MISAMIS
Long before reaching Misamis the old gray fort at the entrance of
the town was picked out by some one looking through the telescope,
and many were the theories concerning it. At so great a distance,
and with the hot sunlight shining full upon it, the fort might have
been a strip of white sand; later it was decided to be a _tribunal_
of unusual proportions, and at last when it loomed full upon us in
all the picturesqueness of its gray, moss-grown walls, with weeds
trailing in luxurious profusion from every crevice, we decided that
there lived the American inhabitants of Misamis. Soldiers gathered
under the roof of the nearest watch-tower to observe our entrance
into the harbour, while still others, unmindful of the blazing sun,
perched on the top of the wall and swung their feet over the side,
doubtless making numerous wagers as to the transport's name and its
business in so out of the way a place as Misamis.
Owing to the unreliability of the Spanish charts, the _Burnside_
anchored some distance out of the harbour, and just before tiffin
a boat-load of officers from the garrison came out to the ship,
accompanied by the titular captain of the port, a young chap who
also acted in several other official capacities, a sort of military
"crew, and the captain, too, and the mate of the _Nancy Bell_." After
tiffin the ship sailed into anchorage in the harbour of Misamis,
half-way around the old fort, which seemed to grow more picturesque
with every turn, till finally we could see the village of Misamis,
almost hidden in a bewildering mass of tropical vegetation. Our
numerous theories to the contrary, the old fort was uninhabited, save
by the ghosts of other days, remaining but a grim relic of the time
when Moro pirates swept terror to the hearts of all coast villages
south of Luzon. It was within those historic walls that the Signal
Corps decided to set up the cable-hut, and early the next morning
two parties were sent ashore, one to establish an office in the town,
the other to superintend the digging of a trench by native prisoners,
just outside the walls of the old fort.
Among these distinguished gentlemen was a so-called colonel of the
_insurrecto_ army who had been captured a short time before. The
colonel posed as an aristocrat, whose hands had never been soiled
by labour, and when his companions in confinement were turned out
to assist in making way for liberty by means of the cable trench,
he protested vigorously at the indignity, and averred that he was not
seeking the opportunity of reimbursing the American government with
pick and shovel for his enforced subsistence. He reiterated so often
he was an officer and a gentleman, that finally the American major
in command at Misamis mildly replied that self-appointed colonels in
self-appointed armies were not recognized by any government, and as
for his gentility, if it were the genuine article and not a veneer
like his title, it would certainly stand the strain of a little
honest labour. The arguments were cogent, and the hand of the law
more irresistible still, so the high ranking officer took his turn
in the trench with the other prisoners.
In the late afternoon we women went ashore and created even more of
a sensation than we had on the island of Negros. We were literally
mobbed by natives anxious for a glimpse of the first American
women ever seen in that part of Mindanao, and we walked up to the
Headquarters Building with a chattering, crowding, admiring horde
at our heels. There the officers held an informal reception in our
honour, to which all the socially possible of Misamis were invited,
and the native band serenaded us with such choice selections as "A
Hot Time," and "After the Ball," decidedly off the key, to be sure,
but with the best intentions in the world.
The Misamis women were charmed with their white sisters, and could
no more conceal their artless delight than so many children. They
laughed and giggled nervously. They gesticulated as they talked,
and shrugged their pretty shoulders with a grace taught them by our
Spanish predecessors. They patted imaginary stray hairs into place
in their sleek black coiffures, and settled _camisa_ or _panuela_
with indescribably quick and bird-like movements. Those of them who
could speak Spanish talked clothes and babies and servants, or smiled
politely at our mistakes in the language, laughing out-right at their
own futile efforts to speak English. They were astonished that the
quartermaster's wife should have attained the remarkable height of
five feet eight inches _so young_! Was it possible there were other
women in America as tall? Taller even? _'Susmariajoseph!_ But surely
that was a joke? One never could tell when these Americans were joking.
One of the officers presented the _Burnside_ women with some native
hats typical of the island, and the Filipinos were overcome with
surprise at our interest in such ordinary headgear. What were we
going to do with the hats? Wear them ourselves? Oh, no, we hastened
to explain, they were to decorate our walls in America, that all our
friends might see what pretty hats the Filipino people wear. Decorate
the wall with hats? What a very curious idea! They chatted volubly
over this idiosyncrasy, and even laughed at it, but quite decorously
so that our feelings might be spared. Suddenly one of them, a most
vivacious girl, and evidently the belle of the village, leaned over
and in persuasive tones suggested that we women leave our hats,
each real creations of millinery art, for their walls, at which
witticism they all giggled explosively and shrugged their shoulders
in rapturous appreciation of our confusion; all but the presidente's
wife, who looked shocked at such presumption and spoke to the younger
women warningly in Visayan.
