Raised from the Ground

supplier of pork meat. One day, Venta Rachada turned up, in secret, of course, at the place where I was working, to ask if anyone wanted to buy some meat. I did, as did two of my companions, and we arranged to meet Venta Rachada in a place called Silha dos Pinheiros. We went there, each carrying our coarse linen bag and a little money, and, just in case, those of us who had some money put by left it back at the camp, we didn’t want to go looking for wool and come back shorn. I had fifty mil réis on me, and the others had more or less the same amount. It was pitch-black outside, and the place where we were to meet Venta Rachada was enough to give anyone the creeps, in fact, he was hiding there, waiting, and he played a trick on us by leaping out, pointing his rifle at us and saying, I could rob you of all you have, we all laughed, of course, and I, my heart thumping, managed to say, It would hardly be worth the bother, and then it was Venta Rachada’s turn to laugh and say, Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, follow me.

At the time, José Gato was based in the Loureiro hills, near Palma, you probably know the place. It was full of cane apple trees as big as a house and no one ever went there. An abandoned farm laborers’ hut served as their slaughterhouse. They all lived there and moved on only when they noticed any suspicious activity, strangers prowling around, or heard rumors that the guards were closing in. We walked and walked and when we got within sight of the hut, we saw two men on guard, rifles at the ready. Parrilhas gave his name, we went in and found José Gato and the other men playing the mouth organ and dancing the fandango, now I don’t know much about such things, but I thought they danced pretty well, and besides, everyone has a right to enjoy themselves now and then. Looped over one of the beams above the fire were some wires from which hung a large stewpot containing pigs’ innards. José Gato said, So these are our buyers, are they. Venta Rachada said, They are, and the only ones, too. José Gato said, Don’t worry, boys, before we do business, join us for a bite to eat, these were welcome words indeed, because the smell was already beginning to make my mouth water. They had wine, they had everything. To sharpen our appetite, we had some slices of ham and a few glasses of wine, José Gato played the mouth organ and kept an eye on the pot, he was wearing chaps made of donkey skin, with big buttons on them, as was the fashion, the rascal looked just like any other farmer. In one corner of the hut there were various rifles, the gang’s arsenal, one was a five-shot rifle and belonged to Marcelino, but more of that later. We were happily engaged in eating and drinking when suddenly we heard a bell ringing, ting-a-ling, and I must confess that I shuddered, this could all end very badly indeed. José Gato noticed my unease and said, Don’t worry, they’re friends, they’ve come to buy meat. It was Manuel da Revolta, so called because he owned a shop in Monte da Revolta, and I could tell you a few stories about him too, but another time. Anyway, Manuel da Revolta arrived, loaded six pigs onto his cart and carried them off, the next day, of course, he would be doing the rounds of the work camps, selling them, pretending he had slaughtered them himself, even the guards would buy meat from him, and I still don’t know to this day whether the guards were suspicious or whether it simply suited their purposes to say nothing. Then a fishmonger we all knew arrived, he kept us all supplied with fish and tobacco and a few other things that José Gato needed. He loaded one pig onto his bicycle, but left the head behind. Then someone else arrived, without a bell this time, he simply whistled and those on guard responded, that was the arrangement, just in case. He took away two pigs, one slung on either side of his mule, again with no head, the pigs that is, because obviously the mule needed his head to see where he was putting his feet. In the end, there were only two pigs left, lying on a couple of old sacks. A few rashers of bacon were fried and added to the stew, along with the seasonings, onions and so on, and then down it went into our stomachs, and boy, was it good that stew, washed down with a fair bit of wine. Then José Gato said, addressing me, António Mau-Tempo, Right, to business, how much money did you bring with you, and I said, I’ve brought fifty escudos, that’s all I’ve got. Said José Gato, It’s not a lot, but you won’t leave empty-handed, and he sliced a pig in two, a piece weighing four and a half or five arrobas, Open your bag, but first he made sure to take the money and slip it into his pocket. It was the same with the others, to all of whom he said, Not a word to anyone, if you tell a soul, you’ll live to regret it, and so we left, laden down with meat, and his warnings and threats stood us in good stead, because it turned out later that the pigs had been stolen from the very estate we were working on. The overseer bombarded us with questions, but all three of us kept our word. I dug a hole in the ground, lined it with cork, put in the meat and covered it with a cloth, having first sliced it up and salted it. It kept really well, too,