by Jorge Amado
“Poor thing…How cruel!”
Dry Gulch looked at her with thanks. His eyes were blazing, his face even more somber. Painfully somber.
“Son of a bitch…” he said in a low voice. “Son of a bitch of a truck driver…If I ever catch him someday…”
The word was out that Lampião must have had other men wounded because the retreat of the gang was too quick. Dry Gulch muttered. It was as though he were talking to himself:
“It’s time I was going…”
“Where to?” Dora asked.
“To join up with my godfather. He needs me…”
She looked at him sadly:
“Are you really going, Dry Gulch?”
“I am, yes.”
“What if the police kill you, cut off your head?”
“I swear they won’t take me alive. I’ll take one of them with me, but they won’t take me alive…Don’t be afraid, don’t…”
He swore by his mother, a strong and brave mulatto woman of the backlands, capable of fighting with the police, a comrade of Lampião, mistress of a cangaceiro, that she could trust in him, they wouldn’t take him alive, he’d fight to the death…Dora listened with pride.
Professor closed his eyes and also saw in place of Dora a strong backlands woman defending her piece of land against plantation colonels with the friendly help of the bandits. He saw Dry Gulch’s mother. And that was what the mulatto saw. The blond hair was thin and kinky, the soft eyes were the oriental ones of a backlands woman, the serious face was the somber face of an exploited peasant woman. And the smile was the same proud smile of a mother for her son.
Lollipop had viewed her arrival with mistrust. For him Dora was sin. It had been some time since he’d lingered with little black girls on the sands, lost in the warmth of their bodies rolling on the ground. He’d got rid of his sins some time back in order to appear pure in the eyes of God and be able to merit the grace of putting on a priest’s vestments. He even thought of getting work as a newsboy in order to get away from the daily sin of stealing.
He looked upon Dora with mistrust: woman was sin. In reality she was only a child, an abandoned child like them. She didn’t smile like the little black girls on the sand, an insolent inviting smile, a smile of teeth tight with desire. Her face was serious, it looked like the face of a very proper little woman. But the small breasts that were taking shape pointed out under her dress, the bit of thigh that showed as white and rounded. Lollipop was afraid. Not so much of Dora’s temptation. She didn’t seem to be the kind that tempted, she was a child, it was too early for that. But he was afraid of the temptation that would come from within him, which the devil had put inside him. And he tried praying in a low voice when she approached.
Dora stood looking at the holy pictures. Professor stopped behind her, looking too. There were flowers under the image of the Christ Child that Lollipop had stolen one day. Dora came closer:
“It’s so pretty…”
The fear began to disappear from Lollipop’s heart. She was interested in his saints, saints that nobody in the warehouse paid any attention to. Dora asked:
“Are they all yours?”
Lollipop nodded and smiled. He went on to show her everything he owned. The pictures, the catechism, the rosary, everything. She looked on with satisfaction. She also smiled while the Professor looked on with myopic eyes. Lollipop told the story of Saint Anthony, who’d been in two places, at the same time. In order to save his father from the gallows, to which he’d been unjustly condemned. He told it in the same way that Professor told the heroic stories of courageous and mutineering sailors. Dora listened with the same sympathy. The two of them chatted, the Professor silent, listening. Lollipop told things about his religion, miracles of the saints, the goodness of Father José Pedro:
“When you meet him, you’ll like him…”
He said that with certainty. He’d already forgotten that she might bring temptation with her girl’s breasts, her chubby thighs, her blond hair, now he was speaking as to an older woman who was listening to him with affection. Like a mother. Only then did he understand. Because at that moment a wish came over him to tell her that he wanted to be a priest, that he wanted to follow that vocation, that he felt the call of God. He would only have had the courage to tell his mother that. And she’s standing before him. He speaks:
“Do you know I want to be a priest?”
“How nice…” she said.
Lollipop’s face lighted up. He looked at Dora, spoke with an exalted voice:
“Do you think I’m worthy? God is good, but he also knows how to punish…”
“Why?” There was shock in Dora’s question.
“You don’t see how full of sin our life is…Every day…”
“It’s not you people’s fault…” Dora stated. “You haven’t got anybody.”
But now Lollipop had her. His mother. He laughed with satisfaction:
“Father José Pedro said that too. It may be…”
He laughed again, she smiled too, animated.
“…it may be that I’ll be a priest someday.”
“You will be, yes.”
“Do you want this Christ Child for yourself?” he suddenly asked.
He was like a son bringing some of his candy to his mother, who’d given him a nickel to buy it.
And Dora accepted as a mother accepts part of her dear son’s candy so he’ll feel satisfied.
Professor saw Lollipop’s mother, not knowing what she was like, what she might have been like. But he saw her there in Dora’s place. He was envious of Lollipop’s happiness.
