Page 255 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

a Conquistador farmer of the pearl fishery three hundred
years ago, is perfectly silent. So is the plain between the
town and the harbour; silent, but not so dark as the house,
because the pickets of Italian workmen guarding the railway
have lighted little fires all along the line. It was not so qui-
et around here yesterday. We had an awful riot—a sudden
outbreak of the populace, which was not suppressed till late
today. Its object, no doubt, was loot, and that was defeated,
as you may have learned already from the cablegram sent
via San Francisco and New York last night, when the cables
were still open. You have read already there that the ener-
getic action of the Europeans of the railway has saved the
town from destruction, and you may believe that. I wrote
out the cable myself. We have no Reuter’s agency man here.
I have also fired at the mob from the windows of the club,
in company with some other young men of position. Our
object was to keep the Calle de la Constitucion clear for the
exodus of the ladies and children, who have taken refuge on
board a couple of cargo ships now in the harbour here. That
was yesterday. You should also have learned from the cable
that the missing President, Ribiera, who had disappeared
after the battle of Sta. Marta, has turned up here in Sulaco
by one of those strange coincidences that are almost incred-
ible, riding on a lame mule into the very midst of the street
fighting. It appears that he had fled, in company of a mule-
teer called Bonifacio, across the mountains from the threats
of Montero into the arms of an enraged mob.
‘The Capataz of Cargadores, that Italian sailor of whom I
have written to you before, has saved him from an ignoble

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard