Captains of the Sands Read Online Free Page B

waterfront, envelops the sloops, the fort, the breakwater, extends out over the hillsides and the towers of the churches. The bells no longer toll Hail Marys because six o’clock has come and gone a long time ago. And if the moon hasn’t come up the sky is full of stars on this clear night. The warehouse stands out against the sands that preserve the footprints of the Captains of the Sands who have already retired for the night. In the distance the weak light from the lamp at the Gate of the Sea, a sailors’ bar, seems to be dying. A cold wind that raises the sands is blowing and it makes walking difficult for black Big João, who is going in for the night. He walks along curved by the wind like the sail of a ship. He’s tall, the tallest of the gang and the strongest too, a black boy with short kinky hair and taut muscles, even though he’s only thirteen years old, four of which have been spent in the most absolute freedom, running through the streets of Bahia with the Captains of the Sands. Ever since that afternoon when his father, a gigantic carter, was hit by a truck as he tried to pull his horse to the side of the street. Big João didn’t go back to the little house on the hill. Before him was the mysterious city, and he went out to conquer it. The city of Bahia, black and religious, is almost as mysterious as the green sea. That’s why Big João never wentback. At the age of nine he joined up with the Captains of the Sands, when the Halfbreed was still leader and the gang wasn’t too well known because the Halfbreed didn’t like taking chances. Big João soon became one of the leaders and he was always invited to the meetings of the older ones to plan their robberies. Not that he was a good organizer of attacks or had a lively intelligence. On the contrary, he got headaches if he had to think. He would stand with his eyes burning, as he also did when he saw someone mistreating small children. Then his muscles would tense and he was ready for any fight. But his enormous physical strength made him feared. Legless would say of him:
    “This black boy here is dumb, but he’s a bone-crusher…”
    And the little ones, those small boys who came to the gang all full of fear, had a most determined protector in him. Pedro, the leader, liked to listen to him too. And Big João knew quite well that it wasn’t because of his strength that he had the Bullet’s friendship. Pedro found the black boy good and never tired of saying:
    “You’re a good man, Big Boy. You’re better than just people. I like you,” and he would pat the leg of the black boy, who became flustered.
    Big João is coming to the warehouse. The wind is trying to hold back his steps and he’s bent way over, resisting the wind that’s raising the sand. He went to the Gate of the Sea to have a drink of cane liquor with God’s-Love, who’d arrived today from a fishing trip in the southern seas. God’s-Love is the most famous
capoeira
foot fighter in the city. Who is there who doesn’t respect him in Bahia? In the play of Angolan
capoeira
no one can stand up to God’s-Love, not even Zé Moleque, who was famous in Rio de Janeiro. God’s-Love gave him the latest news and told him that the next day he would come to the warehouse to continue the
capoeira
lessons that Pedro Bala, Big João, and Cat are taking. Big João smokes a cigarette and heads for the warehouse. The prints of his big feet are left on the sands but the wind soon erases them. The black man is thinking that the seaways are dangerous on a windy night like this.
    Big João goes under the dock—his feet sink into the sand—trying not to touch the bodies of his comrades who are already asleep. He goes into the warehouse. He peeps in for a moment, undecided until he spots the light of the Professor’s candle. There he is, at the far corner of the big shed, reading by candlelight. Big João thinks that the light there is even smaller and flickers more than the lamp at the Gate of the