Close by is the two-story wood structure that served as office and assay laboratory for Nabago mines. Upstairs are living quarters, a huge sala with table, chairs and a refrigerator. Several bedrooms adjoin the sala. Downstairs are the storerooms, offices and the fire assay lab where dreams of a major gold find are consistently dashed to nothingness.

It was the summer of 1937. I had recently arrived to work at the Nabago mine on the east side of the Diuata Mountain range of Surigao. Nabago boasted a narrow gold vein that we planned to mine. There was a trail to a stream that emptied into the Pacific near the village of Nabago. One could get to the mine over a trail some 14 miles long from the Mindanao Mother Lode mine or travel by sea about 30 miles from the town of Surigao.

I was to bring supplies of food, fuel and dynamite to the mine. Felicito Escropolo and I had come to town via the the long hike. I opted for returning by sea to Nabago where carriers could take the supplies to the mine. The company owned a sailing vinta that was modified to accommodate an outboard motor. Made of a single hollowed-out log 22 feet long, side planks extended from the top of the log base so that the vinta was three feet deep and had a four foot beam. Two poles with downward curved tips were fastened across the beam and supported curved bamboo outriggers.

The vinta was loaded with eight cases of canned pilchards, six bags of rice and an assortment of canned goods. There were a few bottles of Scotch, some clothing plus a sewing kit for repairs. Six cases of thirty percent dynamite and a supply of blasting caps were included. There was extra fuel and an ample supply of drinking water.

When Felicito and I were in the loaded vinta it still had about a foot of freeboard. Enough for smooth sailing but not enough to cope with the rough seas of a storm. We should be able to complete our trip in ten to twelve hours and no storms were in the 24 hour forecast. After a night at the office we would leave before dawn.

I had every confidence in Felicito. He was from Nabago and had traveled to Surigao many times by sea. This time would be different. The outboard motor instead of a sail made the trip a novelty for Felicito. It was an experience for me too as I had only been to the mine overland via the rough trail from Mindanao Mother Lode.

At four in the morning we cruised up the west side of Bilang-Bilang. Dawn came as sailed east though the straits of Surigao. There, with each turn of the tide, swift currents develop as the Mindanao Sea dumps into the Pacific or vice versa. Felicito dodged whirlpools that were as much as twenty feet across with a foot or more of swirling vortex at the center.

The vinta was borne swiftly eastwards as the Mindanao Sea poured into the Pacific. Then we turned south past the mangrove-laced shore. The deep green of the tangled mangroves had a backdrop of coconut palms.

It was a clear day and Felicito headed out to sea for a better view of the Diuata range. The ocean swells were about thirty feet apart and seemed to parallel the coast. Conversation was impossible with the roar of the outboard. When we stopped to refill the gas tank, it was pleasant to hear nothing but the waves lapping at the vinta.

The Diuata range was softly contoured to a ridge with elevations locally of about three thousand feet. The mountains were covered with a dense mantle of forest. This was the home of the Manobo and Mamanua tribes who sought the deepest forest to live in as far away as they could get from other tribes. It was pleasant to reflect on the majestic scene accented here and there with soft clouds that kissed the highest parts of the near north-south range. Life was sweet.

It was mid afternoon when there was again silence. Felicito checked the gas tank, wrapped the starter cord and pulled. Nothing happened. Two new spark plugs didn’t help. The vinta drifted away from the shore towards the Mindanao deep. We could paddle but we could never survive a storm.

Nightfall came as we divided a can of pilchards into our saucers and shared a can of peaches. I stretched out on bags of rice and fell asleep immediately. Rocked by the long swells of the ocean, I slept till dawn. Then back to the outboard motor. I had a few more tricks and changed out the points and condenser.

It was daylight but there was no sun. By seven o’clock I was ready to give the motor a try. I held my breath and pulled on the starter cord. The engine started with a roar and purred like a kitten. Then we took a look around. No land in sight! It had begun to drizzle. Which way west towards Mindanao ? Perhaps we could find one of the offshore istands of Siargao or Bucas Grande. Or we may have drifted north to Dinagat Sound . There was no way to tell. If we had drifted south, we could be in the vast Pacific and spend our last days drifting on the ocean if a storm didn’t do us in first. We decided to travel at right angles to the long sea swells and hold this course for two hours.

Should we fail to make landfall we would reverse directions and look for the coast in four hours or less. With nothing to guide on the whole situation got real scary. The motor could conk out again and we would be worse off.

I was overwhelmed by our predicament. I rummaged through my mind thinking of all I was to miss. My wife would give birth soon and I would never see her again nor see our first child. I was too young to end my days drifting on the Pacific. There was plenty of food and water. Eventually they would run out. We were far from any traveled sea routes so the chance of being picked up by a ship were slim. The sculpted gray fins of sharks that visited from time to time added to our concerns.

We chugged on through patches of fog, drizzle and frequent showers. The outboard motor cooperated. Two hours passed with nothing in sight. The fog lifted and the rain ended. Under a cloudy sky there was nothing to see but endless ocean swells in all directions There was no way to tell where we were headed. We could have been going in circles.

Felicito tried to be helpful as he suggested using the Brunton compass I usually carried. I hadn’t taken it to town. The suggestion of a compass stirred my mind. I thought of the test magnet that I always carried dangling on a link with my magnifying lens.

There were needles in the sewing kit. I magnetized a needle by stroking it with the magnet. How to let the needle swing freely was a knotty problem. I hung the needle from a piece of thread. It seemed to want to point in one direction but I couldn’t be certain.

There was another way worth trying. I pulled the cork of a bottle of Scotch and resisted the urge to down a swig. I cut a thin slice off the bottom of the stopper and poked the magnetized needle through the cork. Now for a try! I poured a cup of water into a saucer and gently lowered the cork and needle onto the surface. The water stayed level as the vinta rocked gently in the ocean swells.

Wow! The needle pointed consistently in one direction. I moved it several times but it always swung back. We had a compass! Death had granted a reprieve. There was west and I swung the vinta to head towards the Mindanao coast just as the afternoon sun broke through the clouds. How beautiful it was to see again the green forest mantle of the Diuata range? I had learned a lesson the hard way - never, never give up !