Adventures in the Philippine Islands Part 6

CHAPTER VII.

I return to Jala-Jala--An Excursion on the Lake--Relempago's Narrative--Re-organisation of my Government--A Letter from my Brother Henry--His Arrival--He joins me in the Management of my Plantations--Cajoui, the Bandit: Anten-Anten--Indian Superst.i.tion--A Combat with the Bandit--His Death--A Piratical Descent--My Lieutenant is Wounded--I extract the Ball, and cure him.

My prolonged absence from home caused great uneasiness. Very fortunately my wife remained at Manilla, and was totally ignorant of the journey I had recently undertaken.

My patient had not exactly followed the prescribed regimen, so that his distemper had increased, and he was impatiently expecting to return and die, he said, in his house: his wishes were complied with. A few days after my arrival we set out and arrived the next day at Manilla, where my poor friend rendered his last sigh in the middle of his family. This event damped, of course, the pleasure I should have enjoyed in beholding my wife once more.

A few days after the demise of our friend we embarked, and set sail for Jala-Jala.

We glided most agreeably upon the lake until we left the strait of Quinanbutasan, but, once there, we met with so violent an east wind, and the water of the lake was so ruffled, that we were obliged to re-enter the strait, and cast anchor near the cabin of the old fisherman, Relempago, whom I have already noticed.

Our sailors landed to prepare their supper; as for ourselves, we remained in our boat, where we stretched ourselves at our ease, the old fisherman, as he sat doubled up in the Indian fas.h.i.+on, amusing us in the best way he could by the narration of brigand stories.

I interrupted him all on a sudden, saying to him:

"Relempago, I should prefer hearing the history of your own personal adventures; do, therefore, relate your misfortunes to us."

The old fisherman heaved a sigh, and then, unwilling to disoblige me, began his story in the poetical terms so familiar to the Tagal tongue, and which it is almost impossible to reproduce by a translation:

"Lagune is not my native place," said he; "I was born in the island of Zebou, and was at the age of twenty what is called a fine young man; but, pray believe me, I was by no means proud of my physical advantages, and I preferred being the first fisherman of my village. Nevertheless, my comrades were jealous of me, and all that because the young girls would look at me with a certain complaisant air, and seemed to find me to their liking."

I could not but smile at this frank avowal of the old man, which he perceiving, continued:

"I tell you these things, sir," replied he, "because at my age one can speak of them without fearing to appear ridiculous--it is so long ago. And besides, allow me to inform you that I relate to you such things, not from vanity--Oh, no! but merely to furnish you with an exact recital. Besides, the sly and roguish looks that young girls threw at me, as I pa.s.sed through the village, flattered me in no manner. I was in love with Theresa, sir; yes, I was pa.s.sionately in love with her, and my love was returned, for fondly did she love me; a look from any other but from her was totally indifferent to me. Ah! Theresa was the prettiest la.s.s in the village! but, poor soul! she has done like myself--she has greatly altered; for years are an enormous weight, which bends and breaks you down in spite of yourself, and against which there is no way of struggling.

"When, seated as I am at present, I bethink me of the fine by-gone days of my youth--of the strength, the courage, that we used to find in our mutual affection--Oh! I shed tears of regret and sensibility. Where are now those fine--those happy days? Gone, gone, gone! they have fled before the piercing and terrible winds that forerun the storms and the hurricanes. Like the day, life has its dawn; like the day, also, it has its decline!"