She was a shy and rather fat old lady--the presidente's wife--and
seemed greatly impressed by any statistics translated into Visayan
for her information. Speaking Spanish but indifferently, she made
up for her linguistic deficiencies by a pair of eyes which let
nothing escape them; and she stared at us continually throughout
the afternoon, seeming to be studying this new species of woman
as intently as a naturalist might some strange butterfly under a
microscope. Whenever we caught her eye she looked away hastily as if
detected in an impropriety, and then furtively resumed her inspection,
taking in every detail of our wearing-apparel, from the real hats
upon our heads to the stout soled walking boots on our feet, the shine
of our patent leathers seeming to inspire her with more respect than
any other part of our costume.
The only other shoes in the room, excepting those worn by the
Americans and some few of the native men, were the proud possession
of a tiny girl eight years old. This fashionable young person boasted
also a European hat of coarse white straw stiffly trimmed with blue
ribbon and blue ostrich tips. That the feathers had a wofully limp,
depressed, and bedraggled appearance; that the ribbon was obviously
cotton; and the straw of the coarsest weave, in no wise detracted
from the glorious knowledge that it was a hat, a real hat such as
the _Americanas_ themselves were wearing. Sustained by this fact the
young lady, who, in addition to the shoes and millinery, wore only
a single other garment, comported herself with great dignity. Even
in the trying circumstance of passing between one and the light,
she was quite unconscious of anything amiss, the proud assurance
of being dressed in the height of style as to her head and feet,
precluding all worry as to minor details.
Among others met that afternoon at the Headquarters Building was a
Spanish gentleman of charming manners. He invited our party from the
ship, and the officers stationed in town, to stop at his house on
our return to the launch and have some refreshments, an invitation
we gladly accepted. So the courtly Castilian, beaming with hospitable
intent, hurried ahead to prepare for our coming, we following shortly
after in his footsteps. But to the young Spaniard's ill concealed
chagrin and our own embarrassment, the whole Filipino contingent
accompanied us to the house. Fully as many more natives gathered at
every available door and window, while outside the band, which had
brought up a tuneful and triumphant rear, played the "Star Spangled
Banner." After all had partaken of Señor Montenegro's enforced
liberality, we repaired to the launch, accompanied by almost the
entire population of Misamis, and amidst a shrill chorus of "_Hasta
la vista_," and "_Adios_," we steamed back to the _Burnside_, whose
twinkling lights shone out dimly against the evening sky.
The next morning a party of Signal Corps men, accompanied by a guard
of fifteen soldiers from the fort, sailed at peep o' day in the ship's
launches, the two in tandem towing a native _banca_ loaded with cable,
which was to be laid in the Lintogup River and upper Panguil Bay,
a stretch of water too shallow for the _Burnside_ herself to attempt
its navigation. This cable was in turn to be connected at Lintogup
with Tukuran, on the southern coast of Mindanao, by a land line across
a mountainous country.
When the party started there were guns and ammunition enough on the
two launches to have quelled a good sized insurrection, but as little
was really known of the upper bay and river, and as many rumours were
rife among the natives of Misamis as to warlike Moros and Monteses
living on these shores, and more disquieting rumours still among
the officers that it was a camping place for _insurrectos_, it was
thought best to amply provide against any emergency.
Unfortunately, no information could be obtained as to the rise and fall
of the tides or the strength of the current, a fact that delayed the
expedition many days and necessitated the return of one or other of
the launches for a renewal of rations, fresh water, and coal, not once
but thrice. The first, second, and third relief expeditions, we called
them, and teased the officer in charge unmercifully over his hard luck.
But at last, despite adverse winds and tides; despite the fact
that one of the Filipino guides ran the launch aground, with malice
aforethought, no doubt, as on his return to Misamis he was arrested
on indubitable evidence as a spy; despite the fact that the sailing
_banca_, ran on the bar, and while trying to pull her off she and her
five miles of cable were swamped; despite the fact that the ship's
launch _Grace_, or the _Disgrace_, as she was afterward called,
distinguished herself by blowing up twice and almost scalding
everyone on board; despite the fact that all the odds were against
the expedition's success, and that it took six days and nights to
accomplish what might have been done in a third of the time--despite
all this, I say, the cable was at last laid and the luckless workers
returned.
