The Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy Part 12
This question was received by Lewis and the sergeant with grave surprise. Solemnly they exchanged inquiring glances, then in mock indignation glowered at the _Sabah_. The _Sabah_ disturb the peace? When had that happened?
Insolently the interpreter related the story of the attack, and a rustle of surprise and delight ran through the troop. Sorrowfully Lewis and the sergeant shook their heads, and the sultan, puzzled at first, began to realize that he was dealing with a new kind of "Americano." The two men's heads bent lower and lower as they sorrowed over the misdemeanor of their little boat. Weighed down with grief, Lewis signaled Piang to prepare for his reply to the n.o.ble visitor.
How could he (Lewis) appease the powerful sultan for this mishap? What amends could he make for the treachery of his little gunboat? Not even he [his hands went up in imitation of the sultan's own gesture of the day before] could help it, powerful officer though he was. It was Christmas, a most holy day, and doubtless before dawn the truant craft had slipped out of the harbor without permission and had gone juramentadoing.
"Attention!" commanded Sergeant Greer, startling the troop into rigidness. Their delight had almost expressed itself in a whoop.
With exaggerated gestures, Lewis continued.
Did the Moro not have similar customs? And did the sultan not sympathize with him in his inability to stop this dreadful practice in the Celebes Sea? American boats are dangerous on their feast days, and no one can tell when they may go juramentadoing to celebrate the occasion. That is the only custom they could celebrate to-day. Look! [He pointed at the pitiful banana-trees.] There are no gifts to adorn them with, no turkeys to kill; and the soldiers' hearts are sad. But the _Sabah_ evidently appreciated her capabilities, and doubtless before night she would again honor her country by recklessly sh.e.l.ling the jungle.
At this moment from the _Sabah_ a shrill whistle echoed through the forest, scattering the a.s.sembled guests in all directions. Some took to trees, others threw themselves face down, on the ground.
The sultan was furious. He gruffly ordered his subjects back, and his beady eyes glared at the impostor, but he was too much of a diplomat to display his feelings further. The soldiers had been amused at first, but they realized the danger of trifling with the sultan. Every tree and corner of the jungle would respond with an armed savage, eager to destroy them, should the order be given, and uneasy glances were directed at the irate potentate. All the recent good humor and mirth had vanished; only the sergeant and the lieutenant retained an air of utter indifference. They quietly continued to smoke, gazing off into the far horizon, oblivious of their surroundings. Were they pushing that huge American bluff too far?
After long deliberation, the sultan apparently reached his conclusion. He whispered an order, and several runners disappeared into the jungle. Lewis heard the sergeant catch his breath, but the old man preserved his dignity admirably. More silent waiting and smoking followed. The sultan growled his displeasure as an adviser attempted to give some piece of advice, displaying a far from lovely temper. Piang valiantly stood his ground, ready to fight and die by his friend.
Finally sounds of the returning slaves reached the gathering. What was coming? Armed savages? Or had he ordered his poison reptiles to be let loose among the soldiers? The stillness was oppressive. No one moved, and the sultan continued to study the averted face of the officer.
A sound floated to them, nearer, nearer. The men braced themselves for a fight. But the sound? It was one they had all heard, a familiar, homelike sound.
"Gobble-gobble!" It was answered from all directions. Gradually the truth dawned on Lewis. He had won, and the warm blood rushed through his tired limbs.
"Turkeys, by gosh!" shouted a recruit, and the cry was taken up by the whole command, for slaves were pouring in with fowls of every description. The sergeant vainly tried to establish order in the ranks, but the reaction was too great. All the good humor and excitement of the morning was restored, and the innate childishness of the soldier began to a.s.sert itself.
"Here, Jake, hang this fellow up on that tree so he can salute his majesty in true turkey fashion," shouted one man, and Jake, game as usual, tossed a big gobbler up in one of the mock Christmas-trees. From this point of vantage the bird made the jungle resound with its protests, while the troop screamed with laughter as Jake undertook to interpret the creature's address.
"Piang, what will we say to the old codger now?" asked Lewis.