Here the poor old fisherman made a pause, and I was loth to interrupt him in his meditation. There then ensued a profound silence, that lasted several minutes. Suddenly Relempago seemed to start from a dream, and pa.s.sing his hand over his forehead, looked at us for some time, as if to excuse himself for those few moments of mental absence, and then he continued as follows:

"We had been brought up together," said he, "and had been affianced as soon as we had grown up. Theresa would have died rather than belong to any other, and, as I shall hereafter prove it, I would have accepted any condition, even the most unfavourable one, rather than abandon the friend of my heart. Alas! it is almost always with our tears that we trace our painful way through life. Theresa's relations were opposed to our union; they even put forward vain and frivolous pretexts; and whatever efforts I made to bring them to decide upon bestowing her affianced hand on me, I never could succeed. And yet they well knew that, like the palm trees, we could not live without each other, and were we to be separated, it would be condemning us to die. But our tears, our prayers, our griefs, were only heard by senseless people, and we were labouring under the most poignant grief, while no one would understand or sympathise with our sorrow. I was beginning to lose all courage, when one morning there came into my mind the pious thought of offering to the Infant Jesus, in the church of Zebou, the first pearl I should fish up. I therefore repaired earlier than usual to the sea-sh.o.r.e, implored the Almighty to grant me his protection, and to have me married to my beloved Theresa. The sun was just beginning to dart his burning rays upon the earth, and was gilding the surface of the waters. Nature was awaking from her transitory sleep, and every living being or object was singing in its language a hymn to the Creator.

"With a beating heart I began diving to the bottom of the sea, in search of the pearl which I so ardently wished for, but my searches and struggles were completely fruitless at first. Had anyone been near me at that moment he would have easily read my disappointment in my face. Nevertheless, my courage failed me not. I began again, but with no better success. 'Oh, Lord!' cried I, 'thou hearest not then my prayers, my supplications! Thou wilt not then accept for thy beloved son the offering that I destine for him.' [14] For the sixth time I plunged, and brought up from the bottom of the sea two enormous oysters. Oh! how my heart leaped with joy! I opened one of them, and found it contained a pearl so large that never in my life had I seen one like it. My joy was so great that I set to dancing in my pirogue, as if I had lost my reason. The Lord, then, did vouchsafe to protect me, since He enabled me to accomplish my vow. With a joyful heart I retraced my steps to my dwelling, and, not wis.h.i.+ng to fail in my word, I took my magnificent pearl to the curate of Zebou.

"The reverend father," continued the old fisherman, "was delighted with my present. That pearl was worth 5,000 piasters (or 25,000 francs, i.e., 1,000 English money), and you must have admired it--you, as well as all other persons who attend the church--for the Infant Jesus always holds it in his hand. The curate thanked and congratulated me on my very good idea.

"'Go home in peace, brother,' said he to me; 'go home in peace. Heaven will not forget thy meritorious action--yea, the disinterestedness of thy good work, and sooner or later thy desires will he hearkened to.'"

"I left the holy man with my heart joyful indeed, and I hastened to inform Theresa of the pastor's consoling words: we rejoiced like two children together. Ah! true indeed it is to say that youth has been endowed by the Almighty with every privilege, particularly with that of hope. At the age of twenty if the heart think that it may live in hope, away with all cares immediately; and, as the morning breeze sips up the drops of moisture that have been left by the storm in the chalice of flowers, so does hope dry up the tears that moisten the eyes of the young, and drive away the sighs that inflate and oppress the breast. So sure were we that our tribulations would ere long be over, that we no longer thought of our by gone sorrow! In the spring-time of life grief leaves do more trace after it than the nimble foot of the wily Indian on the strand, when the sea-wind has blown over it.

"The inhabitants of the village, seeing us so joyful, so purely happy, were envious of our lot, and Theresa's relations could no longer find any pretext for opposing our being united. We were now in full sight of connubial bliss; our boat of life was gently rocked by a very mild wind; we were singing the return-home hymn, not supposing, alas! that we were going to be dashed against a breaker! Our young Indians foresee not in the morning the storm that is to a.s.sail them in the evening. The buffalo cannot avoid the la.s.so, and most often, in order to avoid it, he antic.i.p.ates the danger. I roved about, I may say heedlessly thoughtless of the precipice before my feet. Misfortune marked me for her own when I least expected it.

"One evening, on my return from fis.h.i.+ng, at the moment when I was repairing to Theresa's, there to repose myself after my fatigues of the day, I saw one of my neighbours advancing towards me. That man had always shown me the greatest affection, so that on seeing him thus advance, my limbs began to tremble, and the pulsations of my heart gradually ceased. His face was pale, and entirely altered. His haggard eyes threw forth flashes of terror, and his voice was trembling and agitated.

