Captains of the Sands

  And slowly, very slowly, she goes to where the trunk is. She pulls over a chair and sits down in it. With trembling hands she opens the trunk, looks at the trousers and shirts, the sailor suit, the pajamas and nightshirts that he used to sleep in. She hugs the sailor suit to her breast as if she were embracing her son. Her tears pour forth.

  Now a poor orphan boy had come knocking on her door. After the death of her son she hadn’t wanted to have another, she didn’t even like to see children playing so as not to renew the pain of her memories. But a poor orphan, crippled and sad, who said his name was Augusto, like her son’s, had knocked at her door asking for food, shelter, and love. That’s why she got up the courage to open the trunk where she kept the clothes her son had worn. Because for Dona Ester her son had come back today in the figure of this ragged, crippled child without father or mother. Her son had come back and her tears weren’t only of grief. Her son had come back thin and hungry, with a crippled leg and dressed in rags. But in a short time he’ll be the jolly, happy Augusto of those past years again, and once more he’ll come and put his arms about her neck and read the big letters in his primer. Dona Ester gets up. She takes the blue sailor suit with her. And wearing it Legless eats the best lunch of his life.

  If the sailor suit had been made to order for him it couldn’t have been a better fit. It was perfect for Legless and when he saw himself in the hall mirror he didn’t recognize himself. He’d washed, the maid had put lotion on his hair and perfume on his face. The sailor suit was great. Legless looked at himself in the mirror. He ran his hand over his head, then down his chest, smoothing the clothes, he smiled thinking about Cat. He would have given a million for Cat to have seen him looking so elegant. He had new shoes on too, but the truth is that he was a little put off by the shoes because they were tied with a ribbon and they looked a little like women’s shoes. Legless found it strange to be dressed like a sailor wearing women’s shoes. He went out into the garden because he wanted to have a smoke, he’d never given up having his puff after eating. Sometimes there hadn’t been anything to eat but there’d always been a cigarette or cigar butt. He had to be careful there, he couldn’t smoke openly. If they’d left him in the kitchen with the servants as they had in other houses he’d got into in order to rob them afterwards, he could have smoked, talked straight out in the language of the Captains of the Sands. But this time they’d washed him, dressed him up again, put lotion on his hair and perfume on his face. Then they’d fed him in the dining room. And during lunch the lady of the house had talked to him as if he’d been a properly brought up boy. Now she’d told him to go out into the garden and play where the yellow cat called Trinket was warming himself in the sun. Legless goes over to a bench, takes the packet of cheap cigarettes out of his pocket. When he’d changed clothes he hadn’t forgotten the cigarettes. He lights one up and begins to savor a puff, thinking about his new life. He’d done that many times: going into a proper house as a poor, orphaned, crippled child and with those credentials spending the days needed to make a thorough inventory of the house, the places where valuables were kept, the easy exits for a getaway. Then the Captains of the Sands would raid the house one night, carry off the objects of value through the getaway exits and in the warehouse Legless would enjoy himself, overcome by a great joy, the joy of vengeance. Because in those houses even if they took him in, if they gave him food and a place to sleep, it was as though they were fulfilling a delicate duty. The owners of the house avoided coming close to him and left him in his filth, never had a good word for him. They would always look at him as if wondering when he was going to leave. And many times the lady of the house, who had been moved by his story told at the door in a weepy voice and who had taken him in, showed obvious signs of regret. Legless felt they were taking him in out of remorse. Because Legless thought that they were all to blame for the situation of all poor children. And he hated them all, with a deep hatred. His great and almost only joy was to calculate the despair of the family after the robbery, thinking that the hungry boy they had fed had been the one who had staked out the house for other hungry children to find its valuables.

  But this time it was becoming different. This time they hadn’t left him in the kitchen in his rags, they hadn’t sent him out to sleep in the shed. They’d given him clothing, a room, fed him in the dining room. He was like a guest, like a beloved guest. And smoking his hidden cigarette (Legless was wondering why he was hiding to smoke), Legless is thinking and not understanding. He doesn’t understand anything that’s going on. His brow is wrinkled. He remembers the days in jail, the beating they gave him, the dreams that had never stopped pursuing him. And suddenly he has the fear that they’ll be good to him in this house. He doesn’t really know why, but he’s afraid. And he gets up, comes out of his hiding place, and goes to smoke under the lady’s window. In that way they’ll see that he’s a lost child, that he doesn’t deserve a room, new clothes, food in the dining room. In that way they’ll send him to the kitchen, he’ll be able to carry out his work of vengeance, preserve the hatred in his heart. Because if that hatred disappears he’ll die, he’ll have no reason to live. And before his eyes passes the picture of the man in the vest who watches the policemen beat Legless and gives off a brutal laugh. That has to stop Legless from ever seeing Dona Ester’s kind face, the protective gesture of Father José Pedro’s hands, the solidness of the striker’s muscles on João de Adão the stevedore. He will be all alone and his hatred will reach them all, black and white, men and women, rich and poor. That’s why he’s afraid for them to be good to him.

