by José Rizal
CHAPTER XLVI
The Cockpit
To keep holy the afternoon of the Sabbath one generally goes tothe cockpit in the Philippines, just as to the bull-fights inSpain. Cockfighting, a passion introduced into the country andexploited for a century past, is one of the vices of the people, morewidely spread than opium-smoking among the Chinese. There the poorman goes to risk all that he has, desirous of getting rich withoutwork. There the rich man goes to amuse himself, using the money thatremains to him from his feasts and his masses of thanksgiving. Thefortune that he gambles is his own, the cock is raised with muchmore care perhaps than his son and successor in the cockpit, so wehave nothing to say against it. Since the government permits it andeven in a way recommends it, by providing that the spectacle may takeplace only in the _public plazas_, on _holidays_ (in order that allmay see it and be encouraged by the example?), _from the high massuntil nightfall (eight_ hours), let us proceed thither to seek outsome of our acquaintances.
The cockpit of San Diego does not differ from those to be found inother towns, except in some details. It consists of three parts,the first of which, the entrance, is a large rectangle some twentymeters long by fourteen wide. On one side is the gateway, generallytended by an old woman whose business it is to collect the _sa pintu_,or admission fee. Of this contribution, which every one pays, thegovernment receives a part, amounting to some hundreds of thousands ofpesos a year. It is said that with this money, with which vice paysits license, magnificent schoolhouses are erected, bridges and roadsare constructed, prizes for encouraging agriculture and commerce aredistributed: blessed be the vice that produces such good results! Inthis first enclosure are the vendors of buyos, cigars, sweetmeats,and foodstuffs. There swarm the boys in company with their fathersor uncles, who carefully initiate them into the secrets of life.
This enclosure communicates with another of somewhat largerdimensions,--a kind of foyer where the public gathers while waitingfor the combats. There are the greater part of the fighting-cocks tiedwith cords which are fastened to the ground by means of a piece ofbone or hard wood; there are assembled the gamblers, the devotees,those skilled in tying on the gaffs, there they make agreements,they deliberate, they beg for loans, they curse, they swear, theylaugh boisterously. That one fondles his chicken, rubbing his handover its brilliant plumage, this one examines and counts the scaleson its legs, they recount the exploits of the champions.
There you will see many with mournful faces carrying by the feetcorpses picked of their feathers; the creature that was the favoritefor months, petted and cared for day and night, on which were foundedsuch flattering hopes, is now nothing more than a carcass to besold for a peseta or to be stewed with ginger and eaten that verynight. _Sic transit gloria mundi!_ The loser returns to the homewhere his anxious wife and ragged children await him, without hismoney or his chicken. Of all that golden dream, of all those vigilsduring months from the dawn of day to the setting of the sun, of allthose fatigues and labors, there results only a peseta, the ashesleft from so much smoke.
In this foyer even the least intelligent takes part in the discussion,while the man of most hasty judgment conscientiously investigatesthe matter, weighs, examines, extends the wings, feels the muscles ofthe cocks. Some go very well-dressed, surrounded and followed by thepartisans of their champions; others who are dirty and bear the imprintof vice on their squalid features anxiously follow the movements ofthe rich to note the bets, since the purse may become empty but thepassion never satiated. No countenance here but is animated--nothere is to be found the indolent, apathetic, silent Filipino--allis movement, passion, eagerness. It may be, one would say, that theyhave that thirst which is quickened by the water of the swamp.
From this place one passes into the arena, which is known as the_Rueda_, the wheel. The ground here, surrounded by bamboo-stakes, isusually higher than that in the two other divisions. In the back part,reaching almost to the roof, are tiers of seats for the spectators,or gamblers, since these are the same. During the fights these seatsare filled with men and boys who shout, clamor, sweat, quarrel,and blaspheme--fortunately, hardly any women get in this far. In the_Rueda_ are the men of importance, the rich, the famous bettors, thecontractor, the referee. On the perfectly leveled ground the cocksfight, and from there Destiny apportions to the families smiles ortears, feast or famine.
At the time of entering we see the gobernadorcillo, Capitan Pablo,Capitan Basilio, and Lucas, the man with the sear on his face whofelt so deeply the death of his brother.
