Chapter XIV: Boats and Fish

We were passing over the bridge that carried the road over an arm of the sea,--the purple sea, which had a white foam-edge.

I noticed a boat moving against the tide. It had no engine, no sails, no rowers at the oarlocks. Only one man was on deck, leaning on a long pole. He walked slowly from the front to the back of the boat, still leaning on the long pole.

"Here's another wonder of your marvelous Philippines--a boat moving without exerting power," I exclaimed.

Fil looked at Moro and smiled. I saw that they both pitied my ignorance in a strange land. Then Fil said kindly:

"Don't you see the man walking steadily along the running board, from the front to the back of the boat? Well, he is pushing on a long pole, and that power moves the boat against the tide. The pole reaches down to the bottom, through the shallow water. If the boat is loaded, and if the cargo is very heavy, two men push on each pole. The pole is a thick bamboo stick."

"I also notice a curved deck or covering, laid over the boats," I said.

"Yes, that is a roof, or thatch, made out of nipa palm leaves tied on to bamboo sticks," Fil explained.

"Please look!" said sweet little Filippa. "Out there on the purple ocean is a more wonderful boat still."

I looked. Oddest of sights! A boat shaped like a long leaf was scudding before the wind. The one sail seemed to pull the boat over from the wind. No one was really in the boat. But sitting far out, on a bamboo out-rigger, high into the wind-side, above the water, a sailor was balancing the boat and holding the sail by a long rope. Only on one side of the boat was there a bamboo pole fixed lengthways. It did not seem to be a well-balanced boat, yet it sailed along at a great speed; and risky as the sport seemed, the sailor sat perfectly safe on his high and dangerous looking perch, above the water.

"What kind of boat is that?" I asked.

"An out-rigger boat. Some people call it a dug-out boat," replied Filippa.

"I'll tell you more about it," added Fil. "The boat itself is half of a solid log, hollowed out by fire and axe and knife. It is chipped and scraped smooth on the outside, and the ends are pointed. If the wind dies down, the sailor has to paddle the heavy boat home. Then he sits over on the side opposite the out-rigger, so as to balance it. But when he has hoisted sail, he sits on the out-rigger, as the sail balances the boat on the sailing side, opposite the wind. The boat easily rolls over, because it has no sharp keel going down into the water. But it is swifter before the wind, just because it has no keel to keep it back."

"Very clever are your Filipino sailors," I admitted. "Tell me if the boats are used for other purposes than sport."

"Oh, yes," said quiet little Favra, Filippa's chum. "The sailors fish in them and bring us home fish with names as wonderful as are their colors."

"Tell me the names, please," I asked.

Favra slowly thought of three and replied: "The pompano, all silver, gold, and purple, and as wide as it is long; the fighting barracuda, so hard to bring in to the boat; and the leaping tuna, that jumps out of the water and out of the boat perhaps."

Fil added: "Then there's the bonito, as big as a pig, though its name jokingly means 'good little one'; the sail fish which lifts its fin into the wind; and the garoupa."

"Wonderful names," I admitted.

"And all wonderfully good to eat," added Moro, who was often thinking of dinners and feasts.