Kitabı oku: «Our Little Porto Rican Cousin», sayfa 4

CHAPTER VII.
A CRUEL SPORT

To-morrow there will be "lots of fun," as Manuel says. After the morning service in the church (for it will be Sunday) his father will take him and Dolores to a cock-fight. Manuel has been brought up to think there is no pleasure like it.

When our government took charge of the island, after the war with Spain, they forbade any more cock-fighting. But all the people, black and white, loved the sport so dearly, and felt so bad on account of the new law, that it has been set aside for the present.

Yes, Manuel, our gentle, kind-hearted little cousin, has seen many cock-fights. Sunday is the day his people take for the cruel pleasure. The boy's father has a very handsome cock he has been training for to-morrow's fight. He has bet quite a large sum on him, and is even more anxious than his little son for the next day to come. Why, this game-cock of his has been getting as much care and attention as a fine horse or pony generally receives from a loving master!

And now it is Sunday. Not even a flea has disturbed Manuel's dreams all night. Late in the afternoon a carriage comes to the door, and the planter drives away to the town with his two younger children. His wife and Teresa do not go, as it is not considered proper; but it is thought to be all right for Manuel and Dolores, as it is the fashion of this country for boys and little girls to go.

What a crowd there is around the entrance! Men and children, both black and white, are jostling each other, talking loudly, and quarrelling together. See that man elbow his way along! He has a cock under his arm, probably a contribution to the entertainment.

Manuel's father beckons to a servant who has followed him on horseback with his precious game-cock in charge, and together they pass inside. Every one must pay for admission to the show. And what does one see within? There is a large cleared space covered with sawdust. This is for the cocks; all around are seats for the people who look on.

Over at one side of the pit a man is lifting the cocks, one by one, and weighing them to find their fighting weight. See the care with which each skinny fowl is tied in a bandanna and handled; one would think it something very precious. And, indeed, they are precious, and cost their owners many dollars.

Look! the men are fastening sharp knives to the spurs of the poor fowls, whose necks and backs are bare of feathers. These knives are sharper than the natural spurs, and will help to make the battle a deadly one. They are not always used, however.

And now, in the midst of shouts and yells, the first battle begins. It means death to one or both of the birds. The two cocks enter into the fight as though they delight in it. See the feathers fly from their heads and sides!

Ah! one of them is blinded by the dust. His owner rushes up and squirts alum water in his eyes. The fight goes on till one cock lies breathing his last on the ground, and the other stands beside him dizzy and tottering, yet hanging to him still.

There is silence while the bets are paid; then the noise begins again, and two more cocks are brought in. Battle after battle is fought till night falls upon the cruel sport.

There is no doubt that these game-cocks enjoy fighting, yet this is no reason they should be pitted against each other by human beings; nor that people should think it sport to watch suffering and bloodshed even among stupid fowls.

It is hoped that Manuel and Dolores will learn better as they grow older. We cannot blame them now, for the customs of their country have made it seem quite right and proper.

A still more cruel sport was brought by the Spaniards to Porto Rico, but it is now forbidden by American law. This is bull-fighting. It is not long, however, since the finest ladies in the land dressed themselves in their handsomest gowns, and with their husbands attended a bull-fight. You would have thought to see the rich jewels and fans, the fine silks and satins, that they were in a ballroom.

Do not let us think of such sad things any longer, however. Those days are gone by for ever, let us hope.

While Manuel and Dolores are giving their mother an exciting account of the Sunday's pleasure, let us go back to the Porto Rico of long, long ago.

CHAPTER VIII.
EARLY TIMES

We find Columbus sailing into one of its harbours after his second trip across the great Atlantic Ocean. The trees and plants look very beautiful to him. But he notices other things; he sees rivers flowing down into the sea, and the natives tell him of stores of gold to be found in the beds of these streams. For this reason he calls it "Puerto Rico," or the "Rich Port," and so it has been called to this day.

