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.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90