Late in the afternoon we went up into the central tower to watch the "retreat." The prisoners' band, which had played for us as we entered the prison gates, now took its place in the courtyard below and began to play. Out of the workrooms trooped hundreds of convicts, who were searched for hidden implements and then released to take their position in military formation. The different groups marched to their quarters and, standing outside, went through a series of exercises to the music of the band. They seemed to enjoy this very much, and later, still to the music, marched gaily off to get their rations.
A long-term prisoner with two years of good conduct to his credit is given the privilege of going to the penal colony on the island of Palawan. This island is one of the more southern ones, and is the place where the Spanish sent their convicts in the old days. But the present colony, which was established by Governor Forbes, is very different from the former one. It was once a malarial jungle, but now is a healthy, thoroughly up-to-date and successful reform institution.
Our visit to this place was one of the most interesting features of our whole trip. Palawan itself is a curiosity, for it has an underground river which has been explored for two miles beneath a mountain. But the penal settlement is unique.
Leaving the steamer at Puerto Princessa, a quaint little town with charming old Spanish gardens, we were met by a launch which took us up the Iwahig River to the colony. This launch, which was gaily decked with flags, was manned by convicts, the engineer himself being under a sentence of nineteen years for murder. After an hour's sail up the tropical river, we reached our destination. At the wharf we were greeted by Mr. Lamb, superintendent of the colony, a Dominican priest, and a crowd of prisoners who were enjoying a holiday.
We were driven to headquarters, near a pretty plaza with hedges and flowers, surrounded by several two-story barracks built of bamboo and nipa, where the prisoners live. As we walked about the plaza we visited the hospital and the chapel, as well as the main office and the superintendent's house.
The penal settlement is located on a reservation of two hundred and seventy square miles. At the time of our visit there were in all eleven hundred convicts—Filipinos for the most part, with a few Moros—and only three white men to keep them in order. The prisoners had all come from Bilibid prison.
In its management, the colony is somewhat like the George Junior Republic for boys in America. The prisoners elect their own judges and make some of their own laws, subject to the approval of the superintendent. A majority verdict will convict, but the superintendent has the right to veto any measures. Men who break the laws are locked up, but can be released on bail.
The police force is composed of convicts, of course. The chief of police when we were there was a murderer who had earned his pardon but preferred to remain in the settlement. If a prisoner tries to escape he is followed, and occasionally one is shot. The attempt is seldom made, for it is difficult to get away, and the men are, moreover, quite content to live there. Once thirty-five convicts did make a break for liberty, but beyond the confines of the settlement they found themselves in the midst of the savage Mangyans, by whom some were killed. Of the rest, those who were not captured alive returned of their own free will and were consigned again to Bilibid, which is considered a great punishment.
For good behaviour, convicts may earn the right to have a house of their own, with their family, one bull or carabao, and a little farm to cultivate. There were then a hundred and eighty of these farmers, who raised their crops on shares, the government receiving half. They had to report to headquarters by telephone every other day and undergo a weekly inspection as well. Every year they were obliged to plant cocoanuts, which in a few years were expected to bring in large returns. Already great quantities of yams were being shipped to Bilibid, and in a short time enough cattle would be delivered there to supply, in part at least, the meat demand of that prison. The colony suggests the possible solution of the meat question for the American army in the Philippines, as they were successfully raising calves from native cows by Indian bulls.
Although the majority of the prisoners were engaged in farming, they were often given the privilege of selecting the kind of work that they preferred, and were divided accordingly, their hats and the signs on the sleeves of their prison clothes showing what grade of convict they belonged to and what work they did. They were paid in the money of the colony, which was good nowhere else.