Romance of a South Sea Pearl

There was no Dominican Father in Zamboanga, as yet, when a moro pearl-diver had confidently gone to sea one early May morning. At least, he had not heard of any. 

A sturdy, bronze-sinewed fellow, he had, for sometime now, substituted his father in the family chore of fishing pearls & selling them at ridiculously low prices to support three younger brothers and two sisters. 

Everybody knew him well, a veritable "chip off the old block', for this diver's father had been the best pearl fisher for miles around. Now he was perpetuating the "old man's" glories.

The day before, a bearded missionary had told him and twenty others - catechumens all - about the Santo Rosario, whose miraculous image was revered in far away Manila. He could not now recall how or why did the religious come to talk to them of that Virgin. Possibly the fact that they were now in May - the Virgin's month - or that the miracles of La Naval de Manila has just been officially proclaimed so, has moved the 'fisher of men' to talk to them, 'pearl fishers', about the Santo Rosario. At any rate, the pearl-diver wasn't so sure that morning.

It came to happen then, that our man, whilst probing the depths of the azure southern waters, caught sight of a dazzling pearl, of gigantic proportions, nestled in the softness of an open mother-o'-pearl. Now, there was some gem! he thought and quickly made for it! 

As he engages himself in cutting out the ligaments that held the jewel to the recesses of the mother-o'-pearl, this suddenly closed itself, and thus caught the moro's hand! 

In no time, he exerted himself vigorously to extricate his imprisoned hand. He was at quite some depth and all his violent motions brought not a ripple nor a stir to the surface of the water. He, therefore, could not expect help from his colleagues. Whatever little air was left in him was quickly being expended with the great efforts of our man to set himself free from the murderous grip of the shell. His heart beats began to falter. His strength was leaving him. The telling hue of deep scarlet was noticeable in his recoiling body.

Then, came the light! He remembered the Santo Rosario and her wonder; he recalled, La Naval, an eminently sea-victory. The Mother of God would aid those at sea, then. So, he lifted up his heart and mind to the Virgin of the Most Holy Rosary, and, in exchange of his safe release from sure death, he would go all the way to Manila and offer that pearl to Her, Queen of the Sea.

Even before he had time to fully finish his supplication, the mother-o'-pearl broke in two and he was free. Quickly he rose to the surface, where, detected by his friends, who had noticed his beleaguered face, rescued him and brought him safely ashore.

Soon the moro pearl-driver left Zamboanga. With but the missionary's letter of introduction [for he had not told anyone of the incident, but had only confided it to the padre] and the pearl, safely tucked in his waist pocket, he came to Manila and went directly to the Convent of Santo Domingo. 

In sincere, if incorrect, language he appraised the Dominican Fathers of his intention and gave the Father Prior the dazzling gem. He then, led by the friars, went to the altar of the Santo Rosario, where, kneeling piously, uttered a prayer of thanks & veneration. 

The Virgin must have smiled at him, for he left - back to Zamboanga - in complete bliss!

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Not long after, a lowly creature hid himself in the dark recesses of the Church of Santo Domingo and waited for midnight. When the sacred place had been closed for the day, the thief - for he had come to rob Our Lady of that pearl, which everybody had already occasion to admire - stealthily made his way to the throne of the Santo Rosario. Most impiously climbing the altar, he reached the niche of the Virgin, lifted up the silken blue curtain, and extended his hand... covetingly towards the south sea pearl.

"¿Por qué me roba usted cuándo no le daño?" - Why dost thou rob me when I harm you not...?

The voice was a woman's. The thief had made sure, a few moments ago, that he was alone inside the church. And the voice came directly from the image! Our man was lost! He trembled and frightfully tumbled down, causing some commotion. But, the friars had gone to bed a long time ago and the cloisters were quite a distance away.

The early hours of the morning, saw the lay brother aghast at the sight of an unconscious man, half naked and rubbed with oil, at the foot of the Virgin's throne. The Dominican friars, having been quickly summoned, shook the man to consciousness and from him heard the wondrous tale of the Virgin's recrimination.

Since then, and following the thief's conversion, our people have had a high regard for the Virgin's jewels. 

