“So long, doctor.”
The man was taking out his coin purse, but he saw the Professor’s gaze on his cigarette holder. He threw the cigarette away, handed the holder to the boy.
“That’s for my picture. Come to my place…”
But they had both run off down the Rua Chile because the policeman was almost beside them already. The man was watching as if he only half understood when he heard the policeman’s voice:
“Did they steal anything from you, sir?”
“No. Why?”
“Because since those hoodlums were here beside you…”
“They were two children…One of them has a wonderful gift for painting.”
“They’re thieves,” the policeman retorted. “They’re two of the Captains of the Sands.”
“Captains of the Sands?” the man said, remembering. “I read something about it…Aren’t they abandoned children?”
“Thieves is what they are…Be careful when they get close to you, sir. Check and see if anything is missing…”
The man shook his head no and looked down the street. But there was no trace of the two boys. The man thanked the policeman, saying once more that he hadn’t been robbed and he went down the street murmuring:
“That’s the way great artists are lost. What a painter he would make!”
The policeman was watching him. Then he said to the buttons on his uniform:
“They’re right when they say poets are crazy…”
Professor was showing off the holder. He was behind a tall building where there was a fashionable restaurant now. Pedro Bala knew how to get lunch leftovers from the chef. They were waiting for their lunch on the deserted street. After they ate, Pedro Bala offered the Professor a cigarette and he got ready to smoke it with the holder the man had given him. He tried to clean it:
“The guy was skinny as a rail. He might be a big shot…”
Since he couldn’t find anything better to clean it with, he rolled up the man’s card and shoved it through the holder. When he was through he tossed the card into the street. Pedro Bala asked:
“Why don’t you keep it?”
“What do I want it for?” And the Professor laughed. Pedro Bala laughed too and for a moment their laughter filled the street. They laughed that way with no other reason than just for the pleasure of laughing.
But Pedro Bala became serious:
“The man looked like he might have been able to help you be a painter…” He picked up the card and read the man’s name. “You should keep it. Who can tell?”
Professor lowered his head:
“Don’t be a fool, Bullet. You know damned well that the only thing we’ll ever get to be is thieves…Who cares about us? Who? Nothing but thieves, just thieves…” and his voice grew louder, now he was shouting with hate.
Pedro Bala nodded agreement, his hand dropped the card, which fell into the gutter. They weren’t laughing anymore now and they were sad in the joy of the morning full of sun, of the morning just like a painting in an art museum.
Workmen passed on their way to work after their meager lunch, and that was all they saw, all they managed to see in the morning.
MILK POX
Omolu sent the black pox into the city. But the rich people up above there got vaccinated and Omolu was a goddess from the jungles of Africa, she didn’t know about things like vaccines. And the smallpox descended to the poor people’s city and made people sick, laid black people full of sores onto their beds. Then the men from public health came, put the sick people into bags, carried them off to the distant pesthouse. The women stayed behind weeping because they knew they would never see them again.
Omolu had sent the black pox to the upper city, the city of the rich. Omolu didn’t know about vaccines, Omolu was a goddess from the jungles of Africa, what could she know of vaccines and scientific things? But since smallpox had already been turned loose (and the black pox was terrible), Omolu had to let it go down to the city of the poor. Since she had already turned it loose she had to let it get on with its work. But since Omolu felt sorry for her poor little children, she reduced the strength of the black pox, turned it into milk pox, which is a white and mild pox, almost like measles. In spite of that the men from public health came and carried the sick off to the pesthouse. There the families couldn’t visit them, they had nobody, only the visits from the doctor. They died without anyone’s knowing and when one of them managed to return he was looked upon as a corpse that had risen. The newspapers talked about a smallpox epidemic and the need for vaccination. The candomblés beat their drums night and day, in honor of Omolu, to placate the fury of Omolu. The pai-de-santo priest of Paim, from Pineapple Hill, a favorite of Omolu’s, embroidered a white silk scarf with spangles to offer Omolu and placate her wrath. But Omolu rejected it, Omolu was fighting against the vaccine.
Women were weeping in houses of the poor. Out of fear of the milk pox, out of fear of the pesthouse.
Almiro was the first of the Captains of the Sands to come down with milk pox. One night when the little black boy Outrigger went to look for him in his corner to make love (the love Pedro Bala had forbidden in the warehouse), Almiro told him:
“I’ve got a devilish itch.”
