A Woman's Journey through the Philippines / On a Cable Ship that Linked Together the Strange Lands Seen En Route

by Florence Kimball Russel

Scarce waiting to hear their gruesome story, the commanding officer and most of his company put off in bancas for Balambing, the unwounded man accompanying them for the purpose of identification. Arriving late in the afternoon, the soldiers quickly surrounded the town before any Moro could escape in his prau, and the rapidity with which the Philippine Mohammedan can drop from his house, built on poles over the water, and paddle away is little less than miraculous.

The head men of the village were then summoned by the American captain and ordered to hand over the murderers and the stolen rifles, or lead the way to the hiding-place of the criminals before eight o’clock of the following morning, the penalty for their disobedience being the burning of the town.

That night numerous lights and the sound of voices in the village testified to the earnest discussion that was proceeding, and at daybreak six of the offenders were delivered into American hands, the survivor of the outrage testifying to their identity; but the captain was not satisfied and consulted his watch so impatiently as eight o’clock approached that the head men, after much consultation among themselves, finally led the way to where the others were concealed along with the captured rifles.

Here the ten prisoners were rounded up and preparations made for the return to Bongao, when suddenly a simultaneous break for liberty was attempted, and the Moros had a lesson in the deadly aim of the American soldier, for a fearful fusilade was opened on them at short range, and not a prisoner escaped.

To one unacquainted with the Moros, this swift and sure vengeance would seem sufficient to cause the relatives of the dead men to hate Americans and plan blood feuds in retaliation; but it was not so, for they recognized perfectly the wrong that had been done, and accepted the death of their kinsmen as well merited, while any regret they may have felt was at the unlucky turn of fate which put them into the hands of justice. Being captured, it was inconceivable to a Moro that the offenders should be spared, and the break for liberty was doubtless induced by the belief that at the worst they merely advanced the day of execution. For had they not killed, and what is quite as bad in the Moro code of ethics, stolen? No punishment following this outrage, the Moros would have looked on the Americans as white-livered, cowardly, pusillanimous, and that first crime would doubtless have been succeeded by raids on the town, and massacres, and feuds, which only a bloody war could have ended.

As a result of his prompt action, this very efficient young officer had the satisfaction of knowing that the cordial relations with the citizens of Balambing rested on a new and more secure foundation than ever before. That no ill-will is harboured against the Americans may be seen by the large crowd of Balambing natives who weekly market their wares at Bongao, and the invariable respect shown by them to the uniform. Americans go freely without arms all over the island. In truth, it is asserted by different head men that the first attack would never have been made on the soldiery had it not been for the rifles they carried. Human life is cheap among the Moros, and the inconvenience of that life standing between them and what they want is soon remedied by a barong, unless fear of punishment, prompt and pitiless, stares them in the face.

From Balambing of bloody memory comes a Moro love story of some interest and no little humour. It appears that a rich woman there fell in love with a handsome young slave belonging to a man in a neighbouring town. After some difficulty she effected his purchase and married him, despite the fact of his being so far beneath her in the social scale. Not long after this the happy couple went to Bongao on a market-day. The lady, being an inveterate gambler, repaired at once to the cockpit, where she lost so heavily that her remaining funds were inadequate for the return trip to Balambing. Then a happy idea struck her. Why not pawn her husband, awaiting her next visit to Bongao, for although she was married to him, he was still a slave in the eyes of the law, and she could redeem him at her pleasure.

Acting on this happy inspiration, she sought an audience with the Governor, explaining through the interpreter her predicament, and offering her husband as a security for the loan of two hundred and fifty dollars, gold. The Governor, being a bachelor, was skeptical as to this marital transaction, especially as the couple had been wedded beyond the traditional honeymoon. He was afraid that he might have the bridegroom permanently upon his hands did he advance so great a sum. This was made plain to the bride, who protested that life would be quite unendurable without her liege lord, or more properly speaking, in this case, liege subject; but the Governor was unrelenting.

How the lady finally managed to reach Balambing is not told. Perhaps some trusting Moro accepted the risk of the marital loan. Perhaps she induced the owner of a prau to row her across. However the distance was accomplished, it is to be hoped she was less reckless in her subsequent gambling, a husband having proved so bad a hostage.

Another love story of different import comes from a village on the island of Siminor, just south of Bongao. There, it is said, lives an old Moro who so loved his wife, and strange to say, in this polygamous community, his only wife, that when she died he watched her grave long beyond the appointed time, after which he had his house built over her burial-place, and there lives to this day, still faithful to the mouldering bones beneath him. Surely a proof that great love sometimes stirs even savage breasts. Considering the environment, for this man lives in a country where polygamy is not only recognized but encouraged, and where women are bought and sold by the pound, like so much meat, his love is on a par with the idyllic attachments of history and fiction.