Our Lady has, thus, given ample proof that She would not betray the unsullied gratitude of that moro pearl-diver, who had come to her all the way from far Zamboanga, where, in her southern waters, "he had caught sight of a dazzling pearl, of gigantic proportions, nestled in the softness of an open mother-o'-pearl!" and had wanted it for Her, Queen of the Sea: Mary of the Most Holy Rosary!

"¡No me des tan fuerte!" - The Sculptor of La Naval

NIGHT. It is the 25th of October, 1593. In the waters off Sulphur Point in Batangas a Spanish fleet is becalmed. Out only one week from Manila Bay, it is on its way to join the rest of an armada in the Visayas and sail south to wrest the Moluccas from Dutch control. On the flagship, the Governor-General, Don Gomez Pérez Dasmariñas ponders the situation, unaware of a greater crisis brewing in his own vessel. For even then furtive figures creep in the shadow of the ship's deck. Stealthily, the Chinese rowers overpower the guards, disarm the crew, and kills the Governor.

The Visayan fleet under the command of the Governor's son, Don Luís Pérez Dasmariñas,receives the news of his father's death. It abandons the expedition and returns sorrowfully to Manila. By royal decree, Don Luís succeeds his father as Governor-General, and among his first acts in office is to order the sculpture of an image of Our Lady of the Rosary. Perhaps to find consolation in his hour of loss, perhaps as a predictive gesture that what was left undone by force of arms would someday be accomplished with Her help. Governor-General, Don Luís Pérez Dasmariñas would donate an image of the Queen of the Rosary to the Dominicans of Santo Domingo in Intramuros.

His aide, Captain Hernando de los Ríos Coronel, is entrusted with this special mission. In the trading section of the City, which is monopolized by the sangleyes [i.e. Chinese], he finds a sculptor whose qualifications are highly regarded. It is a pity that the name of such artist does not figure in the records but an inkling of his character can be gleaned from the work he fashioned. 

Nuestra Señora del Santísimo Rosario - La Naval de Manila - photo from Bleak!

The keen business eye of the heathen Chinaman perceives only a profitable order, but were he possessed of greater vision he would have seen in it a turning point not only in his own life but in the lives of untold thousands down the centuries. 

For the moment, it is a job to be done, and from the pagan's workshop the sound of mallet & chisel is heard all day and far into the night. The image is to be carved of wood, but its face and hands, as well as the Child Jesus in its arms are to be made of priceless ivory. The sculptor pictures a Mother of the Deity in his oriental mind: cheekbones set high, almond-shaped eyes and a pale yellow complexion.

Soon the image takes shape, and, inspired by his creative efforts, he puts the finishing touches with greater zeal. While busy with mallet & chisel he hears a voice, but looking behind sees no one. 

He is alone. He resumes his work, and again the voice comes to him, this time unequivocably clear. 

He distinctly hears the words, "¡No me des tan fuerte!" - "Do not press so much for it hurts!" 

Slowly the terrible realization occurs to him and leaves him completely dismayed. He decides to get some rest, but sleep escapes him all night. In the morning the cheerful light of day gives him new courage to keep up the work again, and he finishes it on schedule. 

But the seed had been planted. And the Lady had laid the ground to rescue the soul of that infidel who had, with such good fortune, done her image.

The Chinese sculptor left Manila after his work was finished and had established himself "somewhere in the Ilocos" to get away from it all. In his hours of work he must have often thought of the image he had left behind and who so pointedly reminded him of the due care he had to take in his work. His soul laid in darkness and there was something lacking to unite him completely with the product of his art.

Even in that far away province he keeps thinking about it and, encouraged by his newly found friends, he decides to be baptized into the Catholic faith, but under one condition: he would be baptized at the Church of Santo Domingo, before the image of the Santo Rosario who once spoke to him, whom he loved so much.

The Lady and the sculptor met once more. He who had fashioned the image was to be saved by Her whom that image stood for. In a simple ceremony the infidel became a Catholic. The sculptor and the image were at last united in bonds that transcended mere earthly association.

This story is a part of the rich legend of Rosarian tradition that has passed from generation to generation and which forms part of the patrimony of Marian devotion in the Philippines. The memory of the signal manner in which the pagan Chinese sculptor was benefitted by his work of art is kept to this day.