Chapter 230: Cockfighting

Before he had even finished his coffee, the phone on his desk rang. It was Zhan Wuya from the General Manufacturing Directorate. He knew that the Foreign Intelligence Bureau had people active in Manila and proposed whether they could assist in providing cover for a small survey team to enter the Philippines. The General Manufacturing Directorate had its eyes on the rich mineral resources of the Philippine archipelago. Besides the well-known gold and copper mines, they were more interested in nickel and chromium, two of the Philippines’ advantageous mineral resources.

“…These two ores are very, very, very important to us…” Zhan Wuya used three “verys” to emphasize his point. His anxiety was understandable. If the chemical industry wanted to expand its production capacity, it had to get rid of the equipment manufacturing materials of glass and ceramics, which had serious processing performance deficiencies. Using these materials to manufacture equipment, the Senate’s chemical industry could only be considered a scaled-up laboratory production.

The chemical industry clamored day and night for corrosion-resistant metal pipes and pressure vessels; the medical sector urgently needed stainless steel to manufacture new surgical instruments; the mechanical industry was also extremely eager for high-performance alloy steel and anti-corrosion coating materials; even the financial sector had proposed issuing stainless steel “Australian Mithril coins.” However, chromium and nickel were scarce resources in Hainan and even in all of China. Only some associated chromite sand was obtained when mining for monazite in Wenchang. The General Manufacturing Directorate had concentrated its technical forces to experimentally smelt a small amount, but the output was far from sufficient for industrialized production. Zhan Wuya was having a major headache over this.

“It’s quite difficult, but we’ll find a way,” Jiang Shan said on the phone. “We have to wait for our intelligence officer to fully establish himself and build up a considerable relationship with the upper echelons of Manila before we can proceed. Yes, we could send our own ship, but the situation in the Philippines now, the Spanish know much more than we do. If we can get the support of the local Spanish, the survey work will be much more convenient.”

After hanging up the phone, Jiang Shan began to consider the next question: how to support Mr. Rando to meet the new requirements of the General Manufacturing Directorate.

In the Parián, the Chinese quarter outside the walls of Manila, a large area of low-lying buildings with bamboo, wood, and thatched roofs, the cockfighting pit was the most conspicuous. Further north in Binondo, there was another cockfighting pit mainly for the Tagalogs, but it was much smaller and cruder.

The Parián originally had various gambling dens. Since the Governor imposed a gambling tax to broaden his financial resources, the gambling industry had flourished even more. Cockfighting, a game full of local color, became a form of gambling that was both entertaining and sufficiently stimulating. Even those who were not originally interested in gambling would spend a copper coin to watch a fight on a boring afternoon or evening. They were often quickly incited by the fanatical atmosphere and would lose their last “lead piece.” In the Parián, one could hear every day about some rich merchant going bankrupt because of cockfighting or some poor wretch getting rich overnight by a lucky chance.

The Parián cockfighting pit was shaped like a large bamboo cage for keeping parrots, with many openings, so that one could roughly see the action inside even from the outside. The inside was surrounded by three tiers of wooden stands, with a circular fighting ring in the center. The conical roof was also made of woven bamboo, with several skylights for light and ventilation. Whenever a sudden downpour occurred and the skylights could not be closed in time, the fighting cocks on the stage and the audience in the stands would all become drenched. Nevertheless, this large birdcage was always packed to capacity whenever a cockfighting match was held. Each person had to pay a copper coin for admission, but the cockfighting pit, which could accommodate more than five hundred people, was always full, with many more people standing outside, unable to get in. A large crowd of natives, Chinese, mestizos, and white Europeans, with vendors selling drinks and snacks squeezing through the crowd, hawking their wares. The place was a babel of voices; in addition, the pit was full of roosters, their crowing rising and falling, echoing inside and outside the arena.

Only the fighting ring was silent. A few Chinese men in silk shirts walked around collecting bets. The audience threw down piles of “lead pieces,” countless silver coins, and Chinese silver ingots of various sizes and shapes, and even small bags of gold dust. The referee divided the bets into piles on the sandy ground of the cockfighting pit. The audience enthusiastically discussed the previous winner and eagerly placed bets on which rooster would win this time.

Two Tagalog cock handlers entered the ring. It was clear they were both experienced cockfighters. With a few teases, the two roosters’ feathers stood on end, their combs turned purple, and they were filled with rage, ready for a life-or-death battle. The audience immediately erupted in a clamor of excitement.

“Another hundred pesos on the yellow one!” a white European dressed as a ship’s captain shouted. This voice was like a huge rock falling on the shore, stirring up countless waves. The crowd became restless, calling out to each other, extending their hands or patting each other on the shoulder, indicating they wanted to add to their bets.

