Chapter 19

Among the fantastic stories told of snakes, water-buffalo, birds, and sharks are several that have obvious meaning. The crab figures in certain of these tales as the cause of the tides. He was an enormous creature and lived in a great hole in the bottom of a distant sea, whence he crawled twice a day, the water pouring into the hollow then, and leaving low water on the coast. When he settled back again the water was forced out and the tide was high. The relation of tides to the moon may have introduced this creature in another aspect as the moon's enemy and cause of her eclipse, for it is related that one evening a Filipino princess walking on a beach saw with astonishment an island that had never been visible on the sea before. Her emotion was that of alarm when she saw the island approach the shore, and she hid in the shrubbery to watch. Presently she could make out, despite the failing light, that it was no island, but a crab larger than a hundred buffalo. Its goggling eyes were dreadful to see, its mouth was opening fiercely, its claws working as if eager to clutch its prey. The moon arose at the full, making a track of light across the heaving waters, and the crab, facing east, prepared to spring and drag it to its den beneath the ocean. Half a mile away the people of the princess were holding a feast with songs and dances. Would they hear a signal? She placed her conch-shell horn at her lips and blew with all her strength. The monster still gnashed and grasped in expectancy at the sea's edge, and a breeze brought through the wood a faint sound of drums. Her people had not heard. Again she blew. This time the woods were still. Her people were listening. A third blast followed, and in a few minutes the warriors swarmed upon the beach with knives, swords, and lances. While the princess was explaining to them the moon's peril the crab made a leap into the air and darkened its face, causing an eclipse, but failing to get a hold it dropped back to the beach again, where the people fell upon it, the princess leading the attack with the war-call of her tribe. As the crab turned to see what had befallen, the princess slashed off his great left claw. With the other it crushed a soldier, but again her cresse fell and the right claw fell likewise. Then a hundred men rushed upon the creature, prodding their spears into joints of his legs and the dividing line between his back plate and belly. Others fell under his great bulk or were gnashed by his iron teeth, but in the end his shell was broken and the moon was safe. And often when the gentle pirate of the Sulus scoured the sea he uttered a prayer before an image of the princess for a bright night and an easy victim, for had it not been for her the crab would have swallowed the moon, and the sea would have been as dark as some kinds of a conscience.

The Conversion of Amambar

While roving over the waters that covered the earth the sun god saw the nymph Ursula sporting in the waves, and was smitten with a quick and mighty fondness. He nearly consumed himself in the ardor of his affection. She, however, was as cold and pure as the sea. As she swung drowsily on the billows she was like a picture painted in foam on their blue-green depth, and in breathing her bosom rose and fell like the waves themselves. As she saw the god descending she was filled with alarm, but as he took her into his strong embrace and placed his cheek to hers a new life and warmth came to her, and in their marriage the spirits of the air and water rejoiced. A son was born to them,--so beautiful a boy that the sun god made a land for him, stocked it with living creatures, adorned it with greenery and flowers, and gave it to the human race as an inheritance of joy forever. This land he called Cebu, and no land was more lovely. Lupa was the child, and from him came all the kings of Cebu, among them Amambar, the first chief of the island of whom we have definite record. In the day of his rule the group had long been peopled, and the use of tools and weapons had become known. One occasionally finds to-day the stone arrows and axes they called "lightning teeth," and with which they worked such harm to one another in their many wars.

