The Philippine Republic in the Central and Southern Islands

So interwoven were the circumstances of General Aguinaldoʼs Government in Luzon Island with the events of the period between the naval battle of Cavite and the ratification of the Treaty of Paris, that they form an integral and inseparable whole in historical continuity. In the other Islands, however, which followed the revolutionary movement, with more or less adherence to the supreme leadership of Aguinaldo, the local incidents severally constitute little histories in themselves, each such island having practically set up its own government with only the barest thread of administrative intercommunication.

The smaller islands, adjacent to Luzon, cannot be justly included in this category, because their local rule, which naturally succeeded the withdrawal of Spanish administration, was nothing more than a divided domination of self-constituted chiefs whose freebooting exploits, in one instance, had to be suppressed at the sacrifice of bloodshed, and, in another, to succumb to the apathy of the people.

In Yloilo, on December 23, 1898, General Diego de los Rios, in the presence of his staff, the naval commanders and the foreign consuls, formally surrendered the town to the native mayor, prior to his evacuation of Panay Island on the following day. On December 27 an American military force (finally about 3,000 strong) arrived in the roadstead in transports under the command of General Miller in co-operation with two American warships, afterwards supplemented by two others. The Spanish troops having departed, the Filipinos who had assumed control of public affairs made their formal entry into Yloilo to the strains of music and the waving of banners and constituted a government whose effective jurisdiction does not appear to have extended beyond the town and a dayʼs march therefrom. On January 17 an election was held, Raymundo Melliza,[1] an excellent man, being chosen president for the term of two years. Business was resumed; sugar was being brought from Negros Island, and ships were laden with produce. During the civil administration, which lasted for seven weeks, the absorbing topic was the demand made by General Miller for the surrender of the town. General Millerʼs force had been despatched to Yloilo waters, after the signing of the Treaty of Paris, simply to make a demonstration in view of possible anarchy resulting from the Spanish evacuation. The ratification of that Treaty by a two-thirds Senate majority was not an accomplished fact until February 6 following. There was no certainty that the Senate would confirm the acquisition of the Islands, and in the interval it was not politic to pass from a formal demand for the surrender of Yloilo to open hostilities for its possession. These matters of political exigency were undoubtedly beyond the comprehension of the Ylongos. They attributed to fear the fact that a large fighting-force remained inactive within sight of the town, whereas General Miller was merely awaiting instructions from the capital which the Manila authorities, in turn, were delaying, pending the decision in Washington. Intervening circumstances, however, precipitated military action. On the night of February 4 hostilities had broken out between Aguinaldoʼs troops and the American forces. Insurgent emissaries had brought Aguinaldoʼs messages to the Ylongos to hold the town against the invaders, and on February 7 General Miller received orders from Maj.-General Otis to take Yloilo by force if necessary. General Miller thereupon renewed his demand for the surrender of the place, coupled this time with a declaration that he would bombard it if his demand were refused. Later on he notified the consular body that the bombardment would commence on the 12th of the month. During the seven weeks of native government, petty thefts were frequent; an armed insurgent would enter a store and carry off the article selected by him without paying for it; but there was no riotous open violence committed against the townspeople or foreign traders. The squabbles between the armed natives and their leaders, however, were several times on the point of producing bloodshed.

According to ex-insurgent General Pablo Araneta, the insurgent army, at the time, in Panay Island was as follows, viz.[2]:—

Under the leadership of	Stationed at	Tagálogs	Visayos
Fulion	Yloilo	250	150
Ananias Diócno	Yloilo	400	—
Pablo Araneta	Yloilo	250	—
Martin Delgado	Yloilo	—	150
Pablo Araneta	Molo	—	100
Silvestre Silvio	Antique	150	—
Detachment of Diócnoʼs forces	Cápiz	200	—
Total all armed with guns		1,250	400

The commander-in-chief of the whole army of 1,650 men was Martin Delgado. The Tagálog contingent was under the leadership of Ananias Diócno, a native of Taal, whose severity in his Cápiz and Yloilo campaigns has left a lasting remembrance. The headquarters of the Visayos was in the parish-house (convento), whilst the Tagálogs were located in the Fine Arts Institute. Their stipulated remuneration was 4 pesos a month and food, but as they had received only 1 peso per month on account, and moreover claimed a rise in pay to 5 pesos, the Visayos, on February 3, assembled on the central plaza of the town and menaced their general officers, who were quartered together in a corner house over a barberʼs shop. They yelled out to their leaders that if they did not give them their pay they would kill them all, sack the town, and then burn it. Thereupon the generals hastened round the town to procure funds, and appeased the Visayos with a distribution of 1,800 pesos. The Tagálogs then broke out in much the same way, and were likewise restrained by a payment on account of arrears due. But thenceforth the insurgent troops became quite uncontrollable and insolent to their officers. The fact that white officers should have solicited their permission to come ashore unarmed could only be interpreted by the Oriental, soldier or civilian, in a way highly detrimental to the white manʼs prestige. The Americansʼ good and honest intentions were only equalled by their nescience of the Malay character. The officers came ashore; the townsfolk marvelled, and the fighting-men, convinced of their own invincibility, disdainfully left them unmolested. After the insurgent generals had doled out their pay, the men went round to the shops and braggingly avowed that it was lucky for the shopkeepers that they had got money, otherwise they would have looted their goods. The Chinese shut up their shops from the beginning of the troubles, leaving only a hole in the closed door to do a little business, as they were in constant fear for the safety of their lives and their stocks. A great many families packed up their belongings and went over to Negros Island in small schooners. The little passenger-steamers plying between Yloilo and Negros were running as usual, crowded to the brim, and flying the Philippine flag without interruption from the Americans. Amongst the better classes opinions on the situation were much divided. The best Philippine and Spanish families expressed their astonishment that the Americans made no attempt to take the town immediately after the Spanish evacuation. There were foreign merchants anxious to delay the American investment because, meanwhile, they were doing a brisk trade, and there were others longing to see the town in the hands of any civilized and responsible Power. Delegates from one party or the other, including the native civil government, went off in boats almost daily to parley with General Miller in the roadstead, each with a different line of real or sophistic argument. The best native families, the foreigners of all classes—those who desired a speedy entry of the Americans and those who sought to delay it—were agreed as to the needlessness and the mistaken policy of announcing a bombardment. Yloilo is a straggling, open town. The well-to-do people asked, “Why bombard?” There were no fortifications or anything to destroy but their house property. Plans were voluntarily offered showing how and at which points a midnight landing of 400 or 500 troops could be secretly effected for a sunrise surprise which would have cleared the town in an hour of every armed insurgent. The officers ashore declared they were ready; and as to the men, they were simply longing for the fray, but the word of command rested with General Miller.

