Image
THE FAMOUS TORTUGAS BULLFIGHT.
THERE was an air of mystery about a certain house on the Dry Tortugas. For several days a number of boys had been coming and going, meeting in the back yard, and arranging seats about the sides (some of which they decorated with green vines and others with pots of flowers), until the place bore the appearance of a circus, with its central inclosed arena.
The secret finally made its escape, and a rumor announced to the world that on the Fourth of July there would be in the arena a bullfight, at which a celebrated matador would appear. I remember it well, for I was the matador, and the picadors and banderilleros were my fun-loving companions. Some neighbors had recently been on a visit to Havana, where they had attended a bullfight, and the event was now to be duly reproduced with all the splendor available.
I had been chosen matador. There was no little competition, and well there might be. The matador receives all the honors. He it is who, with eagle eye, stands like a statue and receives the terrific charge of the bull, slays him by a thrust of his gleaming sword, and then, as the animal is dragged off, accepts the homage of the people. I was matador, not that I had any experience, but simply because I owned the "bull"—a very extraordinary rabbit that had known me as master for several years.
Jack, as the rabbit was called, differed from any of his kind that I have ever seen or heard of. He was not only absolutely without fear, but he never missed an opportunity to show his courage. He stood not upon the order of going, but promptly charged every person or dog that dared to enter his yard. This disposition upon Jack's part, I must confess, was encouraged rather than otherwise. It was a strong temptation to scale the fence of the inclosure in which he was kept, jump in, run across, and climb up the other side just ahead of Jack, who would leap a foot into the air in his disappointment.
It can readily be seen, then, that Jack possessed all the characteristics necessary to enable him to enact the part of a first-class Spanish bull; and in no sense did he disappoint the great expectations we had of him.
On the day of the proposed bullfight everything was in readiness. The yard, which was covered with wire grass, was about thirty feet wide by sixty in length, and surrounded by a fence. Boxes had been placed in the upper end, against this fence; and here the young spectators were seated, representing the Spanish grandees and noble ladies, patrons of the sport.
As the matador, I was not to come in until the bull had been driven to a frenzy by the banderilleros, or dart throwers, and picadors, or spearmen. At an early moment I took my place among the grandees. I was dressed in an attempt at Spanish magnificence, with numerous ribbons and a turban-like hat, and was armed with a wooden sword, as, after all, it was in fun, and at the last Jack was to be spared. The picadors and banderilleros were also fantastically arrayed. One was barelegged and had red ribbons bound about his sun-browned limbs; another wore a yellow sash about his waist and many-hued ribbons on shoulders and elbows. The two picadors were supposed to be on horseback, and were armed with long spears made of bamboo fishing poles; while the banderilleros only carried red bandannas, which they were to wave in front of the enraged bull to distract his attention if it so happened that the picadors were in danger.
Finally everything was ready. A blast from a bugle, and the slat which took the place of a gate was pulled up, the bull darted from his box, and with two or three hops gained the center of the arena.
Jack was a magnificent fellow, large, and dark gray, except a white stripe running down his nose; his ears were long, and lopped heavily. He was a native of the British Isles, and possessed a very pugnacious disposition. For a moment the bull (meaning Jack, of course) looked about, amazed at the unusual concourse. Then, perceiving a banderillero waving a red cloth, he started. His long ears stood out straight behind, and he went over the ground like a flash. The banderillero stepped nimbly to one side, after the usual fashion; but Jack jumped for the scarlet cloth, seized it with his teeth, and jerked it from the hands of the banderillero, amid a roar of applause.
"The bull darted from his box."
Image
This was an unexpected move, and not down on the bills, and the banderillero stood irresolute a moment. Not so the bull. Dropping the bandanna, he rushed at his enemy, who, panic-stricken, leaped into the air to avoid him, and then dashed pell-mell for the fence. The bull had gone by but a few feet, and, turning quickly, he flew in pursuit, with fire in his eye, and would have overtaken his victim had not a picador dropped the point of his long lance, and prepared to charge. Quick as a flash, the bull lowered his head and dashed under the weapon. Taken by surprise, the picador hesitated; the audience, seeing his danger, shouted encouragingly, then hooted and jeered as he turned and fled at full speed. The bull was not a foot behind, and the picador had no opportunity to climb the fence without being caught, unless he could first increase the distance between them. So on he flew, once around, then dodged, and, amid a roar of applause, leaped his imaginary horse into the air, allowing the bull to pass under him. Before the latter could recover, he was halfway to the fence. To increase his speed he threw down the spear. A few steps more, and he reached the barrier; his hands were on the top rail—up—almost over, when a long-eared object shot into the air. A yell, a ripping, tearing sound, and the bull dropped back with a mouthful of gaudy ribbons, while the defeated picador whisked over the fence.
