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This
was
a
fact
,
and
it
accounted
perfectly
for
the
Goulds
being
by
no
means
so
wealthy
as
the
engineer-in-chief
on
the
new
railway
could
legitimately
suppose
.
Following
the
advice
of
Don
Jose
Avellanos
,
who
was
a
man
of
good
counsel
(
though
rendered
timid
by
his
horrible
experiences
of
Guzman
Bento
's
time
)
,
Charles
Gould
had
kept
clear
of
the
capital
;
but
in
the
current
gossip
of
the
foreign
residents
there
he
was
known
(
with
a
good
deal
of
seriousness
underlying
the
irony
)
by
the
nickname
of
"
King
of
Sulaco
.
"
An
advocate
of
the
Costaguana
Bar
,
a
man
of
reputed
ability
and
good
character
,
member
of
the
distinguished
Moraga
family
possessing
extensive
estates
in
the
Sulaco
Valley
,
was
pointed
out
to
strangers
,
with
a
shade
of
mystery
and
respect
,
as
the
agent
of
the
San
Tome
mine
--
"
political
,
you
know
.
"
He
was
tall
,
black-whiskered
,
and
discreet
.
It
was
known
that
he
had
easy
access
to
ministers
,
and
that
the
numerous
Costaguana
generals
were
always
anxious
to
dine
at
his
house
.
Presidents
granted
him
audience
with
facility
.
He
corresponded
actively
with
his
maternal
uncle
,
Don
Jose
Avellanos
;
but
his
letters
--
unless
those
expressing
formally
his
dutiful
affection
--
were
seldom
entrusted
to
the
Costaguana
Post
Office
.
There
the
envelopes
are
opened
,
indiscriminately
,
with
the
frankness
of
a
brazen
and
childish
impudence
characteristic
of
some
Spanish-American
Governments
.
But
it
must
be
noted
that
at
about
the
time
of
the
re-opening
of
the
San
Tome
mine
the
muleteer
who
had
been
employed
by
Charles
Gould
in
his
preliminary
travels
on
the
Campo
added
his
small
train
of
animals
to
the
thin
stream
of
traffic
carried
over
the
mountain
passes
between
the
Sta
.
Marta
upland
and
the
Valley
of
Sulaco
.
There
are
no
travellers
by
that
arduous
and
unsafe
route
unless
under
very
exceptional
circumstances
,
and
the
state
of
inland
trade
did
not
visibly
require
additional
transport
facilities
;
but
the
man
seemed
to
find
his
account
in
it
.
A
few
packages
were
always
found
for
him
whenever
he
took
the
road
.
Very
brown
and
wooden
,
in
goatskin
breeches
with
the
hair
outside
,
he
sat
near
the
tail
of
his
own
smart
mule
,
his
great
hat
turned
against
the
sun
,
an
expression
of
blissful
vacancy
on
his
long
face
,
humming
day
after
day
a
love-song
in
a
plaintive
key
,
or
,
without
a
change
of
expression
,
letting
out
a
yell
at
his
small
tropilla
in
front
A
round
little
guitar
hung
high
up
on
his
back
;
and
there
was
a
place
scooped
out
artistically
in
the
wood
of
one
of
his
pack-saddles
where
a
tightly
rolled
piece
of
paper
could
be
slipped
in
,
the
wooden
plug
replaced
,
and
the
coarse
canvas
nailed
on
again
.
When
in
Sulaco
it
was
his
practice
to
smoke
and
doze
all
day
long
(
as
though
he
had
no
care
in
the
world
)
on
a
stone
bench
outside
the
doorway
of
the
Casa
Gould
and
facing
the
windows
of
the
Avellanos
house
.
Years
and
years
ago
his
mother
had
been
chief
laundry-woman
in
that
family
--
very
accomplished
in
the
matter
of
clear-starching
.
He
himself
had
been
born
on
one
of
their
haciendas
.
His
name
was
Bonifacio
,
and
Don
Jose
,
crossing
the
street
about
five
o'clock
to
call
on
Dona
Emilia
,
always
acknowledged
his
humble
salute
by
some
movement
of
hand
or
head
.