In the evening of February 10 the native civil government held an extraordinary session in the Town Hall to discuss the course to be adopted in view of the announced bombardment. The public, Filipinos and foreigners, were invited to this meeting to take part in the debate if they wished, Raymundo Melliza, Victorino Mapa, Martin Delgado, and Pablo Araneta, being amongst those who were present. It was proposed to burn the town. Melliza vehemently protested against such a barbarous act, and asked why they should destroy their own property? What could they gain by pillage and flames?[3] But a certain V—— and his party clamoured for the destruction of the place, and being supported by an influential lawyer (native of another province) and by one of the insurgent generals, Melliza exclaimed, “If you insist on plunder and devastation, I shall retire altogether,” whereupon a tremendous hubbub ensued, in the midst of which Melliza withdrew and went over to Guimarás Island. But there were touches of humour in the speeches, especially when a fire-eating demagogue gravely proposed to surround an American warship with canoes and seize her; and again when Quintin Salas declared that the Americans would have to pass over his corpse before the town surrendered! Incendiaries and thieves were in overwhelming majority at the meeting; naturally (to the common people in these Islands) an invitation to despoil, lay waste and slay, bolstered up by apparent authority, found a ready response, especially among the Tagálog mercenaries who had no local attachment here. The instigators of this barbarity sought no share of the spoils; they had no property interests in Yloilo, but they were jealous of those who had. The animosity of Jaro and Molo against Yloilo had existed for years, the formersʼ townspeople being envious of the prosperous development of Yloilo (once a mere fishing-village), which obscured the significance of the episcopal city of Jaro and detracted from the social importance of the rich Chinese half-caste residential town of Molo.[4] Chiefly from these towns came the advocates of anarchy, whose hearts swelled with fiendish delight at the prospect of witnessing the utter ruin and humiliation of their rivals in municipal prestige. Yloilo, from that moment, was abandoned to the armed rabble, who raided the small shops for petroleum to throw on to the woodwork of the houses prior to the coming onslaught. The bombardment having been announced for the 12th, they reckoned on a full day for burning and sacking the town. But early in the morning of the 11th the steam-launch Pitt, whilst reconnoitring the harbour, was fired upon; the launch replied and withdrew. Natives were observed to be busy digging a trench and hastening to and from the cotta at the harbour entrance; there was every indication of their warlike intentions. Therefore suddenly, at 9 oʼclock that morning, without further notification, the Americans opened fire. The natives in the cotta fled along the quayway towards the centre of the town under a shower of bullets hurled from the quick-firing guns. The attack on Yloilo was hardly a bombardment proper; shells were intentionally thrown over the houses as a warning and burst in suburban open spaces, but comparatively few buildings were damaged by the missiles. In the meantime, from early morn, the native soldiery, followed by a riff-raff mob, rushed hither and thither, throwing firebrands on to the petroleum-washed houses, looting stores, and cutting down whomsoever checked them in their wild career. The Chinese barricaded themselves, but the flames devoured their well-stocked bazaars; panic-stricken townsfolk ran helter-skelter, escaping from the yelling bands of bloodthirsty looters. Europeans, revolver in hand, guarded their properties against the murderous rabble; an acquaintance of mine was hastening to the bank to deposit ₱3,000 when he was met by the leader S——, who demanded his money or his life; one foreign business house was defended by 15 armed Europeans, whilst others threw out handfuls of pesos to stay the work of the pétroleur. The German Vice-Consul, an old friend of mine, went mad at the sight of his total loss; a Swiss merchant, my friend for over 20 years, had his fine corner premises burnt down to the stone walls, and is now in comparative poverty. Even Spanish half-castes were menaced and contemptuously called Cachilas[5]; and the women escaped for their lives on board the schooners in the harbour. Half the town was blazing, and the despairing cries of some, the yells of exultant joy of others, mingled with the booming of the invadersʼ cannon.

Two British warships lying in the roadstead sent boats ashore to receive British subjects, and landed a party of marines, who made gallant efforts to save foreign property. A few British subjects were, however, unable to get away from the town on account of the premature attack of the Americans, which took place on the 11th instead of February 12, as previously announced.

The American assault on the town, which lasted until 1 oʼclock in the afternoon, was immediately followed up by the landing of about 1,000 volunteers, and General Miller found that the prognostications of the townspeople were perfectly just, for the insurgents fled in all directions. There was not a fighting-man left in the town. Some of them continued their hurried flight as far as Santa Barbara and Janiuay. It was evident that a sudden night-landing, without a word about bombardment, would have been just as effective, and would have prevented much misery and loss of life and property. Indeed, the arrival of the American volunteers under these distressing circumstances produced a fresh commotion in Yloilo. Without any warrant private premises were entered, and property saved from the nativesʼ grasp vanished before the eyes of the owners. Finally order was restored through the energetic intervention of American officials, who stationed sentinels here and there to protect what still remained of the townspeopleʼs goods. In due course indemnity claims were forwarded to the military authorities, who rejected them all.

The insurgents still lingered outside the town on the road to Jaro, and General Miller marched his troops, in battle array, against them. A couple of miles out of the town, in the neighbourhood of La Paz, the entrenched enemy was routed after a slight skirmish. The booming of cannon was heard in Yloilo for some hours as the American troops continued their march to Jaro, only molested by a few occasional shots from the enemy in ambush. The rebel chief Fulion and another, Quintin Salas, held out for a short while, gradually beating a retreat before the advancing column. The Tagálogs, once under the command of the semi-civilized Diócno, disappeared in all directions, and finally escaped from the province in small parties in canoes or as best they could. The handful of braves who still thought fit to resist decided to make a stand at Santa Bárbara, but on the arrival of the American troops they dispersed like chaff before the wind. General Miller then relinquished the pursuit and returned to Yloilo to await reinforcements for a campaign through the Island. In the meantime military government was established in Yloilo, the town was policed, trade resumed its normal aspect, the insurgents in the Island gradually increased, but the Philippine Republic in Panay was no more. It was clear to all the most sober-minded and best-educated Ylongos that Aguinaldoʼs government was a failure in Panay at least. The hope of agreement on any policy was remote from its very initiation. Visayos of position, with property and interests at stake, were convinced that absolute independence without any control or protection from some established Power was premature and doomed to disaster. Visayan jealousy of Tagálog predominance had also its influence, but the ruling factor was the Tagálog troopsʼ dictatorial air and brutal conduct, which destroyed the theory of fraternal unity. Self-government at this stage would have certainly led to civil war.

Reinforcements arrived from Manila and the Americans entered upon the pacification of the Island, which needed two years for its accomplishment. The full record of the Panay campaign would be a monotonous recital of scores of petty encounters of analogous character. Pablo Araneta, in co-operation with a Spanish deserter named Mariano Perez, met the Americans several times, and gave better proof of his generalship in retreat than in advance. He operated only in the province of Yloilo, and at Sambang, near Pavía, his party was severely defeated and the “general” fled. Quintin Salas, over whose dead body, he himself declared, the Americans would have to pass before Yloilo surrendered, appeared and disappeared, from time to time, around Dumangas. There was an encounter at Potian with Jolandoni which ended badly for his party. The native priests not only sympathized with the insurgents, but took an active part in their operations. Father Santiago Pamplona, afterwards ecclesiastical-governor of the Visayas (Aglipayan), held a command under Martin Delgado. Father Agustin Piña, the parish priest of Molo and the active adviser in the operations around Pavía—Jaro district, was caught by the Americans and died of “water-cure.”[6] The firebrand Pascual Macbanua was killed at Pototan; and finally came the most decisive engagement at Monte Sin͠git, between Janiuay and Lambunao. The insurgent generalissimo, Martin Delgado, took the field in person; but after a bold stand, with a slight loss on the American side, the insurgents were completely routed and their leader fled. Pablo Araneta, tired of generalship without glory, surrendered to the Americans on December 31, 1899. The war still continued for another year, Martin Delgado being one of the last to declare his defeat. Early in December, 1900, overtures for peace were made to General Miller, the delegates on the insurgent side being Pablo Araneta, Jovito Yusay, and Father Silvestre Apura, whilst Captain Noble represented the Americans. Martin Delgado and his co-leaders soon surrendered. There was no question of conditions but that of convincing the natives of the futility of further resistance and the benefits to them of peace under American rule. With this end in view, delegates went in commission to the several districts. Pablo Araneta, Father Silvestre Apura, Father Práxedes Magálon and Nicolás Roses visited the district of Concepcion (East Panay) in January 1901 and obtained the submission of the people there. Peace was at length agreed upon; but the Filipinos were not disposed silently to draw the veil over the past without glamour and pomp, even in the hour of defeat. Therefore, on February 2, 1901, in agreement between the parties, the remnant of the little Panay army made a formal surrender, marching under triumphal arches into the episcopal city of Jaro to stack their arms, between lines of American troops drawn up on either side of their passage, to the strains of peaceful melody, whilst the banners of the Stars and Stripes floated victoriously in the sultry air. Jaro was crowded with visitors to witness this interesting ceremonial. The booths did a bustling trade; the whole city was en féte, and the vanquished heroes, far from evincing humiliation, mingled with the mob and seemed as merry as though the occasion were the marriage-feast of the headmanʼs daughter.