Capitan Basilio approaches one of the townsmen and asks, "Do you knowwhich cock Capitan Tiago is going to bring?"
"I don't know, sir. This morning two came, one of them the _lasak_that whipped the Consul's _talisain_." [127]
"Do you think that my _bulik_ is a match for it?"
"I should say so! I'll bet my house and my camisa on it!"
At that moment Capitan Tiago arrives, dressed like the heavy gamblers,in a camisa of Canton linen, woolen pantaloons, and a wide strawhat. Behind him come two servants carrying the _lasak_ and a whitecock of enormous size.
"Sinang tells me that Maria is improving all the time," says CapitanBasilio.
"She has no more fever but is still very weak."
"Did you lose last night?"
"A little. I hear that you won. I'm going to see if I can't geteven here."
"Do you want to fight the _lasak?_" asks Capitan Basilio, looking atthe cock and taking it from the servant. "That depends--if there'sa bet."
"How much will you put up?"
"I won't gamble for less than two."
"Have you seen my _bulik?_" inquires Capitan Basilio, calling to aman who is carrying a small game-cock.
Capitan Tiago examines it and after feeling its weight and studyingits scales returns it with the question, "How much will you put up?"
"Whatever you will."
"Two, and five hundred?"
"Three?"
"Three!"
"For the next fight after this!"
The chorus of curious bystanders and the gamblers spread the newsthat two celebrated cocks will fight, each of which has a historyand a well-earned reputation. All wish to see and examine the twocelebrities, opinions are offered, prophecies are made.
Meanwhile, the murmur of the voices grows, the confusion increases,the _Rueda_ is broken into, the seats are filled. The skilledattendants carry the two cocks into the arena, a white and a red,already armed but with the gaffs still sheathed. Cries are heard,"On the white!" "On the white!" while some other voice answers,"On the red!" The odds are on the white, he is the favorite; the redis the "outsider," the _dejado_.
Members of the Civil Guard move about in the crowd. They are notdressed in the uniform of that meritorious corps, but neither arethey in civilian costume. Trousers of _guingon_ with a red stripe,a camisa stained blue from the faded blouse, and a service-cap, makeup their costume, in keeping with their deportment; they make betsand keep watch, they raise disturbances and talk of keeping the peace.
While the spectators are yelling, waving their hands, flourishing andclinking pieces of silver; while they search in their pockets for thelast coin, or, in the lack of such, try to pledge their word, promisingto sell the carabao or the next crop, two boys, brothers apparently,follow the bettors with wistful eyes, loiter about, murmur timid wordsto which no one listens, become more and more gloomy and gaze at oneanother ill-humoredly and dejectedly. Lucas watches them covertly,smiles malignantly, jingles his silver, passes close to them, andgazing into the _Rueda_, cries out:
"Fifty, fifty to twenty on the white!"
The two brothers exchange glances.
"I told you," muttered the elder, "that you shouldn't have put up allthe money. If you had listened to me we should now have something tobet on the red."
The younger timidly approached Lucas and touched him on the arm.
"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed the latter, turning around with feignedsurprise. "Does your brother accept my proposition
or do you wantto bet?"
"How can we bet when we've lost everything?"
"Then you accept?"
"He doesn't want to! If you would lend us something, now that yousay you know us--"
Lucas scratched his head, pulled at his camisa, and replied, "Yes,I know you. You are Tarsilo and Bruno, both young and strong. I knowthat your brave father died as a result of the hundred lashes a daythose soldiers gave him. I know that you don't think of revenging him."
"Don't meddle in our affairs!" broke in Tarsilo, the elder. "That mightlead to trouble. If it were not that we have a sister, we should havebeen hanged long ago."
"Hanged? They only hang a coward, one who has no money orinfluence. And at all events the mountains are near."
"A hundred to twenty on the white!" cried a passer-by.
"Lend us four pesos, three, two," begged the younger.
"We'll soon pay them back double. The fight is going to commence."
Lucas again scratched his head. "Tush! This money isn't mine. DonCrisostomo has given it to me for those who are willing to servehim. But I see that you're not like your father--he was reallybrave--let him who is not so not seek amusement!" So saying, he drewaway from them a little.
