The Mindanao chieftain, who had acted as pilot, thereupon went on shore and volunteered an explanation: these strange voyagers were seeking rest and provisions, having been many weary months away from their own country.
A treaty of amity was then ratified according to their native custom, each party thereto simultaneously drawing and drinking blood from the breast of the other. Magellan then caused a rude chapel to be built on this new and hospitable shore, and here the natives witnessed the first rites of that Church that, within a century, extended its oppressive sway from one end of the Archipelago to the other.
The King and Queen of the natives were soon persuaded to accept the rite of baptism. This they seemed to enjoy greatly. To persuade the good-natured savages to take the oath of allegiance to the King of far-away Spain was but a step farther. One ceremony was probably as intelligible to them as the other; and thus the first two links in the fetters of the Filipinos had been forged.
The Fortifications of Old Manila.
With characteristic arrogance the Spaniards henceforth conducted themselves as the rightful masters of both the confiding natives and their opulent country.
It appears, now, that the natives of Cebú were engaged in war with another tribe on the island of Magtan. The adventurous Magellan, beholding an opportunity for conquest, and, perhaps, for profit, accompanied his allies into battle, where he was mortally wounded by an arrow.
Thus perished the brave and brilliant discoverer, in the very bloom of life, when both fame and fortune seemed to have laid their most precious offerings at his feet.
Posterity has erected a monument on the very spot where this hero was slain. Cebú also boasts an obelisk that commemorates the discovery; while on the left bank of the Pasig river, Manila, stands another testimonial to the splendid achievements of the intrepid Magellan.
Duarte de Barbosa was now chosen leader of the expedition, and he, with twenty-six companions, was invited to a banquet by Hamabar, the King of the island. In the midst of the royal festivities the Spaniards were treacherously murdered. Juan Serrano alone—so the old chronicles relate—was spared. He had, in some way, secured the favor of the natives, and now, stripped of his clothing and his armor, he was made to walk up and down the beach, in full view of his companions on board the ships.