But to complete the picture of peace some finishing-strokes were yet needful. Antique Province was still in arms, and a native commission composed of Pablo Araneta, Father Silvestre Apura, Father Práxedes Magálon, Victorino Mapa, Cornelio Melliza, and Martin Delgado proceeded there, and succeeded in concluding peace for the Americans at the end of February, 1901.

The Visayan chief who defied the American invader was no stout patriot who leaves his plough to fight for cherished liberty, and cheerfully returns to it when the struggle ends. The leaders of the little Panay army and their civilian colleagues had to be compensated for their acceptance of American rule. Aguinaldo was captured during the month following the Peace of Panay; the war was coming to an end, and Governor W. H. Taft made his provincial tour to inaugurate civil government in the pacified Islands. Martin T. Delgado, the very man who had inflicted such calamities upon the Yloilo people, was appointed, on April 11, to be their first provincial Civil Governor at a salary of $3,000 gold per annum, and held that office until March, 1904. Jovito Yusay was given the provincial government secretaryship with a yearly stipend of $1,800 gold; Pablo Araneta was rewarded with the post of President of the Board of Health at an annual salary of $1,500 gold, and Victorino Mapa was appointed a judge of the Supreme Court with an annual emolument of $7,000 gold. In March, 1904, Raymundo Melliza, ex-president of the native civil government, already referred to as the advocate of social order, succeeded Delgado in the civil government of the Yloilo province by popular vote.

Yloilo, formerly the second port of the Philippines, is situated on the right bank of the creek. From the creek point to the square are sheds used for sugar-storing, with, here and there, a commercial or government office between. The most modern thoroughfares are traced with regularity, and there are many good houses. In the square is the church, which at a distance might be mistaken for a sugar-store, the ruins of the Town Hall, the convent, and a few small, fairly well-built houses of stone and wood, whilst all one side was once covered by a fine new block of buildings of brick, stone and wood, with iron roofs.

The Calle Real or High Street is a winding road, which leads through the town into the country. The houses are indescribable—they are of all styles. Without any pretence at architectural adornment, some are high, others low; some stand back with several feet of pavement before them, others come forward and oblige one to walk in the road. Here and there is a gap, then a row of dingy hovels. This is the retail trading-quarter and the centre for the Chinese. Going from the square the creek runs along at the back of the right-hand-side houses; turning off by the left-hand-side thoroughfares, which cannot be called streets, there is a number of roughly-built houses and a few good ones dispersed in all directions, with vacant, neglected plots between. At the extreme end of the Calle Real is the Government House, built of wood and stone, of good style and in a fair condition, with quite the appearance of an official residence. Before it is a semicircular garden, and in front of this there is a round fenced-in plot, in the middle of which stands a flag-staff. Just past the Government House there is a bridge crossing the Jaro River, which empties itself into the creek of Yloilo, and this creek is connected with that of Otong.[7]

Yloilo lies low, and is always hot. Quite one-third of the shipping and wholesale business quarter stands on land reclaimed from the swamp by filling up with earth and rubble. The opposite side of the creek, facing the shipping-quarter, is a low marshy waste, occasionally converted into a swamp at certain tides. The creek forms the harbour of Yloilo, which is just as Nature made it, except that there is a roughly-constructed quayway on the left-hand shore on entering. Only vessels of light draft can enter; large vessels anchor in the roadstead, which is the channel between Yloilo harbour and Guimarás Island.

The general aspect of Yloilo and its environs is most depressing. In Spanish times no public conveyances were to be seen plying for hire in the streets, and there is still no public place of amusement. The Municipality was first established by Royal Order dated June 7, 1889.

Evidences of the havoc of 1899 are still visible at every turn in Yloilo in the shape of old stone walls, charred remains, battered houses, vacant spaces, etc. On the other hand, there are many innovations since American administration superseded the native civil government. The plaza, till then a dreary open space, is now a pleasant shady promenade; electric lighting, an ice-factory, four hotels, one American, one English, and three Philippine clubs, large public schools, an improved quayway, a commodious Custom-house, a great increase of harbour traffic, a superabundance of lawyersʼ and pawnbrokersʼ sign-boards, and public vehicles plying for hire are among the novelties which strike one who knew Yloilo in days gone by. The Press is poorly represented by three daily and one weekly newspapers. Taken as a whole Yloilo still remains one of the most charmless spots in the Archipelago.

The people of Negros Island were in the free enjoyment of local independence since November 6, 1898, the day on which the Spanish Governor, D. Isidro Castro y Cinceros, together with all his official colleagues, capitulated to the revolutionists under the leadership of Aniceto Lacson, Leandro Lacson, Juan Araneta, Nicolás Gales, Simon Lizares, Julio Diaz, and José Montilla. Simultaneously with the prosecution of the Panay Island campaign General Miller opened negotiations for the submission of Negros Island to American sovereignty. At that time the government of the Island was being peacefully administered to the satisfaction of the Negros revolutionists, at least, under the constitution proclaimed by them, and presided over by their ex-commander-in-chief, Aniceto Lacson.[8] General Miller therefore commissioned two Filipinos, Esteban de la Rama and Pedro Regalado,[9] to proceed to Negros and negotiate terms of surrender to the Americans. For the moment nothing further was demanded than a recognition of American supremacy, and it was not proposed to subvert their local organization or depose their president. Aniceto Lacson accepted these terms, and General Miller formally appointed him Governor of the Island in March, 1899. It is evident, therefore, that no union existed between the local government of Negros and Aguinaldoʼs Republic in Luzon. In fact, when the Tagálog fighting-men, who were everywhere defeated in Panay, made their escape to Negros and raised the cry of insurrection against the Americans, Lacson was constrained to appeal to General Miller to send over troops to quell the movement. Thereupon Colonel Smith was deputed to take troops over to Negros to pursue the common enemy, whilst, in perfect accord with the native governor Lacson, he acted as military governor of the Island. The great cordillera which runs through the centre of the Island from north to south forms a sort of natural barrier between the people of Occidental and Oriental Negros. There are trails, but there are no transversal highroads from one coast to the other, and the inhabitants on each side live as separated in their interests, and, to a certain degree, in their habits, as though they were living in different islands. The people on the eastern side have always strongly opposed anything approaching governmental cohesion with the other side. Moreover, for many years past, the south-eastern district of Negros Island has been affected by sporadic apparitions of riotous religious monomaniacs called Santones (vide p. [189]). These conditions, therefore, favoured the nefarious work of the cunning Tagálog and Panay refugees, who found plenty of plastic material in the Negros inhabitants for the fruitful dissemination of the wildest and most fantastic notions anent the horrors awaiting them in the new Anglo-Saxon domination. They found no sympathy with the native government of Occidental Negros, which was as much their enemy as the American troops sent to pursue them, but they entertained the hope that by raising riot in Negros they would draw off troops from Panay, and so favour the movement in that Island. Armed groups rose everywhere against the Americans and the established government. In the south-east the notorious Papa Isio appeared as a Santon, preached idolatry, and drew to his standard a large band of ruffians as skilled as himself in villainous devices. Insurgency, in the true sense of the word, did not exist in Negros; opposition to the American domination was merely a pretext to harass, plunder, and extort funds from the planters and property-owners. The disaffected people increased so largely in numbers that Colonel Smith was obliged to call for reinforcements, and the disturbances only came to an end when it was known that the Panay people had formally laid down their arms in February, 1901. Shortly afterwards Governor W. H. Taft visited Negros Island; the quasi-autonomous government of that region was modified in conformity with the general plan of provincial civil governments, and on August 9, 1901, Leandro Locsin (Ylongo by birth) succeeded to the civil governorship, with a salary of $2,500 gold, by popular vote.