  In the afternoon the master of the house, Raul, arrived home from his office. He was a well-known lawyer, he’d become wealthy in his profession, he was a professor at the Law School, but above all he was a collector. He had a fine gallery of paintings and he had some old coins, rare works of art. Legless saw him when he came in. At that moment Legless was looking at the picture in a children’s book and laughing to himself at a silly elephant the monkey was tricking. Raul didn’t see him, went upstairs. But then the maid came and called Legless and took him to Dona Ester’s room, Raul was there in his shirtsleeves, smoking a cigarette, and he looked at the boy with an amused smile, now that Legless was putting on such a hang-dog look on the threshold:

  “Come in…”

  Legless limped in, he didn’t know where to put his hands. Dona Ester spoke in a kindly voice:

  “Sit down, son, don’t be afraid…”

  Legless sat down on the edge of a chair and waited. The lawyer was studying him, looking at his face, but it was with sympathy and Legless was preparing his answers to the inevitable questions. He repeated the story he’d invented that morning, but when he began to weep abundant tears the lawyer ordered him to stop and got up, going over to the window. Legless saw that he’d been moved and the result of his art made him proud. He smiled to himself. But now the lawyer went over to Dona Ester and kissed her on the head and then on the lips. Legless lowered his eyes. Raul went over to him, laid his hand on his shoulder, and spoke:

  “Stop it, you’re not going to be hungry anymore. Go on…Go play, go look at your books. Tonight we’re going to the movies. Do you like the movies?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  The lawyer sent him off with a wave. Legless went out but he still saw Raul go over to Dona Ester and say:

  “You’re a saint. We’ll make a proper man of him…”

  It was dusk, the lights were going on, and Legless thought that at that time the Captains of the Sands were running about the city looking for something to eat.

  Too bad he couldn’t cheer at the movies when the hero was beating the villain, the way he’d done the times he’d sneaked into the balcony at the Olímpia or at the movies in Itapagipe. There, at the Guarani, in the fine seats, he had to watch the film in silence and once, when he couldn’t hold back a hiss, Raul looked at him. It’s true that he was smiling, but it’s also true that he gestured to Legless not to hiss anymore.

&n
bsp; Then they took him to have an ice-cream soda at the stand across from the theater. While he was eating his ice cream Legless was thinking that he almost pulled an inevitable boner when the lawyer asked him what he wanted. He’d been about to ask for an ice-cold beer. But he caught himself in time and asked for a soda.

  In the car the lawyer sat in the front driving and Legless sat in back with Dona Ester, who chatted with him. The conversation was difficult for Legless, who had to control his scant vocabulary, which was replete with dirty words. Dona Ester asked him things about his mother and Legless answered as best he could, making a great effort to remember the details he was inventing so that he wouldn’t contradict himself afterwards. They finally got to the house in Graça and Dona Ester led Legless to the room over the garage:

  “You aren’t afraid to sleep alone, are you?”

  “No, ma’am…”

  “It’ll only be for a few days. Then I’m going to put you up there in the room that should have been Augusto’s…”

  “You don’t have to, Dona Ester, it’s fine here.”

  She went over and kissed him on the cheek:

  “Good night, son.”

  She went out, closing the door. Legless stood stock still, not moving, not even answering her “good night,” his hand to his face at the spot where Dona Ester had kissed him. He wasn’t thinking, wasn’t seeking anything. Only the soft caress of the kiss, a caress such as he had never had, a mother’s caress. Only the soft caress on his face. It was as if the world had stopped at the moment of the kiss and everything had changed. In the whole universe there was only the soft feel of that maternal kiss on Legless’s face.

  Afterwards came the horror of the dreams of jail, the man in the vest who laughed brutally, the policemen who were beating Legless, who ran around the small room on his crippled leg. But suddenly Dona Ester arrived and the man in the vest and the policemen died in infinite torture because now Legless was dressed in a sailor suit and had a whip in his hand like the hero in the movies.

  A week had passed. Pedro Bala had come by the house several times to get news of Legless who was late in getting back to the warehouse. There had already been enough time for Legless to have found out where all the easy to carry objects in the house were and the exits they could use to facilitate their flight. But instead of Legless Pedro Bala saw the maid, who thought he’d come because of her. One day when he was chatting with the servant, Pedro Bala skillfully brought up the subject of Legless:

  “The woman here has a son, doesn’t she?”

  “It’s a boy she’s taking care of. A nice fellow.”

  Pedro Bala smiled because he knew that when he wanted to, Legless could pass for the nicest boy in the world. And the maid went on:

  “He’s a little younger than you, but he’s a boy just the same. He’s not a no-good like you who’s already sleeping with women…” and she laughed at Pedro Bala.

  “You’re the one who broke my cherry…”

  “Don’t be vulgar. Besides, it’s a lie.”

  “I swear.”