The
porters
of
both
houses
conversed
lazily
with
him
in
tones
of
grave
intimacy
.
His
evenings
he
devoted
to
gambling
and
to
calls
in
a
spirit
of
generous
festivity
upon
the
peyne
d'oro
girls
in
the
more
remote
side-streets
of
the
town
.
But
he
,
too
,
was
a
discreet
man
.
THOSE
of
us
whom
business
or
curiosity
took
to
Sulaco
in
these
years
before
the
first
advent
of
the
railway
can
remember
the
steadying
effect
of
the
San
Tome
mine
upon
the
life
of
that
remote
province
.
The
outward
appearances
had
not
changed
then
as
they
have
changed
since
,
as
I
am
told
,
with
cable
cars
running
along
the
streets
of
the
Constitution
,
and
carriage
roads
far
into
the
country
,
to
Rincon
and
other
villages
,
where
the
foreign
merchants
and
the
Ricos
generally
have
their
modern
villas
,
and
a
vast
railway
goods
yard
by
the
harbour
,
which
has
a
quay-side
,
a
long
range
of
warehouses
,
and
quite
serious
,
organized
labour
troubles
of
its
own
.
Nobody
had
ever
heard
of
labour
troubles
then
.
The
Cargadores
of
the
port
formed
,
indeed
,
an
unruly
brotherhood
of
all
sorts
of
scum
,
with
a
patron
saint
of
their
own
.
They
went
on
strike
regularly
(
every
bull-fight
day
)
,
a
form
of
trouble
that
even
Nostromo
at
the
height
of
his
prestige
could
never
cope
with
efficiently
;
but
the
morning
after
each
fiesta
,
before
the
Indian
market-women
had
opened
their
mat
parasols
on
the
plaza
,
when
the
snows
of
Higuerota
gleamed
pale
over
the
town
on
a
yet
black
sky
,
the
appearance
of
a
phantom-like
horseman
mounted
on
a
silver-grey
mare
solved
the
problem
of
labour
without
fail
.
His
steed
paced
the
lanes
of
the
slums
and
the
weed-grown
enclosures
within
the
old
ramparts
,
between
the
black
,
lightless
cluster
of
huts
,
like
cow-byres
,
like
dog-kennels
.
The
horseman
hammered
with
the
butt
of
a
heavy
revolver
at
the
doors
of
low
pulperias
,
of
obscene
lean-to
sheds
sloping
against
the
tumble-down
piece
of
a
noble
wall
,
at
the
wooden
sides
of
dwellings
so
flimsy
that
the
sound
of
snores
and
sleepy
mutters
within
could
be
heard
in
the
pauses
of
the
thundering
clatter
of
his
blows
.
He
called
out
men
's
names
menacingly
from
the
saddle
,
once
,
twice
.
The
drowsy
answers
--
grumpy
,
conciliating
,
savage
,
jocular
,
or
deprecating
--
came
out
into
the
silent
darkness
in
which
the
horseman
sat
still
,
and
presently
a
dark
figure
would
flit
out
coughing
in
the
still
air
.
Sometimes
a
low-toned
woman
cried
through
the
window-hole
softly
,
"
He
's
coming
directly
,
senor
,
"
and
the
horseman
waited
silent
on
a
motionless
horse
.
But
if
perchance
he
had
to
dismount
,
then
,
after
a
while
,
from
the
door
of
that
hovel
or
of
that
pulperia
,
with
a
ferocious
scuffle
and
stifled
imprecations
,
a
cargador
would
fly
out
head
first
and
hands
abroad
,
to
sprawl
under
the
forelegs
of
the
silver-grey
mare
,
who
only
pricked
forward
her
sharp
little
ears
.
She
was
used
to
that
work
;
and
the
man
,
picking
himself
up
,
would
walk
away
hastily
from
Nostromo
's
revolver
,
reeling
a
little
along
the
street
and
snarling
low
curses
.
