Captains of the Sands by Jorge Amado Read Free Book Online

her place, upsetting the lives of all the whores in the building.
    Cat came back every night. Dalva never even looked at him. That made him love her all the more. He would remain painfully waiting until a half hour after midnight when the flutist would arrive and, after kissing her through the window, would go in through the dimly-lighted door. Then Cat would go to the warehouse, his head full of thoughts: If the flutist didn’t come one day…If the flutist should die…He was weak, maybe he couldn’t even stand up to the weight of Cat’s fourteen years. And he squeezed the switchblade he carried in his shirt.
    And one night the flutist didn’t come. On that night Dalva had walked through the streets like a madwoman, she’d come home late, she hadn’t taken any man in and now she was there, posted at her window in spite of the fact that twelve o’clock had struck a long time ago. After a while the street was becoming deserted. The only ones left were Cat on the corner and Dalva, who was still waiting at her window. Cat knew that this was his night and he was happy. Dalva was desperate. Cat began to stroll from one side of the street to the other until the woman noticed him and made a signal. He came right over, smiling.
    “Aren’t you the kid who hangs out on the corner all night?”
    “I’m the one who hangs out on the corner. As for the kid business…”
    She smiled sadly:
    “Will you do me a favor? I’ll give you something,” but then she thought and made a gesture. “No. You must be waiting for your little nibble and you haven’t got any time to waste.”
    “I can, sure. The one I’m waiting for isn’t coming now.”
    “Then what I want, boy, is for you to go to the Rua Rui Barbosa. Number thirty-five. Look for Gastão. He’s on the second floor. Tell him I’m waiting.”
    Cat left in humiliation. First he thought about not going and never coming back to see Dalva. But then he decided to go so he could get a close look at the flute player, who’d had the nerve to abandon such a pretty woman. He reached the building (a dark tenement with many floors), he went up the stairs, on the second floor he asked a boy sleeping in the hallway which was Mr. Gastão’s room. The boy pointed to the last apartment. Cat knocked on the door. The flutist came to open it, he was in his shorts and Cat saw a woman in the bed. They were both drunk:
    “Dalva sent me.”
    “Tell that bag to stop bothering me. I’ve had it up to here with her…” and he put his open hand onto his throat.
    From inside the room the woman spoke:
    “Who’s that little pimp?”
    “Keep out of this,” the flutist said, but then he added, “It’s a message from that bag Dalva. She’s in a tizzy because I haven’t come back.”
    The woman gave off a sottish drunken laugh:
    “But you only love your little Bebé now, don’t you? Come give me a kiss, you angel without wings.”
    The flutist also laughed:
    “See, squirt? Tell that to Dalva.”
    “I see an old whore stretched out there, yes, sir. What undertaker fixed you up with her, eh, buddy?”
    The flutist looked at him very seriously:
    “Don’t talk about my girlfriend,” and then, “Do you want a drink? It’s first-class stuff.”
    Cat went in. The woman on the bed covered herself. The flutist laughed:
    “It’s just a kid. Don’t be afraid.”
    “That old whore doesn’t tempt me,” Cat said. “Not even to jerk me off.”
    He drank the cane liquor. The flutist had already gone backto the bed and was kissing the woman. They didn’t see that Cat was leaving and was taking the prostitute’s purse, which had been left on the chair on top of her clothes. On the street Cat counted sixty-eight
milreis
. He threw the purse under the stairs and put the money into his pocket. And he whistled on his way to Dalva’s street.
    Dalva was waiting for him by the window. Cat looked straight at her:
    “I’m coming in…” and he went in without waiting for an answer.
    Dalva, still