MANILA.
One would imagine the water of Manila Bay to be as tranquil as a lake
should conclusions be drawn from its almost landlocked position. On
the contrary, it is noted among sailors the world over for the
roughness of its waters; and a breakwater behind which ships can lie
in quiet and take on or discharge their cargoes is essential to the
proper development of the city's shipping. But, so far as we were
concerned, this was a possible joy of the future. So, one by one we
descended the narrow stairway at the side of the ship, and then leaped
at opportune moments to the decks of the dancing steam launches below.
How it ever came to pass that each of us, ladies and all, in
succession went through with this mid-air acrobatic performance
without serious accident is a matter of profound wonder; but we did,
and the launches when loaded danced away over the bay and entered the
mouth of the Pasig River. At the wharf we were informally introduced
to a crowd of curious natives. The men wore hat, shirt, and pants, and
some of them wore shoes. The women wore a sort of low-necked body with
great wide sleeves and a skirt not cut to fit the body, but of the
same size at both bottom and top, the upper end not being belted or
tied, but just drawn tightly around the waist and the surplus part
knotted and tucked with the thumb under the part already wrapped
around the body. The long, black, glossy hair of the young women hung
loosely down their backs, in many cases reaching below the hips--heads
of hair that almost any lady would be proud to own. Many of the women
had in their mouths long poorly-made cigars that were wrapped and tied
with small white threads to hold them together while the lady owners
chewed and pulled away with vigor at the end opposite the fire.
The time of our landing was in the midst of the rainy season, and our
clothing each morning when we arose to dress was as wet as if it had
just come from a wringer. Our underclothing could be drawn on only
with difficulty and the excessive disagreeableness of the feeling
added no little to the discomfort of the situation.
When the Spaniard, attracted by riches of these distant islands that
he had named for his King Philip, built the city of Manila, he modeled
it after the mediaeval towns of his European home. And it is well that
he did so, for, if we give credence to the city's history, its early
life was not one of undisturbed quiet. Not to mention the sea-rovers
of those early times who paid their piratical respects to the town,
legend has it that this old wall has saved the city on two separate
occasions from bands of Moros sweeping northward from the southern
islands. So Manila consists of two parts, the city "intra muros" and
the new city which has sprung up around it.
It was on the morning following our landing that I first stood upon
the old stone bridge that for one hundred and fifty years has borne
the traffic between the old city and the new. The strokes of eight
o'clock were pealing forth from the tower of a neighboring _ecclesia_
when I purposely took this station that I might see the current of
Manila's life when flowing at its height.
At short intervals along the entire length of the bridge stood in its
center a line of well-shaped American policemen in neat _Khaki_
uniforms and russet leather leggins. Thousands of pedestrians were
pouring across the bridge in a ceaseless stream. Between the two lines
of pedestrians moved in opposite directions two lines of vehicles and
carts. It was indeed a cosmopolitan mixture of people. There were
English bankers, French jewelers, German chemists, Spanish merchants,
foreign consuls, officers and privates of the American army, seamen
from foreign warships lying in the bay, Chinese of all classes and
conditions from silk-clad bankers to almost naked coolies trotting
along with burdens swung over their shoulders. There were Japanese,
and East India merchants from Bombay and Calcutta, and, finally, all
classes and conditions of Filipinos apparently representing all of the
seventeen separate branches of the race,--each individual in this
wonderful stream following the channel of his own necessities.
In the river beneath were steam launches towing all kinds of small
crafts. Along the bank of the stream below the bridge were
inter-island steamers packed so closely along the shore that one could
almost have stepped from one to another. Into every nook and corner
between the steamers were crowded small odd looking boats loaded with
native produce over which the owners kept up an incessant chatter.
All of us remained in Manila for about two weeks awaiting assignment
to our stations. One may well imagine our consternation on awaking one
morning about the end of the second week to find the following notice
posted throughout all our quarters:
All teachers not assigned to the city of Manila or to Iloilo
should supply themselves with the following articles:
a. One bed, or folding cot,
b. One oil stove,
c. One lamp,
d. Enough supplies of all kinds sufficient for six months,
e. Pots, pans, kettles, etc.
It is needless to say that positions in Manila and Iloilo were now at
a premium.
Was it possible that teachers were to be sent to places where even the
necessaries of life could not be obtained! Was it possible that many
would be sent to places so remote that for six months no fresh
supplies could be gotten! A mass meeting was held at once, and a
committee was appointed to send a cablegram to the Associated Press
petitioning aid from the American people at large. Realizing what
consternation would be created throughout the United States by such a
message, two of the teachers leaped into a carriage at the close of
the meeting and a few moments later were closeted with the chief
executive of the department. As a result the committee was persuaded
not to send the cablegram to the Associated Press until by courtesy it
had been sent to the President. Of course, this diplomatic move tided
affairs over and the teachers who had flatly refused to budge from
Manila now agreed to go on to their stations, being assured that
whatever action was best would be taken.
The day had come when we must separate. We were to enter an untried
and an unknown field. It was fitting that we have a final joyous
meeting, so the best orchestra in the archipelago was engaged and we
"chased the hours with flying feet" until dawn so that whatever might
come to us in that unknown future upon which we were entering each
would hold in pleasant memory our last evening together.