But, oh, the bitterness of life in general and that of a cable man
in particular! For after all those heroic struggles the first test
showed a fault, and, cruel fate, at the far end of Panguil Bay at
that! The silence which greeted the reception of this terrible news
was as profane as words, and the Powers-that-Be decided on the spot
that enough work had been spent on that calamitous cable for the
time being, and decided to proceed with the laying of the main lines,
leaving the Lintogup stretch until a subsequent visit to Misamis.
Meanwhile there was much work accomplished in the town, a fine
telegraph office being established on the principal street; and a
trench completed by the shore end party; while much overhauling
of the cable in the tanks, and daily drills given to the Signal
Corps soldiers in cable telegraphy and the care of the instruments
kept those aboard ship busy. Tic--tack, clic--clack, went the little
telegraph instrument at one end of the quarter-deck, and clic--clack,
tic--tack answered an instrument at the other end, hour after hour
through the long, warm mornings, and the longer, warmer afternoons.
On New Year's eve, several officers from the fort saw the century
in with those of us remaining on the _Burnside_, but the time
passed so pleasantly that no one remembered the auspicious occasion
until the sound of sharp firing from the shore broke in upon our
conversation. The jangling of church bells followed, and one of the
shore officers, usually a very cool and self-contained young fellow,
sprang to his feet, exclaiming as he buckled on his revolver, "Great
heavens! An attack on the town and I not there. May I have a ship's
boat at once?" But even as he spoke the _Burnside's_ whistle blew a
great blast, and several shots from the ship answered those on shore,
every man with a revolver, shotgun, or rifle adding his quota of
noise to the general hubbub.
And so it was the new century came to Mindanao, some thirteen hours
ahead of its advent in New York or Washington. Before eight bells
had ceased striking a search-light greeting was sent to our friends
at Lintogup, but they, being tired after a hard day's work, slept
supinely on, unaware of our good wishes or the fact that a fine young
century had been born to the old, old world.
I am sorry to relate that the next day a court-martial was held in
Misamis to try the irrepressible guard who, in a burst of enthusiasm
due to their first taste of twentieth century air, had fired off their
rifles. The soldiers were sentenced rather heavily, rifle-shots in a
Philippine town at that time being productive of dire results. Indeed,
the shrill warning of the church bells and scattered shots in a
Mindanao village meant one thing only, an uprising in the town or
an attack from the outside, the incoming of a new century being
of far less importance than the preservation of order and quiet in
the garrison, and no cognizance could be taken of a new year which
must be ushered in with a clang of firearms or the jangle of church
bells--shrill heralds of disaster.
On New Year's morning the presidente and secretario of Misamis,
accompanied by their respective families and a young Moro slave,
the property of the secretario, came aboard the _Burnside_ to return
our call. It was the first time any of them had ever seen a modern
steamship, and loud and voluble were their exclamations of wonder
at what we have come to regard as the every-day conveniences of
civilization. After seeing the electric light, electric fans, and the
shower baths turned on and off several times, the presidente craved
permission to essay these miracles himself, and, to his own great
surprise, accomplished supernatural results. The old wife watched him
tremblingly. Surely, these were works of the Evil One, and, as such,
to be left to heretics. But still the man persisted in his madness,
and with a turn of his wrist brought light out of darkness or water
and wind from the very walls.
Finally he turned around, and with a humourous twinkle in his
eye, that belied the gravity of the rest of his face, he said:
"The _Americanos_ are a great people--a wonderful people--and how
unlike the Filipinos! When a Filipino wants sunshine or rain or wind,
he must wait until the good Lord gives it to him. When an _Americano_
wants sunshine or rain or wind, he turns it on!"
The whole party was intensely interested in the big telescope which
drew Misamis within a stone's throw of the ship, and they could not
in the least understand how we cooked in the steam galley without any
fuel, while the ice-machine and cold storage rooms were quite beyond
their comprehension, none of them ever having seen ice before. Of
course, on seeing the strange substance, it must be tasted as
well, so iced drinks were served on the quarter-deck, these being
received with much preliminary trepidation and ultimate gustatory
gratification. As for the small Moro slave, I only hope he did not
die from his excessive libations, for he drank unnumbered glasses of
lemonade, making most violent faces the while, and rubbing his small
round stomach continually, as if the unaccustomed cold had penetrated
to his very vitals.
On going ashore, each of the three children carried back a box of
American candy, the order of our guests' departure being somewhat
delayed by Señora Presidente's intense fear of going down the
gangway. As I have said before, she was a fat old lady, and the way
was steep; but finally, after much persuasion, she slipped her bare
feet out of their velvet _chinelas_, gathered her voluminous skirts
close about her, and, seating herself upon the top step of the ladder,
_slid_ down! Surely a simple solution of the difficulty.
