Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy

by Mrs. Molesworth

  NINTH ADVENTURE

  THE BICHARA [1]

  Piang was about to land for the first time at Zamboanga. His tribehad looked with distrust upon the overtures made by Governor Findy,and although they obeyed his command to appear at the _bichara_, theywere prepared to fight if necessary. Pagans, Mohammedans, Catholics,and Protestants were ordered to assemble at Zamboanga to establishpeaceful trading relations, a thing that had never been dreamedof in the belligerent Sulu Isles, and Americans as well as nativeswere fearful of the outcome. The governor was severely criticizedfor 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 tobring the light of freedom and peace to the misguided savages. Aftercenturies of oppression and outrages against them, the Moros had ofnecessity become suspicious and cautious. Preyed upon by Jesuits,Filipinos, and Spaniards, they had long ago found a ready bolo thesafest argument. Governor Findy had sent them word that they wereto be protected from their enemies, and that Americans were theirfriends, but disturbing whispers of traps and bondage made the wildfolk hesitate to obey the summons.

  Thus, a strange scene was being enacted at the Zamboanga wharf. Fromall directions weird crafts made their way hesitatingly toward it. Thesentries were distrustfully scrutinized, but not a soldier was armed.

  "See, Kali Pandapatan, I told you the new governor was good. He trustsus and permits us to enter his barrio as friends." Proudly the tribe'scharm boy sprang from the war-prau, and, to the astonishment of thesoldiers, as well as the Moros, strutted up to the sergeant in chargeand offered his hand, American fashion.

  "I'll be dinged, if it ain't Piang!" exclaimed Sergeant Greer. "Isthis your old man, Piang?" he asked genially, pointing to KaliPandapatan. 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 throughKali's ranks, and hands flew to hips. No Moro permits his women tobe 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 ruffledpotentate, and when Piang explained that he and the soldier were oldfriends, Kali solemnly acknowledged the union with a stiff handshake.

  "Ver' good," said the savage with a grin. Piang glowed with pride atKali'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 broughtto bay. Gaudy Bogobos from Davao brushed shoulders for the first timewith Sabanas and Kalibugans, and their snarls and bickerings bodedill for the success of the bichara; but finally the natives huddledtogether, linked by the common suspicion of their Christian enemy.

  Before entering the town, every visitor was required to placehis weapons in the _lanceria_. Now a weaponless Moro is the mostembarrassed of men, with the possible exception of the dreamer whofinds 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, butas the soldiers paid no attention to them, they gradually forgot theirenmity toward civilization and became engrossed in the new delights:pink lemonade, pop-corn, toy balloons. They were beside themselveswith joy. When ice-cream was introduced, and they had been assuredthat it would not burn them, their admiration was unbounded. Piangsurreptitiously slipped some of the heavenly sweet into his walletfor future consumption and was dismayed a little later to find a thinstream trickling down his leg and an empty wallet.

  Governor Findy watched with interest the mingling of the many alienpeople. Wily Chinamen behind their bamboo street-stalls ministeredto the wants of the throng, taking in trade bits of gold-dust andtrinkets of brass; Filipinos offered their wares, cooling drinks andsweets. The Filipino's costume is very different from that of theMoro. He wears stiff, white trousers, carefully creased and immaculateshirts which hang outside the trousers. He wears no shoes, and hisshort black hair is oiled and brushed very carefully.

  "Now, it's many times I've been wonderin' what the advantage is inwearin' your shirt outside your trousers," said Sergeant Greer to asentry. "That's what I call practical," and he pointed to an ice-creamvender, industriously wiping a spoon on the tail of his shirt, beforeoffering it to a new customer.

