And who is going to take the leaders of the mutiny to Lisbon? Eighteen soldiers from the seventeenth infantry, led by their lieutenant, also called Contente, set off secretly on the night train, thirty-eight eyes keeping watch over five farm laborers accused of sedition and incitement to strike. They will be handed over to the government, our solicitous correspondent informs us, this government is a regular almshouse, always eager to receive such deliveries. And it’s May again, gentlemen, the month of Mary. There goes the train, there it goes, whistling away, there go the five farm laborers, to rot in Limoeiro prison. In these barbarous times the trains travel slowly, they stop for no apparent reason in the middle of nowhere, perhaps at some halt perfect for an ambush and sudden death, and the locked carriage in which the malefactors are traveling has its curtains closed, if there are curtains in the days of Lamberto Horques, if such extravagances are commonplace in third-class carriages, and the seventeenth infantry have their rifles cocked, perhaps even their bayonets fixed, who goes there, getting off the train ten at a time whenever it stops, to prevent any attacks or attempts to free the prisoners. The poor soldiers are under orders not to sleep, and they stare nervously at the hard, grimy faces of those five criminals, so like you. And when I get out of the army, my friend, who knows, perhaps another soldier will arrest me and carry me off to Lisbon on the night train, in the dark, We know our place now, but tomorrow, who can say, They lend you a rifle, but they never say anything about turning it on the estate workers, All that training, all that take aim and fire, is actually turned against yourself, the barrel of your weapon is staring at your own deceived heart, you have no idea what you’re doing, and one day they’ll give the order to fire, and you’ll shoot yourself, Shut your mouth, you seditious bastards, you’ll learn your lesson, who knows how many years you’ll spend inside, Yes, Lisbon is a big city, the biggest in the world they say, as well as home to the republic, which should, by rights, set us free, We’re perfectly within the law.
There are now two groups of workers face to face, a mere ten paces apart. Those from the north are saying, We’re perfectly within the law, we were hired and we want to work. Those from the south say, You’ve agreed to work for less money, you come here to do us harm, go back where you came from, you rats,* you blacklegs. Those from the north say, Where we come from there is no work, it’s all stones and scrub, we’re from the Beira, so don’t insult us by calling us rats. Those from the south say, But you are rats, you come here to gnaw at our bread. Those from the north say, We’re hungry. Those from the south say, So are we, but we refuse to accept this poverty, if you agree to work for such a low wage, we’ll be left with nothing. Those from the north say, That’s your fault, you shouldn’t be so proud, accept what the boss offers you, better something than nothing, and then there’ll be work for everyone, because there aren’t many of you and we’ve come to help. Those from the south say, That’s just a trick, they want to trick us all, we don’t have to accept that wage, why not join forces with us and then the boss will have to pay everyone a better wage. Those from the north say, Each man knows his own heart and God knows them all, we don’t want to make alliances, we’ve traveled a long way, we can’t stay here and make war on the boss, we want to work. Those from the south say, Well, you’re not going to work here. Those from the north say, Yes, we are. Those from the south say, This land is ours. Those from the north say, But you don’t want to work it. Those from the south say, Not for this wage, no. Those from the north say, The wage is fine with us. The overseer says, All right, you’ve had your chat, now stand aside and let these men get to work. Those from the south say, Don’t do it. The overseer says, Get working, if you don’t do as I say, I’ll call the guards. Those from the south say, There’ll be blood spilled before the guards arrive. The overseer says, If the guards do come, still more blood will be spilled, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. Those from the south say, Brothers, listen to what we’re saying, for pity’s sake, join us. Those from the north say, Like we said, we want to work.
Then the first man from the north walked over to the wheat with his sickle, and the first man from the south grabbed his arm, and they grappled clumsily, awkwardly, roughly, brutishly, hunger against hunger, poverty against poverty, how dearly we buy our daily bread. The guards arrived and broke up the fight, attacking one side only, driving back with their sabers those from the south and corralling them as if they were animals. The sergeant says, Shall I arrest the lot of them. The overseer says, It’s not worth it, leave the bastards there for a while
