The Social Cancer - 15

in contemplative attitude on the tops of the bamboo posts, while
a number of white birds, which the Tagalogs call _kalaway_, flew
about in different directions, skimming the water with their wings
and filling the air with shrill cries. At the approach of the bankas
the herons took to flight, and Maria Clara followed them with her
gaze as they flew in the direction of the neighboring mountain.
"Do those birds build their nests on the mountain?" she asked the
pilot, not so much from a desire to know as for the purpose of making
him talk.
"Probably they do, señora," he answered, "but no one up to this time
has ever seen their nests."
"Don't they have nests?"
"I suppose they must have them, otherwise they would be very
unfortunate."
Maria Clara did not notice the tone of sadness with which he uttered
these words. "Then--"
"It is said, señora," answered the strange youth, "that the nests of
those birds are invisible and that they have the power of rendering
invisible any one who possesses one of them. Just as the soul can
only be seen in the pure mirror of the eyes, so also in the mirror
of the water alone can their nests be looked upon."
Maria Clara became sad and thoughtful. Meanwhile, they had reached
the first fish-corral and an aged boatman tied the craft to a post.
"Wait!" called Aunt Isabel to the son of the fisherman, who was getting
ready to climb upon the platform of the corral with his _panalok_,
or fish-net fastened on the end of a stout bamboo pole. "We must get
the _sinigang_ ready so that the fish may pass at once from the water
into the soup."
"Kind Aunt Isabel!" exclaimed the ex-theological student. "She doesn't
want the fish to miss the water for an instant!"
Andeng, Maria Clara's foster-sister, in spite of her carefree and happy
face, enjoyed the reputation of being an excellent cook, so she set
about preparing a soup of rice and vegetables, helped and hindered by
some of the young men, eager perhaps to win her favor. The other young
women all busied themselves in cutting up and washing the vegetables.
In order to divert the impatience of those who were waiting to see the
fishes taken alive and wriggling from their prison, the beautiful Iday
got out the harp, for Iday not only played well on that instrument,
but, besides, she had very pretty fingers. The young people applauded
and Maria Clara kissed her, for the harp is the most popular instrument
in that province, and was especially suited to this occasion.
"Sing the hymn about marriage," begged the old women. The men protested
and Victoria, who had a fine voice, complained of hoarseness. The "Hymn
of Marriage" is a beautiful Tagalog chant in which are set forth the
cares and sorrows of the married state, yet not passing over its joys.
They then asked Maria Clara to sing, but she protested that all her
songs were sad ones. This protest, however, was overruled so she held
back no longer. Taking the harp, she played a short prelude and then
sang in a harmonious and vibrating voice full of feeling:

Sweet are the hours in one's native land,
Where all is dear the sunbeams bless;
Life-giving breezes sweep the strand,
And death is soften'd by love's caress.
Warm kisses play on mother's lips,
On her fond, tender breast awaking;
When round her neck the soft arm slips,
And bright eyes smile, all love partaking.
Sweet is death for one's native land,
Where all is dear the sunbeams bless;
Dead is the breeze that sweeps the strand,
Without a mother, home, or love's caress.

The song ceased, the voice died away, the harp became silent, and they
still listened; no one applauded. The young women felt their eyes
fill with tears, and Ibarra seemed to be unpleasantly affected. The
youthful pilot stared motionless into the distance.
Suddenly a thundering roar was heard, such that the women screamed and
covered their ears; it was the ex-theological student blowing with all
the strength of his lungs on the _tambuli_, or carabao horn. Laughter
and cheerfulness returned while tear-dimmed eyes brightened. "Are
you trying to deafen us, you heretic?" cried Aunt Isabel.
"Madam," replied the offender gravely, "I once heard of a poor
trumpeter on the banks of the Rhine who, by playing on his trumpet,
won in marriage a rich and noble maiden."
"That's right, the trumpeter of Sackingen!" exclaimed Ibarra, unable
to resist taking part in the renewed merriment.
