Recollections of full years

by Helen Herron Taft

The trip through the southern islands was particularly valuable to them in that it gave them first-hand, working knowledge of existing conditions in every province. They immediately set about revising their original Provincial code in accordance with requirements which they were able to discover only through personal investigation, and at the same time they took up the grave business of establishing a sound judiciary.

There was always something new to be talked over at our family table, or during the long evening hours on the verandah overlooking the Bay and, in spite of the fact that much of our “news” presented itself in the form of fresh delays and exasperating difficulties, life was very entertaining.

Not long after we returned from our trip through the South Mrs. J. Franklin Bell invited my sister Maria and me to go with her on an expedition, on which she expected to accompany her husband, through the mountains of northern Luzon which are inhabited by non-Christian tribes only. General Bell was commander of troops in the North and this was to be an inspection trip. It meant several weeks on horseback, over dangerous trails where, in parts at least, no white woman had ever been, but we were most anxious to go. The trouble was that I had never ridden in my life, so I looked with considerable trepidation to the prospect of a long and necessarily intimate association with a horse. I brought the proposition up in family council and my husband advised me, by all means, to go. I should probably have gone without this advice, but it was comforting to have it because if anything happened I could “blame it all on him.” In fact, I began to do this even before I left. When my courage dwindled a little I promptly told him that it was all his fault; that if he hadn’t urged me to go I never should have thought of such a thing; but that as long as I had promised I should have to see the adventure through, though I knew I should never survive it. He only laughed and assured me that we would have a glorious time and that the trip would do us “all the good in the world.”

Major Stevens, who expected to accompany us, brought me an American horse, of formidable dimensions, and volunteered to superintend my first encounter with him. He was as gentle as a lamb. I wouldn’t let him go faster than a walk the first evening and the fact that I was pretty stiff at the end of my ride made me almost hopeless. The second evening I let him out a little, and began, much to my surprise to enjoy the exhilaration of the exercise. By the third evening I had progressed so far that I decided for myself that the poor old beast had no speed in him at all.

We took a Spanish steamer, the Salvadora, from Manila up to Vigan, where General Bell was stationed, and, though I am glad to have had the experience, I shouldn’t care to repeat it. When we got on board we were shown at once to a most promising-looking stateroom, quite spacious, and with four berths in it. The trip to Vigan was to take from Thursday to Saturday and we were glad to note that we were going to be quite comfortable. But our self-congratulations came to a sudden end. Upon inspection we found the room was indescribably dirty, the beds were without sheets, the pillows were like rocks, there were insects galore, and the thermometer stood at 110 degrees. Ventilation was out of the question because the room opened into a sort of public saloon where innumerable Filipinos, in various states of undress, slept, stretched out on the floor, on the tables, on chairs, on anything that could serve as a resting place. The second night I got the Captain’s permission to sleep on the bridge, since the decks, too, were covered with a miscellaneous crowd and were rendered additionally uncomfortable by odoriferous strings of cabbages and other vegetables which hung from the awnings.

The food on the ship was all Spanish; indeed, I might say, terribly Spanish; still, I was rather used to it and didn’t mind much as long as I could get into a wind-swept corner of the deck to eat it. But there were some American women on board who had just come out from the United States and they complained violently.

We were put ashore early Saturday morning; much earlier, in fact than we had been expected to arrive. We had to drive three miles before we reached the Bells’ house, and when we did get there we were delighted to find that they were just having breakfast. They were eating real, human food and, however heroically we had adapted ourselves to the peculiarities of Spanish cookery, there was nothing we stood so much in need of. They were a most homelike and comfortable-looking party. Besides the General and Mrs. Bell there were two young officers, Mr. Wilcox and Mr. Nolan, and a young lady whose name was Miss Bubb, a daughter of General Bubb, and whose general characteristics had won for her the nickname of “Bubbles.”

The first thing we learned was that Mrs. Bell would, after all, be unable to go with us on the trip through the mountains. She was not at all well and the doctor had forbidden it. We were greatly disappointed. Mrs. Bell is so jolly and full of fun that she is an addition to any party, and on such an expedition as we were contemplating we were sure to miss her tremendously. But, the party was all made up. General Bell was to take command; “Bubbles” was going; then, in addition to my sister and me, there were Major Rice, Major Stevens, Captain Shearer and Captain Haight—eight in all.

First let me say that the northern part of the island of Luzon bears just about as much resemblance to the rest of the archipelago as the Alps bear to the plains of Nebraska. We began to notice the difference even at Vigan, though Vigan is at sea-level and is as hot as a sea-level town is supposed to be in that latitude. But it feels and looks like a little foreign city; foreign, that is, to the Philippines. Its houses are well built of ancient-looking stone, with heavy red-tiled roofs; its streets are narrow and crooked and it has a fine plaza filled with fire-trees which, when I saw them first, were in full bloom. There is no way to describe the magnificence of a grove or avenue of fire-trees. They make a veritable cloud of flame which, seen against a background of blue hills, or overhanging the mouldy, old-world grace of a Spanish church and convent, fairly “takes one’s breath.” The world-famed cherry trees of Japan, wonderful as they are, seem pale and soulless in comparison. I wonder the Spaniards didn’t line the streets of Manila with fire-trees and make for themselves the reputation of having created the most amazing city in the world.

While we were at Vigan, and before starting on the long trip, we made an excursion to Bangued, in the province of Abra. Mrs. Bell went with us. This town, a short time before, could be reached only by raft up the Abra River, no launch ever having been built that could go through the rapids, but the establishment of an Army post made necessary the building of a piece of road which shortened the journey at the Bangued end. The first part of the trip, however, had still to be made by water and all the supplies for the soldiers were sent up on a fleet of twenty or more rafts which started out together every morning. When there was a breeze each of them would run up a sail of bright, striped Igorrote cloth.