Captains of the Sands

by Jorge Amado

  “Good little Father…Angel Gabriel…”

  A skinny old woman clasped her hands in adoration:

  “My sweet little Jesus Christ…”

  They seemed to be adoring him and Father José Pedro revolted. He knew that in reality the great majority of priests didn’t revolt and got fine presents of chickens, turkeys, embroidered handkerchiefs, and sometimes even old gold watches that had come down through generations in the same family. But Father José Pedro had a different idea of his mission, he thought the others were in error and it was with a sacred furor that he said:

  “Haven’t you ladies anything to do? Don’t you have homes to take care of? I’m not your sweet little Jesus Christ or your Angel Gabriel…Go home and do some work, get lunch ready, sew.”

  The church biddies looked at him startled. It was as if he were the anti-Christ himself. The priest finished:

  “Working at home you will serve God better than staying here sniffing at priests’ cassocks…Go on, go on…”

  And while they went off frightened he repeated more with dismay than rage:

  “My sweet little Jesus Christ…The name of the Lord in vain.”

  The church biddies went straight to Father Clóvis, who was fat, bald, and very good-humored, the favorite confessor of all of them. Amidst exclamations of surprise they told him what had just happened. Father Clóvis looked at the biddies tenderly and consoled them:

  “It’ll go away…This is the beginning. Later on he’ll see that you ladies are saints, true daughters of the Lord. This will go away. Don’t be upset. Go say an Our Father and don’t forget that there’s benediction today.”

  He laughed when they’d gone. And he murmured to himself:

  “These newly-ordained priests will spoil everything…”

  Later on the church biddies approached Father José Pedro after a while. The truth is that they never came to have a perfect intimacy with him. His serious air, his goodness that was held back for when it was needed, and his horror at intrigues in the sacristy made them respect him more than love him. Some, however, generally those who were widows or the wives of bad husbands, became more or less friends with him. Something else removed him from the church biddies: he was everything a preacher shouldn’t be. He had never succeeded in describing hell with the conviction of Father Clóvis, for example. His rhetoric was poor and wanting. But he had faith, he was a believer. And it would have been hard to say that Father Clóvis even believed in hell.

  At first Father José Pedro had thought of bringing the Captains of the Sands to the biddies. He thought that in that way he would not only save the children from a miserable life but that he would also save the church biddies from pernicious uselessness. He would manage to have them dedicate themselves to the boys with the same fervent devotion they showed the church, its fat priests. Father José Pedro guessed (more than he knew) that if they spent their days in useless chatter in church or embroidering handkerchiefs for Father Clóvis, it was because they hadn’t had, in their unfortunate existence as virgins, a son, a husband to whom they could dedicate their time and love. Now he would bring them sons. Father José Pedro pondered that project for a long time…He even went so far as to bring a boy who had run away from the Reformatory to the house of one of them. That was a long time before he met the Captains of the Sands, when he’d only heard talk about them. The experiment turned out poorly: the boy ran away from the lady’s house carrying off several silver objects, preferring the freedom of the streets, even dressed in rags and with no assurance of meals, to the good clothes and steady meals with the obligation of reciting the tierce aloud and attending several masses and benedictions every day. Then Father José Pedro understood that his experiment had failed more through the fault of the old maid than that of the boy. Because obviously—Father José Pedro thought—it’s impossible to change an abandoned and thieving child into a sexton. But it’s quite possible to change him into a working man…And when he met the Captains of the Sands he hoped to enter into an agreement with some of them and with the biddies to try a new experiment, well-directed this time. But soon after Good-Life introduced him to the gang, of whom he soon gained the confidence of most, he saw that it was completely useless to think about that project. He saw that it was absurd because freedom was the deepest feeling in the hearts of the Captains of the Sands and that he had to try other means.

  In the early days the boys looked at him with mistrust. They had heard on the street many times that priests were a drag, that the priest business was for women. But Father José Pedro had been a worker and he knew how to treat the boys. He treated them as men, as friends. And so he gained their confidence, became the friend of all of them, even of those who, like Pedro Bala and the Professor, didn’t like to pray. He only had great difficulty with Legless. While the Professor, Pedro Bala, and Cat were indifferent to the priest’s words (the Professor, however, liked him because he brought him books), Lollipop, Dry Gulch, and Big João, mainly the first, paid close attention to what he said, Legless put up a resistance that had been very tenacious at first. But Father José Pedro ended up winning them all over. And at least in Lollipop he discovered a priestly vocation.

  But that afternoon it was with little satisfaction that they saw him arrive. Lollipop went over and kissed the priest’s hand. Dry Gulch too. The rest bowed. Father José Pedro explained:

  “Today I’ve come with an invitation for all of you.”