Notwithstanding the severities imposed on the Cebuános during the last eight months of Spanish rule, the Spaniards were able to evacuate Cebú Island without menace or untoward event. For several months the Governor, General Montero, had held in prison, between life and death, a number of Filipinos of the best families, amongst whom was Julio Llorente, who afterwards became President of Cebú and subsequently a magistrate of the Supreme Court of Manila. General Montero made a compact with a young Philippine lawyer, Sergio Osmeña (afterwards acting-Governor of Cebú) that in exchange for two Spaniards held as hostages in the interior he would release Llorente. Osmeña procured the liberty of the Spaniards, but it was only on the eve of his departure that Montero permitted the prison doors to be opened.

On December 26, 1898, a chartered merchant steamer called at Cebú to transport the retiring Spaniards to Zamboanga, the place of concentration designated by General Rios. The farewell was sadly brief, and almost in silence the Governor handed over the government property to a most worthy and loyal Cebúano, Pablo Mejía, who was my esteemed friend for many years. The Governor even offered Mejía about 40 rifles; but Mejía, a lover of order, wrongly believing that a long period of tranquillity was about to set in, declined to accept them. And without any manifestation of regret on the part of the governed, the last vestige of Spanish authority vanished from the city which, 333 years before, was the capital of the Philippine Islands.

On the day following the departure of the Spaniards the Cebuános established a provincial government in agreement with the Katipunan party of Luzon, General Aguinaldoʼs direct representative being Luis Flores, the chief leader of the armed Cebuános, to whom Pablo Mejía handed over all that he had received from the ex-governor Montero. From its establishment up to the last day of its existence, this government used the seal and stamps of the Philippine Republic, and was constituted as follows, viz.:—

Provincial Council

President and Commander-in-Chief	Luis Flores.
Vice-President	Julio Llorente.
Commissioner of Police	Gen. Arcadio Maxílom.
Treasurer-General	Pablo Mejía.
Minister of Justice	Miguel Logarta.
Secretary to the Council	Leoncio Alburo.

Military Department

Chief-of-Staff	Gen. Juan Clímaco.
Military Administrator	Arsenio Clímaco. (Half-caste Chinese and cousins.)

Municipal Council (Junta Popular)

Mayor	Julio Llorente.
Councillors	Several citizens elected by popular vote.

The above constitution was in conformity with a decree of General Aguinaldo dated June 18, 1898, and countersigned by Apolinario Mabini. Local representatives of the provincial government were appointed throughout the Island for the collection of taxes and the maintenance of order, and the system worked fairly smoothly until the arrival of the Americans in Cebú City, February 21, 1899. On that date the American gunboat Petrel and a large steam-launch suddenly appeared in Cebú harbour. The United States Vice-Consul seems to have been the only person who had received prior advice of their intended arrival. The commander of the Petrel sent a message ashore saying that he desired an interview with the government representatives and that he demanded the surrender of the city, and gave 14 hours to the people to consider his demands; but, as a matter of fact, the negotiations lasted about 24 hours, during which time a council of Filipinos was hurriedly called to decide upon the course the provincial government should adopt. Very divergent and extreme views were expressed; Pablo Mejía, supported by Julio Llorente and Father Julià, advocated an acceptance of the inevitable under protest, whilst General Gabino Sepúlveda declared that he would spill his last drop of blood before the Americans should take possession of the city. But, in the end, Sepúlveda reserved his blood for a better occasion, and eventually accepted employment under the Americans as prosecuting attorney in Bojol Island. Pablo Mejíaʼs advice was acted upon, and in the name of the Cebuános, Luis Flores, the President of the Council, signed a protest[10] which was handed to the commander of the Petrel by Pablo Mejía and Julio Llorente in the presence of the United States Vice-Consul. The commander of the Petrel forthwith landed 40 marines, who marched to the Cotta de San Pedro (the fortress) and hoisted the American flag there in the presence of armed Filipinos who looked on in silence. The marines then returned to their vessel, which remained inactive anchored off the cotta, pending the arrival of reinforcements which were sent to Cebú under the command of Colonel Hamer. The provincial government was permitted to continue its functions and use its official seal, and during five months there was no manifest anti-American movement. During this period the American commander of the troops adopted tactics similar to those employed by General E. S. Otis in Manila against Aguinaldo prior to the outbreak in February, 1899. Little by little the Americans required the armed Filipinos to retire farther and farther away from the capital. This practical isolation disgusted the several chiefs, who therefore agreed to open the campaign against the invaders. Every act of the provincial councillors was closely watched and discussed by the Cebuános, amongst whom an intransigent faction secretly charged Mejía and Llorente with being lukewarm in their protection of Philippine interests and unduly favourable to American dominion. Their death was decreed, and Mejía was assassinated as he was passing to his house from that of a neighbour a few yards off. Luis Flores had already resigned public office, and Llorente was, at this time, his successor in the presidency of the Council. Fortunately for him, whilst the murderers were plotting against his life he was called to Manila by General E. S. Otis, two weeks after Mejíaʼs death, to become a magistrate in the Supreme Court. Segundo Singson (afterwards chief judge of the Court of First Instance) then assumed the presidency of the provincial council.

On July 24, 1899, Juan Clímaco and Arcadio Maxílom, chafing at the diminution of their influence in public affairs, suddenly disappeared into the interior and met at Pardo, where the military revolutionary centre was established. Aguinaldoʼs emissary, Pantaleon E. del Rosario, Melquiades Lasala, a Cebuáno of Bogó (known as Dading), Andrés Jayme, Lorega, and an Ilocano named Mateo Luga who had served in the Spanish army, led contingents under the supreme command of the insurgent General Arcadio Maxilom. In the interior they established a fairly well-organized military government. The Island was divided into districts; there was little interference with personal liberty; taxes for the maintenance of the struggle were collected in the form of contribution according to the means of the donor; agriculture was not altogether abandoned, and for over two years the insurgents held out against American rule. The brain of the movement was centred in Juan Clímaco, whilst Mateo Luga exhibited the best fighting qualities. In the meantime American troops were drafted to the coast towns of Tubúran, Bogó, Cármen, etc. There were several severe engagements with slaughter on both sides, notably at Monte Súdlon and Compostela. Five white men joined the insurgent leader Luga, one being an English mercenary trooper, two sailors, and two soldiers; the last two were given up at the close of hostilities; one of them was pardoned, and the other was executed in the cotta for rape committed at Mandaue.

The co-existence of an American military administration in Cebú City conducting a war throughout the Island, and a Philippine provincial government with nominal administrative powers over the same region, but in strong sympathy with the insurgent cause, was no longer compatible. Moreover, outside the city the provincial government was unable to enforce its decrees amongst the people, who recognized solely the martial-law of the insurgents to whom they had to pay taxes. The Americans therefore abolished the provincial council, which was not grieved at its dissolution, because it was already accused by the people of being pro-American. Philippine views of the situation were expressed in a newspaper, El Nuevo Dia, founded by a lawyer, Rafael Palma, and edited conjointly by Jayme Veyra (afterwards a candidate for the Leyte Island governorship) and an intelligent young lawyer, Sergio Osmeña, already mentioned at p. [521]. This organ, the type and style of which favourably compared with any journal ever produced in these Islands, passed through many vicissitudes; it was alternately suppressed and revived, whilst its editors were threatened with imprisonment in the cotta and deportation to Guam. Meanwhile the Americans made strenuous efforts to secure the co-operation of the Filipinos in municipal administration, but the people refused to vote. Leading citizens, cited to appear before the American authorities, persistently declined to take any part in a dual régime. The electors were then ordered, under penalties, to attend the polling, but out of the hundreds who responded to the call only about 60 could be coerced into voting. Finally a packed municipal council was formed, but one of its members, a man hitherto highly respected by all, was assassinated, and his colleagues went in fear of their lives.

