The waters swarmed with craft of every fashion and every country. How beautiful they looked, our own great warships and transports! No large ship can draw nearer to shore than two or three miles. All our army supplies must be transferred by the native boats to the quartermaster’s department, there to be sorted for distribution to the islands where the troops are stationed. This necessitates the reloading of stores on the boats, to be transferred again to medium sized vessels to complete their journey. A volunteer quartermaster told me, that, on an average, every seventh box was wholly empty and the contents of the other six were rarely intact. The lost goods sometimes reappeared on native heads or backs. Coal oil was in demand, and disappeared with amazing celerity; it is far better for lights than cocoanut oil.
Custom house inspection being quickly over, we landed. The beauty of the distant view was instantly dispelled; one glance and there was a wild desire to take those dirty, almost nude creatures in hand and, holding them at arm’s length, dip them into some cleansing caldron. The sanitary efforts of our army are effecting changes beyond praise both in the people and their surroundings.
A little two wheeled quielas (ké-las) drawn by a very diminutive horse took me to the Hotel Oriente, since turned into a government office. I noticed that the floors were washed in kerosene to check the vermin that else would carry everything off bodily. The hotel was so crowded that I was obliged to occupy a room with a friend, which was no hardship as I had already had several shocks from new experiences. We had no sooner sat down to talk matters over than I started up nervously at queer squeaks. My friend remarked, “Never mind, you will soon get used to them, they are only lizards most harmless, and most necessary in this country.” The beds in our room were four high posters with a cane seat for the mattress, a small bamboo mat, one sheet, and one pillow stuffed with raw cotton and very hard. As we were tucked in our little narrow beds mosquito netting was carefully drawn about us. “Neatly laid out,” said one. “All ready for the morgue,” responded the other.
The next morning we watched with interest the carabao as they were taken from the muddy pools in which they had found shelter for the night. The natives begin work at dawn and rest two or three hours in the middle of the day. It seemed to me too hot for any man or beast to stir.
When a large drove of carabao are massed together it seems inevitable that they shall injure each other with their great horns, six or eight feet long but fortunately they are curved back. Strange, too, I thought it, that these large animals should be driven by small children—my small children were really sixteen to twenty years old.
We ventured forth upon this first morning and found a large cathedral close by. It was all we could do to push our way through the throng of half-naked creatures that were squatting in front of the church to sell flowers, fruits, cakes, beads, and other small wares.
We pressed on through crooked streets out toward the principal shopping district, but soon found it impossible to go even that short distance without a carriage, the heat was so overpowering. We turned to the old city, Manila proper, passed over the drawbridge, and under the arch of its inclosing wall, centuries old.
We went to the quartermaster’s department to get transportation to Iloilo. It gave a delightful feeling of protection to see our soldiers in and about everywhere. At this time Judge William H. Taft had not been made governor; the city was still under military rule, and there were constant outbreaks, little insurrections at many points, especially in the suburbs. We were surprised to find the city so large and so densely populated.
It is useless to deny that we were in constant fear even when there were soldiers by. The unsettled conditions gave us a creepy feeling that expressed itself in the anxious faces and broken words of our American women. One would say, “Oh I feel just like a fool, I am so scared.” Another would say, “Dear me, don’t I wish I were at home,”—another, “I just wish I could get under some bed and hide.” But for all their fears they stayed, yielding only so far as to take a short vacation in Japan. There is not much in the way of sight seeing in Manila beyond the enormous cathedrals many of which were closed. About five o’clock in the afternoon everybody goes to the luneta to take a drive on the beach, hear the bands play, and watch the crowds. It is a smooth beach for about two miles. Here are the elite of Manila. The friars and priests saunter along, some in long white many-overlapping capes, and some in gowns. Rich and poor, clean and filthy, gay and wretched, gather here and stay until about half-past six, when it is dark. The rich Filipinos dine at eight.
The social life in Manila, as one might suppose, was somewhat restricted for Americans. The weather is so enervating that it is impossible to get up very much enthusiasm over entertainments. During my stay in Manila, in all, perhaps two months, there was little in the way of social festivity except an occasional ball in the halls of the Hotel Oriente, nor did the officers who had families there have accommodations for much beyond an occasional exchange of dinners and lunches.