  She would have liked it to have been that way and even if she was quite sure it wasn’t, she liked his saying so. She not only felt like the boy’s lover but a little like a mother too.

  “Come today and I’ll show you a nice way…”

  “Tonight on the corner…But tell me something: haven’t you been screwing with that boy there?”

  “He doesn’t know what it’s all about…He’s a booby. A spoiled child. You’re out of your mind. You can’t see that I wouldn’t do it…”

  Another time Pedro Bala managed to see Legless. He was stretched out in the garden (the cat was purring beside him), looking at a picture book and Pedro Bala was most startled when he saw him dressed in gray cashmere pants and a silk shirt. Legless’s hair was even combed and Pedro Bala stood open-mouthed for a moment, not even whistling at Legless. Finally he came to and whistled. Legless stood up at once, saw the Bullet on the other side of the street. He signaled him to wait, went out through the gate after seeing that nobody from the house was around.

  Pedro Bala walked to the corner and Legless accompanied him. When he got close Pedro Bala was even more surprised:

  “Pew! You stink, Legless.”

  Legless made a face of distaste, but the Bullet went on:

  “You’re even more duded up than Cat. Jesus! If you ever showed up like that at the den,” that’s what they called the warehouse, “the others would jump on you. You’re a regular little sweetheart…”

  “Lay off…I’m casing things. Pretty soon I’ll take off and you can come with the others.”

  “You’re taking your time this time…”

  “It’s because the things are better taken care of,” Legless lied.

  “Let’s see if you can get things going.”

  Then he remembered:

  “The Gringo was in bad shape. He was running almost a hundred and four. He almost kicked the bucket. If it hadn’t been for Don’Aninha, who brewed up something for him that got him on his feet again, you wouldn’t have seen him anymore. He’s as skinny as a rail…”

  And with that piece of news he went off, telling Legless again to hurry up.

  Legless went back to lie down in the garden. But he wasn’t seeing the pictures in the book now. He was seeing Gringo. Gringo was one of the ones in the gang that Legless teased the most. The son of Arabs, he spoke with a funny accent and that was cause for endless mocking on Legless’s part. Gringo wasn’t strong and he never got to be important among the Captains of the Sands, even though Pedro Bala and Professor tried to make it that way. They loved having a foreigner or near foreigner with them. But Gringo was content with petty thefts, he avoided risky attacks, and he thought up the idea of a trunkful of knick-knacks to sell on the street to maids from rich houses. Legless mistreated him mercilessly, making fun of him, of his tangled speech, of his lack of courage. But now, lying on the firm grass of the rich garden, wearing good clothes, combed and perfumed, a picture book beside him, Legless was thinking about Gringo’s almost dying while he was eating well and wearing good clothes. It wasn’t only Gringo who’d almost died. During that week the Captains of the Sands were still poorly clothed, poorly fed, sleeping in the rain in the warehouse or under the docks. During that time Legless was sleeping in a good bed, eating good food, he even had a lady who kissed him and called him son. He felt like a traitor to the group. He was just like that dockworker João de Adão talked about, spitting on the ground and rubbing it out as a sign of disgust. The dockworker who’d gone over to the other side during the big strike, to the side of the rich, had dropped out of the strike, had gone off to hire outsiders to work on the docks. No man on the waterfront had ever shaken his hand again, had ever treated him like a friend. And if anyone was an exception to Legless’s hatred, which took in the whole world, it was the children who made up the Captains of the Sands. They were his comrades, they were just like him, they were the victims of all the rest, Legless was thinking. And now he felt that he was deserting them, going over to the other side. With that thought he jumped, sat up. No, he wouldn’t betray them. Before anything else there was the law of the gang, the law of the Captains of the Sands. Those who broke it were expelled and nothing good awaited them in the world. And no one had ever broken it the way Legless was going to break it. In order to become a spoiled child, to become one of those children who were a perpetual source of mockery for them. No, he wouldn’t betray them. Three days would have been enough for him to locate the objects of value in the house. But the meals, the clothes, the room, and more than the meals, the clothes, and the room, Dona Ester’s love had made him stay a week already. He’d been bought by that love the way the stevedore had been bought with money. No, he wouldn’t betray them. But then he thought that if he didn’t he’d betray Dona Ester. She’d trusted in him. She, too, in her house had a law like the Captains of the Sands: she only punished when there was a wrong, she paid good with good. Legless was going to break tha
t law, he was going to repay good with evil. He remembered that the other times when he ran away from a house so that it could be raided a great joy came over him. This time there was no joy at all. His hatred for everyone hadn’t disappeared, that’s true. But he’d made an exception for the people in that house because Dona Ester called him son and kissed him on the cheek. Legless was fighting with himself. He would have liked to have gone on in that life. But what good would that have been for the Captains of the Sands? And he was one of them, he would never cease being one of them because once the police had arrested him and had beaten him while a man in a vest laughed brutally. And Legless made up his mind. But he looked lovingly at the windows of Dona Ester’s room and she, who was watching him, noticed that he was crying: