Friars and Filipinos Part 28

"You can forget them because you are young, and because you have not lost your son, have not lost your last hope! But, I a.s.sure you, I will not harm an innocent person. Do you see that wound? I allowed myself to receive that in order not to kill a poor cuaderillero who was fulfilling his duty."

"But see!" said Elias, after a moment's silence. "See what frightful destruction you will bring upon our unfortunate country. If you seek revenge by your own hand your enemies will retaliate, not against you, not against those who are armed, but against the people, who are always accused, and then how many more injustices!"

"Let the people learn to defend themselves. Let each learn to defend himself."

"You know that that is impossible. Senor, I have known you in other times when you were happy, then you gave me wise advice. Will you permit me...?"

The old man crossed his arms and seemed to meditate upon what he was going to say.

"Senor," continued Elias, measuring his words well, "I have had the fortune to be of service to a young man, rich, of good heart, n.o.ble, and a lover of his country's welfare. They say that this young man has friends in Madrid. I do not know it, but I can positively a.s.sure you that he is a friend of the Governor General. What do you say if we make him the bearer of the people's complaints, if we can interest him in the cause of the unhappy?"

The old man shook his head.

"Do you say that he is a rich man? The rich think of nothing but to increase their riches. Pride and pomp blind them, and, since they are generally well off, especially if they have powerful friends, none of them ever troubles himself about the unfortunates. I know it all, for I was once rich myself."

"But the man of whom I am speaking does not seem to be like the others. He is a son who would not allow the memory of his father to be dishonored. He is a young man who thinks about the future--thinks of a good future for his sons, for he may in a short time have a family of his own."

"Then he is a man who is going to be happy. Our cause is not a cause for happy men."

"But it is a cause for men of good hearts."

"That may be," replied the old man sitting down. "Suppose that he consented to carry our complaints to the Governor General. Suppose that he finds in the court those who will argue for us. Do you think we will get justice?"

"Let us try it before resorting to b.l.o.o.d.y measures," replied Elias. "It must seem strange to you that I, another unfortunate, young, robust--that I should propose to you old and weak--peaceful measures. But it is because I have seen so many miseries caused by us similar to those caused by tyrants. The unarmed is the one who suffers."

"And if we do not accomplish anything?"

"Something will be accomplished, believe me! Not all who govern are unjust. And if we do not accomplish anything, if our voice is not listened to, if the man turns a deaf ear to the grief of his fellow men, then we will put ourselves under your orders."

The old man, full of enthusiasm, embraced the young man.

"I accept your proposition, Elias. I know that you will keep your word. You come to me and I will help you take vengeance for your father. You will help me to take vengeance for my sons--my sons who were like you!"

"In the meantime, Senor, avoid all violent measures."

"You can expound the complaints of the people. You certainly know them. When will we know the answer?"

"Within four days send a man to meet me on the beach at San Diego and I will tell him what the person in whom I have hope says. If he accepts, we will get justice, and if he does not accept, I will be the first to fall in the fight which we will begin."

"Elias will not die. Elias will be chief, when Captain Pablo falls, satisfied in his revenge," said the old man.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE c.o.c.k FIGHT.

In order to keep the Sabbath holy in the Philippines the people generally go to the c.o.c.k fight, just as in Spain they go to the bull fight. c.o.c.k fighting, a pa.s.sion introduced into the country and exploited for a century, is one of the vices of the people, more deeply rooted than the opium vice among the Chinese. The poor go there to risk what little they have, desirous of making money without working; the rich go there to amuse themselves, using the money which they have left over from their feasts and thanksgiving ma.s.ses. The c.o.c.k is educated with great care, with more care, perhaps, than the son who is to succeed his father in the c.o.c.k-pit. The Government permits it and almost recommends it, for it decrees that the fight shall only be held in the public plazas and on holidays from after high ma.s.s till dark--eight hours.

The San Diego c.o.c.k-pit does not differ from others which are found in all the towns. It consists of three parts: The first, or entrance, is a large rectangle, some twenty meters in length and fourteen in breadth. On one side is the door, generally guarded by a woman who collects the entrance fee. From the contribution which each one makes the Government receives a part, some hundred thousands of pesos each year. They say that with this money, which gives license to the vice, magnificent schools are raised, bridges and roadways constructed, and rewards offered for the encouragement of agriculture and commerce. Blessed be the vice which produces such good results! In this first precinct are the vendors of betel nut, cigars and tobacco, delicacies and refreshments. There the small boys, who accompany their fathers or uncles, are carefully initiated into the secrets of life.

