As it was, we had a delightfully uneventful sail, anchoring off Cagayan that evening a little after six o’clock. Not caring to make so important a splice after dark, the cable was cut and buoyed overnight. This was necessary, as that particular splice had to be made from a small boat, which of course precluded the use of electric lights. But by nine o’clock on the following morning our splice was completed, and communication established between Misamis, Iligan, and Cagayan, the line being most satisfactory in every respect. So it was with light hearts that we sailed for Cebu, on the island of Cebu, where we were to coal, picking up our giant buoys as we went.
Chapter VI
Cebu
Early the next morning we sailed into Cebu harbour, and found it alive with ships of all sorts and conditions. From the sea there is nothing picturesque about the town. It is a grimy, dirty place that might be located anywhere in the world, with huge warehouses and rows of squat, ugly buildings near the shore, and in the distance, over the gray walls of the inevitable fort, church spires and green tree tops intermingle under a burning sky.
Before we were really at anchor small boats filled with boys and girls clustered around our ship, the children yelling in English—English, mark you!—for coins to be thrown overboard that they might plunge into the swift current after them. There was a veritable pandemonium of noise, for while some of the occupants of the bancas dove for the pennies, amid wild shrieks of laughter, others, most of them quite young boys, went through the manual of arms very acceptably, with little sticks in lieu of rifles; still others danced and acted a Spanish fandango; while the more mature among our entertainers sang a song so swinging in measure that it appealed to me instantly as one that would be immensely taking were it sung in an American music-hall. It had an indescribable roof garden cadence, and I found myself humming it delightedly. At the end of the second verse I was so carried away by its possibilities that, turning to a group of people talking near the rail, I remarked that with rag-time words, it would be vastly popular in American vaudeville. At which everyone stared incredulously for a moment, until one of the number, realizing the situation, managed to explain, between gasps of laughter, that “Hello, my Baby, Hello, my Honey” was in its dotage in the United States. Then the laughter became general, for all were more recent arrivals from America than I, and it was hard for them to understand how so elderly and decrepit a ditty could be unfamiliar to any one.
When the classic words of “Hello, my Baby, Hello, my Honey,” were repeated for my benefit, and I realized that not only had these Cebu natives picked up the air of the song, but the component parts of its speech as well, my disgust was complete, for it showed that Cebu, dirty and disagreeable as it was, also lacked local colour, liberal applications of which we had found so necessary in the Philippines.
Despite our several visits to Cebu, few of us found cause to change our first opinion as to its unpleasantness. Indeed, it would be hard to imagine a more uninteresting, bedraggled, down-at-the-heel place than this. Aside from the old churches and conventos, a few pretty drives, and a wonderful view from the top of the fort, we found nothing to like about it, for the natives were sullen and unfriendly, while the town itself was not wild or barbaric enough to be interesting, nor yet civilized enough for comfort.
Of course the officers stationed in Cebu, and their respective families, were delightful people, who varied the monotony of their existence with tennis, drives, little dinners, and once, I believe, even a ball was indulged in. There was an excellent club and reading-room for the men, and every week, on ladies’ day, the women donned their prettiest frocks, and chatted over their teacups on the club veranda, quite as if they were not hundreds of miles away from everything that makes life bearable.
Cebu is a town with a past, like the Ibsen woman; it also has a future; but at present it is in the transmigratory period between the two, and is in consequence odious. The place is chiefly interesting because it is the oldest town in the archipelago settled by Europeans, and one revels in its queer, moss-grown churches and conventos, each of them said to be the most ancient edifice in the Islands. This occasions much amicable dispute among the different religious orders of Cebu, and it is really edifying to hear them mildly slander one another, as they give conclusive evidence why their particular building is far older than some other for which is claimed that not always enviable distinction.