A Woman's Impression Of The Philippines Part 10

Arrived at Iloilo, I was taken ill almost immediately with the prevailing tropical evil, dysentery, presumably the result of drinking spring water on the gold hunt. At the same time there came down the report that cholera was epidemic in Manila. Nevertheless, when I was able to travel, to Manila I went, and there loathed myself, for it was blistering hot. I was staying at a hotel in the Walled City, and the great yellow placards announcing cholera were to be found on houses of almost all streets in the vicinity. But when I was ready to leave, the full evil of a cholera epidemic made itself apparent. There was no getting out of Manila without putting in five days' quarantine in the bay.

We went aboard on the twenty-seventh of May. The steamer pulled out into the bay and dropped anchor. We were paying five pesos a day subsistence during this detention, and yet we were supplied with no ice and no fresh meat. We consumed the inevitable goat, chicken, and garbanzos, the cheese, bananas, and guava jelly, and the same lukewarm coffee and lady-fingers for breakfast. Owing to the heat, and the lack of fans, the staterooms were practically impossible, and everybody slept on deck either on a steamer chair or on an army cot. The men took one side of the deck, and the women the other. By day we yawned, slept, read, perspired, and looked longingly out at Manila dozing in the heat haze. There were several Englishmen aboard, and they were supplied with a spirit kettle, a package of tea, some tins of biscuits, and an apparently inexhaustible supply of Cadbury's sweets, which they dispensed generously every afternoon. They had also a ping-pong outfit, and played.

Every day the doctor's launch came out to see that none of us had escaped or developed cholera, and it brought us mail. Decoration Day was heralded by the big guns from Fort Santiago and the fleet at Cavite, and as I recalled all the other Decoration Days of my memory, the unnaturalness of a Decoration Day in the Philippines became more and more apparent.

Our quarantine was up on Sunday morning, but at the eleventh hour it was noised about that we should not leave, because a lorcha which we had to tow had failed to get her clearance papers. Our spirits descended into abysmal infinity. We felt that we could not endure another twenty-four hours of inaction.

The lorcha was a dismasted hull, no more, with a Filipino family and one or two men aboard to steer. We had a Scotch engineer who might have been the original of Kipling's McFee. I spoke to him about the rumor as he leaned over the side staring at the lorcha, and he gave vent to his feelings in a description of the general appearance of the lorcha in language too technically nautical for me to transcribe. At the end he waxed mildly profane, and threatened to "pull the dom nose out of her" when once he got her outside of Corregidor.

The rumor proved a _canard_, however, and we lined up at eleven o'clock, while the doctor counted us to see that we were all alive and well. Then up anchor and away, with the breeze born of motion cooling off the ship.

The engineer was not able to keep his dire threat about the lorcha's nose, but it is only just to say that he tried to. We met a heavy sea outside of Corregidor, and never have I seen anything more dizzy and drunken and pathetic than the rolls and heaves of the lorcha.

At Iloilo we met the army transport _McClellan_, and continued our voyage upon her to Capiz. We bade farewell to her with regret, and consumed in an antic.i.p.atory pa.s.sion of renunciation our last meal with ice water, fresh b.u.t.ter, and fresh beef. The _McClellan_ took away the troops of the Sixth Infantry and the Tenth Cavalry, and left us, in their stead, a detachment of the Ninth Cavalry, which remained perhaps two months, and was then stationed at Iloilo, leaving us with nothing but a troop of native _voluntarios_, or scouts, officered by Americans, and a small detachment of native constabulary. We had barely accustomed ourselves to this, and ceased to predict insurrection and ma.s.sacre, when the cholera, which we had hoped to avoid, descended upon us.

I am sorry that I can relate no deeds of personal heroism or of self-sacrifice in the epidemic. There didn't seem to be any place for them, and I am not certain that I knew how to be heroic and self-sacrificing. I was not, however, so nervous about the cholera as some Americans were, and I like to convince myself that if any of my friends had sickened with it and needed me, I should have gone unhesitatingly and nursed them. Fortunately (or unfortunately for the proof of my valor) this was not the case. The scourge stayed with us between two and three months. The highest mortality was between a hundred and a hundred and fifty deaths a day, and by its ravages Capiz was reduced from a first-cla.s.s city of twenty-five thousand inhabitants to a second-cla.s.s city of less than twenty thousand. I kept a brief record, however, of our experiences during that time, and once again, by permission of _The Times_, insert them here.