The war in Panay Island having terminated on February 2, 1901, by the general surrender at Jaro (vide p. [518]), General Hughes went to Sámar Island, where he failed to restore peace, and thence he proceeded to Cebú in the month of August at the head of 2,000 troops. A vigorous policy of devastation was adopted. Towns, villages and crops were laid waste; Pardo, the insurgent military centre, was totally destroyed; peaceful natives who had compulsorily paid tribute to the insurgents at whose mercy they were obliged to live, were treated as enemies; their homes and means of livelihood were demolished, and little distinction was made between the warrior and the victim of the war. Desolation stared the people in the face, and within a few weeks the native provincial governor proposed that terms of peace should be discussed. The insurgent chief Lorega surrendered on October 22; Mateo Luga and Arcadio Maxílom submitted five days afterwards and at the end of the month a general cessation of hostilities followed. A neutral zone was agreed upon, extending from Mandaue to Sógod, and there the three peace commissioners on behalf of the Americans, namely Miguel Logarta, Pedro Rodriguez, and Arsenio Clímaco met the insurgent chiefs Juan Clímaco and Arcadio Maxilom. As a result, peace was signed, and the document includes the following significant words, viz.: “putting the Philippine people in a condition to prove their aptitude for self-government as the basis of a future independent life.” The signatories of this document on the part of the Filipinos were Pantaleon E. del Rosario, Melquiades Lasala and Andrés Jayme. After the peace, Mateo Luga and P. E. del Rosario accepted employment under the Americans, the former as Inspector of Constabulary and the latter as Sheriff of Cebú. A few months later, the Americans, acting on information received, proceeded to Tubúran on the government launch Philadelphia, arrested Arcadio Maxílom and his two brothers, and seized the arms which they had secreted on their property. On the launch, one of the Maxíloms unsuccessfully attempted to murder the Americans and was immediately executed, whilst Arcadio and his other brother jumped overboard; but Arcadio being unable to swim, was picked up, brought to trial at Cebú, and acquitted. Thus ended the career of General Arcadio Maxílom, whom in 1904 I found living in retirement, almost a hermitʼs life, broken in spirit and body and worried by numerous lawsuits pending against him.

On April 17,1901, Governor W. H. Taft went to Cebú accompanied by a Filipino, H. Pardo de Tavera, whose views were diametrically opposed to those of the Cebuáno majority. Governor Taft established civil government there, although the law of habeas corpus had to be suspended because the war was still raging throughout the Island outside the capital. The provincial government as established by Governor Taft comprises a provincial board composed of three members, namely the Philippine Provincial Governor, the American Supervisor, and the American Treasurer: hence the Americans are in permanent majority and practically rule the Island. The executive of this body is the provincial governor and his staff. The first provincial governor appointed by Governor Taft was Julio Llorente, who resigned the magistracy in Manila and returned to Cebú to take up his new office until the elections took place in January, 1902, when, by popular vote, Juan Clímaco, the ex-insurgent chief, became provincial governor, and on the expiration of his term in January, 1904, he was re-elected for another two years.

There is no noteworthy change in the aspect of Cebú since the American occupation. It is a regularly-built city, with hundreds of good houses, many relatively imposing public buildings, monuments, churches, and interesting edifices. It is a cathedral city and bishopʼs see, full of historical remininscences, and has still a very pleasant appearance, notwithstanding its partial destruction and the many remaining ruins caused by the bombardment by the Spanish warship Don Juan de Austria in April 1838, (vide p. [403]). Of special interest are the Cathedral, the Church of Santo Nino, or the “Holy Child of Cebú” (vide p. [183]), the Chapels of the Paul Fathers and of the Jesuits, and the Cotta de San Pedro (fortress). Also, just outside the city proper is the Church of San Nicolás. Up to about the year 1876 the Jesuits had a fine church of their own, but the friars, jealous of its having become the most popular place of worship, caused it to be destroyed. Until a few years ago the quarter known as the, Parian was the flourishing centre of the half-caste traders. There was also a busy street of Chinese general shops and native ready-made clothiers in the Lutao district, a thoroughfare which ran along the seashore from the south of the city proper towards San Nicolás; it was completely destroyed by the bombardment of 1898, and many of the shopkeepers have erected new premises in the principal shopping street, called Calle de la Infanta. Again, in 1905, a disastrous fire in the business quarter of the city caused damage to the estimated extent of $500,000 gold.

There is a little colony of foreign merchants in Cebú, which formerly ranked as the third port of the Archipelago, but now stands second in importance to Manila (vide Trade Statistics, Chap. [xxxi].). Several vice-consulates are established here, and in Spanish times it was the residence of the military governor of Visayas as well as of the governor of the Island and his staff of officials. In 1886 a Supreme Court was inaugurated in Cebú. This city, which was the capital of the Colony from 1565 to 1571, had a municipality up to the time of Gov.-General Pedro de Arándia (1754–59). It was then abolished because there was only one Spaniard capable of being a city councillor. One alderman who had served—Juan Sebastian de Espina—could neither read nor write, and the mayor himself had been deprived of office for having tried to extort money from a Chinaman by putting his head in the stocks. By Royal Order dated June 7, 1889, and put into force by the Gov.-Generalʼs Decree of January 31, 1890, the municipality was re-established. The president was the governor of the Island, supported by an Alcalde and 13 officials. For the government of the Island under the Spanish regime, vide Chap. [xiii].

The municipality at present existing is that established by the Taft Commission. The Press, in the days of the Spaniards, was poorly represented by a little news-sheet, styled the Boletin de Cebú. There are now two periodicals of little or no interest.

There are two large cemeteries at Guadalupe and Mabolo. In 1887 a shooting-butts was established at the end of the Guadalupe road, and the annual pony-races take place in January. On the Mabolo road there is a Leper Hospital, and the ruins of a partly well-built jail which was never completed.

Cebú is a port of entry open to foreign trade, with a Custom-house established since the year 1863. The channel for vessels is marked by buoys, and there are two lighthouses at the north and two at the south entrance to the port. The environs are pretty, with Magtan Island (on which Maghallanes was killed) in front and a range of hills in the background. There are excellent roads for riding and driving a few miles out of the city. The climate is very healthy for Europeans; the low ranges of mountains running north to south of the Island are sparsely wooded, some being quite bare of trees, and the atmosphere is comparatively dry. The cactus is very common all over the Island, and miles of it are seen growing in the hedges. About an hour and a halfʼs drive from Cebú City there is the little town of Naga, the environs of which are extremely pretty. From the top of Makdoc Mountain, at the back of the town, there is a splendid view of the Pandan Valley.

The Cebuános are the most sociable of the Visaya population, whilst the women are the best-looking of all the Filipinas of pure Oriental descent.

Of all places in the Philippines Cebú will please the conchologist. An old native named Legaspi once had a splendid shell collection, which he freely exhibited to foreigners. At one time he had a Gloria Maris, which he sold for $150, and some Russian naval officers are said to have offered him $5,000 for a part of his collection. At certain seasons of the year the Euplectella speciosa, Gray, or Venus baskets, locally known as Regaderas, can be obtained in quantities; they are found in the Cebú waters. The Eup. spec, is the skeleton secretion of an insect of the Porifera division. The basket is a series of graceful fretted spirals. Also fine Piña stuffs can be purchased here.

The population of Cebú City was 9,629 in 1888; 10,972 in 1896; and 18,330 in 1903. The inhabitants of the whole Island numbered 417,543 in 1876; 518,032 in 1888; 595,726 in 1896; and 653,727 in 1903.