"Do you hear that?" went on Albino. "Now I want to see if I can't
have the same luck." So saying, he began to blow with even more force
into the resounding horn, holding it close to the ears of the girls
who looked saddest. As might be expected, a small tumult arose and
the mothers finally reduced him to silence by beating him with their
slippers [71] and pinching him.
"My, oh my!" he complained as he felt of his smarting arms, "what
a distance there is between the Philippines and the banks of the
Rhine! _O tempora! O mores!_ Some are given honors and others
sanbenitos!"
All laughed at this, even the grave Victoria, while Sinang, she of
the smiling eyes, whispered to Maria Clara, "Happy girl! I, too,
would sing if I could!"
Andeng at length announced that the soup was ready to receive its
guests, so the young fisherman climbed up into the pen placed at
the narrower end of the corral, over which might be written for the
fishes, were they able to read and understand Italian, "_Lasciate ogni
speranza voi ch' entrante_," [72] for no fish that gets in there is
ever released except by death. This division of the corral encloses
a circular space so arranged that a man can stand on a platform in
the upper part and draw the fish out with a small net.
"I shouldn't get tired fishing there with a pole and line," commented
Sinang, trembling with pleasant anticipation.
All were now watching and some even began to believe that they saw
the fishes wriggling about in the net and showing their glittering
scales. But when the youth lowered his net not a fish leaped up.
"It must be full," whispered Albino, "for it has been over five days
now since it was visited."
The fisherman drew in his net, but not even a single little fish
adorned it. The water as it fell back in glittering drops reflecting
the sunlight seemed to mock his efforts with a silvery smile. An
exclamation of surprise, displeasure, and disappointment escaped from
the lips of all. Again the youth repeated the operation, but with no
better result.
"You don't understand your business," said Albino, climbing up into
the pen of the corral and taking the net from the youth's hands. "Now
you'll see! Andeng, get the pot ready!"
But apparently Albino did not understand the business either, for
the net again came up empty. All broke out into laughter at him.
"Don't make so much noise that the fish can hear and so not let
themselves be caught. This net must be torn." But on examination all
the meshes of the net appeared to be intact.
"Give it to me," said Leon, Iday's sweetheart. He assured himself
that the fence was in good condition, examined the net and being
satisfied with it, asked, "Are you sure that it hasn't been visited
for five days?"
"Very sure! The last time was on the eve of All Saints."
"Well then, either the lake is enchanted or I'll draw up something."
Leon then dropped the pole into the water and instantly astonishment
was pictured on his countenance. Silently he looked off toward the
mountain and moved the pole about in the water, then without raising
it murmured in a low voice:
"A cayman!"
"A cayman!" repeated everyone, as the word ran from mouth to mouth
in the midst of fright and general surprise.
"What did you say?" they asked him.
"I say that we're caught a cayman," Leon assured them, and as he
dropped the heavy end of the pole into the water, he continued:
"Don't you hear that sound? That's not sand, but a tough hide, the
back of a cayman. Don't you see how the posts shake? He's pushing
against them even though he is all rolled up. Wait, he's a big one,
his body is almost a foot or more across."
"What shall we do?" was the question.
"Catch him!" prompted some one.
"Heavens_!_ And who'll catch him?"
No one offered to go down into the trap, for the water was deep.
"We ought to tie him to our banka and drag him along in triumph,"
suggested Sinang. "The idea of his eating the fish that we were going
to eat!"
"I have never yet seen a live cayman," murmured Maria Clara.
The pilot arose, picked up a long rope, and climbed nimbly up on the
platform, where Leon made room for him. With the exception of Maria
Clara, no one had taken any notice of him, but now all admired his
shapely figure. To the great surprise of all and in spite of their
cries, he leaped down into the enclosure.
"Take this knife!" called Crisostomo to him, holding out a wide Toledo
blade, but already the water was splashing up in a thousand jets and
the depths closed mysteriously.
"_Jesús, María, y José_!" exclaimed the old women. "We're going to
have an accident!"
"Don't be uneasy, ladies," said the old boatman, "for if there is
any one in the province who can do it, he's the man."
