with the Moros, mostly slaves. Deer, jungle- 
cock, wild hogs, and cattle are to be found in 



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268 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

the plains and forests near the lake. The soil 
is fertile, and sufficient crops of com, rice, coffee, 
and tobacco may be raised. Camotes (wild pota- 
toes), fruits, and cocoanuts are very scarce. 

Though many of the dattos are disposed to 
treat the Americans as friends, three in particular 
will entertain a different attitude. These are 
Bayang, Mario, and Taraia, who, among them, 
have control of many men. They realize, how- 
ever, that the new invaders will be harder to op- 
pose than were the Spaniards of the former laisses 
faire regime. The Filipinos will, of course, be 
glad to see the Moros beaten in the conflict that 
is now inevitable. 

To conclude my narrative, we finally got the 
better of our hosts, the enemy. The Moros 
wanted $1,500 in return for the $500 they had 
loaned Rufino. "Then you must let the hostage 
come to his own people," said Rufino, "so that he 
can use his influence among them and solicit 
funds; for otherwise we will not ransom him." 
The situation did not look so very bright for me ; 
but at a conference of the interested dattos they 
reluctantly decided that I might depart. Eight 



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ISIDRO R1I.I.AS. 269 

Moros were appointed to accompany me as a 
body-guard. On reaching Iligan it was requested 
that the post commander furnish me an escort 
back to Oroquieta, which was done. The Moros 
profited so much by our excursion, selHng us 
good will and rice, that I am sure they will for- 
give us for not paying them the ransom money, 
which is no more than the brokerage on a small 
loan. 



19 



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CHAPTER XVI. 

AW)NG THE lUGAN-MARAHUI ROAD. 

The recent victories achieved by Captain Per- 
shing over the fanatic Moro tribes in the vicinity 
of Lake Lanao, have opened up for military oc- 
cupation a new territory equal in fertility and 
richness to the famous Cagayan valley of Luzon. 
The Moros under the American administration 
will be recognized as independent tribes, and be 
restricted probably to reservations similar to those 
the Indians now occupy. This means that a great 
tract of land will some day be thrown open for 
American development. The soil will yield abun- 
dant crops of corn, tobacco, coffee, rice, and other 
products, while the forest wealth appeals to the 
imagination. Rubber, sugar, hemp, and copra are 
the natural products of the country near the coast. 
The lake itself is situated on a high plateau, with 
a prevailing temperate climate. Where the moun- 
tains do not intervene, the land slopes gradually 
down to the sea. 

270 



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The Iugan-Marahui Road. * 271 

One of the most important military operations 
that was ever undertaken in the Philippines was 
the construction of the Iligan-Marahui road, 
which, having been for some time open to the 
pack-trains and the heavy traffic, is at present 
nearing its completion. Though the work was 
planned by members of the engineers' corps, all 
the clearing, grading, and the filling-in were done 
by soldiers who had never until then known what 
it meant to handle pick and shovel. The younger 
officers, who, for the first time in their lives, were 
superintending a construction job, went out and 
bossed the gangs as well as many an experienced 
and seasoned foreman could have done. The 
soldiers, who deserve no little credit for their 
work, are members of the Twenty-eighth and the 
Tenth infantries. 

It was about the last of January that I made 
a trip to Iligan, arriving in a Moro sailboat from 
another port on the north coast of Mindanao. 
Two or three army transports, with the quarantine 
flag flying (for the cholera was still in evidence), 
lay quietly at anchor in the bay. Along the shore 
a warm breeze ruffled the green branches of the 



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272 Th^ Great White Tribe. 

copra palms. Near the new dock a gang of Mores 
were at work, perspiring in the hot rays of the 
tropic sun. A tawny group of soldiers, dressed 
in khaki, rested in the shade of a construction- 
house, and listened dreamily to far-off bugle 
calls. 

The Moros were dressed picturesquely in a 
great variety of costume, ranging from bright- 
colored silk to dirty corduroy. Red &wya-juice 
was leaking from the corners of their mouths. 
Their turbans, though disgracefully unclean, were 
silk. Their coats were fastened by brass military 
buttons, and their sashes, green and red, with a 
long fringe, were tied around their waists; their 
trousers, like a pair of riding breeches, buttoned 
up the side. 

