Captains of the Sands (21 page)

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 silent. 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…

The canon entered. In his thoughts the priest hadn’t noticed that he’d been waiting a long time. Nor had he seen the canon enter with a soft step. He was tall and very thin, angular, with a clean cassock, what little hair he had left was carefully
combed. His lips had a hard line. A rosary hung around his neck. Although his appearance gave an impression of purity, that impression didn’t make his features any softer. There was no human kindness in his face, in his hard features. As if purity were a suit of armor that kept him away from the world. They said he was quite intelligent, a great preacher, famous for the strictness of his habits. There he was, standing in front of Father José Pedro, looking with observant eyes at the priest’s short figure, his dirty cassock mended in two places, his frightened look, the lack of intelligence that, mixed with goodness, was reflected on the priest’s face. He studied the priest for a few minutes. Enough to penetrate José Pedro’s uncomplicated soul. He coughed. The priest saw him, got up, humbly kissed his hand:

“Canon…”

“Sit down, Father. We’ve got to have a talk.”

He was looking at the priest’s expressionless eyes. He sat down, carefully crossing his hands, drew his gleaming cassock away from Father José Pedro’s dirty one. His voice contrasted with his person. It might be said that it was a soft voice, almost feminine, if there had not been a tone of decision that came out at every step along the way. Father José Pedro lowered his head and waited for the canon to speak. He began:

“This Archdiocese has received some serious complaints about you, Father.”

Father José Pedro tried to put on the face of someone who didn’t understand. But animosity was superior to his intelligence and at that moment he was thinking about the Captains of the Sands. The canon smiled slightly:

“I think you know what it’s all about…”

The priest looked at him with open eyes, but then he lowered his head:

“Only if it’s the children…”

“The sinner cannot hide his sin, it is visible in his conscience…” and the canon’s voice had lost that note of softness.

Father José Pedro listened with terror. It was what he had feared. His superiors, those people who had the intelligence to understand God’s
desires, were not in agreement with the methods he had used with the Captains of the Sands. A fear was growing inside himself, not really a fear of the canon, of the Archbishop, but a fear of having offended God. And even his hands were trembling slightly.

The canon’s voice took on its softness again. It was like a woman’s voice, sweet and soft, but of one who denied a man her caresses:

“We’ve received a fair number of complaints, Father José Pedro. The Archbishop has closed his eyes in the hope that you would recognize your error and correct it…”

He looked at the priest with stern eyes. José Pedro lowered his head.

“Not long ago the widow Santos complained that you were helping a bunch of urchins on a square make fun of her. Rather, you were encouraging the urchins to make fun of her…What have you got to say, Father?”

“It’s not true, Canon…”

“Are you telling me that the widow was lying?”

He ran the priest through with his eyes. But this time José Pedro didn’t lower his head, he only repeated: