It had been a busy and agitating day, but towards the evening I finished my task, and everything was embarked. I paid the Indians, and in addition gave them a barrel of spirits.
I did not fear their intoxication, being the only Frenchman there, and when it was dark I got into a boat, and towed a dozen casks of fresh water at her stern. Since the previous day I had not eaten; I felt worn out by fatigue and want of food, and threw myself down to rest upon the seats of the boat. Ere long a mortal chilliness passed through my veins, and I became insensible. In this state I remained more than an hour. At last I reached the Cultivateur, and was taken on board, and, by the aid of friction, brandy, and other remedies, was restored to consciousness. Food and rest quickly renovated my powers of mind and body, and the next day I was calm as usual among my comrades. I thought of my personal position; the events of the two last days made the review extremely simple. I had lost everything. A small venture of merchandise, in which I invested the savings of my previous voyages, had been intrusted to the captain for sale at Manilla. These goods were destroyed, together with all I possessed, at Cavite. There remained to me but the clothes I had on—a few old things I could wear only on board ship—and thirty-two dollars. I was but a little richer than Bias. Unfortunately I recollected that an English captain—whose ship I had seen in the roads—owed me something like a hundred dollars. In my present circumstances this sum appeared a fortune. The captain in question, from fear of the Indians, had dropped down as far as Maribélé, at the entrance of the bay, ten leagues from Cavite. To obtain payment it was necessary I should go on board his vessel. I borrowed a boat, and the services of four sailors, from Captain Perroux, and departed. I reached the ship at dusk. The unprincipled captain, who knew himself to be in deep water and safe from pursuit, replied that he did not understand what I was saying to him. I insisted upon being paid, and he laughed in my face. I was treated as a cheat. He threatened to have me thrown into the sea; in short, after a useless discussion, and at the moment when the captain called five or six of his sailors to execute his threat, I retreated to my boat. The night was dark, and as a violent and contrary wind had sprung up, it was impossible to regain the ship, so we passed the night floating upon the waves, ignorant as to the direction we were going. In the morning I discovered our efforts had been thrown away; Cavite was far behind us. The wind becoming calmer, we again commenced rowing, and two hours after noon reached the ship.
Meanwhile tranquillity was restored at Cavite and Manilla. The Spanish authorities took measures to prevent a recurrence of the frightful scenes I have detailed, and the priests of Cavite launched a public excommunication against all those who had attempted my life. I attributed this solicitude to the character of my profession, being in fact the only Æsculapius in the place. When I left the town the sick were obliged to content themselves with the hazardous presumptions of Indian sorcerers. One morning, I had almost decided upon returning to land, when an Indian, in a smartly decorated pirogue, came alongside the Cultivateur. I had met this man in some of my shooting excursions, and he now proposed that I should go with him to his house, situated ten leagues from Cavite, near the mountains of Marigondon. The prospect of some good sport soon decided me to accept this offer. Taking with me my thirty-two dollars and double-barreled gun—in fact, my whole fortune—I intrusted myself to this friend, whose acquaintance I had just made. His little habitation was delightfully situated, in the cool shadow of the palm and yang-yang—immense trees, whose flowers spread around a delicious perfume. Two charming Indian girls were the Eves of this paradise. My good friend kept the promises he had made me on leaving the vessel; I was treated both by himself and family with every attention and kindness.
Hunting was my principal amusement, and, above all, the chase of the stag, which involves violent exercise. I was still ignorant of wild-buffalo hunting, of which, however, I shall have to speak later in my narrative; and I often requested my host to give me a taste of this sport, but he always refused, saying it was too dangerous. For three weeks I lived with the Indian family without receiving any news from Manilla, when one morning, a letter came from the first mate—who, on the death of the unfortunate Dibard, had taken the command of the Cultivateur—telling me he was about to sail, and that I must go on board at once if I wished to leave a country which had been so fatal to all of us. This summons was already several days old, and despite the reluctance I felt to quit the Indian’s pleasant retreat, it was necessary that I should prepare to start. I presented my gun to my kind host, but had nothing to give his daughters, for to have offered them money would have been an insult. The next day I arrived at Manilla, still thinking of the cool shade of the palm and the perfumed flowers of the yang-yang. My first impulse was to go to the quay; but, alas! the Cultivateur had sailed, and I had the misery of beholding her already far away in the horizon, moving sluggishly before a gentle breeze towards the mouth of the bay. I asked some Indian boatmen to take me to the ship; they replied that it might be practicable if the wind did not freshen, but demanded twelve dollars to make the attempt. I had but twenty-five remaining. I considered for a few moments, should I not reach the vessel, what would become of me in a remote colony, where I knew no one, and my stock of money reduced to thirteen dollars, and with no articles of dress than those I had on—a white jacket, trousers, and striped shirt. A sudden thought crossed my mind: what if I were to remain at Manilla, and practise my profession? Young and inexperienced, I ventured to think myself the cleverest physician in the Philippine Islands. Who has not felt this self-confidence so natural to youth? I turned my back upon the ship, and walked briskly into Manilla.
Before continuing this recital, let me describe the capital of the Philippines.
Mouth of the Bay of Manilla.
[1] Pablo signifies Paul, my Christian name. I was always called thus at Manilla and at Cavite.