Anting-Anting Stories, and Other Strange Tales of the Filipinos

  Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ (This book wasproduced from scanned images of public domain materialfrom the Google Print project.)

  ANTING-ANTING STORIES And Other STRANGE TALES of the FILIPINOS

  By

  Sargent Kayme

  Boston: Small, Maynard & Company 1901

  FOREWORD

  The life of the inhabitants of the far-away Eastern islands in whichthe people of the United States are now so vitally interested opens toour literature a new field not less fresh and original than that whichcame to us when Mr. Kipling first published his Indian tales. Indiahad always possessed its wonders and its remarkable types, but theywaited long for adequate expression. No less wonderful and variedare the inhabitants and the phenomena of the Philippines, and a newauthor, showing rare knowledge of the country and its strange peoples,now gives us a collection of simple yet powerful stories which bringthem before us with dramatic vividness.

  Pirates, half naked natives, pearls, man-apes, towering volcanoesabout whose summits clouds and unearthly traditions float together,strange animals and birds, and stranger men, pythons, bejuco ropesstained with human blood, feathering palm trees now fanned by softbreezes and now crushed to the ground by tornadoes;--on no mimicstage was ever a more wonderful scene set for such a company ofactors. That the truly remarkable stories written by Sargent Kaymedo not exaggerate the realities of this strange life can be easilyseen by any one who has read the letters from press correspondents,our soldiers, or the more formal books of travel.

  Strangest, perhaps, of all these possibilities for fiction is theanting-anting, at once a mysterious power to protect its possessorand the outward symbol of the protection. No more curious fetichcan be found in the history of folk-lore. A button, a coin, a bit ofpaper with unintelligible words scribbled upon it, a bone, a stone,a garment, anything, almost--often a thing of no intrinsic value--itsowner has been known to walk up to the muzzle of a loaded musket orrush upon the point of a bayonet with a confidence so sublime as tosilence ridicule and to command admiration if not respect.

  The Editor.

  CONTENTS

  The Anting-Anting of Captain Von Tollig 1 The Cave in the Side of Coron 21 The Conjure Man of Siargao 41 Mrs. Hannah Smith, Nurse 65 The Fifteenth Wife 93 "Our Lady of Pilar" 113 A Question of Time 131 The Spirit of Mount Apo 153 With What Measure Ye Mete 179 Told at the Club 195 Pearls of Sulu 211

  ANTING-ANTING STORIES

  THE ANTING-ANTING OF CAPTAIN VON TOLLIG

  There had been a battle between the American forces and the Tagalogs,and the natives had been driven back. The stone church of Santa Maria,around which the engagement had been hottest, and far beyond whichthe native lines had now been driven, had been turned into a hospitalfor the wounded Tagalogs left by their comrades on the field. Beneatha broad thatched shed behind the church lay the bodies of the dead,stiff and still under the coverings of cocoanut-fibre cloth thrownhastily over them. The light of a full tropic moon threw the shadowof the roof over them like a soft, brown velvet pall. They were tobe buried between day-break and sunrise, that the men who buried themmight escape the heat of the day.

  The American picket lines had been posted a quarter of a mile beyondthe church, near which no other guards had been placed. Not long aftermidnight a surgeon, one of the two men left on duty in the church,happened to look out through a broken window towards the shed, andin the shadow, against the open moonlight-flooded field beyond,saw something moving. Looking close he could make out the slim,brown figure of a native passing swiftly from one covered form toanother, and turning back the cocoanut-fibre cloth to look at eachdead man's face.

  Calling the man who was working with him the surgeon pointed out theman beneath the shed to him. "That fellow has no business there," hesaid, "He has slipped through the lines in some way. He may be a spy,but even if he is not, he is here for no good. We must capture him."

  "All right," was the answer. "You go around the church one way,and I will come the other."

  When the surgeon, outside the hospital, reached a place where he couldsee the shed again, the Tagalog had ceased his search. He had foundthe body he was looking for, and sunk down on his knees beside it wassearching for something in the clothing which covered the dead man'sbreast. A moment later he had seen the men stealing towards him fromthe church, had cleared the open space beneath the shed at a leap,and was off in the moonlight, running towards the outposts. Thesurgeons swore; and one fired a shot after him from his revolver.

  "Might as well shoot at the shadow of that palm tree," the one who hadshot said. "Anyway it will wake up the pickets, and they may catch him.

  "What do you suppose he was after?" he added.

  "Don't know," said his companion. "You wait, and I'll get a lanternand we will see."

  The lantern's light showed the clothing parted over a dead man's body,and the fragment of a leather thong which had gone about his neck,with broken ends. Whatever had been fastened to the thong was gone,carried away by the Tagalog when he had fled.