"What's his name?" they asked.
"We call him 'The Pilot' and he's the best I've ever seen, only he
doesn't like the business."
The water became disturbed, then broke into ripples, the fence shook;
a struggle seemed to be going on in the depths. All were silent
and hardly breathed. Ibarra grasped the handle of the sharp knife
convulsively.
Now the struggle seemed to be at an end and the head of the youth
appeared, to be greeted with joyful cries. The eyes of the old women
filled with tears. The pilot climbed up with one end of the rope in
his hand and once on the platform began to pull on it. The monster
soon appeared above the water with the rope tied in a double band
around its neck and underneath its front legs. It was a large one,
as Leon had said, speckled, and on its back grew the green moss which
is to the caymans what gray hairs are to men. Roaring like a bull and
beating its tail against or catching hold of the sides of the corral,
it opened its huge jaws and showed its long, sharp teeth. The pilot
was hoisting it alone, for no one had thought to assist him.
Once out of the water and resting on the platform, he placed his
foot upon it and with his strong hands forced its huge jaws together
and tried to tie its snout with stout knots. With a last effort the
reptile arched its body, struck the floor with its powerful tail,
and jerking free, hurled itself with one leap into the water outside
the corral, dragging its captor along with it. A cry of horror broke
from the lips of all. But like a flash of lightning another body shot
into the water so quickly that there was hardly time to realize that
it was Ibarra. Maria Clara did not swoon only for the reason that
the Filipino women do not yet know how to do so.
The anxious watchers saw the water become colored and dyed with
blood. The young fisherman jumped down with his bolo in his hand and
was followed by his father, but they had scarcely disappeared when
Crisostomo and the pilot reappeared clinging to the dead body of the
reptile, which had the whole length of its white belly slit open and
the knife still sticking in its throat.
To describe the joy were impossible, as a dozen arms reached out to
drag the young men from the water. The old women were beside themselves
between laughter and prayers. Andeng forgot that her _sinigang_
had boiled over three times, spilling the soup and putting out the
fire. The only one who could say nothing was Maria Clara.
Ibarra was uninjured, while the pilot had only a slight scratch on
his arm. "I owe my life to you," said the latter to Ibarra, who was
wrapping himself up in blankets and cloths. The pilot's voice seemed
to have a note of sadness in it.
"You are too daring," answered Ibarra. "Don't tempt fate again."
"If you had not come up again--" murmured the still pale and trembling
Maria Clara.
"If I had not come up and you had followed me," replied Ibarra,
completing the thought in his own way, "in the bottom of the lake,
_I should still have been with my family!_" He had not forgotten that
there lay the bones of his father.
The old women did not want to visit the other corral but wished to
return, saying that the day had begun inauspiciously and that many more
accidents might occur. "All because we didn't hear mass," sighed one.
"But what accident has befallen us, ladies?" asked Ibarra. "The cayman
seems to have been the only unlucky one."
"All of which proves," concluded the ex-student of theology, "that
in all its sinful life this unfortunate reptile has never attended
mass--at least, I've never seen him among the many other caymans that
frequent the church."
So the boats were turned in the direction of the other corral and
Andeng had to get her _sinigang_ ready again. The day was now well
advanced, with a fresh breeze blowing. The waves curled up behind the
body of the cayman, raising "mountains of foam whereon the smooth,
rich sunlight glitters," as the poet says. The music again resounded;
Iday played on the harp, while the men handled the accordions and
guitars with greater or less skill. The prize-winner was Albino, who
actually scratched the instruments, getting out of tune and losing
the time every moment or else forgetting it and changing to another
tune entirely different.
The second corral was visited with some misgivings, as many expected to
find there the mate of the dead cayman, but nature is ever a jester,
and the nets came up full at each haul. Aunt Isabel superintended
the sorting of the fish and ordered that some be left in the trap for
decoys. "It's not lucky to empty the corral completely," she concluded.
