Chapter 211: Manila

The most dreadful time of day in Manila is noon. In the morning, a cool breeze knocks on the windowpane and enters the room, bringing a refreshing coolness. But the good times don’t last long. Just as the morning breeze washes away sleepiness and one feels invigorated, a scorching heat soon follows from outside. Even leaning against a window overlooking the sea, one cannot gaze far, for the glittering waves are like a blazing coal fire. The whitewashed Spanish-style houses radiate a dazzling white light, and the sky is like a sea of fire, so bright it’s impossible to open one’s eyes. Before noon, going out becomes a form of torment in purgatory. Staying indoors is exhausting, and the demon of sleep returns, forcing one into the cage of stuffy mosquito nets and pillows. It is not until dusk that people awaken from their stupor and feel a little more comfortable. The Spanish conquered the Philippines but were conquered by the weather, forced to change their habits and schedule their beloved bullfights for the evening.

“Who is that man?” asked Mrs. Delgado. She was a shipowner’s wife. Contrary to her surname (Note: Delgado means “thin” in Spanish), she was plump with a round face. The bullring at five in the afternoon was still unbearably hot. Although the sun was setting in the west, the sunlight was still intense. The cotton awnings hung limp, without a breath of wind. She gently waved a silk fan, which covered most of her face. This lazy yet affectionate posture greatly pleased the lover sitting beside her.

“Who? The one sitting in the seats under the awning? For God’s sake, that’s the mayor.”

“No, the tall man next to the mayor. Look, he’s talking to the mayor, holding his hat in his hand. Oh, if only we could sit in those seats. It’s so hot here.”

“Ha, ha, ha, if you sat next to him, you’d burn up. He’s the man of the hour, like Apollo arriving in Manila in his sun chariot. The moment he got here, everyone started revolving around him. Haven’t you heard people talking about him?”

“Who is he?”

“Then you are truly out of touch. He’s the talk of Manila right now. He was the one who brought Doña Marina de Arellano, the illegitimate daughter of the Marquis Gonzalo de Arellano, to Manila.”

“So it’s him! What a remarkable gentleman! And quite handsome, too. But I can’t remember his name.”

“Heh, no one can say for sure who he is. The fellow claims to be from Italy, but when he stands before you, he’s as tall as a Patagonian savage. He could be a nobleman from Parma, a marquis from Sicily, a prince from Naples; or perhaps he’s a prince of Montenegro, stranded in Asia, supported by a large group of savages who would make him the king of Japan or the emperor of China.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Paulino,” Mrs. Delgado said, raising her fan and lightly tapping her young lover on the shoulder. “You always talk nonsense.”

“Nonsense? For the sake of the Virgin Mary,” the young man called Paulino said, taking out a perfumed handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow, deliberately showing his lover the embroidered initial of her name on it to elicit a smile. “This man’s name is Vince Rando. Vince, Weiss, or maybe Vincenno, but his surname is definitely Rando. It’s said he paid thirty thousand pesos to those lawless Australian savages to ransom Doña Marina. My uncle, the port tax collector Don Basilio, was the first to see this fellow disembark from the Trinidad. He was as arrogant as a king. He had already booked the two best cabins on the Trinidad in Macau. The ham and wine he and Miss Arellano ate on board were the best he had brought with him. This rich man always invited the captain and officers to dine in his cabin, and even found a few violinists among the passengers to play for him during meals, rewarding each of them with a piastre every time.”

“Thirty thousand pesos! Oh my, he must be a very wealthy man. But I heard Miss Arellano’s fiancé is also a great tycoon. He’ll surely repay him, won’t he?”

“Perhaps. But he may not care much for that money. It’s probably just a drop in the bucket for him. Have you seen the new pair of gold crosses on the cathedral altar? It was this Rando who contributed them. The first thing he did after disembarking was to attend Mass and offer those treasures to God. Now the whole city knows he’s a pious rich man.” Seeing his lover’s eyes widen, Paulino became even more animated, showing off the rumors he had picked up from taverns and gambling dens. “Mr. Rando probably had some military experience in his past, but he certainly didn’t achieve any great deeds in his homeland, which is why he came to the East several years ago. At that time, he was destitute, with nothing but his noble title. One night after the ship passed Malacca, he got drunk and fell asleep on the bow. Two sailors took the last few coins from his pocket and then pushed him overboard.”