  The next morning a prisoner was brought to headquarters. "The picketwho caught him, sir," the officer who brought the prisoner reported,"said he heard a shot near the church where the wounded natives are;and then this man came running from that way."

  The surgeons who had been on night duty at the hospital were sent for,and their story heard.

  "Search the man," said the officer in command.

  The native submitted to the ordeal in sullen silence, and made noprotest, when, from some place within his clothing, there was taken asmall, dirty leather bag from which two broken ends of leather thongstill hung. Only his eyes followed the officer's hands wolfishly,as they untied the string which fastened the bag, and took from it alittle leather-bound book not more than two inches square. The officerlooked at the book curiously. It was very thin, and upon the tinypages, yellow with age, there was writing, still legible, althoughthe years which had stained the paper yellow had faded the ink. Hespelled out a few words, but they were in a language which he did notknow. "Take the man to the prison," he said. "I will keep the book."

  Later in the day the officer called an orderly. "Send LieutenantSmith to me," he said.

  By one of the odd chances of a war where, like that in the Philippines,the forces at first must be hastily raised, Captain Von Tollig and thesubordinate officer for whom he had sent, had been citizens of the sametown. The captain had been a business man, shrewd and keen,--too keensome of his neighbors sometimes said of him. Lieutenant Smith was acollege man, a law student. It had been said of them in their nativetown that both had paid court to the same young woman, and that theyounger man had won in the race. If this were so, there had been noevidence on the part of either in the service to show that they wereconscious of the fact. There had been little communication betweenthem, it is true, but when there had been the subordinate officernever overlooked the deference due his superior.

  "I wish you would take this book," said Captain Von Tollig, afterhe had
told briefly how the volume happened to be in his possession,"and see if you can translate it. I suspect it must be something ofvalue, from the risk this man took to get it; possibly dispatches fromone native leader to another, the nature of which we ought to know."

  The young man took the queer little book and turned the pagescuriously. "I hardly think what is written here can be dispatches,"he said, "The paper and the ink both look too old for that. Thewords seem to be Latin; bad Latin, too, I should say. I think it iswhat the natives call an 'anting-anting;' that is a charm of somekind. Evidently this one did not save the life of the man who woreit. Probably it is a very famous talisman, else they would not haverun such a risk to try to get it back."

  "Can you read it?"

  "Not off hand. With your permission I will take it to my tent, andI think I can study it out there."

  "Do so. When you make English of it I'd like to know what it says. Iam getting interested in it"

  The lieutenant bowed, and went away.

  "Bring that prisoner to me," the captain ordered, later in the day.

  "Do you want to go free?" he asked, when the Tagalog had been brought.

  "If the Senor wills."

  "What is that book?"

  The man made no answer.

  "Tell me what the book is, and why you wanted it; and you may go home."

  "Will the Senor give me back the book to carry home with me?"

  "I don't know. I'll see later about that."

  "It was an 'anting-anting.' The strongest we ever knew. The man whohad it was a chief. When he was dead I wanted it."

  "If this was such a powerful charm why was the man killed who had iton. Why didn't it save him?"

  The Tagalog was silent.

  "Come. Tell me that, and you may go."

  "And have the book?"

  "Yes; and have the book."

  "It is a very great 'anting-anting.' It never fails in its time. Theman who made it, a famous wise man, very many years ago, watchedone whole month for the secrets which the stars told him to write init; but the last night, the night of the full moon, he fell asleep,and on that one day and night of the month the 'anting-anting' hasno good in it for the man who wears it. Else the chief would not bedead. You made the attack, that day. Our people never would."

  "Lieutenant Smith to see you, sir," an orderly announced.

  "All right. Send him in; and take this fellow outside."

  "But, Senor," the man's eyes plead for him as loudly as his words;"the 'anting-anting.' You said I could have it and go."

  "Yes, I know. Go out and wait."

  "What do you report, Lieutenant? Can you read it?"

  "Yes. This is very singular. There is no doubt but the book is nownothing but a charm."

  "Yes. I found that out."

  "But I feel sure it was originally something more than that. Somethingvery strange."

  "What?"

  "It purports to be the record of the doings of a man who seems to havedied here many years ago, written by himself. It tells a strange story,which, if true, may be of great importance now. To make sure the recordwould be kept the writer made the natives believe it was a charm, whileits being written in Latin kept the nature of its message from them."

  "Have you read it?"

  "Most of it. Sometimes a word is gone--faded out;--and a few words Icannot translate;--I don't remember all my Latin. I have written outa translation as nearly as I can make it out." He handed a paper tothe captain, who read:

  "I, Christopher Lunez, am about to die. Once I had not thought thatthis would be my end,--a tropic island, with only savages about me. Ihad thought of something very different, since I got the gold. Perhaps,after all, there is a curse on treasure got as that was. If thereis, and the sin is to be expiated in another world, I shall know itsoon. I did not--"

  Here there was a break, and the story went on.