While spending the first evening at the club, 
I had seen mingling with the young lieutenants, 
immaculate in their new olive uniforms, bronzed, 
mud-bespattered officers in the blue army shirt 
and khaki, with the Colt's six-shooter hanging 
from an ammunition belt. These were the 
strangers from the town of white tents on the 
t)order of the woods. At tnidnight possibly, or 



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The Iugan-Marahui Road. 273 

even later, they would mount their horses and go 
riding through the night to the encampment on 
the hill. The very next day one of the immaculate 
lieutenants, laying off the olive uniform, might 
have to don the old campaign hat and the flannel 
shirt, and follow his unshaven comrades up the 
road. 

We stretched our army cots that night in the 
roulette room (this is not a country of hotels), 
and to the rattle of the balls and the monotonous 
drone of the croupier, " 'teen and the red wins," 
dropped off to sleep. On the day following the 
Dr. Hans dropped in with Generals Wade and 
Sumner, and the jingle of the cavalry was heard 
as they rode out with mounted escort to inspect 
the operations of the road. After a dance and a 
reception at the residence of the commanding 
officer in honor of the visitors, "guard mount," 
the social feature of the day, was viewed from the 
pavilion in the little plaza where the exercise takes 
place. Its dignity was sadly marred that even- 
ing when a Moro datto, self-important in an 
absurd, overwhelming hat, accompanied by an 
obedient old wife on a moth-eaten Filipino pony, 



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274 The Great White Tribe. 

and a dog, ignoring everybody, jogged along the 
street and through the lines. 

I walked out to the camp n^xt morning with 
Lieutenant Harris. Even for this short stretch 
the road was not considered altogether safe. We 
forded the small river just beyond the cavalry 
corral, where an old Spanish blockhouse stands, 
and where a few old-fashioned Spanish cannon 
still lie rusting in the grass. A Moro fishing 
village — now a few deserted shacks around the 
more pretentious dwelling of the former datto— 
may be met near where the roadway joins the 
beach. Pack-trains of army mules, with their 
armed escorts, passed us; then an ambulance, an 
escort wagon, and a mounted officer. 

Two companies of the Tenth infantry were 
camped in a small clearing near the sea. Leaving 
the camp, we went along the almost indistinguish- 
able Moro trail to where the mighty Agus River 
plunges in a greenish torrent over an abrupt wall 
into the deep, misty cavern far below. The rush- 
ing of the waters guided us in places where we 
found the trail inadequate. Arriving at the falls, 
we scrambled down by means of vines until we 



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A DESERTED MORO SHACK 



MORO WEAPONS (Spear and Dirk) 



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f^^^-. 



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The Iugan-Marahui Road. 275 

reached a narrow shelf near where the cataract 
began its plunge. Upon the opposite side an un- 
yielding precipice was covered with a damp green 
coat of moss and fern. It took five seconds for a 
falling stone to reach the seething cloud of mist 
below. 

The trail back to the camp was very wild. 
It led through jungles of dense underbrush, where 
monkeys scolded at us, and where wild pigs, with 
startled grunts, bolted precipitously for the 
thicket. A deep ravine would be. bridged by a 
fallen tree. The Iligan-Marahui road now pene- 
trates the wildest country in the world, and the 
most wonderful. Turning abruptly from the 
coast about five miles from Iligan, it winds among 
the rocky hills through forests of mahogany and 
ebony, through jungles of rattan and young bam- 
boo, and spanning the swift Agus River with a 
modern steel bridge, finally connects the lake and 
sea. It has been built to meet the military road 
from the south coast, thus making possible, for 
the first time, communication via the interior. 
The new roads practically follow the old More 
trails. 



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276 The Great White Tribe. 

The scene at early morning on the road was 
one of great activity. Soon after reveille the men 
are mustered, armed with picks and shovels in the 
place of the more customary "Krag," and long 
before the tropic sun has risen over the primeval 
woods, the chatter of monkeys and the crow of 
jungle-cock is mingled with the crash of trees, 
the click of shovels and the rumble of the dump- 
cart. The continued blasting on the upper road, 
near the "Point of Rocks," disturbs the colonies 
of squawking birds that dart into the forest 
depths like flashes of bright color. As the land 
is cleared for fifty yards on either side in order 
to admit the sunlight and to keep the Moros at 
a proper range, the great macao-trees, with their 
snaky, parasitic vines, on crashing to the ground, 
dislodge the pallid fungi and extraordinary or- 
chids from their heavy foliage. Deep cuts into 
the clayey soil sometimes bisect whole galleries 
of wonderful white ants, causing untold conster- 
nation to the occupants. 

Each squad of soldiers was protected by a 
guard besides the officer, who, armed with a re- 
volver, acted as the overseer. The work was very 



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The Iugan-Marahui Road. 277 

telling on the men, and often out of a whole com- 
pany not more than twenty-eight reported. Some 
grew as strong as oxen under this unusual rou- 
tine; others had to take advantage of the sick 
report. The soldiers were required to work five 
hours a day, and double time after a day of rain. 
Considerable Moro labor was employed on the last 
sections of the road. 