That evening a ball was given in our honour at the Headquarters
Building, which for the time being was transformed into a most
attractive place with palms and flags and coloured lanterns, while
just outside the broad windows a wonderful tropic sky, hung with
silver stars, added its enchantment to the scene. No carriage being
available in the town, we walked from the dingy little wharf to the
Headquarters Building, arrayed in our very best, and followed by a
guard of armed soldiers, our escorts themselves wearing revolvers.
At every corner a dark form would shoot out suddenly from the shadows
and there would be the swift click of a rifle as it came to position,
while a voice cried, "Halt! Who's there?" "A friend," some one would
reply, or "Officer of the garrison," as the case might be. Then
again would come the sentinel's voice telling the person challenged
to advance and be recognized, at which one of the number would march
forward, and, on being identified, the rest of us were allowed to pass
the sentinel, who, meanwhile, kept his rifle at a port, his keen eye
watching closely, that no enemy slip by under our protection.
It was a rarely beautiful night even for the tropics, that first
of January, and as we women wore no wraps of any description, the
contrast between our satins and chiffons and the rough khaki clothes
of the soldiers was a strange one; and still stranger was the fact
of our going under guard to a ball, a ball that at any moment might
be interrupted by the bugles blowing a call to arms, whereupon our
partners would have to desert us, perhaps to quell an uprising in
the town, perhaps to defend it against an attack from the outside.
But fortunately the occasion was not marred by any such sinister
happening, and doubtless still lives in the annals of Misamis as a
very grand affair, for everyone of consequence in town was invited
to the _baille_, and everyone invited came, not to mention those not
invited who came also. When we arrived the rooms were quite crowded
and the dancing had begun. Far down the street we heard the music
and the sound of the women's heelless slippers shuffling over the
polished floor to a breathlessly fast waltz. If possible the people
of Misamis dance faster and hop higher than the people of Dumaguete,
and how the women manage to keep on their _chinelas_ during these
wild gyrations is quite beyond me.
As the secretario of the town played a harp in the orchestra--surely an
evidence of versatility--we ventured to ask if he would play a two-step
very, very slowly, and hummed it in ordinary time. At its beginning
the Filipinos who had started to dance, stopped aghast. "Faster,
faster!" they cried in Spanish. "No one could dance to such slow
music. This is a ball, men, not a funeral!" But the secretario held
the orchestra back, and in a few moments the Americans had the floor
to themselves, the Filipinos stopping partly because they found it
impossible to dance to such slow music and partly because they wanted
to watch us.
They were all astonished at the apparent lack of motion in American
dancing and the fact that we got over the ground without hopping. Many
of them asked officers stationed in the town if the women wore a
special kind of shoe to balls, as they appeared to be standing still
and yet moving at the same time, while one old man was heard explaining
to his cronies that we wore little wheels attached to the soles of our
slippers--he had seen them--so that we did not have to move at all,
the men doing all the dancing and merely pushing us back and forth
on the floor. So much for the glide step as contrasted with the hop,
though it must be confessed that the natives were quite frank in
liking their own dancing better than ours, one of the reasons being
that it gave them so much more exercise.
During the evening the natives gave a Visayan dance, called in the
native tongue "A Courtship." As the name implies, a young man and woman
dance it _vis-à-vis_, the man courting the woman rhythmically and
to music, she at first resisting, flashing her dark eyes scornfully
as she trips by him, holding her fan to her face until he looks the
other way, then peeping over its top at him, only to turn her back
in disdain when, emboldened by her interest, he approaches. Finally
his attentions become more pronounced, at which the girl grows coy,
dropping her eyes shyly as they dance past one another, and covering
her face again and again from his too ardent gaze; now bending her
supple waist from side to side in time with the passionate music;
now closing her eyes languorously; now opening them wide and smiling
at him tenderly over the top of her fan, a graceful accomplice to
her pretty coquetry. At last she surrenders to the wooing, the happy
pair dancing away together while the music plays faster and faster
until at last it stops with a great crash, that, we trust, not being
symbolical of infelicity in wedlock. The dance was very well done,
and the native audience enjoyed it thoroughly, calling out chaffingly
in Visayan to the couple on the floor, and occasionally beating time
to the music with hand or foot.