  Their ears were attentive. Legless muttered:

  “He’s going to call us to benediction. I just want to see who’s for it…”

  But he fell silent because Pedro Bala looked at him angrily. The priest gave him a kind smile. He sat down on a crate. Big João saw that his cassock was old and dirty. It was darned with black thread and was too big for the priest’s thinness. He nudged Pedro Bala, who noticed too. Then the Bullet said:

  “People, Father José Pedro, who’s our friend, has got something for us. Hurray for Father José Pedro!”

  Big João knew that it was all because of the torn cassock, too big for the priest’s thinness. The others answered with a “hurray,” the priest smiled, waving his hand. Big João couldn’t take his eyes off the cassock. He thought that Pedro Bala was a real leader, he knew everything, knew how to do everything. For Pedro Bala Big João would let himself be cut with a knife like that black man in Ilhéus when he did it for Barbosa, the big boss of the scrublands. Father José Pedro put his hand into the pocket of his cassock, took out his black breviary. He opened it and from it drew several ten milreis notes:

  “This is for you all to ride the carrousel today…I invite you all to take a ride today on the carrousel on the square in Itapagipe.”

  He had hoped that the faces would be more animated. That an extraordinary joy would reign in the whole place. Because then he would be even more convinced that he was serving God when from those five hundred milreis that Dona Guilhermina Silva had given him for candles for the altar of the Virgin he had taken fifty milreis in order to take the Captains of the Sands to the carrousel. And since the faces didn’t suddenly become happy, he was puzzled, the notes in his hand, looking at the crowd of boys. Pedro Bala stroked his hair (which fell over his ears), he tried to speak, he couldn’t. Then he looked at the Professor and it was the latter who explained:

  “Father, you’re a good man.” He felt like saying that the priest was a good man like Big João, but he thought perhaps the priest might be offended if he compared him to the black boy. “As a matter of fact Legless and Dry Gulch are both working on the carrousel. And we’ve been invited,” he paused briefly, “by the owner, who’s their friend, to ride free at night. We won’t forget your invitation…” The Professor was speaking slowly, choosing his words, thinking that it was a delicate moment, making up a lot of things and Pedro Bala backed him up with nods. “Another time. But you won’t be mad at us for not accepting, will you? It didn’t work out,” and he was looking at the priest, whose face was happy again.

&n
bsp; “No. Another time.” He looked at the boys, smiling. “It’s even better this way. Because the money I had…” and he suddenly fell silent at the deed he was about to recount. And he thought that maybe it had been a lesson from God, a warning that he had done something bad. His look was so strange that the boys stepped closer.

  They were looking at the priest without understanding. Pedro Bala scratched his head as when he had a problem to solve, the Professor tried to speak. But Big João understood everything, in spite of his being the slowest wit of all:

  “Did it belong to the church, Father?” and he covered his mouth, angry at himself.

  The others understood. Lollipop thought that it would have been a great sin but felt that the priest’s goodness was greater than the sin. Then Legless came over limping more than usual as if fighting with himself and almost shouted first, then lowering his voice:

  “We can stick it back where it was…It’s duck soup for us. Don’t be sad…” and he smiled.

  And Legless’s smile and the friendship that the priest read in the eyes of all of them (could those have been tears in João’s eyes?) restored his calm, serenity, and confidence in his act and in his God. He said in a natural voice:

  “An old widow gave five hundred milreis for candles. I took out fifty so you people could ride on the carrousel. God will judge whether or not I did the right thing. Now I’ll just buy candles.”

  Pedro Bala felt that he had a debt to pay the priest. He wanted the priest to know that they understood. And since there was nothing else at hand he was ready to skip the work they could have done that afternoon and invited the priest:

  “We’re going to the carrousel to see Dry Gulch and Legless this afternoon. Do you want to come with us, Father?”

  Father José Pedro said he did because he knew that was another step forward in his intimacy with the Captains of the Sands. And a group went to the square with the priest. Several didn’t go, including Cat, who went to see Dalva. But those who went looked like a group of good little boys coming from catechism. If they’d been better dressed and cleaned up they could have passed for schoolboys, they were going along in such an orderly fashion. On the square they went around everything with the priest. With pride they showed Dry Gulch imitating animals, dressed like a cangaceiro, Legless making the carrousel run all by himself because Nhôzinho França had gone off to have a beer in a bar. It was a shame that in the afternoon the lights of the carrousel weren’t turned on. It wasn’t as pretty as at night, the lights spinning in all colors. But they were proud of Dry Gulch imitating animals, of Legless running the carrousel, having the children get on, having the children get off. The Professor, with a pencil stub and a box cover, sketched Dry Gulch dressed as a bandit. He had a special skill for drawing and sometimes he picked up money sketching on the sidewalk men who were passing, young ladies with their boyfriends. These would stop for a minute, laugh at the still imprecise drawing, the girls would say:

  “It’s a good likeness…”

  He would pick up some coins and then he would set about fixing up the sketch done in chalk, broadening it, putting in men from the waterfront and women of the demi-monde, until a policeman chased him off the sidewalk. Sometimes he already had a large group watching and someone would say:

  “That boy’s got promise. It’s a shame the government doesn’t take note of these vocations…” and he recalled cases of street urchins who, aided by families, were great poets, singers, and painters.

