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 yester- 