It was at this ball we met for the first time a family of American
_mestizas_--three sisters there were, if I remember rightly,--all
pretty girls, with regular features and soft brown hair, this
hair distinguishing them at once from the other women of the place
with their more conventional blue-black tresses. It seems that the
grandfather of these girls had been an American sailor, who for some
reason or other was marooned at Cagayan, Mindanao. Making the most, or
as a pessimist might think, the worst of a disadvantageous situation,
he married a native girl and raised a large and presumably interesting
family, his descendants being scattered all over the island. The
Misamis branch were extremely aristocratic, and so proud of their
blue blood that since the arrival of the American troops they have
associated with no one else in the village. It is said that the
girls even refer to the United States as "home," and occasionally
wear European clothes in preference to the far more becoming and
picturesque costume of _saya_, _camisa_, and _panuela_.
While in Misamis I verily believe that family was pointed out to us
twenty times at least, and whenever a man lowered his voice and started
in with, "You see those girls over there? Well, their grandfather was
an American--" I steeled myself for what was to follow, and expressed
surprise and interest as politely as possible, for it is hard to attain
conventional incredulity over a twice-told tale. After the genealogy
of the family had been gone over, root and branch, we would invariably
be told the story of how the grandfather, grown rich and prosperous
in his island home, once went to Manila on a business trip. He had
then lived in Mindanao over thirty years, during which time he had
spoken nothing but Visayan, varied occasionally with bad Spanish.
His negotiations at the capital taking him to an English firm,
he started to address them in his long unused mother tongue, when
to his extreme mortification he found he could not speak a word of
English. Again and again he tried, the harsh gutturals choking in his
throat, until at last, flushed and angry, he was forced to transact
his business in Spanish, all of which amused the Britishers to the
chaffing point. Leaving the office, the American flung himself into the
street, muttering savagely under his breath, a torrent of old memories
surging through his brain, those harsh English words in his throat
clamouring for utterance. On and on he went, until at a far corner he
suddenly pulled himself up sharply, turned on his heel, and with all
speed walked back to the English firm, a shrewd smile playing about
his hard old mouth. Throwing open the door of the office, he walked
abruptly in, saying as he did so, in an unmistakable Yankee drawl,
"Blankety blank blank it! I knew I could speak English. All I needed
was a few good cuss words to start me off!"
On the afternoon of January 3d, a party of Monteses visited the
_Burnside_. Gaily turbaned and skirted were these Moro men, their
jackets fitting so tightly that some one suggested they must have
grown on them, that they were "quite natural and spontaneous, like
the leaves of trees or the plumage of birds." One's olfactory nerves
also bore evidence that frequent ablutions or change of garments were
not customary among our guests, and the fact that when shown over
the ship they evinced but little interest in the bath spoke volumes.
Strange to say, what the Moros most admired were the brass railings
around the walls of the saloon, and the brass rods down the different
stairways, in fact all the brass fittings on the ship, a thing that
puzzled us not a little until the interpreter explained that the
Moros thought the brass was solid gold, and were naturally much
impressed thereat. Firearms they also enthused over, and looked
with envious eyes at the shotguns, rifles, and revolvers exhibited,
evincing great delight at the six and the one pounder guns on the
quarter-deck. With the greatest equanimity they accepted several
little presents made them, nor deigned thanks of any sort for benefits
received, stuffing the different articles into their wide girdles with
a stolid indifference which was enlivened by a smile once only. This
was at a case of needles given to the leading Datto or chief, which,
through the interpreter, we told him were for the wives of his bosom;
whereupon they all smiled broadly, the interpreter explaining it was
because we had sent the needles to women, as among Mindanao Moros
men do all the sewing.
Being Mohammedans, they were very careful not to eat anything while
on board ship for fear of unconsciously transgressing the Holy Law,
even refusing chocolate candy because it might contain pork. They were
shown ice, but took little interest in it, nor did they seem surprised
at the cold storage rooms or the electric lighting. It is possible they
thought Americans had attained the one really great thing in having
white skins, after which all else followed as a matter of course.
The next day we went to call on the presidente and his wife. They lived
in a bare, forlorn old house, with nothing attractive about it save the
floor of the _sala_, which was of beautiful hard wood polished with
banana leaves until it would have served for a mirror. Everything
was scrupulously clean, but bespoke poverty, from the inadequate
furniture of the _sala_ to the patches and darns on the old wife's
stiffly starched skirt of _abaca_. This poverty was all the result
of the war, we were told, as much of their out of town property had
been confiscated or ruthlessly destroyed by the insurgents because
of the presidente's unswerving loyalty to the American government.
Both the presidente and his señora were delighted to see us, and while
he discoursed on politics and what the coming of the cable meant to
the people of Mindanao, the good housewife bustled about and brought
forth the greatest delicacies her larder afforded, laying them out
with proud humility on the marble topped table of the _sala_. There
were peaches and pears, canned in Japan, and served right from the
tin; there were little pink frosted cakes made in times prehistoric,
to judge from their mustiness, and carefully packed away in glass
jars for just such great occasions; there was good guava jelly and
a Muscatelle that breathed of sunny vineyards in Spain--indubitable
evidence of better days.