A unique feature of the work was the erection 
of small bridges made of solid logs from the 
material at hand, and bolted down by long steel 
bars. The "elbow** bridge which makes a bend 
along the hillside near the first camp is a triumph 
in the engineering line. The camps were moved 
on as the work progressed, and the advance guard 
ran considerable risk. The Moros had an unex- 
pected way of visiting the scene of operation, and 
admiring it from certain hiding-places in the 
woods. As they could hike their thirty or forty 
miles a day along the trails, they often came much 
nearer to the troops than was suspected. Sentry 
duty was especially a risky one, as frequently at 
night the Moros used to fire into the camp. Only 
about one hundred yards along the trail a soldier, 



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^78 The Great White Tribe. 

who had gone into the woods for a "short cut," 
received one from a Moro who was waiting for 
him in the shadow of a tree. 

The camp at night, illuminated by the blue 
light of the stars, the forest casting inky shadows 
on the ground, seemed like some strange, mys- 
terious domain. The officers around the tent of 
the commanding officer were singing songs, ac- 
companied by the guitar and mandolin. The sol- 
diers also from a distant tent — it was their own 
song, and the tune "The Girl I Left Behind Me" 
— practicing close harmony, began : 

" O, we*re camped in the sand in a foreign land 
Near the mighty Agus River, 
With the brush at our toes, the skeeters at our nose, 
The jimjams and the fever. 

We *re going up to Lake Lanao, 

To the town they call Marahui ; 
When the road is built and the Moros killed, 

We '11 none of us be sorry. 

We 're blasting stumps and grading bumps ; 

Our arms and backs are sore, O ! 
We work all day just a dreamin' of our pay, 

And d — n the husky Moro ! 

When taps sounded, we turned in beneath two 
blankets in a wall-tent lighted by a feeble lan- 



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The Iugan-Marahui Road. 279 

tern. All night long the restless jungle sounds, 
the whispering of the mysterious forest, and the 
distant booming of the sea, together with the 
measured tread of the night sentry, made a lul- 
laby which ought to have worked wonders with 
the "jim-jam*' and the fever patients of the 
Twenty-eighth. 



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CHAPTER XVII. 

THE FILIPINO AT PtAY. 

As IN the pre-Elizabethan days the public 
amusements consisted of performances by priests 
and monks on scaffolding set up before the 
church, mystery plays, "moralities," and "mir- 
acles," religious pageants through the village 
streets, — so in the Philippines, where they have 
not outlived the fourteenth century, the Church 
plays an important part in popular fiestas. The 
Christmas holidays are celebrated still by carol- 
singing from house to house, and by the presenta- 
tion of the old-time "mystery" by strolling bands 
of actors, with a wax-doll to represent the Sacred 
Child. 

Each town, besides the regular church holi- 
days — as indicated by innumerable red marks in 
the calendar — ^has a fiesta for its patron saint, 
which is of more importance even than the "Feast 
of Aguinaldo" ("Aguinaldo'* is their word for 
280 



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The F11.1PIN0 AT P1.AY. 281 

"Christmas present"), which is held annually in 
December. One of these Hestas is announced by 
the ringing of the church-bells — ^big bells and 
little bells all turtiing somersaults, and being 
banged as they go round. During the intermis- 
sions the municipal band discourses Spanish and 
Viscayan music, coming to the end with a tri- 
umphant bang. Only on Holy Friday are the 
bells abandoned and tin pans and bamboo clap- 
pers, sticks and stones, resorted to for purposes of 
lamentation — functions for which • these instru- 
ments are perfectly adapted. 

People come in from far and near, riding in 
bancas or on ponies, often spending several 
nights upon the way. The great church at the 
morning mass is crowded ; women faint ; and, as 
the heat increases, it becomes a steaming oven. 
It is more spectacular at vespers, with the women 
kneeling among the goats and dogs; the men, 
uncovered, standing in the shadows of the 
gallery; the altar sparkling with a hundred can- 
dles; and the dying sunlight filtering through 
mediaeval windows. As the resinous incense odor 
fills the house, through the wide-open doors the 



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282 The Great White Tribe. 

sun can be seen setting in its tropical magnificence 
behind a grove of palms. 

