read this so I can hear the news about Lampião that’s in the
Diário
. They’ve got his picture.”
“Let me read it to you tomorrow.”
“Read it today or tomorrow I’ll teach you the best way to imitate a canary.”
The Professor looked for a candle, lighted it, began to read the news in the paper. Lampião had gone into a village in the State of Bahia, had killed eight soldiers, deflowered virgins, sacked the coffers of the Town Hall. Dry Gulch’s gloomy face lighted up. His tight mouth relaxed into a smile. And, happy now, he left the Professor, who put out the candle, and went back to his corner. He was carrying the newspaper so he could cut out the picture of Lampião’s gang. Inside he had the joy of springtime.
THE PITANGUEIRAS STOP
They waited for the policeman to leave. He took his time, looking at the sky, observing the deserted street. The streetcar disappeared around the bend. It was the last streetcar on the Brotas line that night. The policeman lighted a cigarette. With the wind that was blowing it took three matches. Then he raised the collar of his coat because it was a damp chill that the wind was bringing in from the farmlands where mango trees and sapodillas swayed. The three boys were waiting for the policeman to go away so they could cross the street and enter the unpaved alley. God’s-Love had been unable to come. He’d spent the whole afternoon at the Gate of the Sea waiting for the man who didn’t come. If he’d come it would have been easier because he wouldn’t argue with God’s-Love because he owed the
capoeira
fighter a lot. But he hadn’t come, the information was wrong, and God’s-Love already had a trip set up for that night. He was going to Itaparica. During the afternoon they’d practiced
capoeira
. Cat showed the promise of being a fighter in time, capable of mixing with God’s-Love himself. Pedro Bala had a lot of skill too. The least agile of the three was black Big João, very good in a fight where he could use his enormous physical strength. Even so, he learned enough to free himself from someone stronger than he. When they got tired they went into the main room. They ordered four drinksand Cat took a deck of cards out of his pants pocket. An old greasy deck with thick cards. God’s-Love was sure the man would come, the fellow who’d given him the information was a guy to be trusted. It was a deal that would bring in a lot and God’s-Love preferred calling on the Captains of the Sands, his friends, rather than on some waterfront lowlife. He knew that the Captains of the Sands were worth more than a lot of men and they kept their mouths shut. The Gate of the Sea was almost deserted at that hour. Only two sailors from a bay ship were drinking beer in the rear and talking. Cat put the deck on the table and proposed:
“Who’s ready for a round?”
God’s-Love looked at the cards:
“They’re more than just marked, Mr. Cat. A pretty old deck…”
“If you’ve got another one it’s all the same to me.”
“No. Let’s go along with these here.”
They began the game. Cat laid two cards down face up on the table, the others bet on one, the dealer stayed with the other. At first Pedro Bala and God’s-Love won. Big João wasn’t playing (he was only too familiar with Cat’s deck), he only looked on, laughing with his white teeth when God’s-Love said he was lucky that day because it was the feast of Xangô, his saint. He knew that luck would only last for the start and that when Cat began to win he’d never stop. At a certain moment Cat began to win. When he won the first time he said with a half-sad voice:
“It’s about time. I’ve had a mother run of bad luck!”
Big João smiled even wider. Cat won again. Pedro Bala stood up, gathered in the coins he’d won. Cat looked at him with mistrust:
“You’re not going to play anymore?”
“Not this time, I’ve got to piss…” and he went to the rear of the bar.
God’s-Love kept on losing.
Diário
. They’ve got his picture.”
“Let me read it to you tomorrow.”
“Read it today or tomorrow I’ll teach you the best way to imitate a canary.”
The Professor looked for a candle, lighted it, began to read the news in the paper. Lampião had gone into a village in the State of Bahia, had killed eight soldiers, deflowered virgins, sacked the coffers of the Town Hall. Dry Gulch’s gloomy face lighted up. His tight mouth relaxed into a smile. And, happy now, he left the Professor, who put out the candle, and went back to his corner. He was carrying the newspaper so he could cut out the picture of Lampião’s gang. Inside he had the joy of springtime.
THE PITANGUEIRAS STOP
They waited for the policeman to leave. He took his time, looking at the sky, observing the deserted street. The streetcar disappeared around the bend. It was the last streetcar on the Brotas line that night. The policeman lighted a cigarette. With the wind that was blowing it took three matches. Then he raised the collar of his coat because it was a damp chill that the wind was bringing in from the farmlands where mango trees and sapodillas swayed. The three boys were waiting for the policeman to go away so they could cross the street and enter the unpaved alley. God’s-Love had been unable to come. He’d spent the whole afternoon at the Gate of the Sea waiting for the man who didn’t come. If he’d come it would have been easier because he wouldn’t argue with God’s-Love because he owed the
capoeira
fighter a lot. But he hadn’t come, the information was wrong, and God’s-Love already had a trip set up for that night. He was going to Itaparica. During the afternoon they’d practiced
capoeira
. Cat showed the promise of being a fighter in time, capable of mixing with God’s-Love himself. Pedro Bala had a lot of skill too. The least agile of the three was black Big João, very good in a fight where he could use his enormous physical strength. Even so, he learned enough to free himself from someone stronger than he. When they got tired they went into the main room. They ordered four drinksand Cat took a deck of cards out of his pants pocket. An old greasy deck with thick cards. God’s-Love was sure the man would come, the fellow who’d given him the information was a guy to be trusted. It was a deal that would bring in a lot and God’s-Love preferred calling on the Captains of the Sands, his friends, rather than on some waterfront lowlife. He knew that the Captains of the Sands were worth more than a lot of men and they kept their mouths shut. The Gate of the Sea was almost deserted at that hour. Only two sailors from a bay ship were drinking beer in the rear and talking. Cat put the deck on the table and proposed:
“Who’s ready for a round?”
God’s-Love looked at the cards:
“They’re more than just marked, Mr. Cat. A pretty old deck…”
“If you’ve got another one it’s all the same to me.”
“No. Let’s go along with these here.”
They began the game. Cat laid two cards down face up on the table, the others bet on one, the dealer stayed with the other. At first Pedro Bala and God’s-Love won. Big João wasn’t playing (he was only too familiar with Cat’s deck), he only looked on, laughing with his white teeth when God’s-Love said he was lucky that day because it was the feast of Xangô, his saint. He knew that luck would only last for the start and that when Cat began to win he’d never stop. At a certain moment Cat began to win. When he won the first time he said with a half-sad voice:
“It’s about time. I’ve had a mother run of bad luck!”
Big João smiled even wider. Cat won again. Pedro Bala stood up, gathered in the coins he’d won. Cat looked at him with mistrust:
“You’re not going to play anymore?”
“Not this time, I’ve got to piss…” and he went to the rear of the bar.
God’s-Love kept on losing.
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