_September 8._ Miss P----, Dr. B----, and I were out for a long walk this afternoon. They left me at my door just as Mrs. L---- and Mrs. T---- drove up in the latter's victoria. Both ladies were much excited by the news that a parao had landed at the playa with one dead man and a case of cholera still living. The other people of the parao had scattered before the health officers got hold of the matter.

_September 9._ The story about the parao has been confirmed. We had hoped to escape the epidemic, but are in for it now, for certain.

_September 10._ It is rumored that two cases of cholera developed yesterday. Dr. B---- denies it, says they are nothing but acute dysentery. Dr. S---- thinks they are cholera.

_September 11._ Whatever this illness be, it kills people in a very short time. A little public-school boy was taken sick last night, and died in three or four hours. Natives are terribly frightened, and we Americans are far from comfortable.

_September 12._ Several more deaths. Dr. S---- says cholera. Dr. B---- says if there has been a case of cholera in town he will eat his hat. They are making every effort to find out what it is, but the bacillus is shy, and refuses to respond to the searchings of the microscope.

_September 13._ Cholera increasing. Dr. B---- has given in at last. A scout died, and they made an examination of the stomach and bowels. Found the bacillus. Dr. B---- says if I will come around to the hospital, he will show me one.

_September 14._ Have seen the comma bacillus. It is certainly an insignificant microbe to be raising so much trouble. Got hold of a report from the Board of Health, saying that, if the epidemic grew worse, the public school buildings should be converted into hospitals. Took it over to the Deputy Division Superintendent to protest. Schoolhouses are scarce here. Cannot afford to infect them.

_September 15._ The schools are closed to-day, the number of deaths having pa.s.sed ten _per diem_. As I am the only householder, the other teachers are to have their meals with me till the epidemic is over.

_September 16._ The house smells to high heaven! The provincial Supervisor came in this morning with a quart of crude carbolic acid, about half a bushel of chloride of lime, and a lot of camphor. I immediately put the camphor in my trunks, having wanted some for quite a little time, and devoted the rest of the stuff to its proper uses. Put the lime over the stone flagging below, with a large heap at the foot of the stairs, so that everybody coming in must walk through it. The floors and stairs are frightfully tramped up. Ciriaco, much to his disgust, had to wash off all the furniture with _agua finecada_ (diluted carbolic acid). Bought a new kettle in which to boil the drinking-water. Bought yards and yards of new tea towelling, and gave orders that, after being once used, the dish towel is to be boiled before using again.

_September 18._ Dr. S---- says get nothing out of the market. Dr. B---- says he eats cuc.u.mbers three times a day. What the doctor can risk surely the layman can chance. I buy cuc.u.mbers still. On being brought into the house they are washed in diluted carbolic acid, and rinsed in boiled rain water. Then the servant washes her hands in bichloride solution, peels the cuc.u.mber, slices it and lets it stand in vinegar till meal time. Dr. B---- says the vinegar is sure death to the shy bacillus.

_September 19._ All the change is deposited in _agua finecada_ when the servant comes in from market. What could we do without cuc.u.mbers? How weary we are of the canned stuff from the commissary! It is rumored that Dr. S---- and wife will not eat b.u.t.ter, because it must stand too long. Mrs. S---- bakes her own bread, and, it is reported, locks her cook up at night for fear he may escape and visit among his kindred. He is not allowed to leave the premises by day.

Miss P---- tells me that at Mrs. T----'s the visitor is requested to sc.r.a.pe his feet in the chloride of lime at the foot of the stairs, and, on arriving at the top, is presented with a bowl of _agua finecada_, wherein to wash his hands. The towel has been boiled, and, of course, a fresh one is provided for each person. This is not so extravagant as it sounds. We Americans are few in number, and do but little visiting these days.

_October 3._ Saw four cholera patients carried past to-day. The new cholera hospital is now open, and a credit to the town. Deaths average about fifty per day. The town is unutterably sad. Houses are closed at dusk, and not a gleam of light shines forth where there used to issue laughter and song. The church, which used to resemble a kaleidoscope with the bright-hued raiment of the women, is now filled with kneeling figures in black. So far, the sickness has not touched the _princ.i.p.ales_. Only the poor people are dying. There is a San Roque procession every night. Fifty or a hundred natives get a lot of transparencies and parade in front of the altars of the Virgin and San Roque. A detachment of the church choir accompanies, caterwauling abominably. It is all weird and barbaric and revolting--especially the "princ.i.p.al" in a dress suit, who pays the expenses, and, with a candle three feet long, paces between the two altars. I always set three or four candles in my windows, which seems to please the people.