"I ask for gift for _Sabah_; it keep her good," grinned the boy, and when he delivered that message to his majesty, a smile nearly destroyed the immobility of his features. A slave handed Lewis a package done up in green leaves, and when he curiously loosened the wrappings, a handful of seed-pearls, beautiful in l.u.s.ter and coloring fell in his palm.
"Thank him for the _Sabah_, Piang. I guess this will ease her restless spirit, all right. Tell him it will also serve as a balm for the wounds of the men who were attacked by the juramentados."
Regally the old potentate rose to take leave. Lewis wanted to slap him on the back in that "bully-for-you-old-top" manner, but the farce must be completed. When the sultan paused opposite Lewis, measuring him with those cruel, steely eyes, Lewis's only indiscretion was a wavering of the eyelid, just one little waver, but it was very much like a wink. There was undoubtedly a response in the other's eyes, but that is between the sultan and Lewis.
As solemnly as they had come, the procession disappeared into the jungle. The giant trees, smothered by vines and noxious growths, swallowed the brilliant throng and seemed to symbolize the union of the savage and the jungle. The sergeant's great, brawny hand was extended and grasped by Lewis in appreciation of what they had been through together.
Excitement reigned everywhere. The bedlam of fowls about to be decapitated and the shrieks of the troopers vied with each other for supremacy. Piang was being lionized by the men, toasted and praised in high fashion.
When Lewis inspected the Christmas dinner, the old Irishman winked a solemn wink, as he reminded the lieutenant of the discarded menu.
"You knew it all the time, sor; why didn't you put me on?" With a noncommittal smile, Lewis proceeded on his usual inspection tour. After he had returned to his tent and was settling himself to enjoy the hard-earned meal, he was startled by an unusually loud outburst among the men. It gradually dawned upon him what it was. "Three cheers for the lieutenant! Three cheers for Piang!" was the cry that was disturbing the jungle twilight.
NINTH ADVENTURE
THE BICHARA [1]
Piang was about to land for the first time at Zamboanga. His tribe had looked with distrust upon the overtures made by Governor Findy, and although they obeyed his command to appear at the _bichara_, they were prepared to fight if necessary. Pagans, Mohammedans, Catholics, and Protestants were ordered to a.s.semble at Zamboanga to establish peaceful trading relations, a thing that had never been dreamed of in the belligerent Sulu Isles, and Americans as well as natives were fearful of the outcome. The governor was severely criticized for his experiment, but he had made a deep study of the Moros, and was willing to run the risks of the present in his desire to bring the light of freedom and peace to the misguided savages. After centuries of oppression and outrages against them, the Moros had of necessity become suspicious and cautious. Preyed upon by Jesuits, Filipinos, and Spaniards, they had long ago found a ready bolo the safest argument. Governor Findy had sent them word that they were to be protected from their enemies, and that Americans were their friends, but disturbing whispers of traps and bondage made the wild folk hesitate to obey the summons.
Thus, a strange scene was being enacted at the Zamboanga wharf. From all directions weird crafts made their way hesitatingly toward it. The sentries were distrustfully scrutinized, but not a soldier was armed.
"See, Kali Pandapatan, I told you the new governor was good. He trusts us and permits us to enter his barrio as friends." Proudly the tribe's charm boy sprang from the war-prau, and, to the astonishment of the soldiers, as well as the Moros, strutted up to the sergeant in charge and offered his hand, American fashion.
"I'll be dinged, if it ain't Piang!" exclaimed Sergeant Greer. "Is this your old man, Piang?" he asked genially, pointing to Kali Pandapatan. The old chief stiffened at the apparent familiarity.
"Him big chief! Him Kali Pandapatan," hastily corrected Piang.
"Excuse me, sor; no hard feelings, I hope. Had a rough trip over, I hear; how did you leave the missus?"
When the remark had been interpreted, a murmur rippled through Kali's ranks, and hands flew to hips. No Moro permits his women to be spoken of.
"What's all the fuss, kid?" asked the sergeant, innocently.
With an impish grin, Piang replied:
"Him no like talk about missus; him got twenty."
