"Remember, he is absolutely nothing to us, now we are on land."
"Where do you suppose we are?"
"Somewhere north of Subig Bay, or Port Subig, as the English call it. We were making for Point Capones when that dirty hurricane struck our ship and sent us into that Chinese junk. I think we must be somewhere in the neighborhood of Iba, a settlement something like a hundred miles northwest of Manila. But we may be still further away."
"And what of the natives around here?"
"They are treacherous people, so I've been told. The majority of them are Tagals, or Tagaloes, as the Spanish call 'em. You know all of these islands belong to Spain."
"Yes, I know that only too well, for the Spaniards at Manila have caused our business firm no end of trouble. They want to drive the Americans out, if they can."
"They would like to drive all foreigners out, so that they can have the wealth of the Philippines to themselves," went on the second mate, who was, as I soon discovered, a well-read man. "You see the islands pay an immense sum of money into Spain's treasury every year."
"But what of this rebellion here, that I heard of at Hong Kong?"
"Oh, the natives are continually fighting