"'Los Moros [15] have made a descent upon the coast,' said he to me.

"'Good Heavens!' exclaimed I, covering my face with my hands.

"'They surprised some persons of the village, and carried them off prisoners.'

"'And Theresa?' exclaimed I.

"'Carried off with the others,' he replied.

"I heard no more of this revelation, and for some minutes--like the warrior pierced to the heart by a poisoned arrow--was completely deprived of all consciousness.

"When I came back to myself tears flooded my face, and brought me some relief: but suddenly I resumed my courage, and felt that no time was to be lost. I ran to the sh.o.r.e where I had left my pirogue, which I unfastened, and, as quickly as oars could pull me, I pursued the Malays, not in the hope of wresting Theresa from them, but resolved upon partaking of her captivity and misfortune. We better endure the sufferings we have to undergo when we are two together than when we are alone. He who had brought me the fatal tidings saw me start, and thought I had lost my senses; the fact is, my countenance bore all the traces of mental alienation. Methought I was inspired by the grand master-spirit; my pirogue bounded along the troubled waters of the ocean as if it possessed wings. One would have said that I had twenty rowers at my disposal, and I cleft the waves with the same rapidity as the halcyon's flight, when wafted away by the hurricane. After a short time's laborious and painful rowing I at last came in view of the corsairs who were carrying away my treasure. At the sight my strength was renewed again, and I was soon up with them. When I was side by side with them I informed them, in words the most feeling, and which sprang from my poor lacerated heart, that Theresa was my wife, and that I would prefer being a slave with her to abandoning her. The pirates listened to my voice, stifled by my tears, and took me on board, not from commiseration, but from cruelty. In fact, I was a slave more added to their numbers: why should they have repulsed me? A few days after that fatal evening we arrived at Jolo. There the division of the slaves was made, and the master into whose hands we fell took us away with him. Was it, then, to undergo a like destiny that I had dived so early in the morning for a pearl for the Infant Jesus of Zebou? Yes, was it for this that I had made a vow to bring him the first pearl I should find? Notwithstanding my profound sorrow I murmured not, neither did I regret my offering. The Lord was the master! His will should be done."

Here Relempago paused, and looked towards Heaven with a smile of angelic resignation, and we then remarked upon his face the furrows traced by the deep sorrows of his life. The wind was still blowing with violence, and our boat was dancing on the waves; our sailors had finished their repast, and, in order to listen to the fisherman's tale of woe, had taken up their place by his side. Their features wore an expression of the most innocent attention; so, having made a sign to the narrator, he resumed his story as follows:--

"Our captivity lasted two years, during which time we had to endure very great sufferings. Very often would my master take me away with him to a lake in the interior of the island, and these absences lasted for whole months together, during which time I was perforce separated from my Theresa, my dear wife; for, not having been able to get united by a clergyman, we had joined ourselves, under the all-benevolent and protecting eye of the Almighty! On my return, I used to find my poor companion still the same good, faithful, devoted, and affectionate friend, whose courage sustained my own.

"One circ.u.mstance decided me upon taking an audacious resolution. Theresa was in an interesting situation! Oh! what would not my joy have been had I been at Zebou, in the midst of our family and of our friends! What happiness should I not have felt at the idea of being a father! Alas! in slavery, that very same thought froze my blood with terror, and I firmly resolved upon s.n.a.t.c.hing both mother and child from the tortures of captivity. In one of our excursions I had been wounded in the leg, and this wound came greatly to my aid. One day my master set out for the borders of the grand lake, and, knowing I had a bad leg, left me at Jolo. I availed myself of this opportunity to put into execution a project that I had formed for a long time, that of flying with Theresa. The task was a daring one, but the desire of freedom doubles one's strength and increases one's courage, so I did not hesitate for a moment. When night had lowered, my dear Theresa took a road I had pointed out to her; I went by another one, and we both arrived at the sea-sh.o.r.e at a short distance from each other. There we jumped into a pirogue, and threw ourselves upon the protection of Divine mercy!

