Practically, I had ordered the soldiers not to fire under any circumstances unless some Moro drew a weapon. Mr. Olney Bondurant, assistant to the provincial governor for work among the Moros, had been taking a hasty look back of the houses and was returning to tell me that they were full of armed men. The Moro above mentioned, just before meeting Bondurant, reached into a bush and drew out two of the cruel fighting knives known as baróngs. They were in their flat sheaths, and lay one on top of the other. Snatching the upper one from its scabbard, he struck a wicked blow at Bondurant as the latter passed him on the trail. Bondurant, who was quick as a cat, dodged the blow, then whirled and shot his assailant. Instantly armed men with drawn weapons began to boil out of the houses on the side farthest from us, and those soldiers who were in a position to see them promptly opened fire. Other Moros also began to pop up at the edge of the forest, and we had a bit of a scrimmage, lively enough while it lasted. I took no part in it, but with three soldiers helping me compelled eleven men of the group with whom we had been talking to sit down, and kept them sitting until the unpleasantness was over, as I wanted to talk with them. I then told the head man to stand up.
He was very reluctant to do this, obviously expecting to be shot, but no such fate was in store for him. On the contrary, I gave him a lecture, told him where certain wounded and certain dead Moros were to be found, and instructed him and his people first to care for the wounded; second, to bury the dead; third, to go to Tumay’s place and tell him that although I had come to make a friendly call on him, my party had been attacked by his people, but that the only men who had been hurt were those who had endeavoured to use their weapons on us. I furthermore directed him to tell Tumay that he must come across the island to the place where Mr. Bondurant lived, and explain this extraordinary occurrence. We then took our departure, marching down the beach a mile to our launch, and expecting every moment to be fired on from the dense forest close at hand.
We learned from a wounded Moro that our party had been mistaken at a distance for that of Governor Miller. On his last trip around the island he had been threatened by Tumay, who surrounded him with a strong body of armed men and talked to him in a very insulting manner. Miller, who had but a single companion, knew himself to be at Tumay’s mercy, and believing that he was in grave danger of being killed and that only a bluff could save him, slapped Tumay’s face vigorously and then gave him a strong piece of his mind. Tumay, overawed at such temerity, allowed him to depart in safety. Before leaving, Governor Miller exercised his lawful authority to order Tumay to take his people and move to the east coast of the island.[3] Tumay begged that his people be allowed to harvest some rice which he said they had planted, and Governor Miller, not knowing whether or not the statement was true, and not being in a position to investigate it, allowed him two weeks to be spent in this way.
I was about Governor Miller’s size. When I landed Tumay’s people mistook me for him, and thought that he was returning with soldiers to punish them for having disobeyed him, or to enforce his order that they move to a more accessible place. Hence the plan for the attack, which was rather clever. While the reception committee entertained us, the men concealed in the woods were to open on us. As we turned to deal with them the ones hidden in the houses were to attack us from the rear, and the reception committee were then to join in. When they found themselves mistaken as to the make-up of the party, which was larger than they had expected, there was delay and confusion, and the attack fizzled.
A few days later Tumay actually started across the island in obedience to my instructions, but on the way he met two recalcitrant Moro chiefs who encouraged him to stand out, saying that they and their people would help him fight the Americans, and he turned back. I accordingly asked that a hundred scouts be sent after him, and this was done, fifty of them marching over the mountains to cut off his retreat and fifty coming on a coast-guard boat which was intended to serve as a base of operations and afford a place to which injured men might be brought for treatment. Strict instructions had been given that there was to be no firing, except in self-defence, when women or children were liable to be hit. These orders were strictly adhered to, and Tumay was twice allowed to escape when he could have been shot down if it had not been for the danger of killing Moro women and children. Ultimately, after the non-combatants had surrendered, his armed band was overtaken early in the morning, and fired from ambush into the approaching scouts. The return fire killed or wounded most of them, but Tumay got away. It was stated by some of his followers that he was badly wounded, but this proved to be untrue. A little later he voluntarily surrendered, as he had been deserted by his people and was reduced to dire straits.
The misconduct of Tumay and his men gave me a reason for moving the Moros from the west coast of Palawan, where they were living in mangrove or nipa swamps. It was hard to approach their settlements under any circumstances, and very dangerous to do so if they were disposed to be hostile. The west coast of Palawan was a no-man’s land, difficult of access on account of weather conditions and numberless uncharted reefs. It had long been a safe haven for evil-doers who fled from other portions of the Moro country to escape the vengeance of their fellows, and there was no possibility of compelling them to abandon their evil practices unless they were transferred to more accessible regions.
Governor Evans, with my approval, now issued the necessary instructions to them, and they were all moved to the other side of the island, together with their household goods and chattels of every description. Once there they were assisted in procuring building materials, and were fed until such time as they were able to take care of themselves. Only the old, the infirm, and women and children who could not support themselves by working were given food gratis. Trail construction was inaugurated, and all able-bodied persons were given an opportunity to engage in this or in other honest labor for a good wage payable either in money or in rice.
At the end of a year I visited these Moros at their new homes near Bonabóna, going ashore without a weapon of any sort, and finding them more friendly than could reasonably have been anticipated. I sent for old Tumay and had a very frank talk with him about past differences, in the course of which I asked him if he had had enough. He assured me that he had, and I then suggested that we forget the troubles which were behind us and try to get on better in future. He promised to do his part, and has faithfully kept his word.
In August, 1912, I again visited the Moros of this region and to my great surprise was greeted as if I were a member of their royal family. They carried me ashore through the surf in a chair covered with a fine piece of purple brocade. Two men equipped respectively with a five-foot blue and a five-foot yellow umbrella, struggled with each other to see who should protect my delicate complexion from the sun. Wonder of wonders, the wives of the ranking chiefs were present in a dancing pavilion which had been erected for our benefit, this being the first time that these women had ever shown themselves in public. I learned that Hadji Mohammed[4] had explained to them that the women of other nations were getting progressive, and had argued that they ought to follow suit. The poor things were dreadfully frightened, and sat with their backs toward us, covering their faces with gayly colored cloths if we so much as glanced toward them, but they were there, anyhow!
At noon the Moros sat down with us to a fine luncheon of their own providing. This is the first time in my eighteen years of residence in the Philippines that I have known a Moro to sit at meat with a white man, or for that matter with any person not a Mohammedan.