The handlers removed the leather sheaths from the roosters’ claws, revealing the sharp steel spurs attached to their legs. The entire arena fell silent. A gong sounded, the referee made a gesture, and both sides released their roosters simultaneously. The two fighters fanned out their neck feathers, lowered their heads, and faced each other menacingly for a long time. Suddenly, they leaped into the air and flew at each other. The captain let out a cheer like a howling beast. The two roosters turned, bowed their heads, and faced each other again, then crashed into each other, fighting for three or four rounds, with feathers flying everywhere. The yellow rooster skimmed over its opponent’s head, scratching it fiercely with its claws; the white rooster, not to be outdone, counterattacked, kicking its opponent off balance with one foot. The white captain began to curse, and only when the yellow rooster stood up again and attacked its enemy with redoubled ferocity did the captain stand up, waving his arms and shouting, and the audience who had bet on the yellow rooster with him cheered in unison. But by now, nothing could be distinguished. The battle had entered a chaotic phase. The fighters bit each other’s combs and became entangled, one falling, then the other being knocked to the ground, with blood-stained feathers flying everywhere.

On the highest tier of steps, a stooped man sat quietly, wrapped in a black cloak, not betting with anyone. This man was not very focused on the action in the ring, but seemed rather interested in the fanatical captain. The captain was holding his clenched fist above his head, letting out a series of bloodcurdling roars. The yellow fighting cock had fallen on its side, then struggled to its feet and limped away; after a few steps, it fell again, dragging its wing, leaving a long trail of blood on the sand.

The crowd erupted again. Some were beaming with joy, others were pale-faced, silently handing over their bets to the winners. The owner of the defeated rooster picked up the yellow cock with his head bowed. “Make it into a cold salad! That bastard cost me three hundred pesos,” the captain roared, waving his fists furiously. His frenzy only subsided slightly when the next pair of rooster warriors entered the ring.

The audience was in a frenzy, as the new pair of fighting cocks were taller and stronger than the previous ones. When the Tagalogs attached the steel spurs to the cocks, the seats were in an uproar, and the gamblers once again took out their bets. “Three hundred pesos,” the captain held up a pouch, “all on the red one! It’s sure to kill that gray one!” The audience whispered among themselves, becoming even more noisy, and soon a new pile of bets of varying heights was re-stacked around the ring.

The two Tagalog handlers put down the cocks and retreated. The fiery-red feathered fighting cock and the slightly shorter silver-gray one immediately clashed, leaping into the air. As soon as their claws touched the ground, they immediately pounced on each other again, pecking fiercely with their beaks, the steel spurs flashing, their movements so fast it was dazzling. The arena fell silent for a moment. The audience had almost never seen such a fierce fight in a cockfighting pit. Suddenly, the silver-gray chicken was hit. The fiery-red chicken had driven a spur into its opponent’s wing. Both chickens fell to the ground together, one struggling desperately to free itself from the spur in its body, the other relentlessly pecking at its opponent’s head.

“Good, good,” the captain shouted, “peck it to death, stab it, kill that damn plague chicken!”

The two chickens finally separated, jumped up and charged at each other, then fell to the ground again. The fiery-red chicken rushed forward to attack its opponent, but the silver-gray chicken dodged sideways, making everyone gasp. Before the over-committed fiery-red chicken could turn around, the silver-gray chicken had already attacked. They rolled fiercely on the ground, then stood up again, pecking at each other beak to beak, beating each other violently with their wings above and slashing at each other with the spurs on their legs below; then they flew into the air again, both landing, and furiously resumed their ground battle.

A few cheers came from the audience, but they were immediately drowned out by the captain’s angry curses. The silver-gray chicken had drawn blood from its opponent. A dark patch appeared on the fiery-red chicken’s chest, and red feathers fell. But it once again beat its opponent with its powerful wings until the enemy fell. It jumped on top to finish it off. But the silver-gray chicken reacted with incredible speed, squatting, dodging, and avoiding the attack. The situation changed in an instant. The fiery-red chicken turned and knocked its opponent face up, hitting the silver-gray chicken’s chest twice, leaving specks of blood on the ground. But the silver-gray chicken managed to retreat, leaping into the air to avoid the enemy’s attack, and when it landed, it hit the red chicken’s neck.

Both roosters were now disheveled and bloody, kicking at each other with their claws, circling, their heads lowered, looking for their opponent’s weak spot. The captain almost jumped up, letting out a string of curses in a mixture of Spanish and French. The fiery-red chicken, as if encouraged, suddenly launched a dazzling flurry of attacks, gaining the upper hand. Its wings beat violently against the silver-gray chicken, and it stabbed its opponent with its spurs, sending blood flying. The silver-gray chicken retreated step by step as usual. Defeat seemed imminent. Just as the captain was shouting in ecstasy, it leaped into the air with incredible speed and, landing, plunged a spur squarely into the fiery-red chicken’s heart. The latter collapsed, becoming a twitching mass of feathers, blood frothing from its beak.