Adventures in the Philippine Islands

by Paul P. de La Gironière

Passage boat on the River Pasig.

At an unknown epoch, a Chinese who was once sailing in a canoe, either upon the river Pasig, or that of St. Mateo, suddenly perceived an alligator making for his frail bark, which it immediately capsized. On his finding himself thus plunged in the water, the unfortunate Chinese whose only prospect was that of making a meal for the ferocious animal, invoked the aid of St. Nicholas. You, perhaps, would not have done so, nor I either; and we should have been wrong, for the idea was a good one. The good St. Nicholas listened to the cries of the unhappy castaway, appeared to his wondering eyes, and with a stroke of a wand, like some benevolent fairy, changed the threatening crocodile into a rock, and the Chinese was saved. But do not imagine that the legend ends here; the Chinese are not an ungrateful people—China is the land of porcelain, of tea, and of gratitude. The Chinese who had thus escaped from the cruel fate that awaited him, felt desirous of consecrating the memory of the miracle; and, in concert with his brethren of Manilla, he built a pretty chapel and parsonage in honour of the good St. Nicholas. This chapel was for a long time officiated in by a bonze; and every year, at the festival of the saint, the rich Chinese of Manilla assembled there in thousands, to give a series of fêtes which lasted for fifteen days. But it happened that an archbishop of Manilla, looking upon this worship offered up by Chinese gratitude as nothing but paganism, caused both the chapel and parsonage to be unroofed. These harsh measures had no other result than to admit the rain into the buildings; but the worship due to St. Nicholas still continued, and remains to this day. Perhaps this arises from the attempt to suppress it!

At present, at the period when this festival takes place—that is, about the 6th of November every year—a delightful view presents itself. During the night large vessels may be seen, upon which are built palaces actually several stories high, terminating in pyramids, and lit up from the base to the summit. All these lights are reflected in the placid waters of the river, and seem to augment the number of the stars, whose tremulous images dance on the surface of the waters: it is an extemporised Venice! In these palaces they give themselves up to play, to smoking opium, and to the pleasures of music. The pévété, a species of Chinese incense, is burning everywhere and at all times in honour of St. Nicholas, who is invoked every morning by throwing into the river small square pieces of paper of various colours. St. Nicholas, however, does not make his appearance; but the fête continues for a fortnight, at the termination of which the faithful retire till the year following.

And now that the reader is acquainted with the legend of the crocodile, of the Chinese, and of the good St. Nicholas, I will resume my voyage.

I sailed on peaceably upon the Pasig, proceeding to the conquest of my new dominions, and indulging in golden dreams. I gazed on the light smoke of my cigarette, without reflecting that my dreams, my castles in the air, must evaporate like it! I soon found myself in the lake of Bay. The lake occupies an extent of thirty leagues, and I greatly admired this fine sheet of water, bounded in the distance by mountains of fantastic forms. At length I arrived at Quinaboutasan—this is a Tagal word, which signifies “that which is perforated.” Quinaboutasan is situated on a strait, which separates the island of Talem from the continent. We stopped for an hour in the only Indian hut there was in the place, to cook some rice and take our repast. This hut was inhabited by a very old fisherman and his wife. They were still, however, able to supply their wants by fishing. At a later period I shall have occasion to speak of old Relempago, or the “Thunderer,” and to recount his history. When I was in the centre of the sheet of water which separates Talem from Jala-Jala, I came in sight of the new domain which I had so easily acquired, and I could form some opinion of my acquisition at a glance. Jala-Jala is a long peninsula, extending from north to south, in the middle of the lake of Bay. This peninsula is divided longitudinally for the space of three leagues by a chain of mountains, which diminish gradually in height till they become mere hillocks. These mountains, are easy of access, and generally covered on one side with forests, and on the other with fine pasturage, abounding with waving and flexible grass, three or four feet high, which, agitated by the breeze, resembles the waves of the sea when in motion. It is impossible to find more splendid vegetation, which is watered by pure and limpid springs that gush from the mountain heights, and roll in a meandering course to join the waters of the lake. These pasture grounds constitute Jala-Jala the greatest game preserve in the island: wild boars, deer, buffaloes, fowls, quail, snipe, pigeons of fifteen or twenty different varieties, parrots—in short all sorts of birds abound in them. The lake is equally well supplied with aquatic birds, and particularly wild ducks. Notwithstanding its extent, the island produces neither noxious nor carnivorous animals; the only things to be apprehended are the civet cat, which only preys upon birds, and the monkeys, which issue in troops from the forests to ravage the fields of maize and sugar-cane. The lake, which abounds with excellent fish, is less favoured in this respect than the land, for it contains numerous crocodiles and alligators, of such immense size that in a few moments one of them can tear a horse to pieces, and swallow it in its monstrous stomach. The accidents they occasion are frequent and terrible, and I have seen many Indians become their victims, as I shall subsequently relate. I ought, doubtless, to have begun by speaking of the human beings who inhabited the forests of Jala-Jala, but I am a sportsman, and must therefore be excused for beginning with the game.

At the time I purchased it Jala-Jala was inhabited by some Malay Indians, who lived in the woods, and cultivated a few spots of ground. During the night they carried on the trade of piracy, and gave shelter to all the banditti of the neighbouring provinces. At Manilla this country had been described to me in the most gloomy colours. According to the citizens of that place it would not be long before I fell a victim to these robbers. My adventurous disposition, however, only made all these predictions, instead of frightening me, increase my desire to visit these men, who lived in an almost savage state. As soon as I had purchased Jala-Jala, I had laid down a line of conduct for myself, the object of which was to attach to me such of the inhabitants as were the most to be dreaded. I resolved to become the friend of these banditti, and for this purpose I knew that I must go amongst them, not like a sordid and exacting landlord but like a father. For the execution of my enterprise, everything depended on the first impression that I should make on these Indians, who had become my vassals. When I had landed, I directed my steps along the borders of the lake, towards a little hamlet composed of a few cabins. I was accompanied by my faithful coachman; we were both armed with a good double-barreled gun, a brace of pistols, and a sabre. I had taken the precaution of ascertaining from some fishermen the name of the Indian to whom I should especially address myself. This man, who was the most respected amongst his countrymen, was called in the Tagal language, “Mabutiu-Tajo,” which may be translated the “bravest of the brave” he was a thorough-paced robber, a real piratical chief; a fellow that would not hesitate to commit five or six murders in one expedition; but he was brave, and with a primitive people bravery is a quality before which they bow with respect. My conference with Mabutiu-Tajo was not long. A few words were enough to win me his favour, and to make him my faithful servant during the whole time I remained at Jala-Jala. This is the manner in which I spoke to him: “You are a great villain,” I said; “I am the lord of Jala-Jala. I insist on your changing your conduct; if you refuse, I shall punish you for all your misdeeds. I have occasion for a guard: will you pledge me your honour to become an honest man, and I will make you my lieutenant?”

After these few words, Alila (this was the name of the robber) continued silent for a few moments, while his countenance displayed the marks of profound reflection. I awaited his answer with considerable anxiety and doubt as to what it would be.

“Master,” he at length replied, with enthusiasm, presenting me his hand, and bending one knee to the ground: “I shall be faithful to you till death!”