  "---- all the others are dead, and the wreck of our ship has brokento bits and has disappeared. Before the ruin was complete, though,I had brought the gold on shore and buried it. No one saw me. Thenatives ran from us at first, far into the forest, and ----"

  The words which would have finished the sentence were wanting.

  "Where three islands lie out at sea in a line with a promontory likea buffalo's head, I sunk the gold deep in the sands, at the foot ofthe cliff, and dug a rude cross in the rock above it. Some day I hopea white man guided by this, will find the treasure and--"

  "There was no more," said the lieutenant, when the captain, comingto this sudden end looked up at him. "The last few pages of the bookare gone, torn out, or worn loose and lost. What I have translatedwas scattered over many pages, with disconnected signs and characterswritten in between. The book was evidently intended to be looked uponas a mystic talisman, probably that the natives on this account mightbe sure to take good care of it.

  "All of the Tagalogs who can procure them, carry these'anting-anting.' Some are thought to be much more powerful thanothers. Evidently this was looked upon as an unusually valuablecharm. Sometimes they are only a button, sewed up in a rag. One ofthe prisoners we took not long ago wore a broad piece of cloth overhis breast, on which was stained a picture of a man killing anotherwith a 'barong.' He believed that while he wore it no one could killhim with that weapon; and thought the only reason he was not killedin the skirmish in which he was captured was because he had the'anting-anting' on."

  "Do you believe the story which the book tells is true?" the captaininquired.

  "I don't know. Some days I think I could believe anything aboutthis country."

  "Have you shown the book to any one else, or told any one what youmake out of it?"

  "No."

  "Do not do so, then. That is all, now. I will keep the book," he added,putting the little brown volume inside his coat.

  Several days later the officer in charge of the quarters where thenative prisoners were confined reported to the captain: "One of theprisoners keeps begging to be allowed to see you, sir," he said. "Hesays you told him he might go free. Shall I let him be broughtup here?"

  "Yes. Send him up."

  "Well?" said Captain Von Tollig, when the man appeared at headquarters,and the orderly who had brought him had retired.

  "The little book, Senor. You said I could have it back, and go."

  "Yes. You may go. I will have you sent safely through our lines;but the book I have decided to keep."

  The man's face grew ash-colored with disappointment or anger. "But,Senor," he protested. "You told me ----"

  "I know; but I have changed my mind. You can go, if you wish, withoutthe book, or not, just as you choose."

  "Then I will stay," the Tagalog said slowly, adding a moment later,"My people will surely slay me if I go back to them without the book."

  "Very well." The captain called for the guard, and the man was takenback to prison; but later in the day an order was sent that he bereleased from confinement and put to work with some other capturednatives about the camp.

  During the next two or three weeks a stranger to Tagalog methodsof warfare might very reasonably have thought the war was ended,so far as this island, at least, was concerned. The natives seemedto have disappeared mysteriously. Even the men who had been longestin the service were puzzled to account for the sudden ceasing ofthe constant skirmishing which had been the rule before. The picketlines were carried forward and the location of the camp followed,from time to time, as scouting parties returned to report the countryclear of foes. The advance would have been even more rapid, exceptfor the necessity of keeping communication open at the rear with theharbour where two American gunboats lay at anchor.

  As a result of one of the advances the camp was pitched one nightupon a broad plateau looking out upon the sea. Inland the groundrose to the thickly forest-clad slope of a mountain, to which theAmerican officers felt sure the Tagalogs had finally retreated. Earlyin the evening, when the heat of the day had passed, a group of theseofficers were standing with Captain Von Tollig in th
e center of thecamp, examining the mountain slope with their glasses.

  "What did you say was the name of this place?" one of the officersasked a native deserter who had joined the American forces, and attimes had served as a guide to the expedition.

  "That is Mt. Togonda," he answered, pointing to the hills before them,"and this," swinging his hand around the plateau on which the camp'stents were pitched, "is La Plaza del Carabaos."

  The captain's eyes met those of Lieutenant Smith.

  "La Plaza del Carabaos" means "The Square of the Water Buffalos."

  As if with one thought the two men turned and looked out to sea. Thesun had set. Against the glowing western sky a huge rock at theplateau's farthest limit was outlined. Rough-carved as the rock hadbeen by the chisel of nature, the likeness to a water buffalo's headwas striking. Beyond the rock three islands lay in a line upon thesunset-lighted water. Far out from the foot of the cliff the two mencould hear the waves beating upon the sand.

  "This is an excellent place for a camp," the captain said when heturned to his men again. "I think we shall find it best to stay herefor some time."