it is consequently a port of considerable importance. But it has no
safe anchorage and is frightfully exposed to typhoons, all of which,
if they do not pass over the place directly, somehow or other appear
to step aside to give this region a blow. There is a never-ending
conflict in the adjacent waters between the currents of the China Sea
and those of the Pacific, making navigation hazardous, and for small
boats perilous. On the day of our arrival, calm and fair as it was,
a tremendous surf was beating on the bar, the spray and foam mounting
in a regular wall many feet high, and driven up, not by the gradual
attack of an advancing wave, but by the tireless energy of angry
waters ceaselessly beating upon the same spot.

Of Aparri itself little can be said here: but, small as it is, it
has nevertheless the bustle of all seaports in activity. Many of its
streets are paved with cobble-stones, and some of its buildings are,
if not handsome, at least substantial. But it is cursed with flies:
in our inn, otherwise comfortable enough, the kitchen and the temple of
Venus Cloacina were side by side. The flies were all the more annoying
that we had seen none in the mountains, nor indeed do I recollect ever
having seen them in any number elsewhere in the Archipelago than at
Aparri and in the never-to-be-forgotten plain of Tabuk. However, we
survived the flies, and late in the afternoon of the third day went
on board a Spanish steamer bound for Manila. We used our cabin to
stow our kit, but lived and slept on the deck of the poop, the main
deck between which and the forecastle was crowded with natives. Poor
things! Each family appeared to have an area assigned to it, on which
were piled indiscriminately all its earthly possessions in the shape
of clothes, bags, pots and pans generally; the heap once formed,
its owners sat and slept on it, with the inevitable family rooster
at its highest point lording it over all. In fact, every spot on the