  There was great excitement over the coming _baile_ (ball). That nightsavages and Christians were to enjoy the festivities side by side, andmarvelous tales of preparation were being circulated. Piang and KaliPandapatan wandered about the village, pausing here and there, filledwith awe at the novel sights. The value of garters as necklaces hadbeen discovered, and a brilliant crimson pair decorated the chief'sneck (he had gladly parted with five dollars' worth of gold-dustfor the treasure). Gilt collar buttons were forced into the holesin 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 inearnest conversation: Alverez, a Filipino mestizo, who had acquiredby deception the Moro title, Dato Tamangung; his cousin Vincente; andthe Moro malcontent, Sicto. The two Filipinos were disloyal employeesof the government, already suspected of being the instigators ofunrest among the Moros. Sicto was a deserter from Kali's ranks andwas wanted by that august chief for many serious offenses. Dato KaliPandapatan scorned to report Sicto to the authorities. A Moro datois supreme and has the right to punish his subjects according to hisown lights. A woman, mingling with the gala bichara throng had a merestump for an arm; she was a thief and her hand had been severed toprevent it from offending again. A man with face half covered showedthe savage justice dealt a liar; his mouth had been split from earto ear to permit easier passage of the truth. Sicto would be handledaccording 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 threemen. He wormed his way through the crowd intent on a game of chess,played by two venerable old Chinamen. A sudden "Sssshhh" from Sictointerrupted Alverez's excited whisper, but not before Piang had caughta few significant words:

  "The baile--juramentado--Findy."

  The little charm boy's heart beat violently, but his face neverchanged expression. Juramentado! So some poor misguided fanatichad been persuaded to assassinate the governor. He and Kali mustprevent the outrage, for had they not sworn allegiance to this newchief? Piang feared that Sicto suspected the words had been overheard,so he carefully avoided Kali and strolled on among the people. Aglance at his chief had warned Kali that trouble was in the air.

  Sicto, Alverez, and Vincente moved off toward the dock.

  "Sicto, did Piang hear what I said?" asked Alverez.

  "Does the jungle hear the trumpeting of the elephant?" angrilyretorted Sicto.

  "He hasn't spoken to any one yet," said Vincente, significantly. "Wehad better get rid of him before--"

  A whispered conversation followed, and Alverez finally exclaimed:

  "I'll do it! Wait here. Watch Piang." Then he hurried off.

  Without approaching Kali, or divulging the secret to any one, Piangfollowed the men to the dock, and Sicto laughed softly as he watchedthe unsuspecting boy walk into the trap. The little gunboat _Sabah_was bobbing at her moorings, and Piang joined the crowd that wasgazing in wonder at the strange craft. A shrill whistle, signifyingthe _Sabah's_ intention of immediate departure, so terrified the Morosthat some took to their heels while others sought the safety of talllamp-posts. Piang was laughing merrily
when he was startled by a noise,and turning, he saw Alverez and a soldier running toward him.

  Instantly everything was confusion, and Piang realized that he wasthe center of the excitement.

  "Are you Piang?" asked the soldier, cautiously approaching him.

  "Sure, me Piang."

  "Hike! Beat it!" said the man, pointing to the _Sabah_.

  What did he mean? Was Piang to be allowed to go aboard the boat?

  The soldier made it very plain, finally, that such was the case, butPiang insisted that he could not depart on a pleasure ride withoutgetting his chief's permission.

  "_Sigi_, beat it, I tell you, _pronto_!" said the soldier impatiently,emphasizing the command with a push. Almost before Piang realized it,he found himself on the gunboat, which was slowly moving out towardthe channel. In his hand was a crumpled piece of paper which thesoldier had gingerly thrust into it.

  "Here's your passport, kid," he had said with a grin. Piang carefullyunrolled the paper and stared at the queer American characters. Asailor offered to translate it for him, but when he glanced over thepaper, he uttered a low whistle.

  "Say, you go away back and sit down! Don't you come near me or anyone else, sabe?"

  Piang recoiled before the look of disgust on the sailor's face. Whatwas the matter with every one? Why were they all afraid to come nearhim, and where were they taking him? He summoned up enough courage toask who had written the letter, and when he was told that it was signedby Governor Findy, he felt reassured. Surely if the good governor wassending him somewhere, it would be all right. Disconsolately, Piangcrouched in a corner, watching sharks and dolphins sporting in thefoaming wake. He wondered how long the boat was going to be out, ifit would return in time for him to save the governor. When he startedtoward a group of men to ask for information he was met with a shout.

  "Get out of here, you!" they yelled, and poor Piang hurriedly retreatedto the stern. Much talk of the coming baile seemed to indicate thatthe sailors expected to return before evening, so Piang patientlysquatted on a coil of rope, wondering when the mysteries of his errandwould be revealed to him.