It was an evening of March, 1521, a calm and pleasant evening, with the perfume of flowers mixed with the tonic tang of the ocean, birds flying and monkeys chattering in the wood, and a gentle surf whispering upon the beach. Amambar was walking on the shore alone. He had gone there to watch the gambols of the mermaids, when a great light whitened against the sunset. It came from a cross that had been planted just out of reach of the sea. He put his hands before his eyes that it might not dazzle him. Then, as the moon arose, he peered beneath his hands, out over the restless water, and there, against the golden globe that was lifting over the edge of the world, could be seen a flock of monster birds with gray wings, and dark men walking on their backs as they lightly rode the billows, the men sparkling and glinting as they moved, for they were arrayed in metal and bore long knives and lances that flashed like stars. Other of the company wore black robes and sang in unknown words, their voices mixing in a music never heard by Amambar before. A sparkling white cloud drooped slowly from the sky. A diamond vapor played about the cross. Out of the cloud came a melodious voice saying, "Look up, O chief!" And looking at the cross again, he saw, extended there, a bleeding figure with a compassionate face that gazed down upon him and declared, "I am Jesus Christ, son of the only God. Those whom you see in the ships are my people, who have come to these islands to rule you for your good." Amambar fell prone on the sand and prayed for a long time, not daring to open his eyes. When he regained courage and arose the cloud was gone; the ships had sailed away. He was alone.

The commander of the ships was Magellan. It was one of his monks who had placed the cross on shore. Landing in Cebu later, he converted two thousand of the natives in a day by destroying the statue of Vishnu and putting that of the child Jesus in its place, though he still yielded to savage opinion in so far as he consented to confirm his friendship with the king by a heathen ceremony, each opening a vein in his arm and drinking the blood of the other. As usual, the appearance and ways of the Europeans smote the natives with wonder. They described the strangers as enormous men with long noses, who dressed in fine robes, ate stones (ship-bread), drank fire from sticks (pipes), and breathed out the smoke, commanded thunder and lightning from metal tubes, and were gods. Engaging in a wrangle between two tribes, Magellan was lured into a marsh at Mactan, and there, while watching a battle to see how great the Filipinos could be in war, he was slain with bamboo lances sharpened and hardened in fire. Amambar's Christianity did not endure, for he so wearied of the oppression and rapacity of the strangers that when a successor to Magellan appeared he invited him to a banquet and slew him at his meat. But the cross and the statue of Christ worked miracles among the faithful for many generations.

The Bedevilled Galleon

"Sing hey, sing ho! The wind doth blow, And I'll meet my love in the morning,"

Sang the lookout, as he paced the forecastle of the galleon Rose of May, and peered about for signs of land against the dawn. Not that he expected to meet his love in the morning, nor for many mornings, but he had been up in his off-watch and was getting drowsy, so that he sang to keep himself awake. His was one of the first among the English ships to follow in Magellan's track. The Philippines, or the Manillas, as they were called, had been almost reached, and it was expected that Mindanao would be sighted at break of day off the starboard bow.

"Hello, forward!" bawled the man at the helm.

"Ay, ay!" sang the lookout.

"What d'ye make o' yonder light?"

"Light? What d'ye mean, man?" And the lookout rubbed his eyes, scanned the water close and far, and wondered if his sight was going out.

"In the sky, o' course, ye bumble-brain."

"Now, by the mass, you costard, you gave me a twist of the inwards with your lame joke."

"'Tis no joke. Will you answer?"

"Why, then, 'tis the daylight, in course, and you aiming for it that steady as to drive the nose of us straight agin the sun, give he comes up where he threats to. And he'll be here straightway, for in these waters he comes up as he were popped outen a cohorn."

"The day! Heaven forefend! I'm holding her to the north."

"You're holding due east. Aha! Look yonder, where the cloud is lifting. Land ho!"

"Where away?" cried a mate, roused out of a forbidden doze by this talk, and blundering up to the roof of the after-castle.

"Port bow, sir."

"Port bow! The fiend take us! You block! You jolterhead! Where are you fetching us?"

"I'm holding her due to the north, sir, as you bade me," faltered the steersman. "Look for yourself, if it please you, for 'tis light enough to read the card without the binnacle lamp. We're sailing east by the sky and north by the needle. The ship's bedevilled!"

"Hold your peace, or you'll have the crew in a fright. Head her around eight points to port, and keep her west by the card."

"Lights in, sir? The sun is up," called the lookout.

