There Seemed To Be
A Sleepiness In The Air Quite In Keeping With The Day Of The Week,
And I Was Nearly Dozing Off When Little Nicolas Came In.
I asked him
if he knew where the cook-fighting took place, and added, "you savez"
(slang for understand").
His eyes flashed, and he said, Me no savage,"
but when I explained that I did not call him a "savage," his eyes,
smiled an apology, and he willingly offered to show me the place
where the cock-fighting was to be.
On entering the large bamboo shed or theatre where the cock-fighting
took place, I was met by the old Presidente of the village, to
whom I had brought a letter from Governor Joven (the Governor of
the province), whom I had visited at Bacolor on my way hither. He
conducted me to a seat on a raised clay platform, and sat next to me
most of the time, but as the fighting progressed he got very excited,
and had to go down into the ring. I had often witnessed it before
in tropical America, but here the left feet of the cocks were armed
with large steel spurs shaped like miniature cutlasses, which before
the fight began were encased in small leather sheaths. The onlookers
worked themselves up into a state of great excitement, and there was
a great deal of chaff, mixed with angry words, and plenty of silver
"pesos" were exchanged over the results. But it was cruel work,
and the crouching spectators were often scattered right and left by
the furious birds, whilst on one occasion a too venturesome onlooker
received a rather severe gash on his arm.
The church clock here was a thing to wonder at. It had no dial, and
struck only about five times a day. When it struck ten there was an
interval of over twenty seconds between each stroke until the last
two strokes, these coming quickly together, as if it was tired of
such slow work! As there was no face to the clock, I was puzzled to
know whether to set my watch at the first or last stroke, or to split
the difference.
There were a great many funerals during my stay here in December,
there being a regular epidemic of cholera and malaria. This was the
unhealthy season, and I was told that there were as many deaths in
Florida Blanca during the months of December and January as during
all the rest of the year put together.
One day I watched from my window a funeral procession on its way
from the church to the cemetery. The Padre was not there, and this
no doubt accounted for the acrobatic display given by the three men
in cassocks and surplices, who led the way, bearing a cross and two
candles. They started by playfully kicking each other, and this soon
developed into angry words, so that I expected a free fight. One
of them tucked his unbuttoned cassock round his neck, and egged the
other two on.
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