378 IN AFRICA 



Boca Chica, the northern passage into Manila Bay. 

 Dawn and light came slowly. In poetry the dawn 

 of the tropics may come up like thunder and the 

 transition of darkness to light may be startling and 

 sudden, but in my own experience the tropic dawn 

 comes slowly and pervadingly. First a faint gray- 

 ness, gradually growing brighter until the sun 

 shoots up joyous and golden in its glory, painting 

 the skies with flaming banners and penciling the 

 tips and edges of clouds with the fires of morning. 

 When we lazily drifted in toward Corregidor from 

 the China Sea that morning, it was light enough to 

 see distinctly for nearly an hour before the sun rose. 



Presently a fluttering string of signal flags ap- 

 peared on the top of the island, and a moment later 

 our engines resumed their throbbing and we headed 

 boldly into Boca Chica. Here on the left was 

 Mariveles Bay, the scene of the famous German 

 ship, Irene, incident, which electrified the world. 



Every point that rose before my eyes was preg- 

 nant with historic memories and suggestions. I was 

 thrilled and yet I half -dreaded my return to Ma- 

 nila, for fear that the peace and commercialism of 

 the present days would be disappointing to one who 

 knew it when each day was filled with trouble and 

 threats of trouble; when the city lay always as if 

 under an impending cloud and when the borders of 

 the bay rang with the thunder of guns and the sput- 

 ter of musketry. 



As the Yuen Sang steamed across the twenty-five 

 miles of the bay it seemed as if it were only y ester- 