"Let's take him up, what's the difference?" said Bruno. "It's the sameto be shot as to be hanged. We poor folks are good for nothing else."
"You're right--but think of our sister!"
Meanwhile, the ring has been cleared and the combat is about tobegin. The voices die away as the two starters, with the expert whofastens the gaffs, are left alone in the center. At a signal fromthe referee, the expert unsheathes the gaffs and the fine bladesglitter threateningly.
Sadly and silently the two brothers draw nearer to the ring until theirforeheads are pressed against the railing. A man approaches them andcalls into their ears, "_Pare_, [128] a hundred to ten on the white!"
Tarsilo stares at him in a foolish way and responds to Bruno's nudgewith a grunt.
The starters hold the cocks with skilful delicacy, taking care notto wound themselves. A solemn silence reigns; the spectators seemto be changed into hideous wax figures. They present one cock tothe other, holding his head down so that the other may peck at itand thus irritate him. Then the other is given a like opportunity,for in every duel there must be fair play, whether it is a questionof Parisian cocks or Filipino cocks. Afterwards, they hold them upin sight of each other, close together, so that each of the enragedlittle creatures may see who it is that has pulled out a feather,and with whom he must fight. Their neck-feathers bristle up as theygaze at each other fixedly with flashes of anger darting from theirlittle round eyes. Now the moment has come; the attendants place themon the ground a short distance apart and leave them a clear field.
Slowly they advance, their footfalls are, audible on the hardground. No one in the crowd speaks, no one breathes. Raising andlowering their heads as if to gauge one another with a look, the twococks utter sounds of defiance and contempt. Each sees the brightblade throwing out its cold, bluish reflections. The danger animatesthem and they rush directly toward each other, but a pace apart theycheck themselves with fixed gaze and bristling plumage. At that momenttheir little heads are filled with a rush of blood, their anger flashesforth, and they hurl themselves together with instinctive valor. Theystrike beak to beak, breast to breast, gaff to gaff, wing to wing, butthe blows are skilfully parried, only a few feathers fall. Again theysize each other up: suddenly the white rises on his wings, brandishingthe deadly knife, but the red has bent his legs and lowered his head,so the white smites only the empty air.. Then on touching the groundthe white, fearing a blow from behind, turns quickly to face hisadversary. The red attacks him furiously, but he defends himselfcalmly--not undeservedly is he the favorite of the spectators, allof whom tremulously and anxiously follow the fortunes of the fight,only here and there an involuntary cry being heard.
The ground becomes strewn with red and white feathers dyed in blood,but the contest is not for the first blood; the Filipino, carrying outthe laws dictated by his government, wishes it to be to the death oruntil one or the other turns tail and runs. Blood covers the ground,the blows are more numerous, but victory still hangs in the balance. Atlast, with a supreme effort, the white throws himself forward fora final stroke, fastens his gaff in the wing of the red and catchesit between the bones. But the white himself has been wounded in thebreast and both are weak and feeble from loss of blood. Breathless,their strength spent, caught one against the other, they remainmotionless until the white, with blood pouring from his beak, falls,kicking his death-throes. The red remains at his side with his wingcaught, then slowly doubles up his legs and gently closes his eyes.
Then the referee, in accordance with the rule prescribed by thegovernment, declares the red the winner. A savage yell greetsthe decision, a yell that is heard over the whole town, even andprolonged. He who hears this from afar then knows that the winner isthe one against which the odds were placed, or the joy would not beso lasting. The same happens with the nations: when a small one gainsa victory over a large one, it is sung and recounted from age to age.
"You see now!" said Bruno dejectedly to his brother, "if you hadlistened to me we should now have a hundred pesos. You're the causeof our being penniless."
Tarsilo did not answer, but gazed about him as if looking for some one.
"There he is, talking to Pedro," added Bruno. "He's giving him money,lots of money!"
True it was that Lucas was counting silver coins into the hand ofSisa's husband. The two then exchanged some words in secret andseparated, apparently satisfied.
"Pedro must have agreed. That's what it is to be decided," sighedBruno.
Tarsilo remained gloomy and thoughtful, wiping away with the cuff ofhis camisa the perspiration that ran down his forehead.
