Part 4 (1/2)

”Since we're busy with legends and are now entering the lake,”

remarked Padre Sibyla, ”the captain must know many--”

At that moment the steamer crossed the bar and the panorama spread out before their eyes was so truly magnificent that all were impressed. In front extended the beautiful lake bordered by green sh.o.r.es and blue mountains, like a huge mirror, framed in emeralds and sapphires, reflecting the sky in its gla.s.s. On the right were spread out the low sh.o.r.es, forming bays with graceful curves, and dim there in the distance the crags of Sungay, while in the background rose Makiling, imposing and majestic, crowned with fleecy clouds. On the left lay Talim Island with its curious sweep of hills. A fresh breeze rippled over the wide plain of water.

”By the way, captain,” said Ben-Zayb, turning around, ”do you know in what part of the lake a certain Guevara, Navarra, or Ibarra, was killed?”

The group looked toward the captain, with the exception of Simoun, who had turned away his head as though to look for something on the sh.o.r.e.

”Ah, yes!” exclaimed Dona Victorina. ”Where, captain? Did he leave any tracks in the water?”

The good captain winked several times, an indication that he was annoyed, but reading the request in the eyes of all, took a few steps toward the bow and scanned the sh.o.r.e.

”Look over there,” he said in a scarcely audible voice, after making sure that no strangers were near. ”According to the officer who conducted the pursuit, Ibarra, upon finding himself surrounded, jumped out of his banka there near the Kinabutasan [11] and, swimming under water, covered all that distance of more than two miles, saluted by bullets every time that he raised his head to breathe. Over yonder is where they lost track of him, and a little farther on near the sh.o.r.e they discovered something like the color of blood. And now I think of it, it's just thirteen years, day for day, since this happened.”

”So that his corpse--” began Ben-Zayb.

”Went to join his father's,” replied Padre Sibyla. ”Wasn't he also another filibuster, Padre Salvi?”

”That's what might be called cheap funerals, Padre Camorra, eh?” remarked Ben-Zayb.

”I've always said that those who won't pay for expensive funerals are filibusters,” rejoined the person addressed, with a merry laugh.

”But what's the matter with you, Senor Simoun?” inquired Ben-Zayb, seeing that the jeweler was motionless and thoughtful. ”Are you seasick--an old traveler like you? On such a drop of water as this!”

”I want to tell you,” broke in the captain, who had come to hold all those places in great affection, ”that you can't call this a drop of water. It's larger than any lake in Switzerland and all those in Spain put together. I've seen old sailors who got seasick here.”

CHAPTER IV

CABESANG TALES

Those who have read the first part of this story will perhaps remember an old wood-cutter who lived in the depths of the forest. [12] Tandang Selo is still alive, and though his hair has turned completely white, he yet preserves his good health. He no longer hunts or cuts firewood, for his fortunes have improved and he works only at making brooms.

His son Tales (abbreviation of Telesforo) had worked at first on shares on the lands of a capitalist, but later, having become the owner of two carabaos and several hundred pesos, determined to work on his own account, aided by his father, his wife, and his three children. So they cut down and cleared away some thick woods which were situated on the borders of the town and which they believed belonged to no one. During the labors of cleaning and cultivating the new land, the whole family fell ill with malaria and the mother died, along with the eldest daughter, Lucia, in the flower of her age. This, which was the natural consequence of breaking up new soil infested with various kinds of bacteria, they attributed to the anger of the woodland spirit, so they were resigned and went on with their labor, believing him pacified.

But when they began to harvest their first crop a religious corporation, which owned land in the neighboring town, laid claim to the fields, alleging that they fell within their boundaries, and to prove it they at once started to set up their marks. However, the administrator of the religious order left to them, for humanity's sake, the usufruct of the land on condition that they pay a small sum annually--a mere bagatelle, twenty or thirty pesos. Tales, as peaceful a man as could be found, was as much opposed to lawsuits as any one and more submissive to the friars than most people; so, in order not to smash a _palyok_ against a _kawali_ (as he said, for to him the friars were iron pots and he a clay jar), he had the weakness to yield to their claim, remembering that he did not know Spanish and had no money to pay lawyers.

Besides, Tandang Selo said to him, ”Patience! You would spend more in one year of litigation than in ten years of paying what the white padres demand. And perhaps they'll pay you back in ma.s.ses! Pretend that those thirty pesos had been lost in gambling or had fallen into the water and been swallowed by a cayman.”

The harvest was abundant and sold well, so Tales planned to build a wooden house in the barrio of Sagpang, of the town of Tiani, which adjoined San Diego.

Another year pa.s.sed, bringing another good crop, and for this reason the friars raised the rent to fifty pesos, which Tales paid in order not to quarrel and because he expected to sell his sugar at a good price.

”Patience! Pretend that the cayman has grown some,” old Selo consoled him.

That year he at last saw his dream realized: to live in the barrio of Sagpang in a wooden house. The father and grandfather then thought of providing some education for the two children, especially the daughter Juliana, or Juli, as they called her, for she gave promise of being accomplished and beautiful. A boy who was a friend of the family, Basilio, was studying in Manila, and he was of as lowly origin as they.

But this dream seemed destined not to be realized. The first care the community took when they saw the family prospering was to appoint as cabeza de barangay its most industrious member, which left only Tano, the son, who was only fourteen years old. The father was therefore called _Cabesang_ Tales and had to order a sack coat, buy a felt hat, and prepare to spend his money. In order to avoid any quarrel with the curate or the government, he settled from his own pocket the shortages in the tax-lists, paying for those who had died or moved away, and he lost considerable time in making the collections and on his trips to the capital.