The house was so bare and shabby that this gastronomic outlay
seemed an unwarrantable expense, yet what could one do but accept
their hospitality in the same generous spirit in which it was
offered? So at ten o'clock of a steaming hot morning we cheerfully
stuffed ourselves on badly preserved fruits, elderly small cakes with
enamelled complexions, and tiny sips of liquid fragrance, our reward
of merit being the little señora's beaming face.
Indeed, she even stopped apologizing after a bit, and while the
presidente was toasting everybody from the "Chief Magistrate of
America" down to our very humble selves, she sent a _muchacho_ out
to borrow the hand-organ belonging to a neighbour, this musical
instrument being highly venerated in Misamis. On its arrival the
presidente himself turned the crank, and with such vigour that I
feared a stroke of apoplexy on his part.
A little later, as we were leaving, the señora took us into what would
have been the stable had they possessed horses, a large open space
under the house, to the right of which a room had been partitioned
off with bamboo. Inside this partition a Filipina servant worked
the señora's loom. Back and forth went the shuttle under the little
maid's deft fingers, and up and down went her slender bare foot on the
treadle, so that even as we watched the striped red and cream _abaca_
grew under our very eyes.
Unfortunately I became enthusiastic, and nothing would do but that the
old lady must present me with several yards of the pretty stuff. I felt
as if I should be tried for larceny, what with those indigestible
fruits, the pink cheeked cakes, the Muscatelle, and finally the
_abaca_. I protested vigorously, I even pleaded, but in vain.
"You are my daughter," laughed the señora, happily, "my white
daughter. The _abaca_ is yours--coarse stuff that it is," and she
reached up timidly and kissed me, first on one cheek and then on the
other, the joy of giving in her dear old eyes.
The next day dawned so clear and beautiful that three of us decided,
there being little work on hand until the Lintogup party's return,
to take a long drive around Misamis, and if we had time to even go
so far as its four outposts. On the previous day the presidente had
unearthed a queer little carriage out of a junk heap, and put this
conveyance and a wise looking piebald pony at our disposal. The
carriage was an odd affair between a _calesa_ and _carromata_ in
shape, or like a high surrey with a small seat for the driver in
front. It was beautifully clean, with a new bit of carpet at our feet,
and cushioned in sky-blue tapestry. As there was but a single seat
at the back, in addition to the driver's seat in front, one of the
two men of our party offered to relieve the Filipino in charge of
the trap, and do the driving himself, but the native shook his head,
declaring we would find the pony unmanageable. We thought not, but
the driver was firm, and although the back seat was not very wide,
we piled in upon the sky-blue cushions, trying to look as pleasant
as possible in the circumstances.
After some persuasion on the part of the Filipino, the piebald pony
started and proved to be a fine little animal with an unusually
clean and even gait. The air was fresh and invigorating, and as we
passed other _Burnside_ friends trudging through the sand of the
beach or toiling laboriously along the dusty road of the town, we
congratulated ourselves on securing the only available trap in the
place, and marvelled at the way our pony covered ground.
"Why, any one could drive him," remarked one of the trio. "He's a
fine little beast." "To be sure," assented the others. But just then
a treacherous feminine hat blew off, and we had to stop and pick it
up. That was but the work of an instant--the stopping--but when it
came to starting again--well, you just ought to have seen how that
piebald acted! He simply laughed at the idea, his laugh extending in
ecstatic chuckles all the way down his spinal column till the very
carriage shook with his mirth. Then he planted his two fore feet down
hard as much as to say, "I challenge you to budge me one inch from
this spot," and though the Filipino threatened, entreated, implored,
and finally beat him unmercifully with the handle of the whip, the
piebald stood his ground.
At last the two men clambered out of the high vehicle, and after
tugging for some minutes at the rope bridle, succeeded in starting
the stubborn animal along, but at so furious a gait that they had all
they could do to get up over the wheels and into their seat again. All
went well for about a quarter of a mile, when to our surprise the
driver started to turn around. "Here, _hombre_," called one of the
men, in what he was pleased to consider Spanish, "we don't want to
go home yet. We want to go to the outposts--way out, sabe?" Yes, he
"sabed," grinning broadly the while, but this, señor, was the outpost.