This precinct communicates with another of slightly larger dimensions, a sort of vestibule, where the people gather before the fight. There, one sees most of the c.o.c.ks, tied by a cord to a bone driven into the ground like a nail; there, are the bettors, the lovers of the sport, the man skilled in fastening the gaffs or spurs to the c.o.c.k's legs; there, bargains are made, the situation discussed, money borrowed, and people curse, swear and laugh boisterously. In one place, some one is caressing his game c.o.c.k, pa.s.sing his hand over his brilliant plumage; in another, a man examines and counts the number of scales on the rooster's legs, for that, they say, is a sign of valor. The battles of the heroes are related. There, too, you will see many a disappointed owner, with a sour face carrying out by the legs, a dead rooster, stripped of its plumage--the animal which was a favorite for months, petted, cared for day and night, and on which flattering hopes had been founded: now, nothing more than a dead fowl, to be sold for a peseta, stewed in ginger and eaten that very night. Sic transit gloria mundi! The loser returns to his fire-side, where an anxious wife and ragged children await him, without his little capital, without his rooster. From all that gilded dream, from all the care of months, from daybreak to sunset, from all those labors and fatigue, from all that, results a peseta, the ashes left from so much smoke.

In this foyer, or vestibule, the most ignorant discuss the coming contests; the most trifling, examine conscientiously the bird, weigh it, contemplate it, extend its wings, feel of its muscles. Some of the people are very well dressed, and are followed and surrounded by the backers of their game c.o.c.ks. Others, dirty, with the seal of vice imprinted on their squalid faces, anxiously follow the movements of the rich and watch their betting, for the pocketbook can be emptied and the pa.s.sion still be unsatisfied. There you see no face that is not animated, no indolent Filipino; none apathetic, none silent. All is movement, pa.s.sion, eagerness.

From this place, one pa.s.ses into the arena or rueda, as it is called. The floor, inclosed by bamboos, is generally elevated higher than the floor of the other two parts of the c.o.c.k-pit. Running up from the floor and almost touching the roof, are rows of seats for the spectators or gamblers--they come to be the same. During the combat these seats are filled with men and children who cry, shout, perspire, quarrel, and blaspheme. Fortunately, scarcely any women visit the c.o.c.k-pit. In the rueda are the prominent men, the rich cla.s.s, the bettors, the bookmaker, and the referee. The c.o.c.ks fight on the ground, which is beaten down perfectly smooth, and there Destiny distributes to families laughter or tears, feasts or hunger.

As we enter, we can see the gobernadorcillo, Captain Pablo, Captain Basilio, and Lucas, the man with the scar on his face who was so disconsolate over the death of his brother.

Captain Basilio approaches one of those present and asks him:

"Do you know what c.o.c.k Captain Tiago is going to bring?"

"I do not know, Senor. This morning two arrived, one of them the lasak (black sprinkled with white) which whipped the Consul's talisain (red, sprinkled with black)."

"Do you think that my bulik (black, red and white), can beat him?"

"Yes, I surely do. I'll stake my house and shirt on him!"

At that moment Captain Tiago arrived. He was dressed, like the big gamblers, in a camisa of Canton linen, woolen pantaloons, and a panama-straw hat. Behind him came two servants, carrying the lasak and a white c.o.c.k of colossal proportions.

"Sinang tells me that Maria Clara is improving steadily," said Captain Basilio.

"She no longer has any fever, but she is still weak."

"Did you lose last night?"

"A little. I heard that you won.... I am going to see if I can win back my money."

"Do you want to fight your lasak?" asked Captain Basilio, looking at the rooster.

"That depends on whether there is any money up."

"How much will you stake?"

"I don't play less than two thousand."

"Have you seen my bulik?" asked Captain Basilio, and then called a man to bring a small rooster.

Captain Tiago examined it, and after weighing it in his hand, and examining its scales, he handed it back.

"What do you put up?" he asked.

"Whatever you say."