Then the procession, in a haze of dust — led 
by the band, the padre, and the acolytes; the 
sacred relics borne aloft on floats encircled by 
a blaze of candles; young men holding, each 
other's hands ; children and old women following, 
holding their tapers and reciting prayers — ^files 
through the streets to the eternal clamor of the 
bells. 

The afternoon is given up to tournaments — 
carabao races, pony races, banca races, cock- 
fights. Bamboo arches, decorated with red ban- 
ners, are erected in the larger thoroughfares, and 
under these the horsemen ride together at full 
tilt, attempting to secure upon their lances the 
suspended rings which are the favors of the local 
senoritas. On dropping in at that volcanic little 
town, Mambajo, one hot afternoon, I found a 
goose hung up upon the bamboo framework 
which became the property of the competitor who, 
riding under it ventre a terre, could seize the 
prize, regardless of the feelings of the goose. 
The village had turned out in holiday attire, as 



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The Fiupino at Pi.ay. 283 

the dense atmosphere of cocoanut-oil and per- 
fumery proclaimed. The band, in white pith hel- 
mets and new linen uniforms, was playing under 
the mimosa-tree. Down the main road a strug- 
gling crowd of wheelmen came, and from a cloud 
of dust the winner of the mile bicycle-race shot 
past the tape. The difficulty in the carabao event 
was to stick on to the broad, clumsy animal, dur- 
ing the gallop around the course. One of the 
beasts, excited by the shouts, began to run amuck, 
and cut a swathe in the distracted crowd as clean 
as an ungovernable automobile might have made. 
The ringing of a bell announced the cock-fight 
in the main beneath the cocoanut-trees. It was 
near the market-place, where venders of betel-nut, 
tobacco, cigarettes, and tuba squatted on the 
ground, their wares exposed for sale on mats. 
As the spectators crowded in, the gatekeeper 
would mark their bare feet with a red stamp, 
indicating that admission had been paid. On 
booths arranged within the last inclosure, se- 
noritas sold hot chocolate and raisin-cakes and 
beer. Tethered to little stakes, and straining at 
their leashes, the excited game-cocks, the descend- 
20 



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284 The Great White Tribe. 

ants of the jungle-fowl, screamed in exultant 
unison. The small boys, having climbed the 
cocoanut-palms, clung to the notches, and looked 
down upon the scene of conflict. 

Little brown men, squatting around the birds, 
were critically hefting them, or matching couples 
of them in preliminary bouts, keeping a good 
hold of their tails. There was the wicked little 
Moro Bangcorong, the trainer of birds that never 
lost a fight. There was Manolo, the Viscayan 
dandy, who on recent winnings in the main, sup- 
ported a small stable of racing ponies at Cebu. 
The person entering a bird deposits a certain 
amount of money with the bank. This wager is 
then covered by the smaller bets of hoi polloi. 
When a "dark" bird is victorious, and the crowd 
wins, an enthusiastic yell goes up. But just as in 
a public lottery, fortune is seldom with the great 
majority. As the bell rings, the spectators press 
close around the bamboo pit, or climb to points 
of vantage in adjacent scaffolding. A line is 
drawn in the damp earth, and on one side all the 
money wagered on the favorite is arranged, which 
must be balanced by the coin placed by opposing 



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The F11.1PINO AT Play. 285 

betters on the other side. There is a frantic rush- 
ing around at the last moment to place bets. The 
Chinaman waves a ten-peso bill excitedly, and 
clamors "buenting! buenting!" — meaning that he 
puts his money on the speckled bird. Somebody 
on the other side cries out "guinganT or "green," 
and thus they both find takers for their "sapL" 
Then the presidente, who referees the fight, sends 
two policemen to clear out the ring; the sheaths 
are removed from the razor-sharp steel spurs; 
the two cocks are held opposite each other, and are 
simultaneously launched into the arena. Ruffling, 
and facing each other with their necks out- 
stretched, "blood in their eyes," and realizing to 
the ftill extent the danger of the situation, they 
prepare to fight it out to death. A quick stab, and 
the victim, trembling violently, a stream of red 
blood trickling down its leg, drops at the first 
encounter, and the fight is over. 

While no record has been kept of how the bets 
were placed, every one seems to remember, and 
the money is handed over honestly. If Filipinos 
were as honorable in all their dealings as they are 
in this, they would be ideal people to do business 



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286 The Great White Tribe. 

with; for although they will beg and borrow, or 
even steal, to get the money which is wagered at 
these "combats," they will never evade a debt of 
honor thus incurred. Regarding gambling as a 
livelihood, or a profession in good standing, they 
devote their best hours to the study and the mas- 
tery of it. They, with their false philosophy, 
believe that wealth is thus produced, and that 
there is a gain for every one. 