Image
The bull looked at the ground, chewed the ribbons a moment or two, and boldly hopped into the middle of the arena. He sniffed at the wooden lance, nosing it with contempt, then deliberately sat up on his haunches and looked around, with his great lop ears gracefully drooping.
This was undoubtedly a challenge; and the grandees stood up in the private boxes and cheered long and loud. In the meanwhile the "physician" in attendance had been sent for court-plaster, as on the brown legs of the picador various red streaks were rapidly appearing. After the bull had seized the gay ribbons that had ornamented the short trousers of the brave picador, he had used his hind legs vigorously as scratchers—"raking the picador fore and aft," as was said by a young sailor who was among the spectators. This was the first casualty, and inspired every one with no little respect for the bull, who was now lying stretched at full length upon the grass, with one eye on the boxes, where a loud talking was kept up.
The picadors and banderilleros decided that they had done their duty, which was to enrage the bull by feats of daring at the risk of their legs. The horse of one picador had been terribly gored, they said, a banderillero wounded, and his expensive costume ruined; and the bull was not only not conquered, but seemed to be enjoying it—to prove which they pointed to his recumbent form. Shouts now came from the grand stand, and the grandees rose en masse and clamored for the matador.
For the benefit of the reader who may never have engaged in a bullfight, I should explain that the matador is selected for personal prowess and skill. He must stand the charge of the bull, and, as the infuriated animal dashes at him, step swiftly aside, and plunge his true and gleaming blade into the victim, killing him on the spot. It was now my turn; and as I stepped down from the boxes, and the grandees cheered and waved their sombreros, it was the proudest day of my life. My lath sword was looked to, and, feeling glad that I knew the bull, I stepped into the arena.
Old Jack first raised one ear as I entered, next raised his head and calmly eyed me; then he dropped his big ears upon the grass again, and pretended to go to sleep! This was unbearable, and an agile picador sprang forward and fluttered a red bandanna before him. Jack rose into the air with a single bound, and away went the two for the fence, the picador escaping, and the bull leaping halfway, but falling back upon his haunches. For a moment he stood looking up, hoping that his enemy would reappear. Then, turning, he saw the matador.
Jack evidently recognized me, and felt that here was no common enemy, but one who knew his tactics. And I did—numerous scars upon my legs testifying to the fact. He did not approach me, but loped slowly around the circle—a scheme to gain time, I thought. A picador now jumped after him; another met him in front. Finally he turned, and, as they fled, came at me upon a dead run. It was in the nature of a surprise; but I stood firm, intending to lunge at him, pretending to slay him; then, by successful dodging, I would avoid a personal conflict, claiming a victory upon the ground of skill. All eyes were upon me, the grandees were spellbound, and a blast from the tin trumpet rent the air.
On came the bull, and raising my gleaming lath, I prepared to strike and jump. But the bull forestalled me. Instead of coming close, as was his rule, he jumped at me from a distance of nearly three feet. Confused by the flying object, I fell back, caught my foot in a loop of wire grass, and ignominiously went down, with Jack upon me. He seized my thin trousers with his teeth, and with quick scratches of his sharp hind claws gave the article as many serious wounds. A shout—yes, a roar—arose as I fell! I was aware of the derisive tones, and in desperation I seized Jack by one of his long ears, wrenched him from his hold, and picked myself up. No gayly caparisoned horses came in to drag out the dead bull; no applause arose from the grandees; no flowers or wreaths were thrown to the victor.
The matador had been fairly defeated, and he was forced to acknowledge it. This unlooked-for ending had somewhat changed the programme. It was expected that the bull would be slain or defeated; and a goat harnessed to a diminutive cart, with a garland of flowers about his neck, was in waiting to drag out the body. A compromise was finally effected, for the grandees cheered the bull and demanded that he receive the flowers.
"I seized Jack by one of his long ears."
<!-- image -->So the matador accepted the situation; the goat was driven in, a box placed on the cart, and the victorious bull was perched upon it. He looked ready for another fight, and as if he would enjoy it. The cavalcade drove up to the boxes of the grandees, and the wreath intended for the matador was placed about the neck of triumphant Jack. Chewing at the flowers, he was borne proudly around the arena, amid shouts, and blasts from the trumpet! Then the picadors and banderilleros opened the gates, and he passed out.