He showed Outrigger his arms, already full of blisters:
“I seem to be burning up with fever too.”
Outrigger was a brave little boy, the whole gang knew that. But Outrigger had a crazy fear of smallpox, Omolu’s ailment, a fear accumulated inside him by many African races. And without worrying about his sexual relations with Almiro being discovered he ran among the groups shouting:
“Almiro’s got smallpox…People, Almiro’s got smallpox.”
The boys soon got up and moved cautiously away from the place where Almiro was. He began to sob. Pedro Bala hadn’t come in yet. Professor, Cat, and Big João were also out. Therefore it was Legless who took charge of the situation. Legless had been more withdrawn than ever lately, he spoke to practically no one. He was wild in his mocking of everybody, he started fights everywhere, he only respected Pedro Bala. Lollipop prayed for him more than for anyone and sometimes he thought that Satan had got into Legless’s body. Father José Pedro was patient with him, but Legless had withdrawn from the priest too. He didn’t want to have anything to do with anyone, a conversation begun with him was a conversation that ended up in a fight.
When Legless went through the groups they all backed off. They were almost afraid of him as of the smallpox. During those days Legless had picked up a dog to whom he dedicated himself entirely. At first, when the dog appeared in the warehouse, famished, Legless mistreated him as much as he could. But he ended up petting him and taking him under his wing. Now it seemed that he only lived for the dog. And, therefore, he only went back to remove the dog, who’d come along, far from Almiro. Then he returned to where the boys were. They were surrounding Almiro from a distance. They pointed at the pustules that were showing on the boy’s chest. Before anything else Legless spoke to Outrigger in his nasal voice:
“Now you’re going to have smallpox on your prick, you black jackass.”
Outrigger looked at him in terror. Then Legless spoke to everybody, pointing to Almiro:
“Nobody here’s going to come down with smallpox just because of this fairy.”
They all looked at him, waiting for what he was going to say. Almiro was sobbing, his hands to his face, huddled against the wall. Legless was speaking:
“He’s getting out of here right now. He can go stick himself in some alley until the dogcatchers from public health pick him up and take him off to the pesthouse.”
“No, no,” Almiro roared.
“Yes, you’re going,” Legless said. “We’re not calling the dogcatchers here for the police to find out where we’re hiding out. You can go nicely or by force, and take your rags with you. You can go to hell because we’re not going to catch smallpox because of you. Because of any love for you, faggot…”
Almiro said n
o, no, and his sobs filled the warehouse. Little black Outrigger was trembling, Lollipop proclaimed it to be the punishment of God because of their sins, the rest didn’t know what to say. Legless was getting ready to force him to leave. Lollipop hugged a picture of Our Lady and said:
“Let’s everybody pray because this is a punishment of God for our sins. We’ve done a lot of sinning, God is punishing us. Let’s ask for forgiveness…” and his voice was like a great outcry sounding the arrival of vengeance.
Some clasped their hands and Lollipop started an Our Father. But Legless shooed him off with his hand:
“Beat it, sexton…”
Lollipop kept on praying in a low voice, still hugging the saint. It was a strange-looking picture. In the background Almiro was sobbing and saying no. Lollipop was praying, the others were indecisive, not knowing what to do. Outrigger trembled with fear, thinking that he’d caught it. Legless spoke again:
“People, if he doesn’t want to leave we’ll kick him out with a good clubbing. If not we’ll all die of smallpox, all of us…Can’t you see, damn you? Kick him out into the street where they can pick him up for the pesthouse.”
“No. No,” Almiro was saying. “For the love of God.”
“This is a punishment,” Lollipop said.
“Shut your mouth, you son of a priest,” Legless went on. “Let’s carry him out, people, since he refuses to go peacefully.”
When he saw that the others were still undecided he marched over beside Almiro and put out his foot to give him a kick:
“So you’re going out, pocky.”
Almiro huddled all the more:
“No. You can’t do this. I’m a member of the gang. Wait till the Bullet gets here.”
“It’s punishment…It’s punishment…” Lollipop’s voice annoyed Legless all the more and he gave a kick to Almiro.
“Get out, pocky. Get out, faggot.”