The list of fights progresses, some of the cocks 
only giving up the struggle after a last dying kick 
has been directed at the breast of the antagonist, 
who, desperately wounded) summons strength for 
one triumphant, but a rather husky, crow. Some- 
times both birds are taken from the cockpit dead. 
The bird that loses a fight through cowardice is 
rent limb from limb by the indignant owner, and 
is ignominiously hung upon the bamboo paling, — 
bird of ill omen, that has ruined the finances of 
a family, mortgaged the house and carabao, and 
plunged its owner into debt for the next year ! 

Sometimes a "free for air' is substituted for 
the dual contest. Eighteen or twenty fighting- 
cocks will be arranged in a large circle, dropped 



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The Fiupino at Play. 287 

at the same time in the ring, and set to work. 
Half of the birds, not realizing what is going on, 
will innocently start to scratch for worms, or set 
out on a search for seeds. It is amusing then to 
see the astonished look they give when suddenly 
confronted by a couple of antagonists. They set- 
tle their disputes in bunches of three and four, 
and soon the ring is full of chickens running to 
get out of danger, maimed and crippled, or still 
innocently scratching after worms. There was a 
little white cock at the recent main at Oroquieta, 
who avoided every fight without, however, leav- 
ing the arena. The game old buzzard that be- 
longed to Capitan A-Bey — a bird with legs like 
stilts and barren patches in his foliage — had put 
down every challenger in turn. Confronted by 
two birds at once, he seemed to say, "One side, 
old fellow, for a moment ; will attend to your case 
later" — which he did. Dizzy and staggering from 
loss of blood, still "in the ring," he sidled up to 
the immaculate white bird that had so ingeniously 
evaded every fight. It was a case of out-and-out 
bluff. If the little bird had struck, he must have 
won. A single look, however, at his reprehensible 



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288 The Great White Tribe. 

antagonist sufficed. The little bird made a direct 
line for the gate, while Capitan A-Bey's old 
rooster, with defiance in his look and voice, was 
carried away in triumph. In the parade next day, 
where the competing game-cocks were exhibited, 
the '^buzzard," though he was exempt from tak- 
ing part in the proceedings, led the procession and 
was loudly cheered. 

My introduction to polite society in Filipinia 
was certainly auspicious. "Betel-Nut Sal," the 
wife of the constabulary sergeant, had a birthday, 
and invited everybody to the dance and the re- 
ception which would take place in the jail. The 
Senorita Tonio, most prominent of the receiving 
ladies, was engaged when I arrived, in meting 
out gin to the visitors. Her teeth were red from 
betel-chewing, and a cigarette hung from the cor- 
ner of her mouth. The orchestra, armed with 
guitars and mandolins, had seated themselves 
upon a bench, barefooted with their legs crossed, 
ready to begin. The insufficiency of partners for 
the ladies had necessitated letting out most of the 
prisoners on parole. A certain young dandy who 



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The Fiupino at Play. 289 

had been locked up on charge of murder, was the 
hero of the hour. While he was dancing, sol- 
diers with their Remingtons guarded the door. 
I was induced to try a dance with Tonio. The 
hum of music could be heard above the "clack- 
clack" of the carpet-slippers tapping on the floor. 
Then suddenly the senorita swore a white man's 
oath, and stopped. Her carpet-slipper had come 
off, and as she wore no hosiery, the situation was 
indeed embarrassing. Our hostess asked us 
twenty times if everything was satisfactory, and 
finally confessed that she had spent almost a 
year's income for the refreshments. "Dancee 
now; manana, washie, washie." 

I must tell you of Bernarda's party. "We ex- 
pect you for the eating," read the invitation, and 
when dinner was all ready I was sent for. Then 
we sat down to a feast of roast pork, rice, and 
goat-flesh, with a rather soggy cake for the des- 
sert. At most balls it is customary for the ladies 
to be seated first at the refreshment-table, where 
the most substantial articles of diet are boiled ham 
with sugar frosting, cakes flavored with the na- 
tive lime, and lemon soda. Like the coy nun in 



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290 The Great White Tribe, 

Chaucer's "Prologue," she who is most elegant 
will take care not to spill the food upon her lap, 
eat with the fingers, or spit out the bones. At 
wedding feasts the gentlemen are given prefer- 
ence at the table. 

