by José Rizal
The priest smiled, and the conversation turned to the pueblo and thefestival of its patron saint, which was near.
"Speaking of fetes," said Crisostomo to the curate, "we hope you willjoin us in a picnic to-morrow, near the great fig-tree in the wood. Thearrangements are all made as you wished, Maria. A small party is tostart for the fishing-ground before sunrise," he went on to the curate,"and later we hope to be joined by all our friends of the pueblo."
The curate said he should be happy to come after his services weresaid. They chatted a few moments longer, and then Ibarra excusedhimself to finish giving his invitations and make his finalarrangements.
As he left the house a man saluted him respectfully.
"Who are you?" asked Crisostomo.
"You would not know my name, senor; I have been trying to see youfor three days."
"And what do you want?"
"Senor, my wife has gone mad, my children are lost, and no one willhelp me find them. I want your aid."
"Come with me," said Ibarra.
The man thanked him, and they disappeared together in the darknessof the unlighted streets.
XIX.
THE FISHING PARTY.
The stars were yet brilliant in the sapphire vault, and in thebranches the birds were still asleep when a merry party went throughthe streets of the pueblo, toward the lake, lighted by the glimmerof the pitch torches here called huepes.
There were five young girls, walking rapidly, holding each other bythe hand or waist, followed by several elderly ladies, and servantsbearing gracefully on their heads baskets of provisions. To see thesegirls' faces, laughing with youth, to judge by their abundant blackhair flying free in the wind, and the ample folds of their garments,we might take them for divinities of the night fleeing at the approachof day; but they were Maria Clara and her four friends, the merrySinang, her cousin, the calm Victoria, beautiful Iday, and pensiveNeneng. They talked with animation, pinched each other, whispered ineach other's ears, and pealed out merry rounds of laughter.
After a while there came to meet the party a group of young men,carrying torches of reeds. They were walking, silent, to the soundof a guitar.
When the two groups met, the girls became serious and grave. The men,on the contrary, talked, laughed, and asked six questions to get halfa reply.
"Is the lake smooth? Do you think we shall have a fine day?" demandedthe mamas.
"Don't be disturbed, senoras, I'm a splendid swimmer," said a tall,slim fellow, a merry-looking rascal with an air of mock gravity.
But they were already at the borders of the lake, and cries ofdelight escaped the lips of the women. They saw two great barks,bound together, picturesquely decked with garlands of flowers andvarious-colored festoons of fluffy drapery. Little paper lanterns hungalternating with roses, pinks, pineapples, bananas, and guavas. Ruddersand oars were decorated too, and there were mats, rugs, and cushions tomake comfortable seats for the ladies. In the boat, most beautifullytrimmed, were a harp, guitars, accordeons, and a carabao's horn; inthe other burned a ship's fire; and tea, coffee and salabat--a teaof ginger sweetened with honey--were making for the first breakfast.
"The women here, the men there," said the mamas, embarking; "movecarefully, don't stir the boat or we shall capsize!"
"And we're to be in here all alone?" pouted Sinang.
Slowly the boats left the beach, reflecting in the mirror of the lakethe many lights of their lanterns. In the east were the first streaksof dawn.
Comparative silence reigned. The separation established by the ladiesseemed to have dedicated youth to meditation. The water was perfectlytranquil, the fishing-grounds were near; it was soon decided to abandonthe oars, and breakfast. Day had come, and the lanterns were put out.
It was a beautiful morning. The light falling from the sky andreflected from the water made radiant the surface of the lake, andbathed everything in an atmosphere of clearness saturated with color,such as some marines suggest. Everybody, even the mamas, laughed andgrew merry. "Do you remember, when we were girls--" they began to eachother; and Maria and her young companions exchanged smiling glances.
One man alone remained a stranger to this gayety--it was thehelmsman. Young, of athletic build, his melancholy eyes and the severelines of his lips gave an interest to his face, and this was heightenedby his long black hair falling naturally about his muscular neck. Hiswrists of steel managed like a feather the large and heavy oar whichserved as rudder to guide the two barks.