"The deuce he has!" laughed the sergeant. "Some old scout!"
The good-natured Irishman finally gained the confidence of the ruffled potentate, and when Piang explained that he and the soldier were old friends, Kali solemnly acknowledged the union with a stiff handshake.
"Ver' good," said the savage with a grin. Piang glowed with pride at Kali's display of English.
"Now what do you know 'bout that?" commented Greer.
The savages were for all the world like packs of wild animals brought to bay. Gaudy Bogobos from Davao brushed shoulders for the first time with Sabanas and Kalibugans, and their snarls and bickerings boded ill for the success of the bichara; but finally the natives huddled together, linked by the common suspicion of their Christian enemy.
Before entering the town, every visitor was required to place his weapons in the _lanceria_. Now a weaponless Moro is the most embarra.s.sed of men, with the possible exception of the dreamer who finds himself at a party in pajamas. A Moro's idea of his costume, arranged in order of its importance is: first, weapons; second, hat; third, shirt, and, incidentally, trousers.
The timid creatures slunk along, looking suspiciously behind them, but as the soldiers paid no attention to them, they gradually forgot their enmity toward civilization and became engrossed in the new delights: pink lemonade, pop-corn, toy balloons. They were beside themselves with joy. When ice-cream was introduced, and they had been a.s.sured that it would not burn them, their admiration was unbounded. Piang surrept.i.tiously slipped some of the heavenly sweet into his wallet for future consumption and was dismayed a little later to find a thin stream trickling down his leg and an empty wallet.
Governor Findy watched with interest the mingling of the many alien people. Wily Chinamen behind their bamboo street-stalls ministered to the wants of the throng, taking in trade bits of gold-dust and trinkets of bra.s.s; Filipinos offered their wares, cooling drinks and sweets. The Filipino's costume is very different from that of the Moro. He wears stiff, white trousers, carefully creased and immaculate shirts which hang outside the trousers. He wears no shoes, and his short black hair is oiled and brushed very carefully.
"Now, it's many times I've been wonderin' what the advantage is in wearin' your shirt outside your trousers," said Sergeant Greer to a sentry. "That's what I call practical," and he pointed to an ice-cream vender, industriously wiping a spoon on the tail of his shirt, before offering it to a new customer.
There was great excitement over the coming _baile_ (ball). That night savages and Christians were to enjoy the festivities side by side, and marvelous tales of preparation were being circulated. Piang and Kali Pandapatan wandered about the village, pausing here and there, filled with awe at the novel sights. The value of garters as necklaces had been discovered, and a brilliant crimson pair decorated the chief's neck (he had gladly parted with five dollars' worth of gold-dust for the treasure). Gilt collar b.u.t.tons were forced into the holes in his ears. Safety-pins and their surprises had to be investigated, and an admiring throng crowded around, marveling at Kali's daring.
"Kali!" Piang exclaimed suddenly. "Look!"
Seated at a table in front of a Chino cafe, were three men in earnest conversation: Alverez, a Filipino mestizo, who had acquired by deception the Moro t.i.tle, Dato Tamangung; his cousin Vincente; and the Moro malcontent, Sicto. The two Filipinos were disloyal employees of the government, already suspected of being the instigators of unrest among the Moros. Sicto was a deserter from Kali's ranks and was wanted by that august chief for many serious offenses. Dato Kali Pandapatan scorned to report Sicto to the authorities. A Moro dato is supreme and has the right to punish his subjects according to his own lights. A woman, mingling with the gala bichara throng had a mere stump for an arm; she was a thief and her hand had been severed to prevent it from offending again. A man with face half covered showed the savage justice dealt a liar; his mouth had been split from ear to ear to permit easier pa.s.sage of the truth. Sicto would be handled according to Moro law, but not here.
Kali and Piang exchanged a knowing look, and Piang wandered off, apparently seeking new pleasures, but furtively watching the three men. He wormed his way through the crowd intent on a game of chess, played by two venerable old Chinamen. A sudden "Sssshhh" from Sicto interrupted Alverez's excited whisper, but not before Piang had caught a few significant words:
"The baile--juramentado--Findy."