Curiously enough, their dance was very j.a.panese in character. Then some Man.o.bos, picturesque in short, skin-tight trousers and bolero jackets, with bags and boxes beautifully worked in bright beads, danced a graceful, monotonous step. The women have a swaying, snake-like dance with waving arms and jingling of bracelets and "hiplets," if I may be allowed to coin the word.

At last, after so many adventures, we found ourselves again on board the _Rizal_. An enchanting spot on this boat was a projection over the bow, on which one could sit curled up high above the water. On this perch we felt like the red-winged sea gulls that circled far above us. We pa.s.sed over a sea of polished jade, which at night shone with phosph.o.r.escence like gleaming silver.

Next morning, August 23d, we approached Zamboanga. Five American ships, all decorated, came steaming out to meet us and fell in behind in order, making a lovely sight on the bright, smooth seas. As we neared the town, we suddenly saw a large flotilla of native boats, with tom-toms beating and thousands of flags fluttering--such a gay sight! Banners of all shapes, streaming and flapping and waving, and such colours and combinations of colours--stripes of green and purple and orange in designs of lemon and red and magenta, serpentine flags and square ones, hung in all sorts of ways, and brightly coloured canopies under which sat the sultans, and green umbrellas and yellow and--bang! off went their small lantankas, tiny native-made cannon--a most exciting reception!

We landed under triumphal arches and were driven in state carriages through lines of school children, who sang and threw us flowers from old Spanish gardens. The post was really beautiful, for it had much left from old Spanish times, and what had been done over had been done with taste. The green parade had a terraced ca.n.a.l pa.s.sing through it, and avenues of palm; the officers' quarters, smothered in flowering plants and fronting out over the glittering blue sea, were large and airy and finer than any we had seen before. It is considered one of the best posts in the Philippines, and seemed cool and pleasant.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BAGOBOS WITH MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.]

There was the usual procession--first, the troops of the garrison and the constabulary, then thousands of visiting Moros, Bagobos and Man.o.bos, of every colour of skin and clothes, many of them whooping and leaping, and then a tiresome following of hundreds of Filipinos, who had joined in to make a political demonstration. It is said the Filipinos did not wish the Moros to take part in the procession.

Exciting times followed at the meeting after this parade, where both Filipino and Moro speakers were heard. Said a Filipino, addressing the Secretary:

"You have just visited our province and have just learned its conditions; at such places in it through which you have pa.s.sed you must have seen quite a number of Moros, but I believe that a separation ...

could very well be established, to the end that both people, the Christian Filipino and the Filipino Moro, might have the government that corresponds respectively to each of them, for it is a very regrettable thing that on account of the presence of the latter we Christians should be unable to enjoy the liberties that reason and right would grant us....

"I think it is my duty to advise you that the Moros who filed past the grandstand were brought from remote and distant places with the exclusive purpose of giving greater eclat to your reception. Moreover, it must be borne in mind always, in dealing with the affairs of this province, that the Moros have no political influence, possess no property, nor help pay the expense of the government."

Then Dato Mandi spoke:

"I am here, El Raja Mura Mandi, representing the Moros. As I look about, I see far more Moros than the Filipino contingent, and if that is so, that is the reason it is called the Moro Province. (Tremendous applause from the Moros.)

"When first the Americans came here, from the very beginning, whatever they asked me to do I did. I was loyal to them ever. Now I have heard a rumour that we Moros are in the hands of the Filipinos....

"If the American Government does not want the Moro Province any more they should give it back to us. It is a Moro province. It belongs to us." (Tremendous applause by the Moros.)

Dato Sacaluran threw down the Moro challenge:

"I am an old man. I do not want any more trouble. But if it should come to that, that we shall be given over to the Filipinos, I still would fight." (Applause.)

But Hadji Nangnui, who spoke of himself as "a Samal," made the clearest statement of the Moro position:

"The Secretary of War must look the matter in the face. We are a different race; we have a different religion; we are Mohammedans. And if we should be given over to the Filipinos, how much more would they treat us badly, than they treated even the Spanish badly who were their own mothers and their own fathers in generations? How did they treat them?

Think about it! Think twice! We far prefer to be in the hands of the Americans, who are father and mother to us now, than to be turned over to another people." (Applause.)

