The Social Cancer: A Complete English Version of Noli Me Tangere
appeared, to be greeted with joyful cries. The eyes of the old women
filled with tears. The pilot climbed up with one end of the rope in
his hand and once on the platform began to pull on it. The monster
soon appeared above the water with the rope tied in a double band
around its neck and underneath its front legs. It was a large one,
as Leon had said, speckled, and on its back grew the green moss which
is to the caymans what gray hairs are to men. Roaring like a bull and
beating its tail against or catching hold of the sides of the corral,
it opened its huge jaws and showed its long, sharp teeth. The pilot
was hoisting it alone, for no one had thought to assist him.
Once out of the water and resting on the platform, he placed his
foot upon it and with his strong hands forced its huge jaws together
and tried to tie its snout with stout knots. With a last effort the
reptile arched its body, struck the floor with its powerful tail,
and jerking free, hurled itself with one leap into the water outside
the corral, dragging its captor along with it. A cry of horror broke
from the lips of all. But like a flash of lightning another body shot
into the water so quickly that there was hardly time to realize that
it was Ibarra. Maria Clara did not swoon only for the reason that
the Filipino women do not yet know how to do so.
The anxious watchers saw the water become colored and dyed with
blood. The young fisherman jumped down with his bolo in his hand and
was followed by his father, but they had scarcely disappeared when
Crisostomo and the pilot reappeared clinging to the dead body of the
reptile, which had the whole length of its white belly slit open and
the knife still sticking in its throat.
To describe the joy were impossible, as a dozen arms reached out to
drag the young men from the water. The old women were beside themselves
between laughter and prayers. Andeng forgot that her _sinigang_
had boiled over three times, spilling the soup and putting out the
fire. The only one who could say nothing was Maria Clara.
Ibarra was uninjured, while the pilot had only a slight scratch on
his arm. "I owe my life to you," said the latter to Ibarra, who was
wrapping himself up in blankets and cloths. The pilot's voice seemed
to have a note of sadness in it.
"You are too daring," answered Ibarra. "Don't tempt fate again."
"If you had not come up again--" murmured the still pale and trembling
Maria Clara.
"If I had not come up and you had followed me," replied Ibarra,
completing the thought in his own way, "in the bottom of the lake,
_I should still have been with my family!_" He had not forgotten that
there lay the bones of his father.
The old women did not want to visit the other corral but wished to
return, saying that the day had begun inauspiciously and that many more
accidents might occur. "All because we didn't hear mass," sighed one.
"But what accident has befallen us, ladies?" asked Ibarra. "The cayman
seems to have been the only unlucky one."
"All of which proves," concluded the ex-student of theology, "that
in all its sinful life this unfortunate reptile has never attended
mass--at least, I've never seen him among the many other caymans that
frequent the church."
So the boats were turned in the direction of the other corral and
Andeng had to get her _sinigang_ ready again. The day was now well
advanced, with a fresh breeze blowing. The waves curled up behind the
body of the cayman, raising "mountains of foam whereon the smooth,
rich sunlight glitters," as the poet says. The music again resounded;
Iday played on the harp, while the men handled the accordions and
guitars with greater or less skill. The prize-winner was Albino, who
actually scratched the instruments, getting out of tune and losing
the time every moment or else forgetting it and changing to another
tune entirely different.
The second corral was visited with some misgivings, as many expected to
find there the mate of the dead cayman, but nature is ever a jester,
and the nets came up full at each haul. Aunt Isabel superintended
the sorting of the fish and ordered that some be left in the trap for
decoys. "It's not lucky to empty the corral completely," she concluded.
Then they made their way toward the shore near the forest of old trees
that belonged to Ibarra. There in the shade by the clear waters of the
brook, among the flowers, they ate their breakfast under improvised
canopies. The space was filled with music while the smoke from the
fires curled up in slender wreaths. The water bubbled cheerfully in
the hot dishes as though uttering sounds of consolation, or perchance
of sarcasm and irony, to the dead fishes. The body of the cayman
writhed about, sometimes showing its torn white belly and again its
speckled greenish back, while man, Nature's favorite, went on his
way undisturbed by what the Brahmins and vegetarians would call so
many cases of fratricide.
CHAPTER XXIV
In the Wood
Early, very early indeed, somewhat differently from his usual custom,
Padre Salvi had celebrated mass and cleansed a dozen sinful souls in a
few moments. Then it seemed that the reading of some letters which he
had received firmly sealed and waxed caused the worthy curate to lose
his appetite, since he allowed his chocolate to become completely cold.
"The padre is getting sick," commented the cook while preparing another
cup. "For days he hasn't eaten; of the six dishes that I set before
him on the table he doesn't touch even two."
"It's because he sleeps badly," replied the other servant. "He has
nightmares since he changed his bedroom. His eyes are becoming more
sunken all the time and he's getting thinner and yellower day by day."
Truly, Padre Salvi was a pitiable sight. He did not care to touch the
second cup of chocolate nor to taste the sweet cakes of Cebu; instead,
he paced thoughtfully about the spacious sala, crumpling in his bony
hands the letters, which he read from time to time. Finally, he called
for his carriage, got ready, and directed that he be taken to the
wood where stood the fateful tree near which the picnic was being held.
