The narrow boat was well down in the water when we set sail at dawn on December 18th. Filipino sailing boats are long and narrow and are sometimes hollowed out of solid trees. Seats are really narrow planks placed across the boat at intervals and the masts are made of big bamboos or palm Abrava. Sometimes there are outriggers made of heavy rattan and the sails are of woven palm leaves or of canvas or denim. They are extremely uncomfortable to travel in for a long distance, and balancing them seems a precarious business. For the whole of that long hot day we sat in the same positions; to have moved suddenly or stretch our legs, might have capsized the boat.
Only a very light wind blew and it took us hours to clear the island. Paddy sat between Ren's legs all day and Stephen slept for most of it on my knee. I had chosen the seat nearest the sail so that it would give him a little more shade. The sun beat down mercilessly on us. I think the children were drugged by the heat. Mari, Auri and Mrs. Sanson were sick. Potacio and his father attended to sailing the banca while Ren kept a lookout for reefs and, of course, ships and planes. Several planes passed high above us but did not swoop down to investigate us. It was still hard to realise they were enemy planes.
The hideous day dragged on. Only Potacio and his father looked comfortable. The old man wore an enormous straw hat which kept off the sun or rain equally well, and he was dressed in pants and shirt of woven abaca. All day he sat at the tiller looking like a wizened little monkey, chewing betel nut and occasionally spitting it out in bright red jets.
As the day ended and the swift dusk turned almost immediately to inky darkness we made our way up the river to the wharf. No sounds came from the land. If the Japanese were in this town we would be caught right away as there was only one street through it to our friends house. Stiffly we stumbled ashore and up the street to the wide stone doorway of the old Spanish Church where all of us remained while Potacio and the old man went ahead to reconnoitre. Soon they returned to say the Japanese were not in the town but that most of the townspeople had fled anticipating their early arrival. In about ten minutes time we were outside the Lazaroa's front door banging. Mr. Lazaroa popped his head through the window to see who knocked so loudly, heard our English voices and hurried down to let us in. How glad they were to see us. Very little news had trickled in from Legaspi or Tabaco and no one knew whether we were still alive. They were anxious to hear about Pedro and his family.
What a dirty bedraggled bunch we were, and oh so tired!! The three young daughters of the house took complete charge of the women, giving us dressing gowns, showing us where to shower and whisking away our soiled clothes. While I was showering one of the girls bathed the children and another one prepared food for them. Then they were tucked into an enormous bed, they were to share with Ren and me and they fell fast asleep immediately. The maids washed and ironed our clothes that night.
While we were eating a wonderful Spanish dinner we discussed our nest move with the Lazaroas. Far away we could hear the booming of heavy guns. As we ate and recovered a little from our journey Mr. Lazaroa told it was impossible to go further north as the Japanese had occupied the rail head at Naga the day before and stopped the movement of all trains. Fighting was going on in the area between Japs and a band of guerrillas. No transport of any kind was running. All Americans and British were being arrested and gaoled. We had no choice but to return to San Miquel Island. With this disheartening news we went to bed and lay listening for hours to the guns at Naga. Before we slept Ren wished he had only his own family to worry over. Mari and Auri refused to stay with the Lazaroas, though they promised to look after them until they could get to their home safely. I begged them to stay but they seemed to regard Ren and me as their only link with their family and said they would remain with us what ever happened. Neither Ren nor I knew Barbara Sanson well. We knew her husband better as he came into Legaspi quite often on his own and he often lunched at San Rogue. Circumstances forced her to stay with us where ever we might go. She and I established a state of barbed neutrality which lasted while we remained together; Ren was more tolerant than I. She had the ever-present worry as to what had happened to her husband and small son and as time passed she became more and more depressed about them. Ren and I were naturally light hearted and optimistic and we were fully occupied looking after the children and had no time to be depressed about the future and a sense of humour we shared kept us going at the blackest moments.
Mari, our baby Amah, was nearly black skinned, small, thin and very bony. She was a spinster and I think she never wanted to be anything else. She looked like a little monkey with sad brown eyes and a wizened face. She was very superstitious and full of native lore and home remedies for sickness. According to her, guava leaves stuck on one's forehead cured a bad headache, green leaves wrapped around the knees cured fever and the remedy for flatulence was to lie on the floor and drop cigarette ash into one's bellybutton. A second later all the wind comes blowing out. Moonlight was not the time to go outdoors - we might meet a corpse enjoying the night air. Snakes crossing our path meant someone in the party was pregnant. Above everything, she loved Paddy and Stephen. Pretty little Auri was just eighteen, always happy singing and laughing all day. What a problem she was for Mari, her Aunt. The uppermost thought in Mari's mind when she spoke of Auri was that she must get her safely home to her parents and by that she meant still virginal and no misadventures on the way. What a Duenna she became!! And all to no avail because Auri eloped one night while Mari slept.
Together Ren and I were certain that we could meet any situation that would arise.
The last two members of our party looked like blond cherubs. Paddy dark eyed and serious was just beginning to talk. Stephen had enormous green eyes, a happy trusting disposition but a terrible temper when thwarted. Paddy could walk a little way on our journeys but Stiffy, who was only six months old had to be carried.