They found Pedro Bala stretched out on the sand. The leader of the Captains of the Sands hadn’t gone into the warehouse that night. He’d stayed looking at the moon, lying on the good warmth of the sand. The rain had stopped and the breeze that was blowing was warm now. Professor lay down too, Dora sat between the two of them. Pedro Bala looked at her out of the corner of his eye, pulled his cap farther down his face. Dora said, turning to him:
“You were good to me and my brother yesterday…”
“You should have gone away…” the Bullet answered.
She didn’t say anything, but became sad. Then Professor spoke:
“No, Bullet. She’s like a mother…Like a mother, yes. For everyone…”
He repeated:
“She’s like a mother…Like a mother…”
Pedro Bala looked at the two of them. He took off his cap, sat up on the sand. But Dora was looking at him with affection. For him…For him she was everything: wife, sister, and mother. He smiled at Dora in confusion:
“I thought you might be a temptation for everyone…”
She said no, he went on:
“Later on they could take advantage of a time when nobody was around…”
They laughed. The Professor repeated again:
“No. She’s like a little mother…”
“You can stay,” Pedro Bala said and Dora smiled at him, he was her hero, a figure she had never imagined but whom she would have to imagine one day. She loved him as a son without love, a brave brother, a lover handsome as no one else.
But Professor saw the smiles on them both. And he said yet again in a serious voice:
“She’s like Mother!”
He said it with a sullen voice because for him she wasn’t Mother either. For the Professor, too, she was the beloved.
DORA, SISTER AND SWEETHEART
Since her dress made her movements difficult and since she wanted to be one of the Captains of the Sands in all ways, she put it aside for a pair of pants Outrigger had been given at a house in the upper city. The pants had been enormous for the little black boy, so he offered them to Dora. Even so they were too big for her, she had to cut the legs to make them fit. She tied them with a cord, following the example of them all, the dress served as a blouse. If it hadn’t been for her long, blond hair and her nascent breasts everyone would have taken her for a boy, one of the Captains of the Sands.
One day when, dressed like a boy, she appeared before Pedro Bala, the boy began to laugh. He ended up rolling on the ground from laughing so much. Finally he managed to say:
“You’re funny…”
She was sad, Pedro Bala stopped laughing.
“It isn’t right for you people to feed me every day. Now I can take part in what you do.”
His surprise knew no limits:
“You mean…”
She was looking at him calmly, waiting for him to finish the sentence.
“…that you’re going out with us on the streets, doing things…?”
“That’s right.” Her voice was full of resolve.
“You’re crazy…”
“I don’t see why.”
“Don’t you see that you can’t? This isn’t anything for a girl. This is something for men.”
“As if you were all great big men. You’re all boys.”
Pedro Bala searched for an answer:
“But we wear pants, not skirts…”
“Me too,” and she showed her pants.
For the moment he couldn’t find anything to say. He looked at her thoughtfully, he no longer had an urge to laugh. After some time he spoke:
“If the police grab us they haven’t got anything. But what if they grab you?”
“It’s the same thing.”
“They’ll put you in the Orphanage. You don’t know what it’s like…”
“No more to be said. I’m going with you people now.”
He shrugged his shoulders in the gesture of someone who had nothing to do with it. He’d given his warning. But she knew very well that he was worried. That’s why she still said:
“You’ll see that I’m the equal of any one of them…”
“Have you ever seen a woman do what a man can do? You couldn’t stand up under a shove…”
“I can do other things.”
Pedro Bala accepted. Underneath it all he liked her attitude, even if he was afraid of the results.
She walked the streets with them, just like one of the Captains of the Sands. She no longer found the city her enemy. Now she loved it too, learned to go through its alleys, its hillsides, jump on moving trolley cars, on automobiles in her escape. She was as agile as the most agile. She always went with Pedro Bala, Big João, and Professor. Big João never left her, he was like Dora’s shadow, and he drooled with satisfaction when in her friendly voice she called him “my brother.” The black boy followed her like a dog and devoted himself completely to her. He lived in awe of Dora’s qualities. He found her almost as brave as Pedro Bala. He would say to the Professor with amazement:
“She’s brave like a man…”
Professor would have liked it to be otherwise. He dreamed of a loving look from Dora’s eyes. But not that maternal love that she had for the younger and the more unfortunate ones, Dry Gulch, Lollipop. Nor a fraternal look like the one she gave Big João, Legless, Cat, himself. He wanted one of those looks full of love that she gave Pedro Bala when she saw him on the run, fleeing the police or a man shouting from the door of a shop:
“Stop thief! Stop thief! I’ve been robbed…”
She only had those looks for Pedro Bala and he didn’t even notice. Professor listened to Big João’s words of praise but he didn’t smile.
