The Sailing Directions and the chart of the area show a spot on the north shore of Mactan, in Magellan Bay, which is marked “Magellan Monument.” To traverse these historic waters and sight this monument constitutes a high point in our cruise, already 19,700 miles long.
Tonight we received our sixth babygram: a girl for Chief Engineman Clarence M. Hathaway, Jr.—the only man small enough to crawl outboard of our starboard propeller shaft—Inge Mae, born March twenty-fifth. Mother and child are well.
Friday, 1 April, 1960, from the Log:
We have been slowly working our way up Bohol Strait toward Mactan Island all night long, occasionally coming to periscope depth where radar and periscope observations have assured us as to our safe navigation. We have likewise seen, or heard on sonar, numerous small fishing vessels and a few coastal-type freighters or passenger ships. All are brightly lighted.
0428 Periscope depth. Sighted a small coastal freighter to the eastward about 4,000 yards away. Had held him previously on sonar.
0430 Sighted Lauis Ledge Light on the southern shore of Mactan Island. Commenced maneuvering in the approaches to Hilutangan Channel to the eastward of Mactan.
0608 Ejected hydrographic bottle number MT-71. Like the others, the paper inside is filled out in our code, except that on the back is written in English, “Hail, Noble Captain, It Is Done Again,” for which Dr. Parr can take most of the credit. It is, of course, the translation of the Latin inscription on the plaque Tom Thamm designed to commemorate our submerged circumnavigation. We hope we shall see it delivered to the starting point of Magellan’s epochal voyage.
There is much sonar activity, ships on all bearings, all classified as small light vessels.
0623 Sighted two small merchant ships at range of about 1 mile, steaming in close contact and apparently headed for Cebu. As we cautiously dunked the periscope, they passed within about 1,000 yards and proceeded on their way.
0722 Heard the first of a series of explosions—seven in all during the forenoon—apparently coming from the vicinity of Mactan Island. There is no visual dust or smoke cloud to confirm the source of the explosions, but we assume it is blasting in connection with some harbor work.
As we approach Hilutangan Channel, we are much interested in some of the fishing boats and other small craft which are all about. One of the first sighted is nothing more than a small raft with a sort of wooden tripod built on one end upon which branches of trees have been placed, apparently haphazardly. Usually these crude rafts have only a single passenger, who appears to be steering them. Our impression is that they are simply blown across the channel by the sail effect of the branches and twigs on the tripod [all were going east]. Possibly this is merely an easy way to get logs from one side of the channel across to the other.
A number of other types of craft, many of them old and decrepit, are around also. As we approach Hilutangan Channel, the number of boats decreases. Most of them are concentrated in the approaches to Cebu, before we get there.
0800 Entering Hilutangan Channel. Speed, 4 knots, at periscope depth. Tide and current tables indicate that we should receive a pretty strong set to the northward, in the direction we want to go. This indeed proves to be the case, since our speed over the ground is about 3 knots faster than our speed through the water.
As we enter the Channel, we are much interested in the picture presented by our echo-ranging sonar. The sonar-repeater in the conning tower gives an actual picture of the shape of the Channel. The depth of water is in many places greater than a hundred fathoms and the shore is steep-to. As a result, the area of shallow water near the shore is very clearly outlined on the face of our conning tower repeater. With this kind of gear we could easily go deep and proceed at high speed. Not knowing, however, exactly what we will find at the other end, we shall go through at periscope depth; perhaps on the return trip we can transit the Channel at deep depth.
During the passage through Hilutangan Channel, numerous small boat contacts are made. In one case a very decrepit boat with an outrigger on both sides and a large canvas awning, propelled by an ancient one-lung engine, came across our bow, distance a few hundred yards. It looks like a ferry, probably plying back and forth between Mactan and one of the islands on the eastern side of Hilutangan Channel. Numerous passengers can be seen, and none give the slightest evidence of seeing us. After all, who would expect a periscope here?
One of the passengers is a rather attractive Filipino woman dressed in a faded pink print dress of some sort and holding, I thought quickly, a small child on her lap. Her face is placid and emotionless. She is looking in our general direction but thinking of something else. To her left stands the steersman of this strange craft, paying attention to his business. Most of the other passengers are faced ahead or toward Mactan, on the other side of the ferry.
From here on, as we proceed up Hilutangan Channel there are increasing numbers of boats, most of them pleasure craft. In the distance, in the Camotes Sea far beyond Magellan Bay, more fishing boats may be seen. The pleasure boats, outrigger canoe types with a large and very colorful sail, I would judge to be anywhere from 12 to 20 feet long, narow of hull and mostly white or gray in color. They have a single mast with a cross arm on which a triangular-shaped sail is mounted with the point at the bottom. There are usually one or two occupants lolling around comfortably, perhaps fishing, although few fish poles or lines are in evidence. Most likely they are out enjoying themselves. Some sun helmets are in evidence on both men and women. The sails are most colorful, being decorated with half-circles, half-moons, triangles, diagonals, and so forth. None of the occupants appear to take the slightest notice of us, although at times our curiosity and the desire to get a good photograph cause us to leave the periscope up longer than I should have liked.