We were dumbfounded, and stared stupidly at the white tent among
the trees. "Why don't they call 'em _in_posts?" growled one of
the men, and then to the driver, "Very well, _hombre_, take us to
the other three. We want to see 'em all." But this was easier said
than done. Again our wise-looking piebald balked, and balked most
awfully. Again the two men, at imminent danger to life and limb,
jerked at the rope bridle, and again barely escaped with their lives
as they performed the perilous acrobatic feat of falling headlong
into the carriage while it was going at full speed.
After the sixth performance of this kind, one being at a street
crossing where some raw cocoa beans were drying on a _petate_ in the
sun, and the three others at the different outposts, we decided among
ourselves that we had best dismiss our _cochero_ and return to the
ship, since it had taken us more than two hours to drive where we
might have walked in thirty minutes.
It was here a most embarrassing situation arose, for just as we were
debating what to pay our Jehu, something in my boot heels suggested
that perhaps the native was not a coachman at all, but a Filipino
gentleman taking us to drive at the request of the presidente. There
was the sign manual of Misamis's four hundred about him. He wore
shoes. Moreover, he sported a very large and very yellow twenty dollar
gold piece on his watch-chain. But stronger even than these evidences
of native gentility was the freedom from restraint in the very frequent
remarks he had tentatively thrown over his shoulder during the drive,
and the fact that he had not weakened when, on first coming ashore,
we had tried to browbeat him out of driving the horse.
"But if he _is_ a _cochero_, and we don't pay him, he'll think we're
cheating him," wailed one of us.
"And if he isn't a _cochero_, and we do pay him, he'll be indignant,"
affirmed another.
My boot heels gave me another suggestion. Being a woman, I suppose
I have intuitions, but I trust my boot heels every time. They are
more reliable. "How would it do," I suggested, with a consciousness
of superiority which I trust did not sound in my voice, "How would
it do to stop a sentinel and ask whether our friend is a coachman or
the mayor of the town?" and even as I spoke a sentinel hove in sight
and was promptly interrogated by the men.
"Him?" returned the soldier in answer to our questions, "Him? Why, he's
the richest man in these parts, I reckon, and holds some big job under
the government. I forget what just now, but provost marshal, chief
of police, or somethin' like that." We gasped at our narrow escape,
and after getting that villainous automobile horse in motion again,
pressed some cigars upon our distinguished host, and on reaching the
dock thanked him heartily for our charming morning, impressing upon
him that the _Burnside_ was at his disposition at any and all times,
an invitation of which he later availed himself.
On the afternoon of January 9th the fault which we had been seeking
so long in the cable tank was located, and two and a half miles
of cable were taken out before the fault could be removed. We then
weighed anchor and buoyed six miles out, talked with Misamis over the
wire, and then attached the end to a buoy and dropped it overboard,
preferring to wait until morning to make our splice and proceed on
our return trip to Dumaguete. At daylight we picked up the buoy,
drew the end of the cable on board, spliced it, and at eight o'clock
were proceeding toward the island of Negros, laying cable as we went.
Then for the first time did we hoist the cable-ship insignia on
the foremast head, three balls, which at a little distance looked
not unlike the sign of a pawnshop, though our three balls were hung
vertically from the masthead, two red ones with a white octahedron
shape between them. After dark two red lights with a white centre
light were substituted for these signals, each serving as a warning
to other vessels that we were either laying or picking up cable and
could not be expected to observe the etiquette of the high seas. In
other words, we were to have the right of way. As I understand it,
disabled steamers also carry three balls by day, all of them being red
in that case, and by night three red lights, our centre white ball by
day and centre white light after dark protecting us from well-meant
efforts at rescue by other vessels, which would of course foul our
cable and cause no end of mischief.
We sailed very slowly to Dumaguete, not over five knots an hour, with
the cable paying out perhaps six knots, this speed limitation being
necessary in order to stop the ship quickly in case of accident. It
seemed a sentient thing, that cable creeping slowly along the paying
out machinery, winding itself over the drum, and then stretching out
to full length and disappearing down the covered wooden cable troughs
on the main and quarter decks, and so into the sea at the stern of
the ship; the hose meanwhile playing a stream of water over the drum,
brakes, and jockey pulley, where the friction is always greatest. This
water ran off in a dirty yellow stream, flooding the forward deck,
while the tar from the cable decorated the ship from stem to stern,
thus transforming our _Burnside_ from a pretty, trig looking yacht
into a veritable work-a-day old scow.
Everyone on board was in the best possible spirits all morning because
we were really under way and accomplishing work that showed. Even
the natives in the tank, swiftly passing the cable from hand to hand,
were singing in barbaric monotone to themselves, while we idle ones on
the quarter-deck read a marvellous tale of love and bloodshed to the
monotonous accompaniment of the cable shuffling through the wooden
troughs beside us.
