A DRAMA IN ACTUAL LIFE.
Almost every one heeded the warning to go to his station forearmed
with at least necessaries of life, but, as it had never fallen to the
lot of the writer to cook, he refused to learn at that late day, so he
took no pot, no pan, no kettle, putting his future into the hands of
an uncertain fate and relying upon the unknown hospitality of the
Filipino.
Bacalod, the capital of the province of Occidental Negros, was our
destination. The second morning after leaving Manila, we awoke with
the "Kilpatrick" lying at anchor in a shallow bay. We were several
miles from the shore and nothing in sight indicated that we had
reached a place of any importance. Late the night before we had been
awakened by the loud, sharp ringing of the ship's bells, accompanied
by the reversal of the engines and a general disturbance awaking the
crew. So our first impressions on coming on deck were that we had run
aground. But the captain assured us that everything was ship-shape and
that this was the nearest point of approach to Capiz, a town of
considerable importance on the island of Panay, where a body of troops
was to embark for home. Not even the grass hut of a native was in
sight. Search as we would, not a sign was seen of a stream flowing
into the sea, indicating the probable presence of a town. There was
not a sign of life of any kind save one lone column of thin, blue
smoke that arose from the side of a mountain miles away. One would
have thought that we were explorers of three hundred years ago lying
off the shore of some unknown land.
After breakfast the steam launch, together with all the boats, was
lowered, and several of us who had determined to miss no opportunity
to gather information about the islands took our places in the launch
by the side of the ship's mate, and steamed away across the water with
a long line of boats strung out in the rear. We headed away toward a
group of cocoanut trees, and about an hour later stepped ashore on a
pile of decayed coral rocks that extended some twenty or thirty feet
out into the water, thus forming the only landing place of a town of
several thousands of people and of considerable commercial importance.
A few moments after we had landed, an army wagon drawn by a
magnificent pair of mules came up out of a tropical jungle along a
narrow road. We clambered into the wagon and were soon lost in the
depths of foliage from which we had just seen the vehicle emerge.
Long waving bamboos with their plumy leafage hung over the road from
each side, meeting and overlapping in the center until they formed an
archway so dense that the tropical sun now high in the heavens
penetrated it only at intervals. At times the wagon sank up to the
hubs in the soft earth, and the muscles of the mules stood out like
whip-cords under the skin as they drew us forward.
At a sharp turn in the road we came upon the first division of troops
that was to embark for home. The look of joy upon their sun-browned
faces was inexpressible. Their work was done, and with elastic step
and smiling faces they saluted us as they passed by. The reign of
force was at an end; it was going out with them; the reign of peace
had begun; it was coming in with us.
In the afternoon when we returned from the town the last of the troops
had arrived and, as we drove up, the bugle was sounding the call to
supper. We noticed native women mingling with the troops and, indeed,
a native woman was in constant attention waiting upon one of the
soldiers with whom we ate. Her clothes were clean, her hair was nicely
combed, and her general appearance was neat. She seemed to anticipate
the slightest wish of the soldier with whom she was. She brought him
water to drink, cleaned his plate after the meal and saw that his
knife, fork, and spoon were put into his haversack.
We had now finished supper and the launch had returned for the last
load of troops. The lieutenant in command of the company gave the
order to "fall in"; the men shouldered their rifles and fell into
line. "Forward, march!" called the lieutenant, and the column swept
forward towards the boats. The women had until now restrained
themselves, but, as their husbands marched away never to return, their
feelings could no longer be restrained. One young woman of about
eighteen, who was leaning against a rock by the roadside sobbing, when
her husband passed, leaped up in frenzy of passionate love and caught
the rifle from his shoulder. Her first impulse seemed to be to throw
the gun away, but suddenly realizing the futility of such an act she
burst into tears, shouldered the rifle herself and marched on by his
side. Another woman of more mature age threw her arms around the legs
of a tall stalwart man, and drew him bodily from the line.
But the troops marched on and entered the boats. One woman who had
been unnoticed before came down into the shallow water and caught hold
of our last boat as if to prevent its leaving, while others stood
mingling their sobs with the sounds of the wavelets as they broke on
the sands. As we passed away, an expectant mother, standing in bold
outline against the twilight sky, threw up her hands in an agony of
despair and then sank upon the stones. The curtain had fallen upon a
drama in actual life deeper in pathos than any other we had ever seen
or ever expected to see. Depth of passion, depth of love! Who can
fathom the human heart?