Pedro Bala arrived at the warehouse that night with a black eye and a red, bleeding lip. He’d run into Ezequiel, the leader of another gang of thieves and beggar boys, a much smaller group than the Captains of the Sands and without as much organization. Ezequiel was coming along with some three others of his gang, including one who’d been kicked out of the Captains of the Sands for being caught stealing from a comrade. Pedro Bala had gone to leave Dora and Zé Ferret at the foot of the Ladeira do Taboão so they could go to the warehouse. Big João had a job to do and couldn’t go with Dora. Pedro Bala thought of going with her, not leaving her alone on the sands. But since night still hadn’t fallen there was no danger of any black man grabbing her. Besides, he had to go pick up some pennies from the hand of González of the “14,” money owed from a raid the gang had made for some leather goods belonging to a rich Arab.
While he was heading for the “14” Pedro Bala was thinking about Dora. The blond hair that fell around her neck, her looks. She was pretty, she was just like a girlfriend. Girlfriend…He shouldn’t even think about that…He didn’t want the others in the gang to feel the right to think about dirty things with her. And if he told Dora she was like a girlfriend to him, somebody else might judge that he had a right to say so too. And then there wouldn’t be any law and order among the Captains of the Sands. Pedro Bala remembers that he’s the leader.
He goes along so lost in thought that he almost bumps into Ezequiel. The four of them are standing in front of him. Ezequiel is a tall mulatto, he’s smoking a cigar butt. Pedro Bala stands there too, waiting. Ezequiel spits:
“Can’t you see where you’re going?…Are you blind or something?”
“What do you want?”
The boy who’d been with the Captains of the Sands asks:
“How are things with those faggots?”
“Do you still remember the beating you got there? You should keep your mouth shut.”
The boy grinds his teeth, tries to step forward. But Ezequiel makes a motion and warns Pedro Bala:
“One of these days I’m going to pay a visit to you people.”
“A visit?” Pedro Bala asks mistrustfully.
“They say that you’ve got a little whore there for everybody now…”
“Bite your tongue, you son of a bitch.”
Ezequiel dropped with the punch. But the other three were already on top of Pedro Bala. Ezequiel put his foot on Bullet’s face. The one who’d been with the Captains of the Sands shouted:
“Hold him good,” and he punched Pedro on the face.
Ezequiel kicked him twice in the face.
“Admit that I’m your boss.”
“Four…” Pedro Bala began to complain, but a punch shut him up.
A policeman was coming toward them, they scattered. Pedro Bala picked up his cap, the tears of rage flowed along with the blood. He shook his fist at where Ezequiel and his people had disappeared. The policeman spoke:
“Look alive, kid. Beat it, before I run you in.”
Pedro Bala spat pure blood. He went down the slope slowly, not even thinking about going to collect the money from González. He went down muttering to himself: “They’re only men when it’s four against one.” And he thought of revenge.
He went into the warehouse, Dora was alone with her brother, who was sleeping. The last rays of the sun were coming in through the roof, giving a strange brightness to the big house. Dora saw him come in and went over to him:
“Did you get the dough?…”
But she spotted Pedro’s swollen eye, his split lip:
“What happened, brother?”
“Ezequiel and three others. They’re only men when there are four or more…”
“Did he do that to you?”
“There were four of them. Even so, they hit me when I wasn’t looking. I was dumb enough to think Ezequiel was alone. There were four of them.”
She sat him down, went to Lollipop’s corner, brought some water. With a piece of cloth she cleaned his wounds. Pedro was mapping out plans of revenge. She backed him up:
“We’ll get rid of them once and for all.”
Pedro laughed:
“Are you coming too?”
“I am…”
Now she was cleaning his lips, she was leaning over him, her face right next to Bullet’s, her blond hair mingling with his.
“What was the fight about?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me…”
“He said some things…”
“It was because of me, wasn’t it?”
He nodded his head. Then she brought her lips over to Pedro Bala’s, kissed him, and then ran off. He ran out after her, but she wa
s hiding, she wouldn’t let herself be caught. In a while the others were returning. She was smiling at Pedro Bala from a distance. There was no malice in her smile. But her look was different from the sisterly look she gave the others. It was the soft look of a girlfriend, an innocent and timid girlfriend. They might not even know that it was one of love. In spite of its not being night there was romantic romance in the big colonial house. She was smiling and lowering her eyes, sometimes she winked because she thought that was making love. And her heart beat rapidly when she looked at him. She didn’t know that it was love. Finally, the moon came out, spread its yellow light over the warehouse. Pedro Bala lay down on the sand and even through closed eyes he saw Dora. He felt it when she came over and lay down beside him. He said:
“You’re my sweetheart now. Someday we’ll get married.”
He kept his eyes closed. She said in a very low voice:
“You’re my boyfriend.”
Not even knowing that it was love, they felt that it was good.
When Legless and Big João arrived, Pedro Bala got up off the sand and called the leaders together. They went over to the Professor’s candle. Dora came too and sat down between Big João and Good-Life. The drifter lighted a cigarette, said to Dora:
“I’m learning how to play a wild samba. And I’m going to get me a guitar, sister.”
“You really are playing good, brother.”
“It went over big at parties…”
Pedro Bala interrupted the conversation. They were looking at his lip, his swollen eye. He told them about the episode:
“Four against one…”