Then they made their way toward the shore near the forest of old trees
that belonged to Ibarra. There in the shade by the clear waters of the
brook, among the flowers, they ate their breakfast under improvised
canopies. The space was filled with music while the smoke from the
fires curled up in slender wreaths. The water bubbled cheerfully in
the hot dishes as though uttering sounds of consolation, or perchance
of sarcasm and irony, to the dead fishes. The body of the cayman
writhed about, sometimes showing its torn white belly and again its
speckled greenish back, while man, Nature's favorite, went on his
way undisturbed by what the Brahmins and vegetarians would call so
many cases of fratricide.


CHAPTER XXIV
In the Wood

Early, very early indeed, somewhat differently from his usual custom,
Padre Salvi had celebrated mass and cleansed a dozen sinful souls in a
few moments. Then it seemed that the reading of some letters which he
had received firmly sealed and waxed caused the worthy curate to lose
his appetite, since he allowed his chocolate to become completely cold.
"The padre is getting sick," commented the cook while preparing another
cup. "For days he hasn't eaten; of the six dishes that I set before
him on the table he doesn't touch even two."
"It's because he sleeps badly," replied the other servant. "He has
nightmares since he changed his bedroom. His eyes are becoming more
sunken all the time and he's getting thinner and yellower day by day."
Truly, Padre Salvi was a pitiable sight. He did not care to touch the
second cup of chocolate nor to taste the sweet cakes of Cebu; instead,
he paced thoughtfully about the spacious sala, crumpling in his bony
hands the letters, which he read from time to time. Finally, he called
for his carriage, got ready, and directed that he be taken to the
wood where stood the fateful tree near which the picnic was being held.
Arriving at the edge of the wood, the padre dismissed his carriage
and made his way alone into its depths. A gloomy pathway opened a
difficult passage through the thickets and led to the brook formed
by certain warm springs, like many that flow from the slopes of
Mr. Makiling. Adorning its banks grow wild flowers, many of which
have as yet no Latin names, but which are doubtless well-known to
the gilded insects and butterflies of all shapes and colors, blue and
gold, white and black, many-hued, glittering with iridescent spots,
with rubies and emeralds on their wings, and to the countless beetles
with their metallic lusters of powdered gold. The hum of the insects,
the cries of the cicada, which cease not night or day, the songs of
the birds, and the dry crashing of the rotten branch that falls and
strikes all around against the trees, are the only sounds to break
the stillness of that mysterious place.
For some time the padre wandered aimlessly among the thick underbrush,
avoiding the thorns that caught at his _guingón_ habit as though to
detain him, and the roots of the trees that protruded from the soil
to form stumbling-blocks at every step for this wanderer unaccustomed
to such places. But suddenly his feet were arrested by the sound of
clear voices raised in merry laughter, seeming to come from the brook
and apparently drawing nearer.
"I'm going to see if I can find one of those nests," said a beautiful,
sweet voice, which the curate recognized. "I'd like to see _him_
without having him see me, so I could follow him everywhere."
Padre Salvi hid behind the trunk of a large tree and set himself
to eavesdrop.
"Does that mean that you want to do with him what the curate does with
you?" asked a laughing voice. "He watches you everywhere. Be careful,
for jealousy makes people thin and puts rings around their eyes."
"No, no, not jealousy, it's pure curiosity," replied the silvery voice,
while the laughing one repeated, "Yes, jealousy, jealousy!" and she
burst out into merry laughter.
"If I were jealous, instead of making myself invisible, I'd make him
so, in order that no one might see him."
"But neither would you see _him_ and that wouldn't be nice. The best
thing for us to do if we find the nest would be to present it to the
curate so that he could watch over us without the necessity of our
seeing him, don't you think so?"
"I don't believe in those herons' nests," interrupted another voice,
"but if at any time I should be jealous, I'd know how to watch and
still keep myself hidden."
"How, how? Perhaps like a _Sor Escucha?_" [73]
This reminiscence of school-days provoked another merry burst of
laughter.