But at that instant a hand grabbed him and pushed him away. Dry Gulch planted himself between Almiro and Legless. The Halfbreed had a revolver in his hand and his eyes were flashing:
“I swear it’s loaded and if anybody so much as touches Almiro…” He looked at them all with a somber face.
“What business is it of yours, bandit?” Legless tried to regain control of the situation.
“He’s not a cop for people to treat that way. He’s a member of the gang, he was telling it straight. We’re going to wait till Pedro Bala gets here. He’ll decide. And if anybody touches him I’ll shoot him down just like he was a stinking cop,” and he clutched the revolver.
The others withdrew after a while. Legless spat:
“They’re all cowards…” and he went over to where the dog was waiting for him. He lay down beside him and those closest heard him mutter: “Cowards, cowards.”
Dry Gulch remained in front of Almiro with the revolver in his hand. Almiro was sobbing, and he cried out in a loud voice when he saw the blisters spreading over his body. Lollipop was praying, asking God to become supreme goodness again, not to be supreme justice.
Later Lollipop remembered that he ought to call Father José Pedro. He slipped out the door of the warehouse, went to the priest’s home. But along the way he kept on praying, his eyes wide, full of the fear of God.
Pedro Bala arrived in the company of the Professor and Big João. They were coming back from some business they had to attend to and were commenting on their success amidst loud laughter. Cat had gone with them but he didn’t come back. He’d stayed at Dalva’s. The three of them came into the warehouse and the first thing they caught sight of was Dry Gulch with the revolver in his hand.
“What’s all this?” Pedro Bala asked.
Legless got up out of his corner, the dog followed him:
“This bastard acting like a cangaceiro won’t let us do what we’ve got to do,” and he pointed to Almiro. “That fairy’s got smallpox…”
Big João recoiled. Pedro Bala looked at Almiro, the Professor went over to Dry Gulch. The Halfbreed didn’t put away his revolver. Then Pedro Bala asked:
“What happened, Dry Gulch?”
“This one’s got the damned thing…” He pointed to the sobbing boy. “And that bastard, just like a cop, wanted to kick him out into the street so the public health people could take him off to the pesthouse. I wouldn’t have got involved. But he didn’t want to go. And all of them there,” he spat, “tried to make him go. That was when he said he was a member of the gang and that they should wait till you got back. I thought he was right, I took his side…He’s no cop to be treated like that…”
“You did right, Dry Gulch.” Pedro Bala patted the Halfbreed on the back. Then he looked at Almiro. “Have you really got it?”
The boy lowered his head and burst into sobs. Legless shouted:
“The only thing to do is what I said. We can’t call public health here because everybody will find out where we’re hanging out. All we can do is leave him on some street where there are people. Let’s do it whether he wants to or not…”
Pedro Bala shouted:
“Who’s in charge here, you or me? Do you want me to bust you one?”
Legless went off muttering. The dog came over to lick his feet but he gave him a kick. But then he was sorry and petted the dog while he looked at the others.
Pedro Bala went over to Almiro. Big João was trying to overcome his fear and go over to Almiro too. But the fear of smallpox was something big in him, it was almost bigger than his goodness. Only Professor went with Pedro Bala. The latter said to Almiro:
“Let me see…”
Almiro showed his arms full of boils. Professor said:
“It’s milk pox. Black pox gets dark right away…”
Pedro Bala was thinking. There was silence all through the warehouse. Big João managed to conquer his fear and went over. But he was dragging his feet. He seemed to be going against his own will getting close to Almiro. That was when Lollipop came in accompanied by Father José Pedro. The priest said good evening and asked which one was sick. Lollipop pointed to Almiro, the priest went over to him, went up close, picked up his arm, examined it. Then he said to Pedro Bala:
“We’ve got to get him to public health…”
“To the pesthouse?”
“Yes.”
“No, he’s not going,” Pedro Bala said.
Legless got up again and came over to them:
“I’ve been saying that all along. He’s got to go to the pesthouse.”
“He’s not going,” Pedro Bala repeated.
“Why, my son?” Father José asked.
“You know, Father. Nobody comes back from the pesthouse. Nobody comes back. And he’s one of us, a member of the gang. We can’t do that…”
“But it’s the law, my son…”
“To die?”
The priest looked at Pedro Bala with wide eyes. Those boys always seemed to surprise him, always more advanced in intelligence than he thought. And underneath it all, the priest knew that they were right.