  The ocean is dotted with many lovely islands off Zamboanga. Somber,lowering Basilan guards its secrets to this day; Sacol, home of DatoMandi, invites and then repels the intruder; tiny clumps of vividgreen rise out of the channel in the most unexpected places, as iftimidly wishing to investigate before adding their emerald mite tocrown the Celebes. The island toward which the _Sabah_ was making herway seemed blacker and denser than its more frivolous neighbors. Twostaccato whistles warned the islanders of the _Sabah's_ approach,and the beach was soon the scene of lively commotion. The enginesstopped, and the gunboat slid along easily. A boat was lowered. Thesailors were speaking in low voices; one looked toward Piang andshook his head sadly.

  "My task is not to be an easy one," thought the charm boy, but hishead went up proudly. These sailor men should see how a brave Moroexecuted the commands of his superiors.

  "Come on, kid," called a jacky, and just as Piang stepped over theside a kindly sailor slipped a quarter in his hand. It was evidentlya gift, and the boy grinned appreciatively.

  "Wastin' your coin, man," remarked another sailor with a harshlaugh. "He's not likely to need _dinero_ (a silver coin) soon." Piangwondered again at the pitying looks that were cast at him, but he onlyheld his head higher and climbed into the boat. The men seemed in agreat hurry; they landed far up the beach, and bags and provisionswere hastily dumped on the sand.

  "Here you are, young 'un," said a sailor, and Piang looked up eagerly.

  "Me, here?"

  "Yep, this is your place," replied the man, looking away quickly fromthe soft brown eyes.

  Obediently the jungle boy jumped out, awaiting instructions. Thesailor in charge pointed to the paper in Piang's hand and waved towardthe barrio.

  "For dato?" Piang asked, with a puzzled look.

  "Sure, the dato," replied the man evasively, and Piang turned andstarted off through the jungle, following a well defined path.

  "Plucky kid, that," said the sailor who pushed off. "Wonder if heknows what's up? Half the time they don't tell the poor devils. Rowover toward the patrol-boat, and I'll warn them to watch carefullyto-night in case he tries to escape. When they first land here theykick up a terrible row and usually try to make a get-away or committheir particular brand of hari-kari [suicide]."

  Piang was in a great hurry. There was no time to be lost and whateverthe business in hand might be, it must be finished quickly. He wonderedwhy some of the sailors had not come with him. Americans are alwaysso curious and never lose an opportunity to visit a strange barrio. Heran on swiftly.

  Two sounds broke simultaneously on his ears. What was there in themto strike a chill to his heart, to fill him with forebodings? Thatshrill whistle! It was surely the _Sabah's_, and as Piang came toa small clearing, he caught a glimpse of the harbor. A cry brokefrom him. The _Sabah_ was sailing away. Before he could fullyrealize the calamity, that other sound, ominous and terrible, cameagain from the barrio. A low rumbling, punctuated with shrieks andscreams, came nearer, nearer. Suddenly from out the dense undergrowthprotruded a face, shoulders, and finally a woman, old and bent, creptthrough. Spell-bound, Piang watched her. Wisps of unkempt gray hairstraggled around her head; filthy rags hung from her lean, stoopingshoulders; sunken eyes, sly and vicious, glared at Piang. Tremblinglythe boy watched her creep toward him. There was something about the oldhag that turned his blood cold. The distant rumble became individualhowls, and Piang suddenly realized that he was being hunted. But why,and by whom? The innocent paper in his hand crackled. The old hagwas very near, was about to touch him. With a shriek, Piang jumpedback. Her hands were festered; her face and neck were covered withwhite splotches.

  "A leper!" cried the boy and suddenly he realized that he had beentrapped by that villain, Sicto. Not Sicto, but Alverez had filchedthe order for the confinement of a leper, had erased the name, andsubstituted Piang's. He flung the damning paper from him.

  As the boy darted off through the jungle, the old woman yelled. Thecry brought the others, and when Piang caught sight of them, healmost lost hope. Would he be able to escape the contaminationof this island? With mad shrieks, the lepers gave chase, eager tolay hands on one so lately relegated to their colony. Was he not aleper too? What right had he to scorn them, his brothers? Hotter,fiercer grew the chase. The island was so small that it affordedlittle refuge for the hunted boy. Sounds from all sides indicatedthat the chase was almost over; it was only a matter of minutes now,and never again could he leave the dread colony.

