Boats and Fish
We were passing over the bridge that carried the road over an arm of the sea,—the purple sea, which had a white foam-edge.
I noticed a boat moving against the tide. It had no engine, no sails, no rowers at the oarlocks. Only one man was on deck, leaning on a long pole. He walked slowly from the front to the back of the boat, still leaning on the long pole.
“Here’s another wonder of your marvelous Philippines—a boat moving without exerting power,” I exclaimed.
Fil looked at Moro and smiled. I saw that they both pitied my ignorance in a strange land. Then Fil said kindly:
“Don’t you see the man walking steadily along the running board, from the front to the back of the boat? Well, he is pushing on a long pole, and that power moves the boat against the tide. The pole reaches down to the bottom, through the shallow water. If the boat is loaded, and if the cargo is very heavy, two men push on each pole. The pole is a thick bamboo stick.”
“I also notice a curved deck or covering, laid over the boats,” I said.
“Yes, that is a roof, or thatch, made out of nipa palm leaves tied on to bamboo sticks,” Fil explained.
“Please look!” said sweet little Filippa. “Out there on the purple ocean is a more wonderful boat still.”
I looked. Oddest of sights! A boat shaped like a long leaf was scudding before the wind. The one sail seemed to pull the boat over from the wind. No one was really in the boat. But sitting far out, on a bamboo out-rigger, high into the wind-side, above the water, a sailor was balancing the boat and holding the sail by a long rope. Only on one side of the boat was there a bamboo pole fixed lengthways. It did not seem to be a well-balanced boat, yet it sailed along at a great speed; and risky as the sport seemed, the sailor sat perfectly safe on his high and dangerous looking perch, above the water.