She got quite excited, and exclaimed, “Why? Why, what are they doing here? Who asked them to govern the Philippines? Who wants them?”
“Oh,” I said, “but they are a very civilised people, and are going to do you such a lot of good.”
She simply laughed, and pointed with her fan at the schoolboys in the bows.
After a little while she said, “Paciencia! In a little time they will go. I hear all my people saying that the Americans will go.”
“You want to govern yourselves, then?” I asked.
“Yes, but I don’t think we shall be able to. Some other nation will come and take the islands when we are left alone. The Japanese, many say; but we do not want the Japanese.”
On the whole she has made the voyage much more pleasant for me, for she interests me so much to talk to, and though it is uncomfortable to be at such close quarters in the cabin, nothing could exceed her kindness and good breeding, while the little maidservant is attentiveness itself.
At night I wanted to have the door open, but they were both very frightened, and implored me to shut it and lock it as well, which I readily consented to, as they were so timid, and I thought it a shame to make them uneasy, though I felt quite brave now I was no longer alone.
I daresay you are surprised at my accounts of these and other conversations in Spanish, but the fact is, though I have not tried to learn the patois that obtains in the Philippines, I find it impossible not to pick up a good deal, partly from knowing Italian, I suppose, and partly from having to talk it occasionally in spite of myself. They speak badly, though, and the accent does not sound a bit like what one heard in Spain, besides which, there are so many native and Chinese words in current use. Instead of saying andado, they say andao; pasao for pasado; and so on, with all the past participles, besides other variations on the pure Castilian tongue. I found that the Spanish grammars and books I had brought with me were of so little use for everyday life that I gave up trying to learn out of them, and just get along on what I pick up—though I am very shy of it, and would not for the world let any other English person hear me trying to talk! The native language is a queer, guggling noise; when written it looks all g’s and b’s and m’s, and full of uncouth combinations of hard consonants. Some of the names of places are native, but many are Spanish, and the Filipinos themselves all have fine, rolling Spanish Christian and surnames, which were dealt out to them indiscriminately by the priests.