In March, 1899, an American armed force was detailed from Cebú City to Bojol Island to demand the surrender of the native provincial government established there since the Spanish evacuation. Interpreters from Cebú were sent ashore, and after hearing their explanation of the Americans demands the native president in council resolved to yield peacefully. A volunteer regiment was then sent ashore, positions were occupied, and all went smoothly on the surface until the Islandersʼ powers of endurance were exhausted after 22 months of alleged harsh treatment imposed upon them by the troops. In January, 1901, the cry of rebellion was raised by one Pedro Sanson, whose band of Bojolanos, augmented by levies from Leyte, Sámar, and Panay Islands numbered about 2,000. Expeditions were sent out against them, and the lukewarm sympathy of the Islanders was turned to general indignation against the Americans by the alleged wanton destruction of a whole town by fire, by order of a captain of volunteers. Practically the whole Island became covertly anti-American. Having finished his campaign in Cebú Island in October, 1901, General Hughes carried his troops over to Bojol Island, where measures of repression were adopted similar to those which had been so effective in reducing the Cebuános to submission. A large number of small towns and villages within the range of military operations were entirely destroyed. The once pretty little town of Lauang was left a complete ruin, and many landmarks of a former progressive civilization have disappeared for ever. Nevertheless, the insurgents refused to yield until a decree was issued to the effect that if the leaders did not surrender by December 27 the invaders would burn down the town of Tagbiláran. In this town, formerly the seat of the native provincial government, Pedro Sanson and most of his officers had all their property and worldly possessions; and in view of the beggary which awaited them if they held out any longer, they accepted terms of peace from Pantaleon E. del Rosario, who went up to the mountains and acted as negotiator between General Hughes and the insurgent chiefs who finally surrendered. The Filipino, Aniceto Clarin, appointed provincial governor on April 20, 1901, continued in office; Pedro Sanson quietly resumed his occupation of dealer in hemp, etc., and thenceforth peace and poverty reigned in the Island.

In Cottabato (Mindanao Is.), the attempt to establish a local native government ended in tragic failure. In January, 1899, a Spanish gunboat silently entered the port without the customary whistling and firing of salute. It brought a despatch to the Governor from the nominal acting-Gov.-General Rios, who, coming from Yloilo, called at Zamboanga before proceeding to Manila, to receive on board a number of Spanish refugees. One of the crew of the gunboat also brought a private communication from the Jesuit Superior in Zamboanga to the Jesuit missionary Father Suarez. The official despatch notified the Governor that the Treaty of Paris had been signed, and consequently he was to evacuate Cottabato immediately. The private communication told the same tale to the missionary, with an inquiry from the Jesuit Superior as to whether he could continue his mission after the withdrawal of the Spanish Governor, and whether it would be of any advantage to do so. The Governor informed the missionary of his intended departure, and the missionary replied negatively to his superior in Zamboanga. The Governor then called Roman Vilo, his confidential christian native assistant, and told him that he and all who had been loyal to the Spanish Government and faithful in their service could take passage to Zamboanga. Vilo, however, for himself and his family, declined the offer on the ground that all his interests were in and about Cottabato, where he possessed real estate. The Governor then had the Moro-Chinese half-caste Datto Piang called, and in the presence of Vilo the former was appointed chief of the Moro people and the latter governor of the christian population. After making a short speech, exhorting the two chiefs, in benevolent phrases, to live in peace and act mutually for the common good, the Governor, accompanied by the Jesuit missionaries and others who were desirous of leaving the place, went to Zamboanga on the gunboat.

When, after the lapse of some weeks, Datto Piang felt sure that the Spaniards would never be again in authority at Cottabato, he begged Vilo to let him have twenty rifles to defend himself against a rival. The christian governor agreed to this, and week by week Datto Piangʼs demands grew until, at length, all the rifles in the possession of the Christians passed to the Moros. But there still remained some cannons, and Datto Piang, having represented the necessity of making war on another chief up the Cottabato River, Vilo was persuaded to lend them to him. Piang had them placed in vintas (war-junks) and Vilo, with several friends, went down to the river-side to witness the departure of the supposed armed expedition. Suddenly Piang, his son-in-law Datto Ali and this manʼs brother, Datto Djimbangan, at the head of a large party of armed Moros, fell upon and slaughtered the Christians. Viloʼs head was cut off and the savage Mahometans made a raid on the town, looting all but the shops of the Chinese who were in league, or accord, with their half-countryman Piang. The Christians who were unable to escape were either massacred or carried off as slaves into the interior, with the loot. Datto Djimbangan caused the Christian women to be stripped naked and marched through the streets, whilst he and his companions made their selections for themselves, leaving the remainder for their followers. Amongst the captives were a father and two sons. In October, 1899, the Americans sent a gunboat to Cottabato, and the wife of this captive, mother of his two boys, represented her plight to the commander, who forthwith sent for Piang and ordered him immediately to send a message to the individual holding the captives to release them and hand them over to the messenger, who would conduct them back to Cottabato. Piang, without a momentʼs hesitation, offered to comply, and sent a vinta up the river with the required order, but at the same time he secretly sent another emissary overland with contrary instructions. The land messenger, as was expected, arrived first, and when the vinta party reached the place of captivity, Piangʼs people expressed their regret that they could not oblige the party because they had just cut off the captivesʼ heads. In 1904 a member of the victimsʼ family was a teacher in the Jesuitsʼ Catholic School in Zamboanga. Datto Piang, who owes his position and influence over the Moros to the protection of the late great Datto Utto (vide p. [143]) is the father-in-law of the terrible Datto Ali whose continual depredations and defiance made Cottabato the centre of that unabated conflict for the Americans described in Chapter [xxix].

In the belief that the Zamboangueños were loyally disposed towards Spain, the Spaniards, after the signing of the Treaty of Paris, chose Zamboanga (Mindanao Is.) as their point of concentration of all the Spanish troops and civil servants in the southern islands. At that time General Jaramillo was Gov.-General of Mindanao Island and commander of the forces in Zamboanga; but on the arrival there, December 27, 1898, of the ex-governor of Cebu, General Montero, with his co-refugees, General Jaramillo transferred his command to him and left for Manila with General Rios, who had come from Yloilo to Zamboanga to receive refugee passengers for the capital. Before his departure Jaramillo had led the Zamboangueño Christians to believe that the war with America was, at every turn, a triumphant success for Spanish arms; fictitious printed telegrams were circulated announcing Spanish victories everywhere, and one of the most extravagant reported that General Weyler had landed on American soil at Key West with an army of 80,000 Spanish troops. The motive of this harmless ruse was to bolster up Spanish prestige and thereby avoid bloodshed. During several months no trading or mail-steamer came, and the Zamboangueños were practically cut off from the rest of the world. Military preparations were made for the feigned purpose of resisting a possible attack on the place by the Americans, who were described to the people as cannibals and ferocious monsters more terrible than the dreaded Moros. Naturally the real object of the military preparations was the Spaniardsʼ justifiable endeavour to be ready to defend themselves against open rebellion when the true situation should ooze out. Nor was their misrepresentation of the Americans mere spiteful calumny; the Spaniards were in great jeopardy, and they instinctively wished to destroy any feeling of welcome which the natives might have for the new-comers for fear it might operate against themselves at the supreme moment of danger. Indeed, each party—native and Spanish—was seeking to outwit the other; hence, when the Zamboangueños were promised a supply of arms for the ostensible purpose of resisting invasion, they pretended to co-operate heartily with the Spaniardsʼ defensive measures, with the secret design of dispossessing the Spaniards of their arms in order to use them against them. The Zamboangueños therefore became so persistent in their demand upon Montero to fulfil his predecessorʼs promise that at last he had frankly to confess that peace had been signed between Spain and America, whereby the Islands were surrendered to the United States, and that very shortly the Spaniards would evacuate the Archipelago. But the conflicting versions of the situation, published severally by Jaramillo and Montero, sorely puzzled the natives. The Spaniards were still in undisturbed possession of Zamboanga for over four months after Monteroʼs arrival, notwithstanding the fact that the American warship Boston called at the port and left the same day and that an officer came ashore without the least objection or consternation on the part of the Spaniards. The orange-and-red flag still floated over the Fortress del Pilar, and, so far as the Zamboangueños could ascertain, it looked as if the Spaniards were going to remain. They therefore clamoured more loudly than ever for the distribution of arms, which this time Montero positively refused, for the Spaniards had never for a moment been deceived as to the real intentions of the Zamboangueños. On the other hand, by this time, their inoffensive delusion of the people had lost its virtue, and natives and Spaniards thenceforth became open enemies. After the visit of the Boston the fighting population, no longer able to conceal their disappointment, threw off the mask, quitted the town, cut off the water-supply which came from the mountains, in collusion with the mutinied crews seized the firearms on board the Spanish gunboats lying in the harbour, and prepared for war against their old masters. The Spaniards immediately compelled the non-combatant townspeople and the Chinese to throw up earthworks for mounting artillery and dig trenches for defence against the rebels. The gunboat Alava co-operated by firing shells into the rebel camp situated just outside the town. The rebels made two unsuccessful assaults, and in the second attack General Montero was mortally wounded by a rifle-shot. On May 23 the S.S. Leon XIII. arrived; the Spaniards silently embarked for Manila with their dying general, who succumbed during the voyage, and Zamboanga, one-fourth of which the defenders had destroyed by fire, was occupied by the rebels. During the siege the Filipinos, true to their instincts, had split up into two rival factions headed by Vicente Alvarez and Isidoro Midel respectively, and in the interval between the first and second assault on the town these party chiefs had fought out their own quarrel, Midel claiming to have been the victor. Nevertheless, the popular favourite was Vicente Alvarez, known as the Tamagun Datto (high chief), who became the chosen president of the Zamboanga revolutionary government established immediately after the Spanish evacuation. Party spirit ran high; life was held in little esteem; a lifeless body found on the highway startled no one; assassination was an occurrence of small moment; cattle-shooting was practised for amusement, and the five-and-a-half monthsʼ essay of christian Philippine autonomy was so signalized by jealous self-interest, bitter rivalry, rapacity, and bloodshed as to make one doubt whether the christian Zamboangueño is one whit superior to his Mahometan neighbour in moral character.

