A Womans Journey through the Philippines | Page 9

became unsafe for an
unarmed American, while the people who had greeted us with such
childlike confidence and delight were preparing a warmer reception for
the Americans under the able leadership of a Cebu villain, who had
incited them to insurrection by playing upon their so-called religious
belief, this in many instances being merely fetishism of the worst kind.
This instigator of anarchy boasted an anting-anting, a charm against
bullets and a guarantee of ultimate success in battle, which consisted of
a white camisa, the native shirt, on which was written in Latin a
chapter from the Gospel of St. Luke. But notwithstanding his
anting-anting, and the more potent factor of several hundred natives in
his ranks, he was easily defeated by a mere handful of soldiers from the
little fort, and when last heard of by our ship was lying in the American
hospital at Dumaguete awaiting transportation to Guam. His former
army was mucho amigo to the Americans, and once again the pretty
drives around Dumaguete were quite safe, and once again the native,
when passing an American, touched his hat and smilingly said good
day in Visayan, a greeting which sounds uncommonly like "Give me a
hairpin."
On the evening of our second day in Dumaguete, the natives of the
town gave a ball in honour of the cable-ship, at the house of one of the
leading citizens. There, on a floor made smoother than glass with
banana leaves, we danced far into the night to the frightfully quick
music of the Filipino orchestra. One would hardly recognize the waltz
or two-step as performed by the Visayan. He seems to take his exercise
perpendicularly rather than horizontally, and after galloping through the
air with my first native partner, I felt equal to hurdle jumping or a dash
through paper hoops on the back of a milk-white circus charger.
Their rigadon, a square dance not unlike our lanciers, the Filipinos take
very seriously, stepping through it with all the unsmiling dignity of our
grandparents in the minuet. The sides not engaged in dancing always sit
down between every figure and critically discuss those on the floor, but

while going through the evolutions of the dance, it seems to be very
bad form to either laugh or talk much, a point of etiquette I am afraid
we Americans violated more than once. Another very graceful dance,
the name of which I have forgotten, consists of four couples posturing
to waltz time, changing from one partner to another as the dance
progresses, and finally waltzing off with the original one, the motion of
clinking castanets at different parts of the dance suggesting for it a
Spanish origin.
At midnight a very attractive supper was served, to which the
presidente escorted us with great formality. As is customary, the
women all sat down first, the men talking together in another room and
eagerly watching their chance to fill the vacant places as the women,
one by one, straggled away from the table. The supper consisted for the
most part of European edibles, but there were several Visayan
delicacies as well, all of which I was brave enough to essay, to the great
delight of the native women, who jabbered recipes for the different
dishes into my ear, and pressed me to take a second helping of
everything. All of them ate with their knives and wiped their mouths on
the edge of the table-cloth, having Spanish precedent for such customs,
and all were heartily and unaffectedly hungry after their violent
exercise in the waltz and two step.
It was very late when we finally left the baille, amidst much
hand-shaking and many regrets that our stay in Dumaguete was so
short, while great wonder was shown by all that we should be able to
sail at daylight on the morrow, it seeming well-nigh incredible to the
native mind that so much could have been accomplished in so short a
time; for, despite the fact that we had been in Dumaguete less than two
days, everything was completed--a marvel, indeed, when one considers
the tremendous current which made the landing of the shore end a
hazardous proceeding.
To one who has never witnessed the difficulties of propelling a rowboat
through the heavy breakers of some of these Philippine coast towns, it
would be hard to appreciate the struggles of the Signal Corps to land
shore ends at the different cable stations. More than once men were

almost drowned in its accomplishment but fortunately on the whole trip,
despite many narrow escapes, not a man was seriously injured in the
performance of his duty. Once landed on the beach, the shore end was
laid in the trench dug for it, one end of the cable entering the cable hut
through a small hole in its