"And you know how she's fooled, the _Sor Escucha!_"
From his hiding-place Padre Salvi saw Maria Clara, Victoria, and Sinang
wading along the border of the brook. They were moving forward with
their eyes fixed on the crystal waters, seeking the enchanted nest of
the heron, wet to their knees so that the wide folds of their bathing
skirts revealed the graceful curves of their bodies. Their hair was
flung loose, their arms bare, and they wore camisas with wide stripes
of bright hues. While looking for something that they could not find
they were picking flowers and plants which grew along the bank.
The religious Acteon stood pale and motionless gazing at that chaste
Diana, but his eyes glittered in their dark circles, untired of staring
at those white and shapely arms and at that elegant neck and bust,
while the small rosy feet that played in the water awoke in his starved
being strange sensations and in his burning brain dreams of new ideas.
The three charming figures disappeared behind a bamboo thicket
around a bend in the brook, and their cruel allusions ceased to be
heard. Intoxicated, staggering, covered with perspiration, Padre Salvi
left his hiding-place and looked all about him with rolling eyes. He
stood still as if in doubt, then took a few steps as though he would
try to follow the girls, but turned again and made his way along the
banks of the stream to seek the rest of the party.
At a little distance he saw in the middle of the brook a kind of
bathing-place, well enclosed, decorated with palm leaves, flowers,
and streamers, with a leafy clump of bamboo for a covering, from
within which came the sound of happy feminine voices. Farther on
he saw a bamboo bridge and beyond it the men bathing. Near these a
crowd of servants was busily engaged around improvised _kalanes_ in
plucking chickens, washing rice, and roasting a pig. On the opposite
bank in a cleared space were gathered men and women under a canvas
covering which was fastened partly to the hoary trees and partly to
newly-driven stakes. There were gathered the alferez, the coadjutor,
the gobernadorcillo, the teniente-mayor, the schoolmaster, and many
other personages of the town, even including Sinang's father, Capitan
Basilio, who had been the adversary of the deceased Don Rafael in
an old lawsuit. Ibarra had said to him, "We are disputing over a
point of law, but that does not mean that we are enemies," so the
celebrated orator of the conservatives had enthusiastically accepted
the invitation, sending along three turkeys and putting his servants
at the young man's disposal.
The curate was received with respect and deference by all, even the
alferez. "Why, where has your Reverence been?" asked the latter,
as he noticed the curate's scratched face and his habit covered with
leaves and dry twigs. "Has your Reverence had a fall?"
"No, I lost my way," replied Padre Salvi, lowering his gaze to examine
his gown.
Bottles of lemonade were brought out and green coconuts were split
open so that the bathers as they came from the water might refresh
themselves with the milk and the soft meat, whiter than the milk
itself. The girls all received in addition rosaries of sampaguitas,
intertwined with roses and ilang-ilang blossoms, to perfume their
flowing tresses. Some of the company sat on the ground or reclined
in hammocks swung from the branches of the trees, while others
amused themselves around a wide flat rock on which were to be seen
playing-cards, a chess-board, booklets, cowry shells, and pebbles.
They showed the cayman to the curate, but he seemed inattentive
until they told him that the gaping wound had been inflicted by
Ibarra. The celebrated and unknown pilot was no longer to be seen,
as he had disappeared before the arrival of the alferez.
At length Maria Clara came from the bath with her companions, looking
fresh as a rose on its first morning when the dew sparkling on its fair
petals glistens like diamonds. Her first smile was for Crisostomo and
the first cloud on her brow for Padre Salvi, who noted it and sighed.
The lunch hour was now come, and the curate, the coadjutor, the
gobernadorcillo, the teniente-mayor, and the other dignitaries took
their seats at the table over which Ibarra presided. The mothers
would not permit any of the men to eat at the table where the young
women sat.
"This time, Albino, you can't invent holes as in the bankas," said
Leon to the quondam student of theology. "What_!_ What's that?" asked
the old women.
"The bankas, ladies, were as whole as this plate is," explained Leon.
"_Jesús!_ The rascal!" exclaimed the smiling Aunt Isabel.
