As the ship passed through the Mona Chica, the gateway between the China Sea and Manila Bay, we could see, off to starboard, the lights on Corregidor Island, which faded from view as our vessel steamed into the darkness of the China Sea. As the ship cruised along the coast of Luzon, Chinese off duty could be seen engaged in playing Fan Tan, some pleating their cues, while others stored away potions of chop-suey. In the cabin of McDonald, Vogt picked a banjo, while Bates and myself sang songs such as, “There’s a red light on the track for boozer Brown” and “Oh, Mona, you shall be free.” Stories of adventure were told by Meigs and Nolan, and Chief McDonald recited poem after poem of the great poet Burns. On the dawn of the new year 1903, the siren was blown, and the bell struck 19 and 3, after which the entire contingent surrounded a table laden with turkey and all the accessories of a new year’s dinner, including Scotch high-balls and Manila cigars, and a more enjoyable new year’s dinner or breakfast I never expect to experience. The songs varied from the “Bonnie, Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond” to “The Wearing of the Green,” interspersed with stories of love, war, and adventure, and I doubt if we marines could have been entertained with more satisfaction in the most exclusive suite of the _Lusitania_ than we were this night in the cabin of McDonald on the _Zafiro_. After cruising for two days along the verdant shore of Luzon, we entered the picturesque harbor of Isabella de Basilan, a Filipino village situated along the water’s edge surrounded by banana and cocoanut groves. Quaint-looking fishermen, adepts at throwing the seine, were scattered over the bay, while a motley crowd of native women were engaged in pounding calico with smooth stones, their mode of cleansing. Barracks on the edge of the town contained a company of marines; among these I found a number of whom I knew. After unloading provisions and other stores, and leaving Corporal Bates behind, our ship steamed on her voyage to Polloc, the name of the village where the garrison was located. Having a cargo of freight on board for Zamboanga, the capital of Mindanao, we touched this harbor just long enough to dispose of it, and continued our cruise, steaming south along a mountainous range studded with extinct volcanoes, and ere long had moored to the wharf at Polloc in the bay of Prang Prang. Here we were met by seventy marines, all anxious to hear the news from the outside world, as mail was received here but twice a month.