The principal inhabitants of the capital are Spaniards or their descendants. The officers of the army are also Europeans. The rank and file, amounting to about eight thousand men, are natives. The aboriginal inhabitants are called Tagals. They are somewhat idle, though a good-natured, pleasure-loving race; are nominally Roman Catholics, but very superstitious and insincere. Their houses are formed of bamboo raised on piles, the interior covered by mats, on which the whole family sleep, with a mosquito curtain over them. The ornaments in their houses are generally a figure of the Virgin Mary, a crucifix, and their favourite game-cock. The men wear a pair of trousers of cotton or grass-cloth, with a shirt worn outside them, generally of striped silk or cotton, embroidered at the bosom. Cock-fighting is their chief amusement, as it is, indeed, among most of the people in all parts of the archipelago. It is a brutal sport, if sport it can be called. These people seem to treat their birds better than they do their wives; and so great is their passion for this abominable proceeding, that they will cheat and pilfer and commit all sorts of crimes in order to indulge it.
We visited a manufactory of cheroots, for which Manilla is celebrated. We were told that four thousand women, and half that number of men, were employed in this manufactory alone, while in the neighbourhood as many as nine thousand women and seven thousand men find employment in producing cigars. This will give you some idea of the immense amount of tobacco consumed in various parts of the world, as, of course, only a comparatively small quantity comes from Manilla. As we entered the building, our ears were almost deafened by the noise made by some hundreds of women seated on the floor, and hammering the tobacco leaves on a block with a mallet, to polish them for the outside leaf of cigars. In other rooms they were employed in rolling them up into the proper shape. Tobacco is a strict monopoly, and great care is taken, when the harvest is being gathered, to prevent any being carried off by the people. The leaves, when picked, are first placed undercover in heaps to ferment, then sorted into five classes, according to their size, and suspended in a current of air to dry. From the plantations it is sent under an escort to the factories round Manilla. It is there wet with water, or sometimes rum and vinegar, and made up as we first saw it, into rough cigars, and afterwards rolled into a more perfect form, and finished by another set of women. The refuse is made into cigarettes. Nearly the whole population—men, women, and children—smoke.
We saw the sugar-cane growing. Coffee also is almost wild, and large quantities of rice are exported to China. The cocoa-palm and the bamboo, as well as cacao, beans, indigo, silk, and cotton are produced. We were shown a species of banana, called abaca, the finer filaments of which, mixed with silk, are manufactured into native cloth. A rougher sort, called Manilla hemp, is made into rope, which, with the raw material, is largely exported. The most curious manufacture we saw, however, was that from the pine-apple leaf, which produces a fibre so fine and light, that the weaving operation must be carried on under water, as the least current of air will break it. The Tagal girls work it into handkerchiefs, which they richly embroider. These are greatly valued. A more substantial manufacture is produced from the thicker fibres, for dress pieces, which are also considered of great value. We saw also some beautiful mats made from strips of bamboo, and leaves of various trees, used for boat-sails, beds, or carpets. The hats and cigar-cases of Manilla are also of a beautiful style of manufacture.
Although I might have written a more interesting account of the country, I prefer giving this brief extract from my journal, that I may have more space to narrate the numerous adventures through which we afterwards passed.
Chapter Eight.
Cross the Sea of Celebes.
Once more we were free of islands, crossing the wide Celebes Sea. After the bracing climate of Japan, we felt the heat considerably. We had done so even when there was a breeze; it now fell calm. I scarcely before knew what a real calm at sea was. The ocean was literally as smooth as a sheet of glass—not the slightest swell was perceptible—not the faintest cat’s-paw played over the water. Some chips thrown overboard floated exactly where they had fallen; and hour after hour, as I looked over the side, there they were. Even a light vane of feathers fastened in the mizzen-rigging hung down. The smoke from the galley fire curled up in a thin blue wreath towards the sky, gradually growing thinner and thinner, but still visible to a great height. Far as the eye could reach, in the circle in the centre of which we floated, there was the same shining, unbroken surface; except when here and there some flying-fish leaped out of the translucent sea, or the fin of some monster of the deep appeared as he swam near the surface.
It was hot below—hotter even than on deck, where at all events we had the advantage of the open air. The smell of the cooking going forward in the caboose pervaded the ship; and we could easily guess how it would be under such circumstances when a fever breaks out on board—how impossible it must be to get rid of the infected atmosphere, unless perhaps by powerful and general fumigation. The seams in the deck began to splutter and hiss, and the pitch stuck to our feet as we walked about; while any piece of iron we touched seemed almost as hot as if it had been put in a furnace. We had a good supply of water on board; but it seemed, at the rate we drank it, we should soon consume our stock if this sort of weather continued.