The arrival of an American expedition in the waters of Zamboanga on November 15, 1899, produced a sanguinary crisis in these faction feuds. Vicente Alvarez at once took measures to oppose the invadersʼ landing, whilst his rival, Isidoro Midel, resolved to side with the Americans. Divide et impera. The want of unity amongst the natives themselves was a great help to the Americansʼ plans. By this time there appeared a third aspirant to local fame in the person of Melanio Sanson, a native marine engineer, until recently in the Spanish service, who pretended to co-operate with Alvarez, styling himself colonel of artillery in charge of the guns abandoned by his former masters. Each of these three individuals sought to rid himself of his two rivals. On the night of November 15 Isidoro Midel ended Melanio Sansonʼs rivalry for ever, and the Americans took peaceful possession of the town the next day. Subsequently Midel arranged a transfer to the Americans of the artillery which had, during the conflict, been under Sansonʼs control. Vicente Alvarez immediately fled to Mercedes, and thence to Basilan Island, where, aided by Datto Pedro Cuevas, he organized a brigand band, crossed over to Mindanao Island again, and made a raid on Oriquieta. Chased from place to place by American troops, he was finally captured and sent to Bilibid prison in Manila, but was subsequently pardoned on his taking the oath of allegiance, and sent back to Zamboanga, where he earns his living peacefully. Meanwhile, Isidoro Midel had been further rewarded for his services to the Americans with the office of municipal president, which he held for about 16 months in defiance of public opinion. The feeling which prompted public opposition to Midelʼs appointment was at least as much anti-American as it was dislike for the nominee. In March, 1901, municipal elections were held, and Mariano Arquiza succeeded, by popular vote, to the presidency, which he held for two years. Some weeks before Arquiza vacated office two American miners were murdered by the natives a few miles up the province. The murderers, when caught, sought to justify their deed by alleging that a municipal councillor named Eduardo Alvarez (no relation to the Vicente Alvarez already mentioned) had persuaded them that the miners were secretly engaged in poisoning the local wells. The whole municipal council was therefore cited to appear before the American Governor, who severely reprimanded Alvarez, whereupon this man withdrew from the audience-chamber, and his fellow-councillors volunteered such information against him that the Governor instantly issued a warrant for his apprehension. But the native police who went to his house to execute the warrant let him escape on horseback to the mountains, where he organized a band of outlaws and lived for about four months by robbery and violence. Under these circumstances the American Governor summarily dismissed Mariano Arquiza from the municipal presidency in the spring of 1903, and, much to the public chagrin, re-appointed Midel to the vacancy. The offer of $1,000 for the capture of Eduardo Alvarez spurred Midel into further activity, and under his direction the bandit was discovered hiding in a canoe in a swamp. On the approach of his pursuers the outlaw threw up his hands in sign of surrender, which was responded to by a volley of gunshots, for it was Alvarezʼs corpse which was wanted in Zamboanga. Isidoro Midel is an interesting character, apparently about forty-eight years of age. Brought up as a Roman Catholic, he assured me that he was a Protestant, with the strongest sympathy, however, for the Aglipayan movement (vide Chap. [xxx].).

Another interesting man, closely associated with recent events in Zamboanga, is the Mahometan Spanish-Moro half-caste Datto Mandi, the Rajahmudah or heir-apparent to the Manguiguin or Sultan of Mindanao (vide p. [131]). Born about the year 1860, he and his tribe of Sámals lived on friendly terms with the Spaniards, who in 1887 sent him and a number of his people to the Philippine Exhibition held in Madrid in that year. His exploits in aid of the Spaniards in Cebú are recorded at page 406. He speaks Spanish fluently, and can just write his name. He is very affable and hospitable to visitors. The whole family professes the Mahometan religion. He has a beautiful daughter Gafas (which in Moro language signifies “cotton,” and in Spanish “spectacles”), who attended the American School. His young son Facundo also goes to the American School, and his other son Pelayo went to the Catholic School in Zamboanga before he was sent to Manila. I was much struck with the intelligence of this handsome boy Pelayo. In the stirring events which immediately followed the Spanish evacuation, Datto Mandi remained neutral, his old antagonism to Alvarez being counterpoised by the conviction that a Zamboanga republic must end in a fiasco. He at once accepted the new situation under American dominion, and is headman of the Sámal tribal ward of Magay, a suburb of Zamboanga. He told me in 1904 that he held under his control 9,600 persons, from 1,700 of whom he collected capitation tax for the American authorities. At the instance of the Americans, Datto Mandi issued a proclamation to his tribe, dated April 19, 1900, abolishing their traditional custom of slavery. His position is not at all an easy one, and it needs much tact to maintain an even balance of goodwill between his Sámal subordinates and his American superiors. But Datto Mandi had a grievance which rankled in his breast. In the year 1868 the Spanish Government conceded to a christian native family named Fuentebella some 600 acres of land at Buluan, about 40 miles up the Zamboanga coast, which in time they converted into a prosperous plantation well stocked with cattle. During the anarchy which succeeded the Spanish evacuation, a band of about 600 Moros raided the property, murdered seven of the christian residents, and stole all they could possibly carry away from the plantation and well-furnished estate-house. When Datto Mandi heard of it he went there in person and rescued the women held in captivity and brought them to Zamboanga, where they lived in perfect security under his protection until the American advent. Then, in return for his kindness, these women accused the Datto of having been the instigator of the crime, or, at least, a participator in the proceeds thereof, in the hope that, through the Americans, they would be able to exact an indemnity. The Datto was mulcted in the sum of 5,000 pesos, although he declared to me that neither before nor after the crime was he in any way concerned in it; and this was the honest belief of many American officials in Zamboanga.

An Arabian Hadji

Missionary and Expounder of the Koran.

