Iloilo, 14th.
Now I am home again, you see, and delighted to be back in my own house, though I had a very good time while I was away. The Butuan got in at four yesterday morning, anchoring off the mouth of the river, and deck-washing set in at once—never was it more needed!
Oh, the scenes, the sights, the noises on that foul steamer! At the best of times she is dirty and uncomfortable, but no words of mine can convey her unspeakable condition with those awful Filipino boys on board—at least, no words that can be set down on paper.
The air of the morning was fresh, when we dropped anchor off the mouth of the river, and a nice cold breeze blew from the shore, which at first only showed as a black line in the dark, with one or two points of light where the town lay. Gradually it became more and more distinct in the dawn, till we saw the outline of the corrugated roofs, the palm trees, and the shipping on the river, while a faint, steady crowing of cocks could be heard.
Have I told you about the cock-crowing? It is one of the features of Philippine life, and one of the things you must get accustomed to, or lie down and die. It begins before daylight, and goes on till after the sun has set—the screaming of innumerable cocks, for every living Filipino keeps one, and most have two or three.
We got a candle, and I dressed first and went on deck, where I was eventually joined by a tremendous swell in a trailing silk skirt, French blouse with lace yoke, long gold chain, white canvas shoes, and so on, whom I just managed to recognise as my cabin mate.
While we leaned over the rail waiting for the Sanidad (the port doctor’s launch), she told me she thought she should be able to get away that afternoon for Negros, but she hoped she should see me again, and said I must be sure to come and pay her a visit if I went to Manila again. To which end she proceeded to write down her address on a crumpled bit of paper which she pulled out of her pocket, handing me half of it to write mine on. I saw my piece had writing on it, and I said: “But is this not something you want to keep?”
“No,” she said, “it is only a note of my home accounts for last month.”
I looked at the accounts and saw the first item was: “To the padre—for a mass—two pesos;” then some vegetables and meat, and more padre; then cigarettes, and again padre, and lower down, yet again padre.