_October 6._ Mr. S----, being a member of the Board of Health, has been engaged in inspecting wells. The natives are now saying that he poisoned them. He is indignant, and we are all a little uneasy. We are a handful of Americans--fifteen at the most. We have little confidence in the native scouts, though their officers insist on their loyalty. We are twenty-four hours from Iloilo by steamer, and forty-eight from Manila, and are without a launch at this port. In case of violent animosity against us, the situation might become serious.

_October 7._ At dinner last night, Mr. S---- said there had been an anti-American demonstration in the market, and that a scout had cried, "Abajo los Americanos!" That settled me. I lost my nerve completely, and went up and asked Dr. and Mrs. S---- to let me spend the night at their house. They were lovely about it, and salved over my mortification by saying that they wondered how I had been able to stand it so long, alone in the native quarter. Slept badly in the strange house, and am afraid I gave much trouble.

_October 8._ Got some command of my nerves last night, and stayed at home, though I asked the officer commanding the constabulary for a guard. He was most accommodating and outwardly civil, though it was apparent he thought I was making a goose of myself. The guard came, in all the glory of khaki, red-shoulder-straps, 45-calibre revolver, and rifle--don't know whether it was a Krag or a Springfield. At any rate, he was most imposing, and, as he unrolled his petate on the dining-room floor, a.s.sured me in broken Spanish that he would protect me to the last. I bolted my door and went to bed. Slept wretchedly, being, it must be confessed, about as much afraid of the guard as of the possible anti-Americanos.

_October 9._ Last night, decided that I had yielded to my nerves long enough. Stayed at home, and didn't ask for a guard either. Being much exhausted by two nights of wakefulness, slept soundly all night. To-day the world looks bright and fresh, and my late terrors inexplicable.

_October 12._ Poor M---- has the cholera. His duties as a road overseer have taken him into the province, and he has been forced to eat native food. He got a bottle of chlorodyne and seemed to feel that it would save him.

But to-day he is down. Mr, S---- brought the news when he came by to take me for an afternoon walk. We met the inspector and the padre, coming from M----'s house. Extreme unction had been given him and all hope of recovery was gone, though both American physicians had been with him all day and were making every effort to save him. He asked for Mr. S----, so the latter left me to go to his bedside.

At seven o'clock Mr. S---- went by in the dusk, and called to me from the street to send his dinner up to his house. Poor M---- had just died. Mr. S---- held his hand to the last, and was on his way home to burn his shoes and clothing and to take a bath in bichloride.

Most of the American men went in to see M----. I am glad of it. It may not be sanitary, but it is revolting to think of an American dying alone in a Filipino hut.

M---- was buried to-night. I saw the funeral go by. First came the body in the native coffin, smeared with quicklime. The escort wagon loomed up behind in the starlight, full of American men, and then came the scout officer and his wife in the spring wagon. M---- was once a private in the Eighteenth Infantry.

Just after this mournful little procession went by with its queer m.u.f.fled noises, the big church bell boomed ten, and the constabulary bugles from the other end of the town blew taps. The sound came faintly clear on the still night air, and the tall cocoanut tree that I love to watch from my window drooped its dim outline as if it mourned.

_October 15._ The weather remains bright and hot in spite of our continual prayers for rain. The natives say a heavy rain and wind will "blow the cholera away." The deaths have now swelled to more than a hundred a day, though the disease remains largely among the poor. Yesterday I saw a man stricken in the street. He lay on his back quite still, but breathing in a horrible way. The bearers came at last and carried him away on a stretcher. Two cases were taken out of the house next door to me.

_October 16._ Ceferiana professed to be ill this morning, and I was alarmed. I dosed her with the medicine which Dr. S---- had given me when the epidemic first appeared, and sent for the Doctor himself. But I discovered, before he came, that she had gotten too close a whiff of the chloride-of-lime bag, and it nauseated her. She is more afraid of the disinfectants than of the disease.