At
sunrise
Captain
Mitchell
,
coming
out
anxiously
in
his
night
attire
on
to
the
wooden
balcony
running
the
whole
length
of
the
O.S.N.
Company
's
lonely
building
by
the
shore
,
would
see
the
lighters
already
under
way
,
figures
moving
busily
about
the
cargo
cranes
,
perhaps
hear
the
invaluable
Nostromo
,
now
dismounted
and
in
the
checked
shirt
and
red
sash
of
a
Mediterranean
sailor
,
bawling
orders
from
the
end
of
the
jetty
in
a
stentorian
voice
.
A
fellow
in
a
thousand
!
The
material
apparatus
of
perfected
civilization
which
obliterates
the
individuality
of
old
towns
under
the
stereotyped
conveniences
of
modern
life
had
not
intruded
as
yet
;
but
over
the
worn-out
antiquity
of
Sulaco
,
so
characteristic
with
its
stuccoed
houses
and
barred
windows
,
with
the
great
yellowy-white
walls
of
abandoned
convents
behind
the
rows
of
sombre
green
cypresses
,
that
fact
--
very
modern
in
its
spirit
--
the
San
Tome
mine
had
already
thrown
its
subtle
influence
.
It
had
altered
,
too
,
the
outward
character
of
the
crowds
on
feast
days
on
the
plaza
before
the
open
portal
of
the
cathedral
,
by
the
number
of
white
ponchos
with
a
green
stripe
affected
as
holiday
wear
by
the
San
Tome
miners
.
They
had
also
adopted
white
hats
with
green
cord
and
braid
--
articles
of
good
quality
,
which
could
be
obtained
in
the
storehouse
of
the
administration
for
very
little
money
.
A
peaceable
Cholo
wearing
these
colours
(
unusual
in
Costaguana
)
was
somehow
very
seldom
beaten
to
within
an
inch
of
his
life
on
a
charge
of
disrespect
to
the
town
police
;
neither
ran
he
much
risk
of
being
suddenly
lassoed
on
the
road
by
a
recruiting
party
of
lanceros
--
a
method
of
voluntary
enlistment
looked
upon
as
almost
legal
in
the
Republic
.
Whole
villages
were
known
to
have
volunteered
for
the
army
in
that
way
;
but
,
as
Don
Pepe
would
say
with
a
hopeless
shrug
to
Mrs.
Gould
,
"
What
would
you
!
Poor
people
!
Pobrecitos
!
Pobrecitos
!
But
the
State
must
have
its
soldiers
.
"
Thus
professionally
spoke
Don
Pepe
,
the
fighter
,
with
pendent
moustaches
,
a
nut-brown
,
lean
face
,
and
a
clean
run
of
a
cast-iron
jaw
,
suggesting
the
type
of
a
cattle-herd
horseman
from
the
great
Llanos
of
the
South
.
"
If
you
will
listen
to
an
old
officer
of
Paez
,
senores
,
"
was
the
exordium
of
all
his
speeches
in
the
Aristocratic
Club
of
Sulaco
,
where
he
was
admitted
on
account
of
his
past
services
to
the
extinct
cause
of
Federation
.
The
club
,
dating
from
the
days
of
the
proclamation
of
Costaguana
's
independence
,
boasted
many
names
of
liberators
amongst
its
first
founders
.
Suppressed
arbitrarily
innumerable
times
by
various
Governments
,
with
memories
of
proscriptions
and
of
at
least
one
wholesale
massacre
of
its
members
,
sadly
assembled
for
a
banquet
by
the
order
of
a
zealous
military
commandante
(
their
bodies
were
afterwards
stripped
naked
and
flung
into
the
plaza
out
of
the
windows
by
the
lowest
scum
of
the
populace
)
,
it
was
again
flourishing
,
at
that
period
,
peacefully
.
It
extended
to
strangers
the
large
hospitality
of
the
cool
,
big
rooms
of
its
historic
quarters
in
the
front
part
of
a
house
,
once
the
residence
of
a
high
official
of
the
Holy
Office
.