At about four in the afternoon, however, just as we were lazily
deciding to ring for tea, there came a rush of feet from the forward
part of the ship and a jangle of the engine-room's bell meaning "Full
speed astern!" But quick as the ship was in coming to a standstill,
and quick as were the Signal Corps men in stopping the machinery, the
cable itself was quicker, and in less time than it takes to tell it,
a tangle of cable in the tanks blocked the drum, causing so tremendous
a strain that the cable broke, the end going overboard.
We were all sick at heart, none more so than the poor Filipino who
had been knocked flat by the cable on its erratic departure from the
tank. Fortunately, the native was more frightened than hurt, and not
many moments later joined in a game of monte with his friends not on
duty at the time. The cable laying machinery was then transformed
into a grappling machine, and by half past seven that evening the
strain on the dynamometer showed we had in all probability hooked
something. An hour later the end was on board, and by midnight a
satisfactory splice had been made by a sergeant of the Signal Corps,
in charge of such work, and his band of native cable splicers. Then
sufficient tests were made to ascertain if the joint were perfect,
that is, if the insulation of the new piece of cable, when added to
that already laid, gave the right answer.
Meanwhile some one ascertained our position with a sextant, these
observations being marked on the cable map and entered in the log to
facilitate the work of locating and repairing the splice in case of
accident at that particular point, though it must be confessed that
these splices often proved more sound than the original cable. After
this data had been duly registered, the bight was lowered over the side
of the ship and we were again under way, "dragging our tail behind us"
like the poetical sheep of the nursery rhyme.
Everything worked perfectly after this, and we arrived off the
Dumaguete buoy the following afternoon. On sighting it, a boat was
lowered, in which our "able cable seaman," as we called him, with
his crew of native "buoy jumpers," set forth to fasten the cable
attached there to a stout rope from the ship. Then the buoy was cut
away and taken into the little boat, the cable being heaved aboard
by means of the drum, where, after detaching the mushroom anchor,
tests were made and final telegraphic instructions sent to Misamis
about connecting the office there. Then the final splice was made, and
the two women of the _Burnside_ were given the privilege of cutting
the slip-ropes that held the cable on the ship. It had already been
lowered over the bows, and only these ropes held it in place.
"If anything goes wrong now, you are to blame," said the Powers-that-Be
severely, and I, personally, felt the responsibility of so momentous
an event, and awaited with no little nervousness the signal which
would tell us to sever the ropes, for it was important that the two
fastenings should be cut at exactly the same moment to avoid a strain
on the cable. "Now!" called the cable expert. It was a thrilling
moment. My little _kris_ dagger seemed scarcely to make an impression
on the stout Manila rope. "Faster! Harder!" called some one, and we
sawed with all our strength. A moment more and the green waters of
the bay had opened and closed over the cable--the first stretch of
it laid on the trip--and we women had helped do it.
Everyone on board was excited over the great event, the very natives,
tired as they were, sending up a faint _viva_, and at dinner that
evening it was easy to see a strain had been lifted from all the
officers. Not a man but was freshly shaved and attired in immaculate
white linen in contradistinction to the inevitable khaki. Later,
however, the young officer who had been sent ashore to make the
final adjustments in the Dumaguete office, came aboard with the
disheartening information that Misamis could not be raised, and the
ensuing depression on the _Burnside_ was appalling.
The next morning a wire was run ashore connecting the cable hut
with the ship, and by what is called a capacity test, the trouble
was located at Misamis. So late that night, instead of going to
Iligan, as we had expected, we sailed for Misamis again, arriving
there a little after one on the following day. The fault was found
in a lightning arrester which one of the operators had neglected in
the cable hut. This was remedied, and the cable connection between
Misamis and Dumaguete completed.
Immediately the natives poured into the cable office with numberless
messages for friends or business acquaintances, and knots of men
gathered about the building and congratulated each other on the great
event. At last the much talked-of communication with the outer world
was at hand, a marvel no less astounding to the minds of these people
than would be the realization of those stories of Harun-al-Rashid's
days to our more complex civilization, those dear, delightful days
of genie and fairy, when two and two didn't always make four, and
when nothing was too impossible to happen.
That afternoon a schooner was hired, and five miles of cable for the
Misamis shore end of Iligan's line of communication was put aboard
her. At daybreak on Monday, January 14th, the schooner started out to
lay the cable, while a second party dug the trench and prepared for
the landing of the shore end. This was all completed by ten o'clock,
and we were under way for Iligan, towing the schooner at our stern. We
sailed very slowly, as bearings and soundings were being taken all day,
anchoring off our destination late that afternoon.