_October 20._ Have had to chastise Tomas, and have thus violated Governor Taft's standards for American treatment of our brown friends. Tomas is about forty and the father of a small boy, and Mr. S----, who contemplates setting up a bachelor's establishment when the epidemic is over, fondly dreams that Tomas embodies the essentials of a cook. So Mr. S---- brought Tomas down, accompanied by his son, a child of twelve, with the request that I train them for him. I set them first to washing dishes, and had a struggle of a week or so's duration in trying to adjust Tomas's conception of that labor to my own. I particularly ordered that no refuse was to be thrown in the yard or under the house. This rule was violated several times, and my patience pretty well exhausted. I stepped into the kitchen this morning just in time to see Tomas doubling over, and poking the coffee grounds down between the bamboo slats of the flooring. The American broom was handy, and the angle of Tomas's inclination was sufficient to expose a large area of resisting surface. So I promptly "swatted"

Tomas with the broom with such energy that the coffeepot flew up in the air and he tumbled over head foremost. His small boy sent up a wail of terror; and Billy Buster, the monkey, who was discussing a chicken bone, fled up to the thatch, where he remained all day until coaxed down by the tinkle of a spoon in a toddy gla.s.s. Tomas was out of breath, but not so much so that he could not e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e, "Sus! Maria Santisima, Senorita!" in injured tones. Ciriaco, the cook, lay down on the floor and laughed. Later I heard him and Ceferiana agreeing that I was "_muy valiente_"

_October 25._ In spite of the agua finecada and the boiled towel, Mrs. T----'s cook has developed cholera. Though I speak of it lightly, I am truly sorry for them, for Mrs. T---- is exceedingly nervous, and they have a little child to care for.

There is a slight diminution in the death rate, and we begin to hope the worst is over.

_October 28._ The death rate is still decreasing. When will the rain come?

To-day I discovered that all the elaborate boilings of dish cloths and towels that have been carried out here since the epidemic began have been a mere farce. Every day for a week I went out and superintended the operation till I thought Ceferiana had mastered it. She had, indeed, caught the details, but quite missed the idea. She found the process of suspending the dish towel on a long stick till it was cool enough to wring out, a tedious one, so she set her fertile brain to work to find an expedient in the way of a bucket of cool well water, into which she dropped them. Well water! All but pure cholera! We had a hearty laugh over it at dinner to-night, though Mr. C---- looked grave. His official dignity sits heavily upon him.

Tomas dodges me when he pa.s.ses. I find it impossible to restore his confidence.

_November 2._ The rains have come, and whether they have anything to do with it or not, the epidemic is subsiding. Two days ago, when the first shower broke after an inconceivably sultry morning, the bearers were pa.s.sing with a couple of cholera patients on stretchers. They were at first minded to set them down in the rain, but thought better of it, and carried them into my lower hall. The shower lasted only a few minutes, and then they went on their way, and Ciriaco and I descended and sprinkled the floor all over with chloride of lime. While they were there, I was nervously dreading the sounds of the great suffering which accompanies cholera. But the patients were very quiet.

To-night at dinner Mr. C---- tasted his coffee and looked suspicious. In my capacity of boarding-house keeper, I was instantly alarmed and tasted mine. It seemed to have been made with _agua finecada_. Miss P---- said plaintively that she had as lief die of cholera as of carbolic acid poison. Neither Ciriaco nor Ceferiana could explain. They conceded that the _agua finecada_ was there, but could not say how. They were not much concerned, and seemed to regard it as a pleasing sleight-of-hand performance on their part.

_November 5._ Only eighteen deaths to-day! If the decrease continue steady, we shall open school in a few days. It will be a relief after the long tension of these two months--for it was a tension in spite of our refusal to discuss its more serious aspects. We have taken all legitimate precautions, and laughed at each other's oddities, knowing that it is better to laugh than to cry. But had sickness come to any of us as in the case of poor M----, everybody stood ready to chance all things to aid. But we come out unscathed with the exception of that one poor fellow.

_November 14._ School will begin to-morrow! Have had to discharge Tomas. He went to Baliwagan, a barrio where the cholera is still raging, last night, and Mr. S---- was properly incensed. As a parting benediction, Tomas stole a lamp of mine, but I haven't the energy to go after him. Besides, I have a guilty conscience, and if Tomas feels our account is square, I am willing to accept his terms.

_November 15._ Began work again to-day. The school is much fallen off. Many pupils are dead, and the rest have lost relatives. It is a gloomy school, but the worst is over.

CHAPTER XVIII

The Aristocracy, the Poor, and American Women

Aristocracy and "Caciquism" in the Philippines--Poverty of the Filipino Poor--Happiness in Spite of Poverty--Virtual Slavery of the Rustics--Their Loyalty to Their Employers--Wages in Manila and in the Provinces--Many Resources Possessed by the Upper Cla.s.ses--Chaffering for All Kinds of Produce--Happiness Within the Reach of American Women if Employed--American Women Safe in the Philippines--After a Visit to America I Am Glad to Return to the islands.