“Heavens!”

“But he swam ashore and, with the help of missionaries, made it to Macau. After that, the respectable Mr. Rando faithfully served the Jesuits, the servants of God, with his sword. It’s said he recruited a large group of Chinese and Japanese and led them into battle everywhere. Later, Captain Rando went to the aid of the Kingdom of Pattani, defeated an invading Siamese army of thirty thousand, and captured the Siamese king’s brother. The Queen of Pattani rewarded his bravery handsomely.”

“So his title and wealth were bestowed by the queen?” Mrs. Delgado asked. “A Christian being ennobled by a heathen monarch is certainly interesting, but not something to boast about.”

“No. He claims to be the Count of Sardinia. You know the noble titles from that place aren’t worth a penny. But what happened next was as magical as a story from One Thousand and One Nights. Captain Rando asked the queen to sell him a piece of mountainous land upstream of the Kelantan River. That small mountain produced nothing. A gold mine had been discovered at its foot, but after the gold was extracted, the place was deserted. So the queen immediately agreed, and the price for the land was only a single silver coin. But who knows what genius method he used, he found a new, larger vein of ore beneath the supposedly depleted mine. This is the legend of Mr. Rando, the source of his wealth. Now there are thousands of Chinese working for him there, mining ore and smelting gold.”

“In my opinion, this Mr. Rando you’ve introduced is not just a brute who only knows how to handle a sword and a musket, but a man of real skill and knowledge. In a way, he has some similarities to Miss Arellano’s fiancé.” Mrs. Delgado covered her face with her fan, revealing only her eyes below her forehead. The fervent gaze in them was almost too much for her lover to bear. “Paulino, you should go to Siam and buy a piece of land too. Maybe then you’ll be as rich as he is.”

“You’re starting to talk nonsense too, my dear,” Paulino said. “Someone told me that Mr. Rando got his talent for finding gold from the devil. In exchange, the devil made him sign his name on a piece of red parchment. Like Esau selling his birthright, he sold his soul to the devil. I don’t really believe such talk. Faust’s offerings could never be placed on God’s altar. But finding gold is the kind of luck that only strikes once, otherwise one would be punished by heaven. Look, the lancers are entering the ring, and the trumpeters are about to blow their horns. Let’s watch the bullfight.” The blare of the military trumpets was deafening. The gorgeously dressed lancers entered the ring on horseback in succession, and the cheers of the audience echoed throughout the bullring. The pair of lovers timely ended their conversation about the gold mine tycoon and mercenary captain, as neither could now hear what the other was saying.

The rainy season in the Philippines is usually daunting, but today was an exception. The layer of moist fog that usually floated in the night sky gradually dissipated. The Manila Cathedral, the Governor’s Palace, and the distant city walls stood like ghosts in the moonlight and the intermittent mist. The mayor’s residence, however, was bustling with activity. Brilliant lights shone through the cracks of the shutters, and a band played alternating solemn sarabandes and fast tarantellas. There was no doubt that the mayor was hosting a lively, even unprecedented, banquet. The garden was hung with colorful Japanese paper lanterns. Those with worldly experience knew this kind of display was a fashionable imitation of Italian customs.

With the exception of the Governor and the Archbishop, almost all of Manila’s leading figures had gathered here. The elegant chatter and laughter of the ladies and gentlemen mixed with the music, interspersed with the high and low calls of the servants. Short Tagalog servants in white uniforms, carrying trays and sweating profusely, occasionally bumped into tall, sturdy black slaves as they squeezed through the crowd. From the entrance of the main hall, a servant’s loud announcement would periodically proclaim the arrival of some colonel, some official, or some tycoon who had bought a noble title. Sometimes a name and title would cause a slight stir in the crowd, but most names were met with only a dismissive glance or a contemptuous smile. Manila was simply too remote. The few dignitaries in the colonial high society were already well-known in social circles and could no longer arouse any novelty. As for the merchants, known only for their legendary wealth, and the anonymous upstarts who imitated the style of peninsular scholars to affect refinement, they failed to capture people’s interest. That is, until the servant appeared at the drawing-room door again and, in a drawn-out voice, called out a long string of titles: “His Excellency Vincenzo Rando di Fannanuova, Count of Sardinia, Defender of Cetinje, Victor over the King of Siam, Lord of Kelantan, has arrived!”

Note: Delgado means “thin” in Spanish.