When the orchestra arrived — a trifle late 
after a six-mile hike through muddy roads 
and over swollen streams — the company was 
more delighted than a nursery. The orchestra 
began the program with, the piece entitled 
"Just One Girl," to which the people sang 
Viscayan words. Vivan, the old clown, in clumsy 
commissary shoes, skated around the floor to the 
amusement of the whole assembly. The chair- 
dance was announced, and the most favored se- 
norita occupied a chair set in the middle of the 
room. A dozen suitors came in order, bowing 
low, entreating her not to reject their plea. One 
after another they were thrown down, and retired 
crestfallen. But at last the right one came, and 
waltzed off with the girl triumphantly. There 
was a salvo of applause, the more intense because 
in this case an engagement had been practically 
announced. No native ball would be complete 



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ThK F1I.IPINO AT P1.AY. 291 

Without the symbolistic dance which so epito- 
niizes Filipino character. This is performed by 
c^ young lady and her partner wielding fans and 
scented handkerchiefs, advancing and retreating 
with all kinds of coquetries. 

Long after midnight, when the party broke 
up with the customary horse-play, the accom- 
modating orchestra, who had enjoyed the evening 
with the rest, still playing "Just One Girl," es- 
corted the assembly home. 



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CHAPTER XVIII. 

VISCAYAN ETHICS AND PHII.OSOPHY. 

He is the drollest little person in the world — 
the Filipino of the southern isles. He imitates 
the sound of chickens in his language and the 
nasal "nga" of the carabao. He talks about his 
chickens and makes jokes about them. As he 
goes along the street, he sings, ^^Ma-ayon 
buntag/' or "MTi-ayon hapon" to the friends he 
meets. This is his greeting in the morning and 
the afternoon ; at night, ^^ Ma-ay on gabiti" And 
instead of saying, "Thank you," he will sing, 
*'Deus mag hayud" (God will reward you), and 
the answer, also sung, will be ^'gehapon'^ (al- 
ways) — just as though it were no use to look for 
a reward upon this world. 

You wonder how it is that he can spend his 

life rooted to one spot, like a tree, passing the 

days in idleness. He is absorbed in his own 

thoughts. If you should ask him anything he 

292 



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ViscAYAN Ethics. 293 

would not hear you; he is far away in his own 
dreamland. You must wake him up first, and 
then repeat your question several times. If you 
should have instructions for him, do not give 
them to him all at once. A single idea at a time 
is all that he can carry in his head. If he has 
not been broken in to a routine, he will chase 
butterflies upon the way, influenced ever by the 
passion of the moment. There is no yesterday 
or no to-morrow in his thoughts. What he shall 
find to eat to-morrow never concerns him. Suffi- 
cient unto the day is the evil thereof. 

Many mistakes have been made in the hasty 
judgment of the Filipino character. Such axioms 
as "Never trust a native under any circum- 
stances;" "Never expect to find a sense of grati- 
tude;" "Never believe a word a native says," are 
only too well known in Filipinia. The Spanish 
influence has been responsible for most of the de- 
fects as well as for the merits of the native 
character. Then, the peculiar fashion of the 
Oriental mind forbids his reasoning according to 
the Occidental standards. Cause and effect are 
hazy terms to him, and the justification of the 



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294 The Great White Tribe. 

means is not regarded seriously. His thefts are 
in a way consistent with his system of philosophy. 
You are so rich, and he so poor. The Filipino 
is at heart a socialist. But he does not steal in- 
discriminately. If it is your money that he takes, 
it is because he needs it to put up on the next cock- 
fight. If he selects your watch, it is because he 
needs a watch, and nothing more. The Filipino, 
when he transacts business, has two scales of 
prices, — one for the natives, and another for 
Americans. He reasons that because Americans 
are rich, they ought to pay a higher price for what 
they get than Filipinos do. He would expect if 
he bought anything from you that you would 
make a special rate for him regardless of the 
value of the article in question. You would have 
to come down to accommodate his pocketbook. 
The Filipino code of ethics justifies a false- 
hood, especially if the end in view should be im- 
mediate. He lies to save himself from punish-* 
ment, and he will make a cumulative lie, build- 
ing it up from his imagination until even the 
artistic element is wanting, and his lie becomes 
a thing of contradictions and absurdities. When 



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ViscAYAN Ethics. 295 

questioned closely, or when cross-examined, his 
imagination gets beyond control, and it is possible 
that he believes, himself, the "fairy tales" he tells. 
Fear easily upsets his, calculations, and he runs 
amuck. But he will not betray himself, although 
he will deny a friend three times. He may be 
in an agony of fear, but only by the subtlest 
changes could it be detected. 