In the evening we dined delightfully at the Pershings'. After dinner, the Moros danced in the garden the spear and shield dance, and the Bagobo women gave the scarf dance. The Bagobos still offer human sacrifices. Their caps, if tied in a certain way, show how many men they have killed. Their dress is made of cloth which they weave from carefully selected and dyed fibers of Manila hemp, and it is treated with wax in such a way as to make it very smooth and durable. In the glow of the red light from Chino Charlie's famous lanterns, their picturesque costumes, gleaming with bead work, added much to the brilliancy of the scene. They love music and make some large stringed instruments. They also play the flute from the nose, with one nostril stopped up, like the Hawaiians.

The dancing under the palms in the garden, by the rippling seas, where the moonlight flooded down radiantly, was quite like a strange dream.

At this dinner I was told the story given by Dean Worcester by which the Moros explain why they do not eat pork:

"Mahamoud had a grandson and a granddaughter.... As he was king of the world, Christ came to his house to visit him. Mahamoud, jealous of him, told him to prove his power by 'divining' what he had in a certain room, where, in fact, were his grandchildren. Christ replied that he had no wish to prove his power, and would not 'divine.' Mahamoud then vowed that if he did not answer correctly, he should pay for it with his life.

Christ responded, 'You have two animals in there, different from anything else in the world.' Mahamoud replied, 'No, you are wrong, and I will now kill you.' Christ said, 'Look first, and see for yourself.'

Mahamoud opened the door, and out rushed two hogs, into which Christ had changed his grandchildren."

[Ill.u.s.tration: BAGOBO WITH NOSE FLUTE.]

Some verses recited at General Pershing's dinner showed the feeling of army officers about their life in the Philippines. A stanza runs:

"What is it makes us fret so hard In this benighted land?

It isn't lack of courage And it isn't lack of 'sand.'

It isn't fear of Moros Or Bagobos from the hills-- It's the many great discomforts And the many, many ills."

It is interesting to read in a recent number of the Manila _Times_ that Zamboanga, which seemed so like a picture handed down from Spanish days, has absorbed a good share of American progressiveness and is said to stand in a cla.s.s by itself among Philippine towns. Waterworks and a hydro-electric plant are under construction, the water for which is to be brought along the mountainside, a part of the way through tunnels. To dig these, "experienced Igorot tunnel makers from Benguet were imported," who are getting along amicably with the Moros.

At Jolo, or Sulu, we were again greeted by a Moro fleet and some diving girls and boys.

This seemed the culmination of the picturesque in our trip. The mountains of the island are not high but rather cone-shaped, and as we approached the town we could see behind it the forested slopes of steep Bud Dajo, where the great fight took place in 1906 and many Moros were killed in the crater top of the volcano, to which they had retreated, and from which they challenged and threatened the American forces. It is an island of fierce, piratical Moros, and even the Americans had not tried to do much there. It was dangerous to go outside the little walled town at all, and all the natives coming in were searched for their weapons, which were taken away at the gates. Only a few months before, a fanatic Moro tried to attack the gate guard, but fortunately was killed before fatally injuring any one.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MORO BOATS.]

The walled town is a most artistic little Spanish place, built once upon a time by the exiled Spanish Governor Asturia, who made it a gem of a town, with small bal.u.s.traded plazas and a hanging-garden sea wall, and a miniature wall with battlements and gates, and streets set out with shading trees. The pretty Officers' Club and quarters overhung the wall.

The gates of the town are closed at night, and all the natives must leave for their houses outside before the "retreat," but there is a native market and a town built out on piles over the water, which we visited. We drove out to a plain, palm-fringed and backed by mountains, that overlooked the sea, where there was a review of the cavalry and a large company of mounted Moros, who carried many American flags among their waving banners. Within the walls, in a grandstand in the little plaza, where the natives thronged, there was a meeting between the Secretary and the chief datos; and the Hadji, who had been Vizier of the Sultan, made a wise speech, full of promise of loyalty. Our Governor had won the good will of the people about him and the Hadji said that when his people were certain of our good intentions they would come in willingly and be loyal--but, for so many years, they had been misled by previous rulers.

We amused ourselves by going to Chino Charlie's and buying lanterns, and lunched at the Officers' Club. Afterward we went out on the pier inhabited by the Chinese and looked for pearls--Jolo pearls are famous--but we saw none of real value. We watched the Chinamen drying copra, and went through their market, where water slugs were for sale.

Finally, we sailed across the bay. Our visit to the Moros was full of colour to the end, for the sun was setting gorgeously as we put out to sea.

CHAPTER X

JOURNEY'S END

The little coral island of Bancoran lies in the middle of the Sulu Sea, quite outside the usual routes of travel. It is inhabited only by birds, and people seldom or never go there. But we wanted to obtain, if we could, some new species of gulls or terns for the Bureau of Science at Manila, and also to enjoy the mysterious sea gardens which are found among the southern reefs. Just after tiffin the island was sighted, lying quite alone by itself in milky green water. The ship stopped and launches were dropped overboard, and a gla.s.s-bottomed boat which had been brought along for our use.