"Yes." And the mate added in a lower tone, "'Tis the first time ever the sun came up in the north."

"What's all this gabble?" grumbled the captain, thrusting his red and whiskered face out of the cabin. "Can't a man have his rest when you keep the watch, Master Roaker?"

"Pray, captain, come and look at the compass. Do you see the lay o' the needle? We're sailing west to hold north, or else the sun has missed stays over night and come up in the north himself."

"Hi, hi! That's parlous odd. Keep her as you have her, and have out Bill, the carpenter, to see if there's any iron overside. Nay, let her off a little more, for that's a hard-looking piece of shore out yonder, for all of the palms and green stuff."

The watch was changed presently, the captain preferring to take the biscuit and spirits that were his breakfast on the deck. He went to the compass every minute or so, looked curiously at the draw of the sails and studied the water alongside. The carpenter had reported all sound, with no iron out of place to deflect the needle. There was a grave look on the faces of the officers, and the men talked low together as they watched them.

"Strange-looking hill out yonder," remarked a mate. "Not a tree on it, nor any green thing. 'Tis black and shining enough for the devil's grave-stone."

"Have done with your gossip of devils," snorted the other mate. "You're as evil a man for a ship's company as a whistler. You'll be calling ill luck on us to name the fiend so often."

"Looks like shoal water forward, sir," called the new lookout.

"Right! Head her away to port yet farther. Look you, fellow, have you no inkling of your business? You'll have us all ashore. Mary, mother! Give me the helm!" With sweat bursting from his brow the captain caught the tiller and put it hard over. The ship shook a bit, swerved, yet made side-wise toward the green patch on the sea. The land was looming large now.

"'Tis not in the rudder to keep her off, sir," called a mate who had gone forward. "'Tis the leeway she is making."

"There's a scant breeze."

"Ay, but there must be a fearsome current."

"I see no sign of it. This water is smooth as any pond."

"But you see for yourself, she's gaining on the shore. Look, now, how we're passing that patch o' water-weed."

"I think hell is under us. Have up the clerk and put him at prayers, and you fellows take in sail--each rag of it--that if we strike we may go easy. Call all hands. See that the boats are clear. She minds her helm no more than a straw. God help us!"

The galleon was at the edge of the shoal spot now, and all held their breath, expecting to hear the grinding of the keel on a bank; but, no, she floated in safety.

"Sound!" commanded the captain. "There may be anchorage."

"Four fathom," called the sailor at the lead after he had made his cast.

"Stand by to let go. We'll tie up here till the tide turns or the spell's worked out. Alive--alive, there! Get that anchor overboard."

"It be wedged agin the bulwark, captain, and needs another pair o' hands."

"Forward all! Why, you lump, the flukes are clear. What ails you? Lift all. There!"

With an united heave the sailors raised the barbed iron and cast it over the side. The faces of all dripped and went white, and their knees bent then, for the anchor flew from their hands and struck the sea quite twenty feet away,--in deep water, for the shoal was passed,--and the chain paid out like rope as the iron sank, yet not straight down. It rattled off toward the shore.

"We've had krakens and mermaids and all variety of horrid beasts," said one old tar, with his jaw a-shaking, "and now the foul fiend has that anchor, and is pulling us ashore with it."

The chain had run out to its length, but the anchor had found no bottom. A cracking and grinding of the links could be heard, as if a tug of war were going on between two giants that had this chain between them. Bits of rust powdered off, and the strain was tearing splinters from the timbers. A loud snap,--the chain had parted. Down went the anchor, but again not straight,--off toward the land, and one free link of the chain shot as if from a gun straight toward the shore, whizzing with ever-increasing speed until it was out of sight. The men looked at one another in amaze.

"Get up the stores," shouted the captain, "and be ready all to quit the ship." He added to his mates, "A half hour's the longest we can hope for. The Rose of May will be on the black cliff by that. Is the clerk praying? Good! We may get away in the boats, but we'll end our days here in the Manillas. Alack, my Betsy! I'll never look into her eyes again."