He and his men are full of interest in the strange sights around them. In the waters about Porto Rico are wonderful creatures they have never seen before. Among these is the manatee, which, rising up out of the water, looks at a distance somewhat like a human being.

"It is a mermaid," cries Columbus, "but, alas! it is not as beautiful as I expected." He wrote of it in this way in the account of his voyage.

In those days of long ago people had many queer ideas. One of these notions was that beings lived in the sea who had heads and arms like men and women, but the lower parts of their bodies were shaped like fishes. They were, therefore, half human and half fish. Their home was far down in cool groves at the bottom of the sea. A diver once said he had visited the very place. He found the water perfectly clear, and lighted up by crystal pyramids. There were gardens of beautiful sea-weeds, furniture all made of precious stones, and the strange beings dwelling there wore ornaments and combs of shining gold.

They believed that these beings of the sea rose sometimes to the surface of the water. There they would sing sweet songs as they combed their long yellow hair. But they sang only to make the sailors forget their own homes and to lead them into harm.

It was no wonder that Columbus was disappointed when he discovered the manatee, and believed he had at last seen the mermaids of whom he had read so many stories. The sea-cow is certainly not a beautiful creature. It looks somewhat like a small whale; it has a fat body, with small eyes and ears. It is very timid, and probably swam off as fast as it could when it found the vessels of Columbus near. Of course, the great sailor did not get a good view of it or he could not have believed it to be the mermaid described in song and story.

Not many years after Columbus discovered Porto Rico, Ponce de Leon led a company of Spaniards to its shores and settled there. The Indian chief of the country was very kind to the strangers. He gave them provisions and rich presents, and showed them the fruits and vegetables which grew there. He shared his treasures with them, and, most important of all, he led them to a river where stores of gold could be found in its bed.

Gold! It filled the Spaniards' hearts with greed. This was what they had longed for; now they could go back to their own country with great fortunes.

How did they return the kindness of the gentle, trusting natives? By treating them like slaves! By making them do the hardest labour, and then rewarding them with cruelties.

When they first came to the shores of the island they had said to the Indians: "We are immortal; we cannot die; we will live on for ever."

But when the poor Indians had suffered for a long time at their hands, and when many of their kindred had died from the ill-treatment of the Spaniards, they said:

"We will prove what these cruel strangers have told us."

They seized a Spanish soldier and held his head under water for two hours. Then they carried his body to the shore of the river, and sat down beside it for two whole days. But it showed no signs of life. At the end of that time they took the body to their chief, who said:

"They have deceived us, for this man has died, even as we would die."

You can easily imagine what followed. There was war between the natives and the strangers. But the poor Indians had little chance. They had only bows and arrows, rough spears of wood, and battle-axes of stone. The Spaniards were armed with swords and guns. Those Indians who were not killed were made prisoners and set to work in the gold mines and sugar fields, where they rapidly died from their hard labour.

Years passed by. Ponce de Leon was growing old. His hair was gray; his face was wrinkled; the top of his head was bald. He had many pains in his body and was often ill.

Then he thought of the stories told by his Indian slaves of a wonderful fountain not far away. They declared that its waters were always fresh and pure; not only this, but each draught that a person swallowed would make him younger and happier.

"Ah!" sighed the old man, "I wish I might find this spring of living water, and rid myself of stiff joints and rheumatism. I will start out in search of it at once. If I can only reach it, I shall become young and handsome again, and shall never die."

This was the reason the conqueror of Porto Rico sailed away to find the wonderful Fountain of Eternal Youth of which the Indians had told him.

You probably know the story of the coming of Ponce de Leon to Florida one beautiful Easter Sunday, which in the Spanish language is called Pascua Florida. So he called the country Florida, saying:

"In this beautiful land must be the wondrous fountain."

Soon afterward, while searching for it, he was shot with a poisoned arrow, and died on the voyage back to the island.