To ensure that all craft are avoided by a safe distance, our periscope observations are frequent and carefully timed, so as not to be too long.
Upon one occasion as I raised the periscope [invariably first looking ahead for fear of striking a log or a small boat], I caught a glimpse of a canoe drifting swiftly by. It had two occupants; a small and elderly woman with her back to us, and at the other end of the boat, facing me as I looked at him with my solitary eye, a rather portly gentleman, bare to the waist and heavily tanned, even for a Filipino. As I looked, he lifted his hand and waved at me in a manner almost as if he were saying to his companion, “Now as I was saying, that could almost be a periscope. It looks just like that, and it sticks up out of the water just like that thing over there.”—at which point I quickly lowered it.
The portly gentleman did not appear particularly disturbed at our periscope and in fact probably did not recognize what it was, unless, indeed, he is a retired US Navy Steward.
1057 With the help of a strong current, we have made a remarkably fast passage through Hilutangan Channel.
1100 We are past the north end of Mactan Island and enter Magellan Bay. This Bay also has very deep water extending well inside the points of land which form its two extremities, though it is very shallow close inshore. [Magellan was killed here fighting in water up to his knees.]
Not having our fathometer, we approach cautiously. But our sonar picture shows a bottom contour that corresponds closely to the chart, and we have complete confidence in it by this time. Triton is, however, a pretty big ship to take into this tiny Bay, and our navigation is rapid. There are, fortunately, several clearly defined landmarks as well as a couple of lighthouses upon which to take bearings. In the distance, over the end of Mactan Island, can be seen the buildings of Cebu marching up into the hillside, with the dome of the Provincial Capitol etched white against the verdant hillside. Near the waterfront several large modern structures can be described; one in particular, which would not be out of place in any modern setting, is three to five stories high and approximately three hundred feet long.
Our foray into Magellan Bay is complicated somewhat by the discovery of three tall tree trunks sticking out of the water. Appar
ently they are ballasted to float vertically and are anchored to some sort of bottom structures, since they have no supporting wires of any kind. Maybe they delimit fishing areas. At all events, we carefully avoid them and the rock piles and anchor cabling they may mark.
1120 We have been carefully, without much luck, searching the south shores of the Bay to determine whether the Magellan monument can be seen. About this time, as I scrutinize the shore, it finally comes into full view. Without any doubt whatever, I announce to the conning tower party, “There it is!” The water is too shallow for us to approach close enough to get a really good photograph, but we take movies of what we can see of it from as many angles as it is possible to get them. It can be seen clearly from only one bearing, probably straight front, where trees and foliage have been cut away.
The monument is apparently made of masonry, probably recently whitewashed; it gleams white in the sun. There are dark objects in its center which might be one or more bronze tablets or possibly openings into the interior. It is a rectangular pedestal with long dimension vertical, straight sides and a slightly curved top, standing on a set of steps or a base. The impression is that it may at one time have supported a statue or been intended to, but what we see consists, in that case, only of the statue base.
1125 Sighted aircraft resembling a twin-engine DC-3 making a landing approach near the city.
There are numerous small boats in Magellan Bay, and we would not be surprised to find they are contestants in a sailboat race. Most of them are brightly colored pleasure craft.
One of these in particular intrigued me. Occupied by a single relaxed-looking gentleman, dressed in gay clothes and a broad hat, the boat was about fifteen feet long, painted white, with a white mast and white outrigger. The sail was red, with a large blue half-moon design on it, and like all sails of this type was a simple triangle mounted on a single crossed yard near the top of the mast, its pointed foot secured to a single cleat or snap ring at its base. Two “braces”—as Stephen Decatur would have called them—led from the yard-arm ends to the rear or cockpit of the boat, where its comfortably slouched owner handled them with one hand while he operated a rudder with the other.
At most, the boat had room for only two people, being a faithful replica of the narrow dugout canoe which had been its inspiration. Stability, in face of the lofty pressure center of the sail, was achieved by a narrow pontoonlike float held on outrigger arms half the boat’s own length on the starboard side. The rig was obviously speedy, shallow of draft, and extremely steady in any wind. A particular advantage which would appeal to many a sailboat buff was the untrammeled visibility in all directions.
She would be a pleasure to sail, I thought, and I wondered why no US boat builders had ever tried a similar model.
Enthralled, I counted fourteen gaily decorated sails of different hues and patterns, and half as many slatternly ones, which we took to be fishing boats. At the same time, we made frequent observations all around for the many navigation checks demanded by Will and to detect in good time any sailboat approaching too close. Our photographers, led by Joe Roberts and Dick Harris, snapped as many pictures as they could. This was something of a chore, for to take a picture I had to aim the scope, permit it to be defocused to a predetermined setting, then duck my head while the photographer held his camera against the eyepiece and fired away. Demands on periscope time were heavy, and I was conscious that we were leaving it up too long and raising it too often.