Maria Clara had several times met his eyes, but he quickly turnedthem away to the shores or the mountains. Pitying his solitude,she offered him some cakes. With a certain surprise he took one,refusing the others, and thanked her in a voice scarcely audible. Noone else seemed to think of him.
The early breakfast done, the party moved off toward the fishingenclosures. There were two, a little distance apart, both the propertyof Captain Tiago. In advance, a flock of white herons could be seen,some moving among the reeds, some flying here and there, skimmingthe water with their wings, and filling the air with their stridentcries. Maria Clara followed them with her eyes, as, at the approachof the two barks, they flew away from the shore.
"Do these birds have their nests in the mountains?" she asked thehelmsman, less perhaps from the wish to know than to make the silentfellow talk.
"Probably, senora," he replied, "but no one has ever yet seen them."
"They have no nests, then?"
"I suppose they must have; if not, they are unhappy indeed."
Maria Clara did not catch the note of sadness in his voice.
"Well?"
"They say, senora, that the nests of these birds are invisible, andhave the power to render invisible whoever holds them; that as thesoul can be seen only in the mirror of the eyes, so these nests canbe seen only in the mirror of the water."
Maria Clara became pensive. But they had come to the first baklad, asthe enclosures are called. The old sailor in charge attached the boatsto the reeds, while his son prepared to mount with lines and nets.
"Wait a moment," cried Aunt Isabel, "the fish must come directly outof the water into the pan."
"What, good Aunt Isabel!" said Albino reproachfully, "won't you givethe poor things a moment in the air?"
Andeng, Maria's foster-sister, was a famous cook. She began to preparerice water, the tomatoes, and the camias; the young men, perhaps towin her good graces, aided her, while the other girls arranged themelons, and cut paayap into cigarette-like strips.
To while away the time Iday took up the harp, the instrument mostoften played in this part of the islands. She played well, and wasmuch applauded. Maria thanked her with a kiss.
"Sing, Victoria, sing the 'Marriage Song,'" demanded the ladies. Thisis a beautiful Tagal elegy of married life, but sad, painting itsmiseries rather than its joys. The men clamored for it too, andVictoria had a lovely voice; but she was hoarse. So Maria Clara wasbegged to sing.
"All my songs are sad," she said.
"Never mind," said her companions, and without more urging she tookthe harp and sang in a rich and vibrant voice, full of feeling.
The chant ceased, the harp became mute; yet no one applauded; theyseemed listening still. The young girls felt their eyes fill withtears; Ibarra seemed disturbed; the helmsman, motionless, was gazingfar away.
Suddenly there came a crash like thunder. The women cried out andstopped their ears. It was Albino, filling with all the force of hislungs the carabao's horn. There needed nothing more to bring backlaughter, and dry tears.
"Do you wish to make us deaf, pagan?" cried Aunt Isabel.
"Senora," he replied, "I've heard of a poor trumpeter who, fromsimply playing on his instrument, became the husband of a rich andnoble lady."
"So he did--the Trumpeter of Saeckingen!" laughed Ibarra.
"Well," said Albino, "we shall see if I am as happy!" and he beganto blow again with still more force. There was a panic: the mamasattacked him hand and foot.
"Ouch! ouch!" he
cried, rubbing his hurts; "the Philippines are farfrom the borders of the Rhine! For the same deed one is knighted,another put in the san-benito!"
At last Andeng announced the kettle ready for the fish.
The fisherman's son now climbed the weir or "purse" of theenclosure. It was almost circular, a yard across, so arranged thata man could stand on top to draw out the fish with a little net orwith a line.
All watched him, some thinking they saw already the quiver of thelittle fishes and the shimmer of their silver scales.
The net was drawn up; nothing in it; the line, no fish adorned it. Thewater fell back in a shower of drops, and laughed a silvery laugh. Acry of disappointment escaped from every mouth.