"She's down a little by the head, an't please you," cried a sailor, running aft.

"Ease her a little, then. Toss over some of the dunnage."

"Lor'! Lor'! Spare us all this day!" yelled a sailor a minute later.

"What is it?"

"I tried to put my knife on the rail here, while I gripped the line I was to cut, when it tugged at my hand like a live thing. In a fright I let go, and away it flew toward the shore. Oh, we've reached the Devil's country. Why ever did I leave England?"

"How of the compass?"

"It points steady to that rock."

"Master captain! Master captain!" shouted the steward, running upon deck. "The fiend is in the after-castle, for the pans and the knives and a blunderbuss and two cutlasses that were loose have leaped against the forward panelling and stick there as if rivets were through them. 'Tis wizard's work. Let us pray, all."

A sudden commotion was seen among the sailors at that moment. The cannon balls had rolled forward to the break of the forecastle, and the two guns themselves--the ship's armament against the pirates of China and Sulu--were straining at their stays.

"Heave over the shot. It'll lighten her," ordered the captain.

The crew obeyed, but after the first of the balls had been lifted over the bulwarks, they had scarce the strength to cast out the rest, for amazement overcame them on seeing the shot plucked from the man's hands and blown through the air as if sent from its gun toward the rock. The ship was leaping through the water, though the breeze was from the land. One after another the men fell on their knees and prayed loudly, the captain last of all. Suddenly he looked up, with a wondering flash in his eyes. He sprang to his feet, plucked an iron belaying-pin from its ledge, held it up, felt it pull, let go, and saw it whirl away like a leaf in a cyclone. He looked at the compass; the needle pointed straight toward the black and glistening cliff now lowering not more than half a mile ahead.

"It's the guns," he shrieked. "Up with you. Cut away the lashings. Stave down the bulwarks. Let them go."

In the panic there was no stopping to argue or to question. The guns were freed, and they, too, went hurtling through the air, striking the rock with a clang. The captain leaped to the helm and put it hard a-starboard. The ship's pace slackened, she curved gracefully around, and headed from the threatening coast. "Shake out all sail, lads, for we're free at last, by God's good grace."

Though trembling and confused, the sailors managed to hoist sail, and on a gentle wind from the east they left that coast never more to venture near it. The captain's face lost its knots and seams, by slow degrees the color of it returned,--a color painted upon it, especially about the nose, by many winds, much sunshine, and uncounted bottles of strong waters. He wiped his brow and drew a big breath. "It comes to me, now," he said. "We've not been bewitched. That hill beyond, that's robbed us of our guns and anchor, is a magnet,--the biggest in the world."

In an earthquake, several years later, the magnet-mountain disappeared.

Two Runaways from Manila

The name Corregidor, which stands for mayor, albeit the translation is corrector, is applied to the gateway to Manila. Thus named it was a place to inspire a wholesome fear in the breasts of dignitaries, for on at least two occasions proud and refractory bishops were sent there in exile to endure a season of correction and repentance. It was thought to be a desert. In the seventeenth century the treasure galleon arriving at Manila, after a voyage of months from Mexico, brought a family from that country. One of the daughters of this house of Velez was a girl with a bit of human nature in her composition, for Maria was prone to flirting, and had no affection for sermons. In order to repress her high spirits and love of mischief, she was sent by her father to the convent of Santa Clara, which had been founded in 1621 (a few years before this incident). The parent even hoped that she might qualify as a nun.