"Brother," said Bruno, "I'm going to accept, if you don't decide. The_law_ [129] continues, the _lasak_ must win and we ought notto lose any chance. I want to bet on the next fight. What's thedifference? We'll revenge our father."
"Wait!" said Tarsilo, as he gazed at him fixedly, eye to eye, whileboth turned pale. "I'll go with you, you're right. We'll revenge ourfather." Still, he hesitated, and again wiped away the perspiration.
"What's stopping you?" asked Bruno impatiently.
"Do you know what fight comes next? Is it worth while?"
"If you think that way, no! Haven't you heard? The _bulik_ of CapitanBasilio's against Capitan Tiago's _lasak_. According to the _law_the _lasak_ must win."
"Ah, the _lasak_! I'd bet on it, too. But let's be sure first."
Bruno made a sign of impatience, but followed his brother, whoexamined the cock, studied it, meditated and reflected, asked somequestions. The poor fellow was in doubt. Bruno gazed at him withnervous anger.
"But don't you see that wide scale he has by the side of hisspur? Don't you see those feet? What more do you want? Look at thoselegs, spread out his wings! And this split scale above this wide one,and this double one?"
Tarsilo did not hear him, but went on examining the cock. The clinkingof gold and silver came to his ears. "Now let's look at the _bulik_,"he said in a thick voice.
Bruno stamped on the ground and gnashed his teeth, but obeyed. Theyapproached another group where a cock was being prepared for thering. A gaff was selected, red silk thread for tying it on was waxedand rubbed thoroughly. Tarsilo took in the creature with a gloomilyimpressive gaze, as if he were not looking at the bird so much as atsomething in the future. He rubbed his hand across his forehead andsaid to his brother in a stifled voice, "Are you ready?"
"I? Long ago! Without looking at them!"
"But, our poor sister--"
"_Aba!_ Haven't they told you that Don Crisostomo is the leader? Didn'tyou see him walking with the Captain-General? What risk do we run?"
"And if we get killed?"
"What's the difference? Our father was flogged to death!"
"You're right!"
The brothers now sought fo
r Lucas in the different groups. As soonas they saw him Tarsilo stopped. "No! Let's get out of here! We'regoing to ruin ourselves!" he exclaimed.
"Go on if you want to! I'm going to accept!"
"Bruno!"
Unfortunately, a man approached them, saying, "Are you betting? I'mfor the _bulik!_" The brothers did not answer.
"I'll give odds!"
"How much?" asked Bruno.
The man began to count out his pesos. Bruno watched him breathlessly.
"I have two hundred. Fifty to forty!"
"No," said Bruno resolutely. "Put--"
"All right! Fifty to thirty!"
"Double it if you want to."
"All right. The _bulik_ belongs to my protector and I've just won. Ahundred to sixty!"
"Taken! Wait till I get the money."
"But I'll hold the stakes," said the other, not confiding much inBruno's looks.
"It's all the same to me," answered the latter, trusting to hisfists. Then turning to his brother he added, "Even if you do keep out,I'm going in."
Tarsilo reflected: he loved his brother and liked the sport, and,unable to desert him, he murmured, "Let it go."
They made their way to Lucas, who, on seeing them approach, smiled.
"Sir!" called Tarsilo.
"What's up?"
"How much will you give us?" asked the two brothers together.
"I've already told you. If you will undertake to get others for thepurpose of making a surprise-attack on the barracks, I'll give eachof you thirty pesos and ten pesos for each companion you bring. Ifall goes well, each one will receive a hundred pesos and you doublethat amount. Don Crisostomo is rich."
"Accepted!" exclaimed Bruno. "Let's have the money."
"I knew you were brave, as your father was! Come, so that thosefellows who killed him may not overhear us," said Lucas, indicatingthe civil-guards.
Taking them into a corner, he explained to them while he was countingout the money, "Tomorrow Don Crisostomo will get back with thearms. Day after tomorrow, about eight o'clock at night, go to thecemetery and I'll let you know the final arrangements. You have timeto look for companions."
After they had left him the two brothers seemed to have changedparts--Tarsilo was calm, while Bruno was uneasy.