"You don't understand your business," said Albino, climbing up bythe young man; and he took the net. "Look now! Ready, Andeng!"
But Albino was no better fisherman. Everybody laughed.
"Don't make a noise, you'll drive away the fish. The net must bebroken." But every mesh was intact.
"Let me try," said Leon, the fiancee of Iday. "Are you sure no onehas been here for five days?"
"Absolutely sure."
"Then either the lake is enchanted or I draw out something."
He cast the line, looked annoyed, dragged the hook along in the waterand murmured:
"A crocodile!"
"A crocodile!"
The word passed from mouth to mouth amid general stupefaction.
"What's to be done?"
"Capture him!"
But nobody offered to go down. The water was deep.
"We ought to drag him in triumph at our stern," said Sinang; "he haseaten our fish!"
"I've never seen a crocodile alive," mused Maria Clara.
The helmsman got up, took a rope, lithely climbed the little platform,and in spite of warning cries dived into the weir. The water, troubledan instant, became smooth; the abyss closed mysteriously.
"Heaven!" cried the women, "we are going to have a catastrophe!"
The water was agitated: a combat seemed to be going on below. Above,there was absolute silence. Ibarra held his blade in a convulsivegrasp. Then the struggle seemed to end, and the young man's headappeared. He was saluted with joyous cries. He climbed the platform,holding in one hand an end of the rope. Then he pulled with all hisstrength, and the monster came in view. The rope was round its neckand the fore part of its body; it was large, and on its back could beseen green moss--to a crocodile what white hair is to man. It bellowedlike an ox, beat the reeds with its tail, crouched, and opened itsjaws, black and terrifying, showing its long and saw-like teeth. Noone thought of aiding the helmsman. When he had drawn the reptileout of the water he put his foot on it, closed with his robust handthe redoubtable jaws, and tried to tie the muzzle. The creature madea last effort, arched its body, beat about with its powerful tail,and escaping, plunged outside the enclosure into the lake, draggingits vanquisher after it. The helmsman was a dead man. A cry of horrorescaped from every mouth.
Like a flash, another body disappeared in the water. There scarcewas time to see it was Ibarra's. If Maria Clara did not faint, itwas that the natives of the Philippines do not yet know how.
The waters grew red. Then the young fisherman leaped in, his fatherfollowed him. But they had scarcely disappeared, when Ibarra and thehelmsman came to the surface, clinging to the crocodile's body. Itswhite belly was lacerated, Ibarra's knife was in the gorge.
Many arms stretched out to help the two young men from the water. Themamas, hysterical, wept, laughed, and prayed. Ibarra was unharmed. Thehelmsman had a slight scratch on the arm.
"I owe you my life," said he to Ibarra, who was being wrapped inmantles and rugs.
"You are too intrepid," said Ibarra. "Another time do not tempt God."
"If you had not come back!" murmured Maria Clara, pale and trembling.
The ladies did not approve of going to the second baklad; to theirminds the day had begun ill; there could not fail to be othermisfortunes; it were better to go home.
"But what misfortune have we had?" said Ibarra. "The crocodile alonehas the right to complain."
At length the mamas were persuaded, and the barks took their coursetoward the second baklad.
XX.
IN THE WOODS.
There had not been much hope in this second baklad. Every oneexpected to find there the crocodile's mate; but the net alwayscame up full. The fishing ended, the boats were turned toward theshore. There was the party of the townspeople whom Ibarra hadinvited to meet his guests of the morning, and lunch with themunder improvised tents beside a brook, in the shade of the ancienttrees of the wooded peninsula. Music was resounding in the place,and water sang in the kettles. The body of the crocodile, in tow ofthe boats, turned from side to side; sometimes presenting its belly,white and torn, sometimes its spotted back and mossy shoulders. Man,the favorite of nature, is little disturbed by his many fratricides.