"We rowed vigorously the whole night, and never in my life shall I forget that mysterious flight. The wind blew rather violently, the night was dark, and the stars insensibly lost their vivid brightness. Every moment we thought we heard behind us the noise of our pursuers, and our hearts beat so loud and so violently that they could be heard in the midst of the silence that reigned around all nature.

"Day at last appeared: we descried by degrees, in the mist of the morning, the rocks that lined the sh.o.r.e, and we could see far enough in the distance that no one was pursuing us. Then were our hearts filled with cheering hope, and we continued rowing towards the north, in order to land on some Christian isle.

"I had taken with me some cocoa-nuts, but they were a very small resource, and we had been at sea three whole days without eating anything, when, exhausted by fatigue and want, we fell upon our knees and invoked the pity, compa.s.sion, and succour of the Infant Jesus of Zebou. Our prayer over, we felt our strength completely exhausted; the oars fell from our hands, and we lay down in the bottom of the pirogue, decided upon dying in each other's arms.

"Our weakness gradually increased, and finally we swooned away, the pirogue all the while das.h.i.+ng heedlessly on with the waves.

"When we recovered from our fainting fit--I know not how long it lasted--we found ourselves surrounded by Christians, who, having perceived us in our light skiff, had come to our aid, conveyed us to their hospitable dwelling, and took the most pious care of us. We had not long been disembarked when Theresa was taken with the pains of labour, and was confined of a very diminutive, sickly child. I went down on my knees before the innocent little creature that had so miraculously escaped from slavery, and prayed for it--it was a boy!"

Here the poor old fisherman heaved a heavy sigh, while tears were fast falling upon his shrunken hands.

We one and all respected this painful recollection of the poor old man.

"Our convalescence was very long indeed," said Relempago; "at last our health was sufficiently restored to permit of us leaving the isle of Negros, where the Infant Jesus had so miraculously caused us to land, and we came to settle here, on the side of this large lake, which, being situated in the interior of the isle of Lucon, afforded me the means of pursuing my avocation of fisherman without in any way fearing the Malays, who might very easily have captured us again at Zebou.

"My first care--yes, the dearest act of my life--on arriving, was to have our marriage celebrated in the church of Moron. I had promised it to G.o.d, and I would not fail in the promise I had made Him who reads all hearts. After that I built the little cottage you see hard-by, and my existence glided on most peacefully. The fis.h.i.+ng trade went on prosperously. I was still a young man, active and intelligent, and sold my fish very easily to the vessels pa.s.sing through the strait. My son had by this time become a fine young man."

"Of course he resembled his father," said I, recollecting the beginning of the old man's tale, but my remark could not excite a smile upon his countenance.

"Oh! the lad was a good fisherman," continued he, "and happily did we all three live together, till a dreadful misfortune befell us. The Infant Jesus had no doubt forsaken us, or perhaps the Almighty was displeased with us; but I am far from murmuring. He has visited us most severely, since He has overwhelmed us with grief of such a strong nature, that it must accompany us to our last resting-place!"

And here the poor old man's tears trickled down his weather-beaten cheeks once more, in abundance, in bitterness, and in sorrow.

Ah! how right was the Italian poet, when he said:--

"Nought lasteth here below but tears!"

The voice of Relempago was stifled by his sobbing; however, he made one more effort, and continued thus:

"One night--a fine moonlight night--we set our nets in a certain part of the strait, and as we felt some difficulty in drawing them up, the lad plunged into the water to ascertain what obstacle we had to contend with, and to set all to rights. I was in my pirogue, leaning over the side, waiting for his return, when all of a sudden I thought I saw, through the silvery beams of the lamp of night, a large spot of blood spreading itself over the surface of the water. Fear took possession of me, and I quickly hauled up my nets. My hapless child had seized upon and become entangled in them--but, alas! when he came to the surface he was a corpse!"

"What! your son?" cried I.