The Friar's Daughter: A Story of the American Occupation of the PhilippinesPhifer, Charles Lincoln
History
The Friar's Daughter: A Story of the American Occupation of the Philippines
Phifer, Charles Lincoln
Philippines -- History -- 1898-1946 -- Fiction; Philippines -- Politics and government -- 1898-1935 -- Fiction
The Judge did think over it and the apostolic nuncio kept from his
presence several days in order to give him opportunity to ponder the
subject. When next the two men met the chastened attitude of Judge
Daft and his evident desire to be agreeable was to the discerning
Jesuit ample proof that the leaven was working.
"I do not know," he added to himself, "but that the fine, bold
material we are getting on our side may necessitate the removal of
the good-hearted old man who rules but fears to move. We dare not
wait too long when plans are ripe and boldness is necessary."
XVI.
THE SCHISM BURIED.
A few mornings after this the apostolic nuncio was walking along the
calzada by the coast, musing over his plans, when he chanced upon
three American soldiers with a Filipino prisoner. He was inclined to
pass on with only a cursory glance, but his ever-alert mind, always
spurred to observation, prompted to closer scrutiny. Then he saw that
the soldiers were drunk. This was not important in his eye, because,
under the canteen system inaugurated by the American government,
and the influence of the tropics working on the nerves of the boys
so far from home, and of the Filipino beverage, vino, drinking was
rather common with the soldiers. Indeed, the tropics were playing
havoc with the morals of the youth in khaki.
Kipling has thus expressed the languorous feeling that gets into the
bones in the tropics:
Ship me somewhere east of Suez where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments, an a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin' an' it's there that I would be--
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea--
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
Oh, the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the bay!
When the mist was on the rice fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an she' sing 'Kulla-lo-lo!'
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek,
We uster watch the steamers and the hathis pilin' teak.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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