The Spaniards, when they left out gratitude 
from his curriculum, made up for the deficiency 
by inculcating strict ideals of discipline. The 
Filipino never has had much to be grateful for, 
and he regards a friendly move suspiciously. But 
he admires a master, and will humbly yield to al- 
most any kind of tyranny, especially from one 
of his own race. The poorer classes rather like 
to be imposed upon in the same way as the Amer- 
icans appreciate a humbug. 

In their communities the presidente is su- 
preme in power; and, like the king, this offi- 
cer can do no wrong. He uses his position 
for his private ends. Why not? What is the 
use of being presidente if it does not profit you? 
I have known some who secured monopolies 



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296 The Great White Tribe. 

on the hemp-trade by fining all who did not 
sell their hemp to them. Others appropriate the 
public funds for entertainment purposes, and 
when an inquiry is made regarding the condition 
of the treasury, the magistrate expresses the 
greatest surprise on finding that there is no money 
left. This officer, however, whatever his preroga- 
tives may be, is not ambitious that his term of 
office be of any benefit. If he presides well at 
the cock-fights, it is all that is expected of him. 
If he goes to building bridges over rivers that 
the horses easily can wade across, the people will 
object to the unnecessary labor and expense. The 
presidente dominates the town. If he can bring 
about prosperity in an agreeable way, without 
recourse to sudden means, the people will appre- 
ciate him and support him, though they do not 
take much interest in the elections. If the civil 
government can only get good presidentes in 
the larger villages, the problem of administra- 
tion will be solved. 

Malay traditions make the Filipino proud, 
disdainful, and reserved — and also cruel. Not 
only are the ardent sun and his inherent laziness 



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ViscAYAN Ethics. 297 

accountable for his antipathy to work. It is be- 
neath his dignity to work, and that is why he 
takes delight in being a public servant or a clerk. 
The problem of living is reduced to simplest 
terms. One can not starve to death as long as the 
bananas and the cocoanuts hold out. The ques- 
tion as to whether last year's overcoat or straw 
hat can be made to do, does not concern the Fili- 
pino in the least. If he needs money irresistibly, 
he can spend one day at work up in the moun- 
tains, making enough to last him for some time. 
If he can spend his money so as to create a^ dis- 
play, he takes delight in doing so. But paying 
debts is as uninteresting as it is unpopular. The 
outward signs of elegance are much respected by 
the Filipino. The American, to live up to his 
part, must always be attended by a servant. 
Sometimes, when we would forget this adjunct, 
we would stop at some tienda and propose to 
carry home a dozen eggs wrapped in a handker- 
chief. "What! have you no house-boy?" the 
natives asked. Apparently extravagant, they 
practice many petty economies at home. A mor- 
sel of food or a bit of clothing never goes to waste 



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298 The Great White Tribe. 

in Filipinia. They imitate the Chinaman in let- 
ting one of their finger-nails grow long. 

The Filipino is fastidious and dainty — iii his 
own way. He will shudder at the uncouth Taga- 
log who toasts locusts over a hot fire and eats 
them, and that evening will go home and eat 
a handful of damp guinimos, the littlest of fish. 
He takes an infinite amount of care of his white 
clothes, and swaggers about the streets immacu- 
late; but just as soon as he gets home, the suit 
comes off and is reserved for future exhibition 
purposes. The women pay comparatively small 
attention to their personal adornment. Their hair 
is combed straight back upon their heads. The 
style of dresses never undergoes a change. The 
ordinary dress consists of three important pieces 
— the chemise, a long, white, sleeveless garment ; 
the camisa, or the pina bodice, with wide sleeves ; 
and the skirt, caught up on one side, and prefer- 
ably of red material. A yoke or scarf of pina 
folds around the neck, and is considered indispen- 
sable by senoritas. The native ideas of modesty 
are more or less false, varying with the indi- 
vidual. 



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ViscAYAN Ethics. 299 

It might be thought that, on account of his 
indifferent attitude toward life and death, the 
Filipino has no feelings or emotions. He is a 
stoic and a fatalist by nature, but an emotion- 
alist as* well. While easily affected, the impres- 
sions are not deep, and are forgotten as they slip 
into the past. Although controlled by passion, 
he will hold himself in, maintaining a proud re- 
serve, especially in the presence of Americans. 
A subtle change of color, a sullen brooding, or 
persistent silence, are his only outward signs 
of wrath. He will endure in patience what an- 
other race had long ago protested at; but when 
at last aroused and dominated by his passions, 
he will throw reserve and caution to the winds, 
and give way to his feelings like a child ; and like 
a child, he feels offended if partiality is exercised 
against him. His sense of justice then asserts 
itself, and he resents not getting his share of any- 
thing. He even will insist on being punished if 
he thinks punishment is due him. While revenge- 
ful if imposed upon, and bitter under the autoc- 
racy of cruelty, he has a great respect for firm- 
ness. And the Americans would do well to re- 



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300 The Great White Tribe. 

member that in governing the FiHpino, kindness 
should be mingled with strict discipline. 

