He Proved, However, An Arrant Coward, And, Like Most
Filipinos, Lived In Great Fear Of The Negritos.
When out with me
in the forest he would start, if he heard a twig snap or a bamboo
creak, and look fearfully about him for a Negrito.
He told me that
the Negritos will kill and rob you if they think there is no chance
of being found out, and he mentioned a case of an old Filipino being
killed and robbed by these same Negritos a few months previously. I
managed to string together the following absurd story from his broken
English. He said that if you heard a twig break in the forest once or
even twice you were safe enough, but if a twig snapped a third time,
and you did not call out that you saw the Negrito, you would get an
arrow into you. He said that once when he heard the stick "break three
time" (to use his own words), he called out "Ah! I see you Negrite,
and the Negrite he no shoot, but came out like amigo (friend)." His
English was too limited for me to point out the many weak and absurd
points of the story, as, for instance, why the Negrito should make the
twigs break exactly three times, and why he should not shoot because
he thinks he is seen. I only mention this anecdote to illustrate the
credulity of the Filipinos. The next day, when we were out collecting
in the morning, I suddenly saw him start when a bamboo snapped, so I
called out, "Buenos diaz, Senor Negrite." This was too much for my man,
who ran off home and refused to follow me in the forest that afternoon,
and when I returned that evening he was nowhere to be seen, and I
found out later that he had returned to Florida Blanca. In consequence
I was forced to do all my own cooking, which was not pleasant, as I
had to do it all in the hot sun, and this brought on a return of my
fever. At last, one morning, as I was endeavouring to light a fire to
cook my breakfast, and muttering unpleasant things about Vic and his
brother, I suddenly looked up and Vic stood before me like a. silent
ghost. I say like a ghost, because he looked like one, thin and gaunt
as he still was from fever. He, too, had had a return of the fever
and had not yet recovered, but sooner than that "his English" should
be alone, he had dragged himself over in the cool of the night. The
next day his wife and two children arrived. She had been on a visit
to her mother in another village, which accounted for Vic's thinking
she had run away. They occupied the hut of my late neighbour, and
before many days had gone they were all bad with fever. It was easy
to see that the woman hated me, and imagined I was the cause of her
having to come and live in these lonely and unhealthy mountains. Vic
told me that there had been so much sickness in Florida Blanca that
there was no quinine left in the place. My own stock was getting low,
and Vic and his family, as well as myself, used it daily. I had cured
the old Negrito chief with it, and he was very grateful to me, and
presented me with some very fine arrows in return.
For some time past I had heard rumours of an extraordinary tribe of
Negritos who lived further back in the mountains, and were named
Buquils, and whose women were reported to have beards. Vic, whom
I always found to be most truthful in everything, and who rarely
exaggerated, declared it was true, and furthermore told me that
these Buquils had long smooth hair, which proved that they could not
have been Negritos. Besides, I learnt that they were quite a tall
people. Nowhere in the whole world is there such a diversity of races
as in the Philippines, and so it would be quite impossible even to
guess what they were. Vic had once seen some of them himself when they
came on a visit to the lower mountains. Though I thought the story,
as to the women having beards, a fable, I determined to visit them
before I left these mountains, and the old Negrito chief, who also told
me that the women really did have beards, offered to lend me some of
his people to carry my things. But one day Vic heard that his lather
was dying, and when I tried to cheer him up he sobbed in a mixture
of broken Spanish and English, "One thousand senoritas can get, one
thousand children can get, but lose one father more cannot get." On
this account I had to return to Florida Blanca, and besides we were
all very bad with constant attacks of fever, and in this village we
could at all events get bread, milk and eggs to recuperate us. The
American had left for a long holiday, so I managed to hire a small
house where I could sort my collections before returning to Manila,
where I intended catching a steamer for the south Philippines.
One day the village priest (a Filipino) called on me, and in course
of conversation we spoke about these Buquils. He was most emphatic
that it was true about the women having beards, and he also told me
that no Englishman, American or Spaniard had ever penetrated so far
back in the mountains as to reach their villages. When he had left I
thought it over, and decided to go and see them for myself, though
I was still suffering from fever. Vic, whose father had recovered
from his illness, declared his willingness to accompany me; in fact
I knew that he would never allow me to go without him. He was quite
miserable at the idea of our parting, which was close at hand.
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