  A rustle at his feet startled him, and some animal scurried offinto the bush. A dark hole from which it had evidently crawledattracted Piang's attention, and without an instant's hesitation,he flung himself on the ground and wormed his body into the welcomingshelter. Pulling a fallen branch in front of the opening, he shrankfarther back into the cave. Cave? No, he had taken refuge in a fallentree trunk, hollowed out by the persistent ferreting of termites(ants).

  "He was here, here," screamed the old woman. The pursuers flocked tothe spot, and Piang listened as they beat the bush, clamoring for theirvictim. They were so infuriated at the new arrival's unsociabilitythat they would probably kill him if they found him.

  Piang crouched back in his cramped quarters. The tiny white antsannounced their disapproval of the intrusion by vicious stings, butPiang did not move. A sudden jolt made his heart beat wildly. Someone had jumped on the other end of the log, and the rotting wood hadcaved in. He expected each moment to be his last. Over his head thepattering of bare feet, running along the trunk, sounded like thunder.

  When the lepers moved off into the jungle, Piang was not deceived. Theywould lie in wait, and their revenge would be the more terrible forthe delay. Sweat poured down Piang's face; his body ached where theants had stung him. He tried to plan some means of escape, but nonecame to his tired brain.

  "There is no God but Allah," whispered the charm boy, and a peaceseemed to
fall upon him.

  Many weary hours went by before a squawk penetrated the death-likestillness. Fruit-bats! It must be night. Very slowly he made hisway toward the opening. Unfortunately for Piang the full moon wasrising, making the soft, tropical night a wonder of beauty andloveliness. Cautiously he thrust his head through the branches thatshielded his retreat. He was very near the ocean; the other end of thefallen tree, in which he had found refuge, was lying in the water, andthe rising tide was gradually creeping up over it. The gentle swishof the sea comforted Piang. It was his friend, the only friend thatcould help him escape from this island of decay. His practised eyesdiscerned the shadowy forms of watchers squatting along the beach;beyond, the patrol-boat moved about restlessly, and in the distancetwinkled the lights of Zamboanga.

  "If I could only get past the lepers and the boat, I could swim back,"thought Piang, and he looked with longing at the oily smoothness ofthe water. Nothing could slip past the boat on that sea of glass inthe bright moonlight. He remembered the schools of sharks he had seenin the _Sabah's_ wake and shuddered; but even that was better thanbeing doomed to die here. He pillowed his head on his arms and leanedagainst the trunk; his hand closed over a piece of dry bamboo. Liftingit to his eye, he idly squinted through it; it was smooth and clean.

  Piang fell to soliloquizing. How many times, surrounded by hisfriends, he had swum in the moonlight. He remembered one night inparticular. How they had sported with bamboo sticks, blowing thespray high in the air, laughing as it fell upon each other! Piangcould swim miles with arms folded, pushing through the water like afish, rolling over on his back or sides, when tired. He had fooledthe tribe by staying under water for three minutes, breathing easilythrough his hollow, bamboo tube. Kali had given him a prize.

  Piang's eyes widened, brightened. With the bamboo stick--could he? Heblew through it softly and laughed. But how to get into the waterwithout being detected? The approaching tide, lapping the other endof the fallen log, seemed to be caressing it in pity. Piang examinedit closely. Dared he crawl along the trunk? His eyes fell upon thehole just above the water where one of his pursuers had broken through.

  "Allah, I thank Thee," breathed the excited boy. He had found hischance, had discovered a possible means of escape.

  Crawling back into the log, he tested the heart of the tree and tohis joy, it crumbled under his touch. With a smothered cry, he beganto cut his way through the pithy, dust-like wood, and as he graduallyworked quantities of the soft fiber loose, he tossed it behind him. Ifhe could work his way through the rotted trunk before the tide turned,it would be an easy matter to slip through the hole into the water.

  It was suffocating in the damp inclosure, as the discarded pithbegan to fill the opening. Tiny apertures let in just enough air,but Piang was panting and dripping with sweat. As he struggled ontoward the hole, he could feel the water under him, as it swayed thelog gently. Only a little further!

  The moonlight bathed Piang in its soft light; a cool breeze blewacross his face. One of the watching lepers stood up suddenly.

  "There are many crocodiles to-night," he finally said, pointing towardthe log where a slight ripple, widening into vanishing rings, closedover a dark form.