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CHAPTER XI

IN THE SULU SEA

All around the world they lie,
On all the forty seas,

And the chorus of their call goes by
On every vagrant breeze;
Sleepy little beach towns,

A-sprawl for miles and miles,
Or dirty river-reach towns

On delta mud and piles.

Tawi Tawi, Zamboanga,
Cebu and Principe,
Sandakan, Malabang,
Jolo-by-the-sea —

Oh, the finest hymn-book printed
Is an old geography.

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LEO HAYS

STEAMING away from Davao shortly after sunrise next morning, we came to anchor opposite the village of Dalaion at seven-thirty. And what a sight was that on shore! Dalaion is the center of an extensive hemp-raising district. The natives bring the hemp down from their fields up in the hills and sell it to a resident agent who stores it in a big nipa-shack until the arrival of the steamer which takes it to Manila at stated intervals. But it was not the hemp shack that glued our staring eyes to the shore. It was a band of Bagobos- the most gorgeously togged-out aggregation of distinguished-looking pagans the traveler ever laid eyes on. They had come down from the heights of Mount Apo to greet the messenger of the President of the United States, as they understood Mr. Miller to be. There were some ten or fifteen datus with as many more youths, slim as young girls, with rather fine features betokening a

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different ancestry from anything we had seen some as young Greek gods: long black hair, tied in a flowing knot and decorated with a gayly colored kerchief of native cloth; decked out with ivory ear-disks, about half as big again as a silver dollar, which were inserted into an enlarged slit in the lobe of the ears; tight-fitting, knee-length trousers made of specially treated and exquisitely dyed hemp fiber, with a short, close-fitting, beaded jacket to match; broad garters of bead-work, tied and dyed to harmonize with the rest of the outfit, and bare feet. And strange to say, it didn't seem to be overdone. Never in all our travels had we seen such a brilliant display of sartorial grandeur. We were taking all this in with our binoculars almost before El Aguila let go her anchor. A few moments later, and we were in the launch which grounded about two hundred feet from shore, and we had the unexpected pleasure of having those gaylyclad youths come out with sedan chairs and carry us to the beach. Meanwhile the weirdest string music imaginable filled the air accompanied by the tomtoms and copper gongs, which were far from unpleasant.

A few steps from the beach, hidden by the jungle growth, ranged around the little plaza in front of the hemp warehouse, we came upon our orchestra consisting of a dozen Bagobo women, costumed as brilliantly as their men, who had started the festivities in a most auspicious manner. Half of them were seated on the ground behind ornately carved racks upon which their copper gongs were strung like a huge xylophone. These they beat alternately with the hide-covered drums or tom-toms presided over by other feminine artists. The stringed instruments consisted of long sections of hollow bamboo stalks about four inches in diameter, the outer surface of which had been cut into thin narrow strips, fastened at either end, and bridged like a violin string. The performers on this primitive instrument

held it in both hands clasped around the center while they twanged the bamboo strings with their fingers and danced a sort of crude quadrille to a quickening tempo. It was a most interesting performance. And while it could scarcely be called harmonious, neither was it discordant. Also, there was a very definite rhythm to both the dance and the music, the bell-like tones of the gongs being deeply resonant and musical. They had staged a royal welcome, indeed, for us, and one would hardly think that the Bagobos were, previously, probably the most savage of all the mountain tribes in the Philippine Archipelago. The next thing that attracted our attention was that all the men had their teeth filed to almost needle-like points — that being the prevailing style. We learned also that the fine clothing and dyeing was the work of the women who apparently took great pride in keeping their men-folks looking like Solomon in all his glory, with a more striking color scheme than they themselves affected. Lieutenant Cochran stepped forward and greeted the chiefs with a hearty hand-shake which they apparently understood as being good form amongst the white people and responded with great cordiality. The aquiline features of some of the young men, with their high foreheads and brilliant black eyes, would almost indicate the presence of Caucasian blood were it not for the wellknown fact that the ancient laws of this tribe rendered such a possibility exceedingly remote. These people are sheer pagan, with many barbarous practices, especially human sacrifice which, it is said, still persists in their tribal ceremonies. It was not surprising, therefore, that their understanding of independence was that it was some material thing which, if planted with their corn, would greatly increase the size of the harvest - for this was the argument that had been advanced by the emissaries of Quézon -- and the Bagobos were for it accordingly. After a two hours'

pow-wow, they permitted us to take their photographs in company with Mr. Miller, which seemed to please them greatly. Returning to the ship, we bade good-bye to Lieutenant Cochran, who set off upstream in his launch to resume his lonely post at Tagun with a regret which we all shared. Is it possible, I wonder, that the Congress of the United States will permit the unselfish, devoted service of such men as these to be brought to naught, in the name of politics? God forbid!

Zamboanga! What memories it recalls! Perhaps the most interesting feature of this ancient Spanish town at the southern extremity of the western peninsula of Mindanao is the fact that General John J. Pershing, U.S.A. (retired), was stationed there as Military Governor of the Moro Province, in 1913, with the modest rank of Major. It is worthy of note that four years later he was in charge of the American Expeditionary Forces in France where he demonstrated the value of his Philippine experience. Major Pershing was in Zamboanga on our arrival and accorded us a very cordial welcome. He will be remembered in the Philippines for many years to come, not only as a great fighter, but a builder and constructor as well. He had just received his orders to return to the United States and was subsequently in command at the Presido in San Francisco.

'Zambo,' as it is familiarly dubbed in the Philippines, is the capital of the Moro Province and one of the most attractive towns in the archipelago. With a cooler climate than Manila and ideal sanitary conditions as a result of the American occupation, it has always been a much-coveted station by the army officers. As we neared the town, a flotilla of native outrigger boats came out to meet us, each of them containing its quota of gongs and tom-toms, with a great display of multi-colored flags. It was a most hearty

reception and we were glad of the opportunity to go ashore under ideal conditions where we were entertained most cordially by the officers and their wives. A motor ride followed, over as fine a ballasted boulevard as might be found at home, taking in the new custom-house, piers, parks, and bridges, including the Provincial Capitol, one of the finest public buildings in the islands. Major Pershing showed us, with no little pride, his recently constructed jail which was open on all sides, thoroughly sanitary, and doubtless more healthy and desirable quarters than the inmates had ever known. The spacious parade ground, surrounded by palm trees, on which the officers' quarters faced, was bordered by a terraced canal of pure spring water conducted from the hills, and the whole place filled to overflowing with flowering plants of infinite tropical variety. It was a perfect haven of rest facing out upon the blue waters of the Sulu Sea. A well-attended meeting was held on a sort of a common overlooking the sea, attended by both Moros and Filipinos. And it was odd enough to hear the former speak eloquently in their broken English of the security and peace they enjoyed under the American flag which they hoped would remain there forever - followed by a Filipino spellbinder, properly coached, on the 'many blessings of independence.'

At the close of the meeting the Moros staged a mock spear-fight which was not quite as much of a mockery as it was supposed to be, in view of the fact that the contestants had to be separated. We had an idea that it was meant for the especial benefit of the Filipinos present, as an earnest of what they might expect under certain conditions. It must be said that they looked none too comfortable. The usual orchestra was on hand and the booming of the tom-toms accompanied by the deep-toned gongs was altogether too suggestive of the barbarism from which the warlike Moro is slowly rising.

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