At Jolo, or Sulu, we were again greeted by a Moro fleet and some diving girls and boys.
This seemed the culmination of the picturesque in our trip. The mountains of the island are not high but rather cone-shaped, and as we approached the town we could see behind it the forested slopes of steep Bud Dajo, where the great fight took place in 1906 and many Moros were killed in the crater top of the volcano, to which they had retreated, and from which they challenged and threatened the American forces. It is an island of fierce, piratical Moros, and even the Americans had not tried to do much there. It was dangerous to go outside the little walled town at all, and all the natives coming in were searched for their weapons, which were taken away at the gates. Only a few months before, a fanatic Moro tried to attack the gate guard, but fortunately was killed before fatally injuring any one.
MORO BOATS.
The walled town is a most artistic little Spanish place, built once upon a time by the exiled Spanish Governor Asturia, who made it a gem of a town, with small balustraded plazas and a hanging-garden sea wall, and a miniature wall with battlements and gates, and streets set out with shading trees. The pretty Officers' Club and quarters overhung the wall. The gates of the town are closed at night, and all the natives must leave for their houses outside before the "retreat," but there is a native market and a town built out on piles over the water, which we visited. We drove out to a plain, palm-fringed and backed by mountains, that overlooked the sea, where there was a review of the cavalry and a large company of mounted Moros, who carried many American flags among their waving banners. Within the walls, in a grandstand in the little plaza, where the natives thronged, there was a meeting between the Secretary and the chief datos; and the Hadji, who had been Vizier of the Sultan, made a wise speech, full of promise of loyalty. Our Governor had won the good will of the people about him and the Hadji said that when his people were certain of our good intentions they would come in willingly and be loyal—but, for so many years, they had been misled by previous rulers.
We amused ourselves by going to Chino Charlie's and buying lanterns, and lunched at the Officers' Club. Afterward we went out on the pier inhabited by the Chinese and looked for pearls—Jolo pearls are famous—but we saw none of real value. We watched the Chinamen drying copra, and went through their market, where water slugs were for sale. Finally, we sailed across the bay. Our visit to the Moros was full of colour to the end, for the sun was setting gorgeously as we put out to sea.
CHAPTER X
JOURNEY'S END