In January, 1905, Datto Mandiʼs daughter was married at a little town a few miles from Yligan (north Mindanao). Several American officers were present on the occasion, accompanied by a Spanish half-caste who acted as their interpreter. The assembled guests were having a merry time when suddenly the festivities were interrupted by the intrusion of a juramentado Moro fanatic, who sprang forward with his campilán and at one blow almost severed the interpreterʼs head from his body. Then he turned his attention to the other natives, mortally wounded two, and cut gashes in several others before he fell dead from the revolver-shots fired by the American officers. After the dead and wounded were carried away and the pools of blood were mopped up, the wedding ceremony was proceeded with and the hymeneal festival was resumed without further untoward incident.

Rajahmudah Datto Mandi and Wife

(From a portrait presented by him to the Author.)

Zamboanga is a clean, pleasant town, and what was left of it after the Spanish evacution is well built, with many substantial houses and public offices, a church administered by the Jesuits, one large and one small jetty, a pretty esplanade facing the sea, and other open spaces. A canal running through the town adds to its picturesqueness. At the eastern extremity is the old fortress, called the Fuerza del Pilar, a fine historical monument reminding one of the Spaniardsʼ many vicissitudes in this region, alluded to in the preceding pages. Many of the natives concerned, or alleged to have been concerned, in the Cavite Rising of 1872 (vide p. [106]) were confined in this fortress. They overcame their jailors and obtained possession of the guns and ammunition. The Spaniards were consequently in great straits, for possibly their existence depended on which side the townspeople took. The Zamboangueños, however, helped the Spaniards against the revolted convicts, who were finally subdued; and as a reward for this proof of loyalty Zamboanga received the title of Muy leal y valiente Villa (very loyal and heroic town). Many years ago a Moro attack was made on Zamboanga, and the Christian natives joined with the Spaniards in repelling it. It would have gone rather badly with them if they had not done so, for a Philippine Christian was just as good fish for the Moro net as a Spaniard. However, their co-operation was gratefully acknowledged by declaring the Zamboangueños to be Spaniards of the first class.

I have never been able to discern clearly what material advantage this brought them, although I have discussed the question on the spot. The disadvantage of this pompous distinction to the town arose from the ridiculous popular notion that whereas Spaniards in Spain are all cavaliers, they too, as Spaniards of the first water, ought to regard work as a degradation. Hence they are a remarkably indolent and effete community, and on landing from a ship there is seldom a porter to be seen to carry oneʼs luggage. Their speech is a dialect called Chabucano—a mixture of very corrupt Spanish and native tongues.

The environment of Zamboanga is very beautiful, with islands to the south and mountain scenery on the land sides. The climate is healthy, and with the frequent delightful breezes wafted across the Celebes Sea is not at all oppressive for a tropical region, and is cooler than Manila, which is 425 miles north.

The people of Sámar Island for a long time tenaciously opposed the American occupation, under several leaders, notably Vicente Lucban and his right-hand man, Guevara; but neither here, nor in Marinduque Island can it be said that native civil government was established. In the latter Island the insurgent chief was the titular Colonel Abad, who overran the villages with about 150 followers armed with rifles. In 1901 Abad surrendered, and hostilities, with real political aim, definitely ended in these Islands thirteen months after the capture of Aguinaldo in Luzon. Although in Sámar Island the war was, as elsewhere, a succession of petty encounters, there were incidents in its prosecution which attracted much public attention from time to time. At the town of Balangiga, on September 28, 1901, the local headman and the native parish priest conspired with about 450 armed natives to attack the American camp. The garrison stationed there was Company “C,” 9th Infantry. The headman had represented to the Americans that he was busy with an important capture of about 90 brigands, and on this pretext some 45 cut-throats were brought into the town and lodged in the church. Three officers of the garrison were quartered in the parish-house, and whilst the rank-and-file were at breakfast in a bamboo building, some distance away from their quarters where they had left their weapons, another 45 supposed brigands were led through the town to the church, but naturally the soldiers took little notice of this expected event. The town is surrounded on one side by the open valley and on three sides by almost perpendicular mountains, with defiles between them leading to the interior of the Island. As soon as the last batch of supposed brigands was brought in, the church bells were rung as a signal for a mob of natives, armed with bowie-knives, to creep silently through the defiles on two sides. The troopers were just then suddenly alarmed by the noise of a conflict in the parish-house. The 90 so-called brigands having been passed through from the church into this house, fired at the three officers and then killed them with their bowie-knives. Simultaneously the soldiersʼ quarters were attacked. Whilst the troops made a rush forward to secure their weapons they were intercepted by an armed crowd, through which a small party of Americans finally cut their way and beat off the howling mob, which had already slaughtered many soldiers, set fire to the quarters, and possessed themselves of over 50 rifles and several thousand rounds of ammunition. A large number of hostile natives, including the headman, were killed; 28 Americans effected their escape, but the loss amounted to three officers and about 70 men killed and several more men wounded. General Hughes, in command of the Visayas District, was operating in Cebú Island at the time of this disaster. Public excitement was intense when the news of this serious reverse was published. The general who was sent to Sámar to pursue the insurgents, or bandits, is alleged to have issued, in a moment of uncontrollable wrath, an order to “slay all over ten years and make Sámar a howling wilderness.” Consequently a great cry of public protest was raised, and the general and his executive officer in the affair were cited before a court-martial in April, 1902; but the court having found that the general was justified in the measures he took, both officers were acquitted. Since the capture of Lucban (April 27, 1902), lawless agitation has been persistently rife all over the Island of Sámar; but this is the work of brigands (vide p. [551]) and has no political signification.

[1] Raymundo Melliza, a Visayan lawyer, who afterwards became Provincial Governor of Yloilo, is the son of Cornelio Melliza, of Molo, a man much respected both by natives and foreigners.

[2] A verbal statement made to me by ex-insurgent General Pablo Araneta, which I took down in writing at the time of the interview.

[3] When I asked ex-General Pablo Araneta the same question he naïvely explained to me that it was thought if the Americans came ashore and found the town in ruins they would relinquish their undertaking!

[4] The See of Jaro was created in 1867. The town was already rich with its trade in piña and jusi (vide p. [283], footnote). Up to 1876 Yloilo town was merely a group of houses built for commercial convenience.

[5] Vide p. [169]. Castila in the North; Cachila in the South; signifying European, and said to be derived from the Spaniardsʼ war-cry of Viva Castilla!

[6] “Water-cure” was a method adopted by the Americans. Water was poured down the throat of the victim until the stomach was distended to the full; then it was pressed out again and the operation repeated. The pretext for this mode of torture was to extort confession; but it was quite inefficacious; because the victim was usually disposed to say anything, true or false, for his own salvation. The “water-cure” operation, in vogue for awhile all over the Islands, proved fatal in many cases. It is now a penal offence (Phil. Com. Act 619, Sec. 2).

[7] Otong in olden times was a place of importance when the galleons put in there on their way to and from Mexico, taking the longer route in order to avoid the strong currents of the San Bernardino Straits.

Under the old territorial division, the Jurisdiction of Otong comprised all Panay Island (except a strip of land all along the north coast—formerly Panay Province, now called Cápis) and a point here and there on the almost unexplored Negros coast. Galleons were sometimes built at Otong, which was on several occasions attacked by the Dutch. Yloilo at that time was an insignificant fishing-village.

[8] A half-caste Chinese family of large means and local influence.

[9] Esteban de la Rama is of the family of the late Isidro de la Rama, a well-known prosperous and enterprising Yloilo merchant. Pedro Regalado, personally known to me, is the son of my late friend José Regalado, at one time a wealthy middleman, who, however, lost his fortune in adverse speculations. Pedro Regalado and I were, at one time, together in Hong-Kong, where he learnt English. On the entry of the American troops into Yloilo he was imprisoned on a charge of disaffection, but shortly released and appointed a government interpreter.

[10] The protest contained the following significant clauses, viz: (1) “Ceder á tal exigencia en vista de la superioridad de las armas Americanas. (2) No tener poder, ni la provincia ni todos los habitantes juntos, de ejecutar actas como esta, prohibidas por el Presidente de la República, Señor Emilio Aguinaldo.”—Extracts taken by myself from the official copy of the protest.