  The Professor finished the sketch (in which he put the carrousel and Nhôzinho França falling down drunk) and gave it to the priest. They were all in a tight group looking at the drawing that the priest was praising when they heard:

  “Why, it’s Father José Pedro…”

  And the skinny old woman’s lorgnette fell upon the group like a weapon of war. Father José Pedro was half-despondent, the boys looked with curiosity at the bones and the neck and the breast of the old woman where a very expensive barrette sparkled in the sunlight. There was a moment in which they all remained silent until Father José Pedro got up his courage and said:

  “Good afternoon, Dona Margarida.”

  But the widow Margarida Santos raised her gold lorgnette again.

  “Aren’t you ashamed to be seen in this company, Father? A priest of the Lord? A man of responsibility in the midst of this rabble…”

  “They’re children, ma’am.”

  The old woman gave a haughty look and had a sneer of disdain on her mouth. The priest went on:

  “Christ said: suffer the little children to come unto me…”

  “Little children…Little children…” the old woman spat out.

  “Woe unto him who does harm unto a child, the Lord said,” and Father José Pedro raised his voice above the disdain of the old woman.

  “These aren’t children, they’re thieves. Rascals and thieves. These aren’t children. They might even be the Captains of the Sands…Thieves,” she repeated with disgust.

  The boys were looking at her with curiosity. Only Legless, who had come from the carrousel since Nhôzinho França had now returned, was looking at her with rage. Pedro Bala took a step forward, tried to explain:

  “Father was only trying to be…”

  But the old woman gave him a shove and stepped back:

  “Don’t come close to me, don’t come close to me, you filth. If it weren’t for Father I’d call a policeman.”

  Pedro Bala gave a scandalous laugh there, thinking that if it weren’t for Father the old woman would no longer have her barrette or her lorgnette either. The old woman withdrew with an air of great superiority, not without first saying to Father José Pedro:

  “You won’t go far that way, Father. You have to be more careful about whom you associate with.”

  Pedro Bala was laughing even harder and the priest laughed too, if he did feel sorry for the old woman, for the old woman’s lack of understanding. But the carrousel was spinning with well-dressed children and in a short time the eyes of the Captains of the Sands turned toward it and they were full of the desire to ride the horses, spin with the lights. “They were children, yes,” the priest thought.

  At nightfall there was a downpour. The black clouds then disappeared from the sky and the stars shone, the full moon was also shining. In the small hours of the morning the Captains of the Sands arrived. Legless started up the engine. And they forgot that they weren’t like other children, they forgot that they had no home, no father or mother, that they lived by stealing, like men, that they were feared in the city as thieves. They forgot the words of the old woman with the lorgnette. They forgot everything and they were equal to all children, riding the mounts on the carrousel, spinning with the lights. The stars were shining, the full moon shone. But more than anything in the Bahia night the blue, green, yellow, and red lights of the Great Japanese Carrousel were shining.

  DOCKS

  Pedro Bala bounced his four-hundred reis coin off the wall of the Customhouse, it fell in front of Good-Life’s. Then Lollipop threw his, the coin landed between Good-Life’s and Pedro Bala’s. Good-Life was squatting, watching closely. He took the cigarette out of his mouth:

  “That’s the way it goes. If you start off bad…”

  And they continued the game, but Good-Life and Lollipop lost their four-hundred pieces, which Pedro Bala put in his pocket:

  “I’m luck itself.”

  Opposite them the sloops were anchored. Men and women were coming out of the market. That afternoon they were waiting for God’s-Love’s sloop. The capoeira fighter was out fishing, as he was a fisherman by profession. They continued their penny-pitching until Pedro Bala cleaned the other two out. The scar on his face was gleaming. He liked to win like that, in a clean game, especially when his fellow-players were as good as Lollipop (who’d been the champion of the gang for a long time) and Good-Life. When they were finished Good-Life turned his pockets inside-out.

  “You’ve got to lend me something, even if it’s only o
ne coin. I’m wiped out.”

  Then he looked at the sea, the sloops at anchor:

  “God’s-Love is late. Do you want to go to the docks?”

  Lollipop said he’d stay and wait for God’s-Love, but Pedro Bala went to the docks with Good-Life. They went through the waterfront streets, their feet sinking into the sand. A ship was casting off from Warehouse 5, there was the movement of people coming and going. Pedro Bala asked Good-Life:

  “Did you ever want to be a sailor?”

  “You can see…I like it here. I’ve got no urge to ship out.”

  “Well, I have. It’s nice climbing up a mast. And how about a storm? Do you remember that story that the Professor read us? The one where there was a storm? Wild…”