Arriving at the edge of the wood, the padre dismissed his carriage
and made his way alone into its depths. A gloomy pathway opened a
difficult passage through the thickets and led to the brook formed
by certain warm springs, like many that flow from the slopes of
Mr. Makiling. Adorning its banks grow wild flowers, many of which
have as yet no Latin names, but which are doubtless well-known to
the gilded insects and butterflies of all shapes and colors, blue and
gold, white and black, many-hued, glittering with iridescent spots,
with rubies and emeralds on their wings, and to the countless beetles
with their metallic lusters of powdered gold. The hum of the insects,
the cries of the cicada, which cease not night or day, the songs of
the birds, and the dry crashing of the rotten branch that falls and
strikes all around against the trees, are the only sounds to break
the stillness of that mysterious place.
For some time the padre wandered aimlessly among the thick underbrush,
avoiding the thorns that caught at his _guingón_ habit as though to
detain him, and the roots of the trees that protruded from the soil
to form stumbling-blocks at every step for this wanderer unaccustomed
to such places. But suddenly his feet were arrested by the sound of
clear voices raised in merry laughter, seeming to come from the brook
and apparently drawing nearer.
"I'm going to see if I can find one of those nests," said a beautiful,
sweet voice, which the curate recognized. "I'd like to see _him_
without having him see me, so I could follow him everywhere."
Padre Salvi hid behind the trunk of a large tree and set himself
to eavesdrop.
"Does that mean that you want to do with him what the curate does with
you?" asked a laughing voice. "He watches you everywhere. Be careful,
for jealousy makes people thin and puts rings around their eyes."
"No, no, not jealousy, it's pure curiosity," replied the silvery voice,
while the laughing one repeated, "Yes, jealousy, jealousy!" and she
burst out into merry laughter.
"If I were jealous, instead of making myself invisible, I'd make him
so, in order that no one might see him."
"But neither would you see _him_ and that wouldn't be nice. The best
thing for us to do if we find the nest would be to present it to the
curate so that he could watch over us without the necessity of our
seeing him, don't you think so?"
"I don't believe in those herons' nests," interrupted another voice,
"but if at any time I should be jealous, I'd know how to watch and
still keep myself hidden."
"How, how? Perhaps like a _Sor Escucha?_" [73]
This reminiscence of school-days provoked another merry burst of
laughter.
"And you know how she's fooled, the _Sor Escucha!_"
From his hiding-place Padre Salvi saw Maria Clara, Victoria, and Sinang
wading along the border of the brook. They were moving forward with
their eyes fixed on the crystal waters, seeking the enchanted nest of
the heron, wet to their knees so that the wide folds of their bathing
skirts revealed the graceful curves of their bodies. Their hair was
flung loose, their arms bare, and they wore camisas with wide stripes
of bright hues. While looking for something that they could not find
they were picking flowers and plants which grew along the bank.
The religious Acteon stood pale and motionless gazing at that chaste
Diana, but his eyes glittered in their dark circles, untired of staring
at those white and shapely arms and at that elegant neck and bust,
while the small rosy feet that played in the water awoke in his starved
being strange sensations and in his burning brain dreams of new ideas.
The three charming figures disappeared behind a bamboo thicket
around a bend in the brook, and their cruel allusions ceased to be
heard. Intoxicated, staggering, covered with perspiration, Padre Salvi
left his hiding-place and looked all about him with rolling eyes. He
stood still as if in doubt, then took a few steps as though he would
try to follow the girls, but turned again and made his way along the
banks of the stream to seek the rest of the party.
At a little distance he saw in the middle of the brook a kind of
bathing-place, well enclosed, decorated with palm leaves, flowers,
and streamers, with a leafy clump of bamboo for a covering, from
within which came the sound of happy feminine voices. Farther on
he saw a bamboo bridge and beyond it the men bathing. Near these a
crowd of servants was busily engaged around improvised _kalanes_ in
plucking chickens, washing rice, and roasting a pig. On the opposite
bank in a cleared space were gathered men and women under a canvas
covering which was fastened partly to the hoary trees and partly to
newly-driven stakes. There were gathered the alferez, the coadjutor,
the gobernadorcillo, the teniente-mayor, the schoolmaster, and many
other personages of the town, even including Sinang's father, Capitan
Basilio, who had been the adversary of the deceased Don Rafael in
an old lawsuit. Ibarra had said to him, "We are disputing over a
point of law, but that does not mean that we are enemies," so the
celebrated orator of the conservatives had enthusiastically accepted
the invitation, sending along three turkeys and putting his servants
at the young man's disposal.
The curate was received with respect and deference by all, even the
alferez. "Why, where has your Reverence been?" asked the latter,
as he noticed the curate's scratched face and his habit covered with
leaves and dry twigs. "Has your Reverence had a fall?"
"No, I lost my way," replied Padre Salvi, lowering his gaze to examine
his gown.