The afternoon was ideal--the sky blue and fleeced with snowy clouds piled high, while the intense sun shining on the water flashed back a hundred shades of blue and green and mauve. On one side of the island, which floated like an emerald among sapphires, outstanding rocks chafed the seas into foaming surf, while on the other a long, narrow beach lay shimmering, pale yellow in the sunlight. The island itself was covered with a thick jungle of trees, which were dotted with thousands of resting birds. As we drew nearer they saw us and were afraid, rising and soaring and circling in the clear, pure air, and crying out at us. Flock after flock of sea fowl flew wonderingly over our small craft, their white b.r.e.a.s.t.s tinted green with the light reflected from the water.

It was like a Robinson Crusoe island, lost out there in the lonely sea.

But there were sh.e.l.ls of huge turtles, and bones of birds, which suggested that sometime a feast must have been held there, so it was not wholly undiscovered and unexplored. Among the great roots of the trees the birds had built their nests from leaves. The eggs in some of them were white and about the size of hens' eggs. Several varieties of b.o.o.bies and terns were found, some brown with green-blue eyes, others ivory-white. A few specimens were shot, and one or two were taken back alive to the _Rizal_ for the museum. Previous to this visit the ornithologists had never known to what islands the b.o.o.bies and frigate birds came to nest, although the scientists had long been searching for the place, so the expedition was well worth while.

But the sea gardens interested me more than the birds or even the island. If Alice could have had her choice in entering Wonderland, she would surely have selected a doorway leading through a gla.s.s-bottomed boat, instead of dropping down a rabbit's hole. Beneath the water, which was crystal clear, we could see a strange country with new flowers and peculiar creatures. Where it was sandy and shallow we saw below us fields of green sea gra.s.s, on which the fairies must surely have used lawn-mowers, it was so neatly kept.

Interspersed among the fields were beds of feathery, lace-like vegetation unnamed in the language of our party. Pa.s.sing one expanse after another of this submarine pasturage, we saw depressions in the coral, where tiny fishes played or unknown water creatures had established a little world for themselves and were living in its narrow confines quite unconscious of what went on in the surrounding vastness.

Drifting on into deeper water, we came to a ghost-like gray world of curls and feathers, trembling with life, a forest of pale trees and swaying brown ones, of high hills and dark valleys, made by coral reefs.

Pretty rock gardens came into view, where there were cabbages with blue edges, sea anemones and purple fans, a huge toadstool, a giant fungus, and a cactus plant--at least, that is what they looked like to us. There were rainbow sh.e.l.ls, too, half hidden, and great blue starfish clinging to the rocks. In and out among the sponges and the brown coral branches, which were so much like antlers, swam curious fishes. Such gorgeous colours--so vivid and in such brilliant combinations! Some were big green fellows, with needle noses; others were electric blue and silver; there were black and yellow ones, too, and striped fishes that looked like sly prisoners dodging their keepers.[27]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ONE DAY'S CATCH OF FISH.]

We pa.s.sed the greater part of the afternoon marooned on this far-away island, some of us going bathing off the shallow, sandy beaches in the clear water. As evening came on we regretfully left the fairy island of Bancoran, and sailed away by the rising moon.

The Penal Colony on Palawan, which I have described in another chapter, was our next point of interest. We left there behind schedule and met a stronger current than we had expected, sweeping down the coast of Panay, so that it was no wonder that we were late in approaching Iloilo. This was especially unfortunate, for very generous preparations had been made there for the Secretary's reception and an interesting series of events arranged, all of which was upset by the delay.

It was sunset when we finally sighted the town. As we cruised up the steeply palisaded coast, with the low-lying foreground of Panay on the other side, backed by its fine ranges of mountains, the effects were most beautiful. The old Spanish fort on its point looked mysterious in the afterglow, and the skies were magnificently alight. A fleet of much beflagged launches and steamers came out to meet the Secretary, whistling a welcome, and turning, escorted the _Rizal_.

Next to Manila, Iloilo is the most important port in the Islands, and has a better climate than its rival. The people here are supposed to be wealthier and more aristocratic than elsewhere. The Payne bill, which had been in operation only a short time, had brought such a return of prosperity to the land, and especially to the planters of this fertile province, that they were all very enthusiastic about Americans, and did all they could to express their grat.i.tude.