"Have you yet learned anything of the criminal who assaulted Padre
Damaso?" inquired Fray Salvi of the alferez.
"Of what criminal, Padre?" asked the military man, staring at the
friar over the glass of wine that he was emptying,
"What criminal! Why, the one who struck Padre Damaso in the road
yesterday afternoon!"
"Struck Padre Damaso?" asked several voices.
The coadjutor seemed to smile, while Padre Salvi went on: "Yes, and
Padre Damaso is now confined to his bed. It's thought that he may be
the very same Elias who threw you into the mudhole, señor alferez."
Either from shame or wine the alferez's face became very red.
"Of course, I thought," continued Padre Salvi in a joking manner,
"that you, the alferez of the Civil Guard, would be informed about
the affair."
The soldier bit his lip and was murmuring some foolish excuse, when
the meal was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a pale, thin,
poorly-clad woman. No one had noticed her approach, for she had come
so noiselessly that at night she might have been taken for a ghost.
"Give this poor woman something to eat," cried the old women. "_Oy_,
come here!"
Still the strange woman kept on her way to the table where the
curate was seated. As he turned his face and recognized her, his
knife dropped from his hand.
"Give this woman something to eat," ordered Ibarra.
"The night is dark and the boys disappear," murmured the wandering
woman, but at sight of the alferez, who spoke to her, she became
frightened and ran away among the trees.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"An unfortunate woman who has become insane from fear and sorrow,"
answered Don Filipo. "For four days now she has been so."
"Is her name Sisa?" asked Ibarra with interest.
"Your soldiers arrested her," continued the teniente-mayor, rather
bitterly, to the alferez. "They marched her through the town on
account of something about her sons which isn't very clearly known."
"What!" exclaimed the alferez, turning to the curate, "she isn't the
mother of your two sacristans?"
The curate nodded in affirmation.
"They disappeared and nobody made any inquiries about them," added Don
Filipo with a severe look at the gobernadorcillo, who dropped his eyes.
"Look for that woman," Crisostomo ordered the servants. "I promised
to try to learn where her sons are."
"They disappeared, did you say?" asked the alferez. "Your sacristans
disappeared, Padre?"
The friar emptied the glass of wine before him and again nodded.
"_Caramba_, Padre!" exclaimed the alferez with a sarcastic laugh,
pleased at the thought of a little revenge. "A few pesos of your
Reverence's disappear and my sergeant is routed out early to hunt for
them--two sacristans disappear and your Reverence says nothing--and
you, señor capitan--It's also true that you--"
Here he broke off with another laugh as he buried his spoon in the
red meat of a wild papaya.
The curate, confused, and not over-intent upon what he was saying,
replied, "That's because I have to answer for the money--"
"A good answer, reverend shepherd of souls!" interrupted the alferez
with his mouth full of food. "A splendid answer, holy man!"
Ibarra wished to intervene, but Padre Salvi controlled himself by
an effort and said with a forced smile, "Then you don't know, sir,
what is said about the disappearance of those boys? No? Then ask
your soldiers!"
"What!" exclaimed the alferez, all his mirth gone.
"It's said that on the night they disappeared several shots were
heard."
"Several shots?" echoed the alferez, looking around at the other
guests, who nodded their heads in corroboration of the padre's
statement.
Padre Salvi then replied slowly and with cutting sarcasm: "Come now,
I see that you don't catch the criminals nor do you know what is going
on in your own house, yet you try to set yourself up as a preacher
to point out their duties to others. You ought to keep in mind that
proverb about the fool in his own house--" [74]
"Gentlemen!" interrupted Ibarra, seeing that the alferez had grown
pale. "In this connection I should like to have your opinion about a
project of mine. I'm thinking of putting this crazy woman under the
care of a skilful physician and, in the meantime, with your aid and
advice, I'll search for her sons."
The return of the servants without the madwoman, whom they had been
unable to find, brought peace by turning the conversation to other
matters.
The meal ended, and while the tea and coffee were being served,
both old and young scattered about in different groups. Some took the