Part 2 (1/2)
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 Lucretia 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 gla.s.s 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 pa.s.sed him from the dinner-table. ”Have you chowed yet?” asked a grating voice, which, on a negative reply, ordered a place to be made ready for me at the table. Barefooted _muchachos_ 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 adjourned to the parlor, and were busy reading ”Diamond d.i.c.k,” ”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 detective.
But the mosquitoes of Cebu! The rainy season 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 discovered openings in the mosquito-bar that, I believe, they actually made themselves! The parlor (where the bed was situated) was a very interesting room. There was a rickety walnut cabinet containing an a.s.sortment of cobwebby Venus's fingers, which remind you of the mantel that you fit over the gas jet; seash.e.l.ls that had been washed up, appropriately branded ”Souvenir of Cebu;” tortoise-sh.e.l.l curios from Nagasaki, and an alb.u.m of pictures from j.a.pan. The floor was polished every morning by the house-boys, and the furniture arranged in the most formal manner, _vis-a-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 violently back and forth. She punctuated her remarks 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 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 't is said, when he goes walking in the streets, ”the girls a.s.semble just to see him pa.s.s.”
”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_” (”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 Negros. 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, sarsaparilla, 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 _suca ducos_ (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 surrounding 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 h.o.r.n.y feet of the old women, slim and bony, or a pair of great toes quizzically turned in; and there were flat feet, speckled, brown, or yellow, like a starfish cast up on the sand. They seemed to watch the game with interest, and to note every move the dealer made, smiling or frowning as they won or lost. There 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 o relief save in the distant mountains rising to the clouds in the blue distance.
Returning to our caravansary at Iloilo, we discovered that our beds had been a.s.signed 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 _muchachos, ”Senor, senor, el Espanol viene_!” (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 entrance 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, native, and Chinese stores; a tiny _plaza_, 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 a.s.sociation, a clubhouse, and a _presidente_. 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, ma.s.ses, and concerts in the _plaza_. 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 people wandered among the booths, smoking their cigarettes and eating peanuts. Until early morning the incessant shuffling in the streets kept up, for every one had gone to midnight ma.s.s. Throughout the town the strumming of guitars, the voices of children, and the blare of the bra.s.s band was heard, and the next morning Jack-pudding danced on the corner to the infinite amus.e.m.e.nt of the crowd. As for our own celebration, that was held in the back room of a local restaurant, the Christmas dinner consisting of canned turkey and canned cranberry-sauce, canned vegetables, and ice-cream made of condensed milk.
Chapter V.
On Summer Seas.
The foolish little steamer _Romulus_ never exactly knew when she was going, whither away, or where. The cargo being under hatches, all regardless of the advertised time of departure, whether the pa.s.sengers were notified or not, she would stand clumsily down stream and out to sea. The captain, 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 _torii_ of picturesque j.a.pan, there is no sea so beautiful as that around the Southern Philippines. 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 haunting mountain-side and vale; volcanoes, in a lowering cloud of sulphurous smoke; narrows, and wave-lashed promontories, where the s.h.i.+ps can not cross in the night; great mounds of foliage that tower in silence hardly a stone's throw from the s.h.i.+p, 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 sunrise breaking the ramparts of dissolving cloud; the moonlight on the waters, where the weird beams make a s.h.i.+mmering path that leads away across the planet waste to _terra incognita_, or to 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 pus.h.i.+ng through the phosph.o.r.escent waters, porpoises of solid silver, puffing desperately, tumble about the bows, or dive down underneath the rus.h.i.+ng 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 underbrus.h.!.+ The light that flickers in the distant gorge, perchance illumines some religious orgy--some impa.s.sioned dance of primitive 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 mortals spend in loneliness their dreary lives.
On the first trip of the _Romulus_ I was a.s.signed to a small, mildewed, stuffy cabin, where 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, protected from the stiff breeze by the flapping canvas, on an army cot which the _muchacho_ had stretched out, I went to sleep, my thoughts instinctively 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 s.h.i.+p rising on the waves, the cats'-paws flying into gusts of spray before the driving wind.
I was awakened at four bells by the disturbance of the sailors swabbing down the deck--an exhibition performance, as the general condition of the s.h.i.+p led me to think. Breakfast was served down in the forward cabin, where, with deep-sea appet.i.tes, we eagerly attacked a tiny cup of chocolate, very sweet and thick, a gla.s.s of coffee thinned with condensed milk, crackers, and ladyfingers. That was all. Some of our fellow-pa.s.sengers had been there early, as the dirty table-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-gla.s.s. An Indian merchant, a Visayan belle with dirty finger-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 gla.s.s of lukewarm coffee and some broken cakes. The heavy-eyed _muchacho_, who, with such reluctance 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 paG.o.das, 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 sausage that defied the teeth, wrapped up in tinfoil, ”took the taste out of your mouth.” Bananas, mangoes, cheese, and guava-jelly const.i.tuted the dessert. After the last plate had been removed, the grizzled captain at the head of the table lighted a coa.r.s.e cigarette, which, in accordance with the Spanish custom, he then pa.s.sed 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 process 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 unpropitious 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-fingers 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 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 respect for old age. It was the time of cholera; the boat might have become a pesthouse any moment. But the steward a.s.sured us that the drinking water had been neither boiled nor filtered. There was no ice, and no more bottled soda, the remaining bottles being spoken for by the s.h.i.+p's officers. At the breakfast-table two calves 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 pa.s.sengers did not have any opportunity to take a bath. One glance at the s.h.i.+p's bathtub was sufficient.