The Filipino can not be depended upon for 
accurate, reliable information. His informa- 
tion is indefinite, as perhaps it should be in the 
land of By and "By. In spite of his imagina- 
tive temperament, his cruelty to animals is fla- 
grant. He starves his dog and rides his pony 
till the creature's back is sore. He shows no 
mercy for the bird that loses at the cock-fight; 
he will mercilessly tear it limb from limb. In 
order to explain — not to excuse — this cruelty, 
we must again regard the Filipino as a child — a 
child of the toad-stabbing age. 

A little learning he takes seriously, and is 
puffed up by pride when he can follow with his 
horny finger the religious column in Ang Suga, 
spelling the long words out laboriously. Even 
the boys and girls who study English, often do 
so only to be "smart." It is a clever thing to 
spice one's conversation with an English word or 
expression here and there. 

Yet the Filipino is not altogether lazy and un- 
sympathetic. Often around his houses you will 



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ViscAYAN Ethics. 301 

see a tiny patch of com or a little garden of green 
vegetables. He makes a mistake by showing a 
dislike for the camote, or the native sweet-potato, 
which abounds there. Preferring the unsubstan- 
tial rice to this more wholesome product, he 
leaves the sweet-potato for his Chinese and his 
Moro neighbors. On every street the sour-smell- 
ing copra (cocoanut meat) can be seen spread 
out upon a mat to dry. The cattle are fed on 
the long rice-grass (the palay), or on the un- 
husked rice (sacate). A primitive trades-union- 
ism exists among the Filipinos ; every trade, such 
as the carpenters' or the musicians', having its 
respective maestro, with whom arrangements for 
the labor and the pay are always made. The na- 
tive jewelers are very clever, fashioning the silver 
pesos into ornaments for bolos, hats, or walking- 
sticks. Ironmongeries, though primitive in their 
equipment, have produced, by dint of skill and 
patience, work that is very passable. The women 
weave their own cloth on the native looms, and 
practice various other industries. The children 
are well trained in hospitality and public man- 
ners, which they learn by rote. 



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302 The Great White Tribe. 

While not original, they are good imitators, 
and would make excellent clerks, mechanics, car- 
penters, or draughtsmen. Some of their devices 
rather remind one of a small boy's remedy for 
warts or "side-ache." In order to exterminate 
the rats they introduce young pythons into the 
garrets of their houses, where the snake remains 
until his appetite is satisfied for rodents and his 
finer tastes developed. Usually the Filipino does 
things "wrong side out." Instead of beckoning 
when he would summon any one, he motions 
away from himself. Instead of making nick- 
names, such as Bob or Bill, from the first syllable, 
he uses the last, abbreviating Balendoy to 'Doy, 
Diega to a simple 'Ga. They are the happiest peo- 
ple in the world, free from all care and trouble. 
It is among the younger generation that the prom- 
ise lies. The little ones are bright and gentle and 
respectful — quite unlike the boisterous denizens 
of Young America. The race is still back in the 
fourteenth century, but the progress to be made 
within the next few years will span the chasm 
at a single bound. 

When I return to Filipinia, I shall expect to 



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ViscAYAN Ethics. 303 

see, instead of the brown nipa shacks, bright- 
painted American cottages or bungalows among 
the groves of palm. I shall expect to see the 
mountain slopes, waving with green hemp-fields, 
worked by the rejuvenated native. Railroads 
will penetrate into the dark interior, connecting 
towns and villages now isolated. The country 
roads will be well graded and macadamized, and 
bridges will be built across the streams. The 
cock-fight will have given way to institutions 
more American, and superstition will have van- 
• ished with the mediaevalism. The hum of saw- 
mills will be heard upon the borders of the tim- 
ber-lands ; sugar refineries will be established near 
the fields of cane; for Filipinia is still an unde- 
veloped paradise. The Great White Tribe has 
many problems yet to solve; but with the industry 
that they have shown in other lands, they can im- 
prove, not only the material resources, but can 
stir the Filipino from his dream of the Dark 
Ages, and point out the way of modern progress 
and enlightenment. 



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THB NBW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY 
RBFBRBNGB DBPARTMBNT 



This book is under no oirottinst«noos to bo 
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