The party dispersed, some going to the baths, some wandering amongthe trees. The silent young helmsman disappeared. A path with manywindings crossed the thicket of the wood and led to the upper courseof the warm brook, formed from some of the many thermal springs onthe flanks of the Makiling. Along the banks of the stream grew woodflowers, many of which have no Latin names, but are none the lessknown to golden bugs, to butterflies, shaded, jewelled, and bronzed,and to thousands of coleopters powdered with gold and gleaming withfacets of steel. The hum of these insects, the song of birds, or thedry sound of dead branches catching in their fall, alone broke themysterious silence. Suddenly the tones of fresh, young voices wereadded to the wood notes. They seemed to come down the brook.
"We shall see if I find a nest!" said a sweet and resonant voice. "Ishould like to see him without his seeing me. I should like to followhim everywhere."
"I don't believe in heron's nests," said another voice; "but if Iwere in love, I should know how at once to see and to be invisible."
It was Maria Clara, Victoria, and Sinang walking in the brook. Theireyes were on the water, where they were searching for the mysteriousnest. In blouses striped with dainty colors, their full bath skirtswet to the knees, outlining the graceful curves of their bodies,they moved along, seeking the impossible, meanwhile picking flowersalong the banks. Soon the little stream bent its course, and the tallreeds hid the charming trio and cut off the sound of their voices.
A little farther on, in the middle of the stream, was a sort of bath,well enclosed, its roof of leafy bamboo; palm leaves, flowers, andstreamers decked its sides. From here, too, came girls' voices. Fartheron was a bamboo bridge, and beyond that the men were bathing, while amultitude of servants were busy plucking fowls, washing rice, roastingpigs. In the clearing on the opposite bank a group of men and womenhad formed under a great canvas roof, attached in part to the branchesof the ancient trees, in part to pickets. There chatted the curate,the alferez, the vicar, the gobernadorcillo, the lieutenant, all thechief men of the town, including the famous orator, Captain Basilio,father of Sinang and opponent of Don Rafael Ibarra in a lawsuit notyet ended.
"We dispute a point at law," Crisostomo had said in inviting him,"but to dispute is not to be enemies," and the famous orator hadaccepted the invitation.
Bottles of lemonade were opened and green cocoanut shells were broken,so that those who came from the baths might drink the fresh water;the girls were given wreaths of ylang-ylang and roses to perfumetheir unbound hair.
The lunch hour came. The curate, the alferez, the gobernadorcillo,some captains, and the lieutenant sat at a table with Ibarra. Themamas allowed no men at the table with the girls.
"Have you learned anything, senor alferez, about the criminal whoattacked Brother Damaso?" said Brother Salvi.
"Of what criminal are you speaking?" asked the alferez, looking atthe father over his glass of wine.
"What? Why, the one who attacked Brother Damaso on the highway daybefore yesterday."
"Father Damaso has been attacked?" asked several voices.
"Y
es; he is in bed yet. It is thought the maker of the assault isElias, the one who threw you into the swamp some time ago, senoralferez."
The alferez reddened with shame, if it were not from emptying hisglass of wine.
"But I supposed you were informed," the curate went on; "I said tomyself that the alferez of the Municipal Guard----"
The officer bit his lip.
At that moment a woman, pale, thin, miserably dressed, appeared,like a phantom, in the midst of the feast.
"Give the poor woman something to eat," said the ladies.
She kept on toward the table where the curate was seated. He turned,recognized her, and the knife fell from his hand.
"Give the woman something to eat," ordered Ibarra.
"The night is dark and the children are gone," murmured the poorwoman. But at sight of the alferez she became frightened and ran,disappearing among the trees.
"Who is it?" demanded several voices.
"Isn't her name Sisa?" asked Ibarra with interest.
"Your soldiers arrested her," said the lieutenant to the alferez,with some bitterness; "they brought her all the way across the pueblofor some story about her sons that nobody could clear up."
"What!" demanded the alferez, turning to the curate. "It is perhapsthe mother of your sacristans?"
The curate nodded assent.
"They have disappeared, and there hasn't been the slightest effort tofind them," said Don Filipo severely, looking at the gobernadorcillo,who lowered his eyes.