“He’s not going, no, Father…” Pedro Bala asserted.
“Then what are you going to do, my son?”
“Take care of him here…”
“But how?”
“I’ll call Don’Aninha…”
“But she doesn’t know how to take care of anyone.”
Pedro Bala was confused. After a moment he said:
“It’s better for him to die here than in the pesthouse…”
Legless spoke up again:
“He’s going to give us all smallpox…” He turned to the others. “He’s going to infect everybody. We can’t let him.”
“Shut up, you bastard, or I’ll lay you out,” Pedro said.
But the priest intervened:
“He’s right, Bullet.”
“He’s not going to the pesthouse, Father. You’re a good man, you know very well that he can’t go. It’s awful there, everybody dies.”
The priest knew quite well that it was true, he remained sile
nt. That was when Big João spoke up:
“But doesn’t he have a home?”
“Who?”
“Almiro. Yes, he’s got one.”
“I don’t want to go there…” Almiro sobbed. “I ran away.”
Pedro Bala went over to him and spoke very calmly:
“Take it easy, Almiro. I’ll go first, talk to your mother. Then we’ll take you. You’ll be all right there, you won’t have to go to the pesthouse. And Father will find a doctor to take care of you, won’t you, Father?”
“I’ll find one, yes,” Father José Pedro promised.
There was a law that obliged all citizens to report to public health all cases of smallpox they knew about so that those infected could immediately be taken to houses of quarantine. Father José Pedro knew the law, but, more than once, he was with the Captains of the Sands and against the law.
Pedro Bala went to Almiro’s house, the boy’s mother acted crazy, she was a poor washerwoman living with a workman from beyond the Cidade de Palha. They came to get Almiro and the priest visited him and brought a doctor. But it turned out that the doctor was after a position in public health and he reported the case of smallpox. Almiro was taken to the pesthouse just the same and the priest was in a jam because the doctor (who said he was a freethinker but really was a spiritualist) reported the priest too as hiding the case. The authorities didn’t charge the priest but they complained to the Archdiocese. And Father José Pedro was called before the Canon Secretary of the Archbishop. He was frightened.
Heavy curtains, high-backed chairs, a portrait of Saint Ignatius on one wall. On the other a crucifix. A large table, expensive carpets. Father José Pedro came into the room with his heart beating rapidly. He wasn’t absolutely sure of the reasons he’d received that message from the Canon Secretary of the Archdiocese to appear at the Episcopal Palace. At first he remembered the parish he’d been waiting for uselessly for two years. Would it be his parish? He smiled with joy. Then, yes, he was going to be a real priest, he was going to have souls assigned to him, under his guidance. He would serve God. But a certain sadness came over him: his children, the abandoned children of the streets of Bahia, especially the Captains of the Sands, what would become of them? He was one of their few friends. No other priest had ever turned to those boys. They were content to celebrate an occasional mass at the Reformatory, which made them even more hateful to the boys because it delayed the meager breakfast. Father José Pedro, while waiting for his parish, had dedicated himself to the abandoned boys. It couldn’t be said that the results were great. But it was necessary to understand that he was conducting an experiment, that lots of times he had to start all over. It had only been a short time that the priest had gained the boys’ complete trust. They treated him like a friend now, even though they didn’t take him seriously as a priest. He had to overlook many things in order to gain the trust of the Captains of the Sands. But for José Pedro Lollipop and his vocation were enough to pay for his trouble. The priest had to do a lot of things that went against what he’d been taught. He had even made pacts with things that the Church had condemned. But it was the only way…At that point the priest remembered that it might be because of those things that he’d been summoned. It must have been because of that. A lot of church biddies were already gossiping about his relationship with children who lived by stealing. And there was that matter with Almiro. It must have been because of that. The first feeling Father José Pedro had when he realized the reason for the message was one of great fear. He was certainly going to be punished, he would lose all hope of a parish. And Father José Pedro needed a parish. He was supporting an old mother, a sister in Normal School. Then he thought that very possibly everything he’d done had been wrong, that his superiors wouldn’t approve. And, at the seminary, they had taught him to obey. But he thought about the children. Through his memory passed the figures of Lollipop, Pedro Bala, Professor, Legless, Good-Life, Cat. It was necessary to save those little ones…Children were Christ’s greatest concern. Everything had to be done to save those children. It wasn’t their fault that they were lost…