It was not the right convent, for Fray Sanchez, one of the fathers, who said the offices in the chapel, was a Franciscan friar, young, handsome, and not an ascetic. The novice was always prompt when he said mass, and often when her pretty head should have been bowed in prayer she was peeping over the edge of her breviary, following the graceful motions of the brother as he shone in full canonicals in the candle-light, and thrilling at the sound of his rich, low voice. The priest several times caught the glance of those eyes, so black, so liquid, saw the long fringe of lashes fall across them, saw the face bend behind the prayer-book in a vain endeavor to hide a flush, realized what a pretty face it was, and went to his cell with a vague aching at his heart. He sought Maria among the pupils to give spiritual advice, or she sought him to ask it,--it little matters,--and so the first full moon looked into a corner of the convent garden and saw, despite the swaying shadow of vines and palms, that the friar was making confession to the nun,--a confession of love. The face that had peered above the prayer-book was lifted to his, a white arm stole about his neck: it was the answering confession. The priest strained her to his breast and half stifled her with kisses.

These raptures were interrupted by the retiring bell, and they hastily returned to the convent by separate ways. It was the last night they expected to spend beneath that roof, for a galleon was to sail for Mexico in a day or two, and they had agreed to elope. Dressed in worldly garb, which she concealed under the robe and cowl of a monk, Maria slipped through the garden gate next day, met her lover, ran to the shore, where a boat had been tied, crossed with him to Camaya, the ship being promised there for a fag end of cargo, and prayed for a quick departure from the Philippines. In vain. They fell into the hands of unfriendly natives, who, having learned to distrust the Spanish, were always ready to wreak small injuries on them when the chance afforded. These natives attempted to separate the pair and drag the girl to their huts. The friar attacked them with spirit, but the brown men were too many for him, and in the melee both he and Maria were wounded.

A boat was seen approaching. The assailants fled, leaving the friar, bleeding and weak, but kneeling beside his mistress, whose white skin was splashed and striped with red, and whose liquid eyes stared vacantly at the sky. As the boat touched the shore the corregidor leaped from it, and the friar now confronted a new peril. His flight had been discovered, the town-crier had bawled it through the streets, commanding the people to refuse shelter to the guilty pair under heavy penalty, and, to enforce their return, the mayor had brought with him twelve soldiers of the garrison. The loaded arquebuses of the men were not needed. Feeble, sore in body and spirit, repentant, the monk surrendered, Maria was lifted into the boat, and the company returned to Manila.

There it was decided that the monk should be sent to an inland mission, that in the lifting of souls to a finer faith the stain of human love that had fallen upon his own soul might be wiped away. As to the girl, her good looks and gay disposition had proved the undoing of one devotee. She was to have no chance to enslave another; so she was sent back to Mexico, forced to enter a cloistered nunnery, and so ended her life in loneliness and sanctity. The incident has left its impress on the names about the harbor, Corregidor being so called for the officer who pursued and arrested the runaways, Camaya being rechristened Mariveles,--which, you see, is Maria Velez,--while two rocks beyond the Boca Grande are named for the friar and his would-be bride,--Fraile and Monja: monk and nun.

The Christianizing of Wong

In the city of Cebu the Chinese, who made an early settlement, accepted the prevalent religion in order to keep peace with the authorities. In fact, it was a choice between going to church and going back to China. Incidentally to their evangelization a number of them were cast into prison, their shops and houses were rifled, and laws were enacted denying rights and privileges to all Mongols who refused Christian baptism. Among the refractory citizens was a Chinese trader named Wong. So far as anybody could see, he led as moral a life as a Chinaman can endure comfortably; he was good to his family, good to himself, he was sober, he would overreach a Spaniard when he could, but when he had given his word he kept it; he burned incense before joss, he read the analects of Kung Foo Too and Mang Tse, and worshipped his ancestors; he never stole or used any kind of profanity that moral Spaniards could understand. For all this he was nagged and worried constantly, and could hardly take a walk without being pursued by friars who requested alms for their charities in so pointed a manner that he contributed with celerity, if with an inward lack of willingness. If he had been an every-day Chinaman he would have been killed, or prisoned, or exiled, or deported, but he had an excellent trade, and, in spite of his enforced outlays for masses and missionaries, was growing richer all the time. The customs officers thrived on the duties that he paid, and waxed exceeding fat.