1146 Upon raising the periscope I am looking right into the eyes of a young man in a small dugout, close alongside. Perhaps he has detected the dark bulk of our hull in the relatively clear waters of the Bay, or he may have sighted our periscope earlier. He and I study each other gravely. His boat is a small dugout, perhaps 12 feet long, devoid of any paint and without mast or sail [which is why he got so close in on us]. He has a paddle with which he easily maintains a position abeam of us at our present slow speed. He looks ahead and looks behind, looks down in the water and maintains position about 50 yards abeam with occasional muscular sweeps of his paddle.
Down goes the periscope. At my startled comment, everyone had pressed in closer to it.
“Can we get a picture?” Joe Roberts asked.
“No. We can’t fool around with him.” But the look on Joe’s face would have melted a much harder heart than mine.
“You ought to let us snap him,” he begged. “Later on you’ll wish you had . . .”
“OK,” I yielded. “No time to argue. Up periscope!”
I fielded the handles as they came out of the periscope well, put my right eye to the eyepiece, rose with it to nearly its full extension, then stopped it with a sudden signal to Beacham.
“There he is—here!” The picture in the eyepiece blurred out of focus. I drew my head to the side, felt the warmth of Robert’s face near mine, his arm pressing on my shoulder. “Click” went the camera, then “click” again, and a third time.
Our friend is a dark-complexioned moon-faced young man with a well-fed physique. His clothing is tattered and he wears some kind of a battered hat for protection from the sun. Our photographic party obtains several pictures of him which will be interesting to look at later.
“Down periscope!” The steel tube slithers down into its well as I describe the scene above to the people in the conning tower. They would all like to get a look at him, but that isn’t too practical.
I motion for the scope to slide up once more. Sure enough, there is our friend impassively leaning on his gunwales and staring right at the periscope as we raise it barely two inches out of the water. “We’ve played with this gent long enough,” I mumble in-audibly. Spinning the periscope around for one last cut on the now-familiar landmarks and to say aloha to Magellan and his intrepid spirit, I sight a fair course between the nearest set of tree trunks, take a final look at our friend in the dugout canoe, and snap up the periscope handles as a signal for it to start down.
“All ahead two-thirds. . . . Right full rudder!” This is something our swarthy friend won’t be able to handle. Triton slips neatly ahead of him and away to the right. Upon slowing for a look a few minutes later, I spot the dugout many hundreds of yards away, being paddled rather strongly in the wrong direction.
For some reason, the concern I had expected to feel if some unauthorized person saw our periscope did not come. We had, it is true, discussed this possibility at that long-ago conference in the Pentagon. Our entry into Magellan Bay would expose us to detection, but the decision to go ahead had been made nevertheless. Though nothing more had been said, I remember feeling that Admiral Beakley was not too concerned over the possibility.
Still, there was a risk that some notice would be taken of our presence, and I might have worried more had not some of our more perceptive conning tower crew unconsciously said exactly the right thing:
In the conning tower, the irrepressible Bill Marshall says aloud, “Wonder what he is going to tell his friends in Cebu tonight.” Quartermaster Second Class Russell K. Savage probably has the right answer: “They won’t believe a word he says.”
As Triton eases slowly out of the Bay, checking her position every two minutes or so because of the swift currents we have encountered, we are all aware that today will go down as one of the high points of our trip. We have come more than halfway around the world to see this spot.
While a midshipman at Annapolis, I had a classmate named Carlos J. Albert, a Philippine national, who has had quite a career since our Naval Academy days. He went back to the Philippines upon our graduation in 1939 and was commissioned in the Philippine Navy. During the war he was a thorn in the side of the Japanese, narrowly escaping death on several occasions. More recently, with the rank of Commodore, he was assigned to the post of Armed Forces Attaché at the Philippine Embassy in Washington, D.C. There, I came to know also his lovely wife, Mila, a charming, willowy Filipino girl with a beautiful and expressive face. Carlos is now in Manila—or was. Lately I have not heard what Carlos is doin
g, and the temptation is strong to write him a note for transmission by hydro bottle, possibly on the hydro paper itself, requesting the finder to communicate with Carlos and receive a reward. I even have the absolute authentication so far as Carlos is concerned, for all I need to do is write “What about ’39?” and he will know that it is genuine.
With a sigh, I am forced to the conclusion that this is one of those ideas which will have to be enjoyed only in the imagination. I can write Carlos a letter later on. When well clear of Magellan Bay, we release our second hydro bottle of the day, bearing a paper in no way different from the earlier one except for the serial number.
1320 Entered Hilutangan Channel headed south. This time we will proceed well below periscope depth at higher speeds than before.
1324 With the outline of the channel clear as print on our sonar visual repeater, changed depth to 150 feet and ran down the channel at 10 knots.
1407 More blasting in the distance.
1434 Clear of Hilutangan Channel, set course down Bohol Strait, increased speed to 15 knots, increased depth to 200 feet.
1504 Increased depth to 300 feet, increased speed to 20 knots.
2035 Entered Sulu Sea. Will spend the rest of the night and tomorrow morning crossing the Sulu Sea enroute to the Celebes Sea and departure from the waters of the Philippine Republic.
Around the World Submerged Page 23
